Matilda's Imagines

More Than a Team

The sun was bright, uncomfortably so. It felt wrong — too warm, too golden — for the kind of hurt that carved itself into Y/n's chest.

She sat at the edge of the training pitch, legs pulled tight to her chest, pretending to scroll through her phone. But her mind was somewhere else. Back in the town she hated, to a boy who had been more of a brother than her foster parents ever were. The one person who knew everything. Her only real friend before the Matildas.

Eli.

He was gone. A car accident. No warning. No time to say goodbye.

And Y/n? She told no one.

Not Mini. Not Kyra. Not Macca, Lani, or Caitlin.

Because if she said it out loud, it would become real. And she couldn't handle real right now.

So instead, she trained like a machine. Pushed harder, laughed louder. She even let Kyra prank her into eating Vegemite mixed with hot sauce. Pretending helped... until it didn't.

𓆉

Three days passed.

Mini noticed first. Of course she did.

Y/n had stopped making eye contact. She was quieter during meals. And she flinched when Mini asked her about her weekend plans.

Later, in the locker room, Lani found her sitting alone on the bench long after training was done, her water bottle untouched beside her.

"You good, squirt?" Lani asked gently, crouching down.

Y/n nodded too quickly. "Fine."

"You're the worst liar," Macca added, joining them with a soft sigh. "You've been off all week."

"I'm not off," Y/n snapped. "I'm just tired."

But her voice cracked.

And suddenly, her shoulders were shaking.

Mini appeared in the doorway, immediately crossing the room. "Y/n."

"I didn't know where else to put it," Y/n whispered, barely audible. "I didn't want to ruin anything."

Macca sat beside her. "Ruin what, bub?"

"My best friend," she whispered. "Eli. He died. A few days ago. Car crash. And I just—he was all I had before this. Before you. He used to sneak me food when my foster parents wouldn't feed me. He let me sleep on his floor when they screamed too loud. He knew me. And now he's gone. Just—gone."

The words tumbled out in one breath, and then Y/n crumpled forward, sobs wrenching from her chest like her heart was breaking open in real time.

Mini pulled her into her arms, holding her close, rocking gently. "Oh, sweetheart..."

Macca wrapped herself around them both, and Lani just rested her hand on Y/n's back, steady and firm.

"You should've told us," Lani whispered.

"I didn't know how," Y/n cried.

Mini kissed her forehead. "You don't have to carry this alone anymore."

𓆉

The funeral was three days later, back in her old town — a place she never wanted to return to.

Y/n stood alone at the back of the small chapel, black dress far too tight across her chest. Her hands shook as she held the folded paper of the eulogy Eli's sister had asked her to read.

Then the doors opened behind her.

She turned.

And froze.

The Matildas walked in together.

Sam, Hayley, Steph. Kyra in a neatly ironed blazer, Caitlin right beside her. Macca gave her a wink, and Lani smiled softly. Mini was there, arms full of flowers.

All of them. Her team. Her family.

Y/n's eyes filled with tears instantly.

"You didn't think we'd let you come alone, did you?" Kyra asked gently, nudging her shoulder.

Caitlin tucked a strand of hair behind Y/n's ear. "Families show up."

"We'll be in the front row," Macca said. "Right where you can see us."

Y/n couldn't speak — only nodded, overwhelmed. They weren't just there to support her.

They were there for Eli, too. For the boy who protected her before she ever knew what safety felt like.

She stepped up to the podium when it was her turn, fingers trembling, voice cracking — but every time she looked up, they were there. And she got through it.

Not alone.

𓆉

Later, after the service, they sat in the park where she and Eli used to hang out. The team had set up a picnic, of all things — a small gesture of love, of life after loss.

Kyra told stories to make her laugh. Sam taught her how to throw rocks into the creek like a boomerang. Macca handed her a packet of her favorite candy with a small, "He'd want you to still smile."

And Mini sat beside her, hand wrapped around hers.

"You're not just part of this team, bub," she said gently. "You're ours. Always."

Y/n leaned into her side and whispered, "Thank you for coming."

"We'll always come," Mini said. "That's what families do."

𓆉