Matilda's Imagines

Claimed

The team bus pulled up to camp late in the afternoon. The sun was low on the horizon, casting golden streaks across the field. Y/n sat silently near the front, backpack hugged tightly to her chest, her eyes flicking over the group of older players laughing loudly at the back.

She kept her hood up, earbuds in — no music playing — just for the illusion of distance.

New kid. Youngest by years. ADHD brain racing at full speed. And underneath it all, a quiet ache of fear and hypervigilance she'd learned to live with — courtesy of too many bad homes, too many closed doors, too many "you're just too much."

She hadn't expected warmth here.

She hadn't expected Lani, Macca, and Caitlin.

𓆉

"Who's the kid?"

Macca leaned over Caitlin's shoulder as the team unloaded bags. Lani followed their line of sight to the tiny figure struggling to hoist her gear from the bus steps without making eye contact with anyone.

"That's Y/n," Caitlin said. "New development pick. Only sixteen."

"She looks like a baby bird," Macca murmured.

Lani raised an eyebrow. "A baby bird who just dragged her bag bigger than her entire body. Respect."

And just like that, without any discussion, the three exchanged a look.

Claimed.

𓆉

It started that evening.

Y/n had retreated to a corner of the dining hall with a plate of plain pasta, earbuds in again (still no music), her eyes flicking across the room like she expected to be yelled at for existing.

She didn't even see Lani sit down until a carton of chocolate milk appeared in front of her.

"Trade," Lani grinned. "I give you the best chocolate milk on the planet, you give me exactly three facts about yourself."

Y/n blinked, startled.

Before she could decline, Macca plopped into the seat on her other side, stealing a noodle from Y/n's plate. "Fact one: she has terrible taste in pasta. Fact two: she didn't yell at me for stealing a noodle, which means she's either really chill or terrified."

"Definitely both," Caitlin added, sliding into the seat across from her and giving her a slow, kind smile. "Hi, Y/n. I'm Cait. Welcome to the chaos."

Y/n opened her mouth. Closed it. Then opened it again. "...Hi."

Lani leaned forward. "You nervous?"

"...A bit."

"That's okay," Caitlin said. "We'll keep you safe."

"Always," Macca said, stealing another noodle.

And something in Y/n's chest loosened just a little.

𓆉

It didn't take long.

By the next morning, she had an official nickname (Lil' Roo), three self-appointed bodyguards, and zero personal space — at least when it came to them.

They noticed her flinches — not loud or dramatic, just tiny pulls when someone raised their voice or when someone moved too fast near her.

They noticed how she'd disappear between sessions, tucked into corners or empty laundry rooms with her hands flapping subtly or her leg bouncing a million miles a minute.

They didn't push.

They just stayed nearby.

Macca started bringing fidget toys into meetings and "forgetting" to take them back. Lani always made sure Y/n sat with them — between them — where it felt safe. Caitlin created checklists for Y/n's training and rehab with little stars and jokes, knowing structure helped her ADHD brain breathe.

Mini watched all of this from a distance, arms crossed, a quiet pride in her chest.

The kid had been claimed.

𓆉

Late one night, Y/n sat on the common room couch, hood pulled up, hands wringing her sleeves. The others were asleep. Nightmares had chased her from her bed again — old memories she couldn't forget no matter how far away they were.

She didn't hear the footsteps until Lani appeared, bleary-eyed and barefoot, holding two mugs of hot cocoa.

"You too, huh?" she said softly, sitting beside her and handing one over.

Y/n hesitated. "I didn't mean to wake anyone."

"You didn't," Lani said gently. "We just... kinda keep tabs on you. In a totally chill, non-creepy way."

Y/n gave a faint, real smile.

Lani waited a beat, then asked, "You wanna talk about it?"

Y/n stared into her mug. The words caught in her throat. "They didn't used to let me sleep."

Lani's jaw clenched — barely visible, but it was there.

"I'd get in trouble if I was too loud. If I moved too much. Or if I forgot to take the trash out. So I stayed up. Practiced staying small."

Lani didn't speak. Just set her cocoa down and opened her arms.

Y/n didn't move right away. But after a long moment, she curled into her side — quiet and careful, but present.

And for the first time in a long time, someone held her like she mattered.

𓆉

From that day forward, the Matildas didn't just see her.

They protected her. Encouraged her. Celebrated every win — no matter how small.

And Y/n, slowly, cautiously, began to trust them back.

One accidental snort-laugh during Kyra's jokes. One dance-off with Sam. One tearful hug with Mini after a tough training session. One late-night FaceTime with Macca just to show her a new drawing.

She wasn't just on the team.

She was part of it.

𓆉

Because in this family, once you're claimed...

You're never alone again.

𓆉