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nats--sw · 5 months ago

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Gold chain (pt3) | Leah Williamson

A bit more of Leah while everything around you gets more intense warnings: just fluff and slow burn pt1 - pt4 - my masterlist

Leah's love for tennis skirts had just been solidified. She found herself frozen, her fork suspended midway to her mouth. Your video call had caught her off guard, and the first thing to greet her on the screen was you, your back facing the camera, only in your sports bra and the skirt you wore during your recent match, which had wrapped up just a few hours ago.

"Hellooo?" Leah said, gently placing her fork back onto the table.

"Just a sec!" you called out, still with your back turned to the camera.

Leah watched as you reached into your bag, pulling out a black t-shirt that you slipped on. Unlike the tight one you wore for tennis, this one was baggy—definitely a guy’s shirt, she thought.

"Did you watch my match?" you asked, now facing the camera on your phone, which sat at the coffee table in the room.

"Yep" Leah replied, flipping her phone’s camera to show the TV tuned to the sports channel. “Feeling nervous about the quarterfinals?” she asked, sounding both curious and supportive.

"Nah... I don't know who I'll be facing yet though," you said, slipping off your socks. "At least I’ve got two days to rest before the game."

"Yeah, like you’ll actually rest," Leah teased.

"You're probably right," you chuckled knowing she had you figured out. During your first call yesterday, you had explained your intense training routine before matches. "What are you having?" you asked Leah, curiosity evident in your voice as you held your phone again.

"Smiley faces," Leah said, poking a potato and showing it to you through the camera.

"What?" you laughed, not quite sure what she was showing you.

"Potato smiles. Delicious," she said, grinning as she popped the potato into her mouth.

"Ew! Didn't your mum teach you not to talk with your mouth full?" you teased, though you found it amusing to watch Leah goof around. "Do they taste like real potatoes? I've never tried them."

"What are you talking about?" Leah gasped, dramatically dropping her fork onto her plate. "Are you kidding me?"

"Whoa, you sound genuinely offended," you said, struggling to contain your laughter.

"Of course I am! How is it possible you've never tasted these? What did you eat all through your childhood?" she asked, her face completely serious.

"Leah... would you believe me if I told you I didn't try a nugget until I was 16?" you said, your tone turning more serious. "It was when a friend from school invited me over for dinner. My mum was always particular about what I ate." Leah's expression turned to a slight frown as she listened intently. "I always had well-balanced, hearty meals. She just wasn't a fan of processed food," you said, hoping to provide context and prevent any misconceptions about your mother.

"Sounds... kind of sad," Leah said, finishing her last potato. "I should invite you over for smiley faces, shouldn't I?" she asked with a shy smile.

"You could... I'd gladly accept," you replied.

"I'll think about it," Leah said, shaking her head with a playful grin. After a brief pause, her face suddenly lit up. "Oh, I wanted to ask you something."

"What is it?" you asked, intrigued.

"Today, something caught my eye. Well, actually, it's been catching my eye for a while now, but I think I've finally spotted a pattern," Leah explained, narrowing her eyes. "Your chain around your neck... I've seen you tug on it from time to time."

By reflex, your hand went to your neck, and you felt a brief panic when you didn't feel the chain right away, realizing it was hidden beneath your shirt.

"Is it something significant to you?" Leah asked.

"Yes and no. It's kind of silly," you replied, settling into bed and arranging the phone between the pillows. "Sometimes when I'm feeling nervous or a bit anxious, I tug on it to remind myself it's there, but it's not a big deal to me. I started wearing it a few years ago for a silly reason."

You hesitated, thinking you might bore Leah with the details. But seeing her through the screen, now cozy on her couch with a blanket over her legs and a smile on her face, you realized that perhaps this time someone would actually be interested in listening to you.

"I've never been picky," you began to explain. "I never asked my parents for anything special. They always gave me everything I needed, especially when it came to things that could improve my game. But as for gifts, I always felt too embarrassed to ask for certain things." You bit your lip, trying to stay on track with your story. "The thing is, I always wanted a chain. I didn't care much about the material. Everyone at the academy had one, boys and girls. It's a common accessory, after all. I wanted to be like them."

You fell silent, suddenly feeling a bit silly for sharing such trivial details. Leah, however, misinterpreted your silence and blank stare, thinking she had touched on a sensitive subject.

"Did someone special give you the chain you wear?" Leah's gentle voice interrupted your thoughts.

"No," you shook your head, trying to suppress a smile. "I bought it myself. That's why it has my initial on it," you explained, holding the chain up to the camera.

Leah felt conflicted. On one hand, the story ended with a bit of humor, but on the other, there was a hint of sadness. It was the kind of gift typically given by a loved one or partner, and in the end, you had to buy it for yourself… which was a bit sad.

"After I won my first WTA title, I had quite a bit of money, so I went to the first jewelry store I could find and bought it," you explained.

You noticed the puzzled expression on Leah's face; she had gone silent when you expected her to laugh at the end of the story. You smiled nervously, wondering if you were diving too deep into conversations with her.

"Maybe she thinks you're weird," the insecurity echoed in your head.

Just then, a notification popped up on your phone, rescuing you from overthinking.

"Ugh, I've got to go meet Lucas. He wants to work on my serve," you said, standing up quickly with your phone in hand.

"You have a great serve," Leah said without hesitation.

"You're only saying that because you're a fan," you replied, rolling your eyes and trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach that always fluttered when Leah complimented your game.

"Exactly, and I watch every move you make," she said, crossing her arms and wrinkling her nose playfully.

"How adorable," you thought to yourself.

"Tell your coach you don't need any improvement," Leah said.

"He's my coach. I pay him to help me get better," you said as you slipped on your shoes.

"Yeah, whatever," Leah responded with a playful smirk.

"Do you buy the whole love at first sight thing? Ouch!" you winced as your physio applied pressure, stretching your leg into a position that felt tight.

"Take a deep breath," advised your therapist, easing off the pressure. "There you go," she said, gently returning your leg to its natural position.

"It's not something I believe in, in case you're wondering," you said, laying face down on the table and removing your headphones. Conversations during your physio sessions were rare, you typically dozed off, hence the headphones to drown out the noise around you.

"I guess that's not your cup of tea," your physio chuckled softly, now focusing on massaging your calves. "Is she pretty? They say love often comes in through the eyes, especially if it's love at first sight, as you said."

"She's definitely pretty, yeah," you admitted, wincing as your therapist's thumbs applied pressure into your muscles. "Geez, who said these sessions were relaxing?" you muttered, closing your eyes to bear the discomfort. "She's pretty, but it's more than that... I feel like I can talk to her."

"Y/N, you talk with tons of people every day," your therapist reminded you. "Honestly, you never seem to stop talking," she added with a laugh.

"It's different with her. I can talk about anything, even tennis, but there's no pressure... It's like talking to her puts me at ease," you explained.

It was so calming that you had fallen asleep chatting with her the last two nights.

"I shouldn't be catching feelings for someone I'm just getting to know," you sighed.

"Well, actually, it's perfectly normal," your physio reassured you.

You sighed with relief as the tension in your muscles began to ease under her skilled hands. It wasn't a sigh of relief because someone validated your growing feelings for Leah. Definitely not.

"There are times when love hits you fast and hard, you know? When it's intense." the woman explained, now focusing on your back. "And you, my dear, are intense. It wouldn't be surprising if you fell in love just as fast."

"I haven't fallen in love," you protested, attempting to sit up from the table, but your therapist effortlessly kept you pinned down with a swift motion.

"And you're impulsive," she added with a tired sigh, familiar with your reactions. "I'm surprised you haven't declared yourself to her already."

"There is no one," you insisted.

"You've already admitted there's a pretty girl and that you have feelings for her, even if you're not quite sure what those feelings are yet," she teased with a mischievous smile. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to have someone special," she suggested, helping you onto your back on the table. "She could be good for you… here" she said, gently touching your heart. "And here," she continued, touching your temple with her finger.

"What are we watching?" Lia asked, settling down next to Leah on the couch. They had planned a dinner date to catch up, but Lia suspected it was more about Leah avoiding another night of cooking.

"There's a match about to start," Leah replied, quickly grabbing the remote from her friend's hands.

Lia glanced at the screen, which now displayed the stats of two tennis players. "Has Wimbledon started already?"

"No," Leah sighed, rolling her eyes. "There are tournaments throughout the year, not just the Grand Slams," she explained, her focus on the screen.

"Since when are you an expert on this?" Lia asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's basic knowledge, not all sports revolve around football," Leah defended herself as the players stepped onto the court.

"Is this match a big deal?"

"It's the quarterfinals," Leah replied.

"How do they win?" Lia inquired further.

"They win by taking two sets." Leah explained, her irritation starting to show.

"And how do they win those sets?" Lia pressed on.

"God, Lia, just watch and you'll figure it out," Leah snapped, feeling her nerves creeping in. She was clearly on edge.

“Why are you so grumpy today?” Lia eyed her suspiciously.

"What's wrong with her? What's she doing?" murmured Leah, leaning back on the couch, her eyes glued to the match on the tv screen.

"Huh?" Lia turned to her.

"She's struggling to reach her shots," Leah pointed out, just as you lost another point. "She had the match in her bag."

It was true. You had started strong, winning the first set 6-1 and even taking a 4-1 lead in the second set. But now, your opponent had fought back, and you found yourself in a 1-6 tiebreaker, unable to secure more than a single point.

"Set point," was announced on the tv, and Leah waved her hand.

You positioned yourself, shifting from side to side, anticipating your opponent's serve. But before you could react, she sent a powerful shot down the line, leaving you with no chance to return it.

"Bloody hell," Leah exclaimed, standing up from the couch.

"Woah, I didn't know you were so into tennis," Lia remarked, intrigued by Leah's intense reaction.

"It just frustrates me when they give away easy points during a match," Leah explained, which was partly true. Your unforced errors had contributed to your opponent's comeback in the set.

Leah let out a long sigh and sank back onto the couch. She couldn't relax until you managed to turn the match around and win the third set tiebreaker 7-4, securing your spot in the semifinals. You had come dangerously close to losing your spot in the semifinals.

Leah couldn't bring herself to try talking to you all day. It had been a dreadful match, one of the worst she had ever seen you play. Despite not knowing you that well, Leah figured you probably needed some space and didn't want to talk to anyone for a while. She had watched you storm off the court after the match, something she had never seen you do before. The heated exchanges with the chair umpire and the tense moments with your coach had been impossible to ignore.

She had only mustered the courage to send a brief message:

"Hope you're doing okay."

But you hadn't responded yet.

So, when she was already tucked up in bed, half asleep, she was surprised to see an incoming video call from you.

"Y/N?" Leah replied, not looking at the screen as she fumbled to switch on her nightstand lamp.

"Shit, I didn't mean to wake you up." you apologized.

"I wasn't quite asleep yet," Leah said, finally turning her attention to the screen. "Are you okay?" she asked, sitting up in bed, noticing your slightly red and puffy eyes.

"Yeah," you lied, settling back on the couch and pulling your blanket up to your neck. "What about you? How was your day?"

"I just watched your match, which was horrible," Leah thought, feeling sorry for you, but instead she replied, "Not much. I just had dinner with some friends."

Leah couldn't help but smile as she saw your features relax at her answer. She knew you had probably anticipated her bringing up the match. You had mentioned how intense your day usually was: tennis talk at breakfast, tennis talk in the afternoon, tennis talk at dinner.

"Nothing too delicious," Leah continued. "Did you have dinner?"

You didn't respond verbally, instead, you shook your head and bit your lip, a sign of your struggle to hold back tears. Leah immediately noticed.

"I was running late and didn't feel like eating alone," you explained. "But my physio brought me a sandwich about half an hour ago. I'm just not hungry."

Leah frowned. She mentally calculated the hours since the match had ended at noon. Considering the disastrous game, you probably hadn't eaten afterward, and your stomach was likely empty except for breakfast.

"You should eat," Leah insisted gently.

"I don't want to eat alone, it's... depressing," you admitted, sinking further into the couch. Leah could barely see your mouth now, the blanket covering you.

"Okay, hold on," Leah said, letting out a sigh as she got out of bed. She placed the phone on her bed and reached for a hoodie. "Come on," she said, picking up her phone again.

You watched through the screen as Leah left her room and headed to her kitchen, leaving the phone on the counter.

"Okay, what kind of sandwich did you get?"

"Huh?"

"I'll eat with you," Leah explained simply, reaching for the bag of bread. "Well?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help but smile. It was such a tender gesture, one that softened your heart. Leaning over to the coffee table, you picked up the bag your physio had left there. You hadn't even opened it yet.

"Let me see..." you said, pulling out the sandwich and reading the ingredients on the box. "Tuna, cucumber, mayonnaise, and salad cream."

"Ugh, not my favorite," Leah said, her face visible at the edge of the screen as she looked through her fridge.

"What's your favorite?" you asked, starting to unwrap your sandwich. Suddenly feeling your appetite return.

"I'm a ham and cheese girl. I like to keep it simple," Leah explained, already assembling her own sandwich.

"Sounds boring," you teased with a chuckle. Leah stuck her tongue out at you. "I prefer egg sandwiches. Probably the store didn't have any."

"What else did your physio get you?"

"Uh... a bottle of water and a bottle of juice."

"Orange?" Leah guessed, reaching for a box of orange juice.

"Yes," you confirmed, smiling as you watched Leah return to the couch, settled in just like you with a blanket on her lap. She held up her sandwich to the camera.

"Shall we eat?"

An hour later, you were in bed, with Leah still on the screen, tucked under her own sheets. The time had flown by as Leah passionately tried to convince you why Arsenal was the top club in London.

"Uh, according to Google, the men's team hasn't won a league since 2004," you teased in a mocking tone, enjoying Leah's furrowed brow and her stumbling attempts to defend her team. "And the women's team... maybe I shouldn't say anything," you added innocently, staring up at the ceiling.

"Oi! You're being mean!" Leah protested. "I just won a cup, you know?"

Of course you knew, you had seen the post on Leah’s instagram.

"Winning a cup isn't quite the same as winning a league," you continued to tease.

"What would you know about it? You only just learned the difference between a cup and a league because I explained it to you," Leah retorted, though she couldn't help but crack a smile. Despite her attempt to feign annoyance, she couldn't shake the sense of relief seeing you in a better mood than an hour ago "You're such a headache sometimes.”

"Sorry," you said between laughs. "Well, I'd better get some sleep. Got an early start tomorrow."

Leah's heart sank at the reminder of your upcoming semifinal match. She knew you had pushed yourself to the limit today, both physically and mentally.

"Thank you," you added, catching Leah off guard.

"Huh?" Leah's brow furrowed in confusion.

"For not bringing that up," you explained, your cheeks tinted with embarrassment. "I really appreciate it... I just needed to talk to someone. And you're easy to talk to."

Leah's heart skipped a beat.

"It was nothing. You can talk to me anytime, about anything, including that," Leah assured, offering you a warm smile.

You fell silent for a moment, your eyes closed. Leah almost thought you had drifted off to sleep until she heard your voice again.

"I've never won a semifinal match on grass," you confessed. "I hate playing on grass. I can't move like I want to, can't slide, the ball bounces weird... It's a faster game, and I don't like it."

Leah struggled to find the right words to comfort you, though it seemed you weren't seeking comfort. You just needed to vocalize your thoughts.

"Well… get some good rest," you said "Speak to you tomorrow."

"Sleep well," Leah replied softly, just before you disappeared from her screen.

Leah hadn't been able to watch your game; she'd been tied up with a radio interview in the afternoon. Perhaps it was a good thing, sparing her from witnessing what felt like a complete disaster.

You were trailing 1-0 after losing the first set 6-2.

"Y/N, listen up," Lucas's voice echoed in your head as you wiped your face with your towel. He sounded both concerned and frustrated. "You've got to get up to the net. Focus and do it just like we practiced this morning.”

The tension intensified in the second set, now tied at 3-3. Each point intensified, increasing the pressure on your already fatigued body.

Struggling to steady your breath and calm your racing heart, you attempted to regain your composure. Lucas's instructions only seemed to agitate you further. Your serves lacked accuracy and power, the weight of exhaustion settled in your arms and legs.

With your breath hitching, you turned to Lucas "Gotta keep your mouth shut," you muttered to him, before returning to your position on the court.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, trying to shut out your coach's voice which, instead of helping, was only adding to the overwhelming pressure and fear of failure creeping in.

For a while, you felt completely disconnected from the game, just focusing on getting the ball back over the net and hoping for the best. Your ears felt muffled, you swung at balls in every direction, chasing after them when your legs allowed. It felt like your body was on autopilot.

When you finally regained control, you glanced at the scoreboard. It read 5-4, with the set tied at 30-30. Had you been playing for that long already?

"Just 2 more points and I'm out," you muttered to yourself, accepting the ball from the ball kid who hesitated a moment before returning to her position. Your emotional state must have caught her attention, you could feel tears welling up, but you refused to let them fall now. You couldn't afford to show weakness, not in front of them.

You adjusted your visor lower, not too concerned that it obstructed your view. After all, you were resigned to the inevitable defeat, recovering from this set, let alone the entire match, felt beyond your grasp.

Taking a deep breath, you served. Your opponent effortlessly returned the ball, and when you sent it back, she executed a perfect drop shot with spin. Despite your best efforts, your legs failed to get you to the net before the ball bounced a second time.

All you could do was shake your head and chuckle at the brilliance of the shot. It was a damn good point.

The next rally was a bit longer. Determined to get at least a point, you decided to take a calculated risk. You placed the ball strategically close to the net, hoping to force your opponent into a difficult position. Yet, she managed to return the ball, forcing you to approach the net. Anticipating her move, you weren't surprised when the ball sailed over your head, landing just inside the line behind you.

And with that, it was over.

"Stay the hell away from me!" you shouted as Lucas and your physio entered the dressing room. You pointed your racket at him. "I don't want to hear a word from you!"

"Y/N, calm down," Lucas said, his brow furrowed in concern.

"I said no! Get out!" Tears streaked down your face, your voice raw with frustration. "You're the reason I lost!" you accused him, venom lacing your words as you vented on your racket, smashing it against the ground. "You told me to charge the net," you seethed, the anger palpable. "And what happens? She pulls off the damn shot of her life!"

Deep down, you knew it wasn't entirely his fault.

Lucas struggled to make out your words through your sobs and the racket's crashing impact. He signaled to your physio to grab your bag of remaining rackets before you decided to destroy another one.

"You need to cool off," your physio interjected, her tone firm.

"I need everyone to leave me the hell alone!" you yelled, throwing the shattered pieces of your racket against the wall in a burst of frustration.

Lucas shook his head and firmly guided you to sit on the bench. "Listen to me," he said,but you shook your head, lost in your thoughts. Frustrated, Lucas removed your visor and tossed it aside to get a clear view of your face, then gently tilted your chin to meet his eyes. "I said listen to me, kiddo."

You met his gaze, holding your breath. He looked visibly upset, his brow furrowed deeper than usual. Taking a moment to study him, you noticed the new wrinkles and more gray hairs, likely a result of the stress you often caused him.

"You played well today," he continued, his voice steady but firm, still holding your gaze. "But she played better. It's not a reflection of your performance, it's not about you playing badly. Can we improve? Absolutely. And we will, I promise you that. But for now, we need to stop."

"What do you mean?" you asked.

"You're drained," your physio chimed in. "Your body can't handle more. Your muscles are exhausted."

"And your mind isn't much better. Since the first game you've been clouded," Lucas added, sighing. "We're heading back to England first thing tomorrow."

"Eastbourne?" you asked.

Lucas shook his head. "No, you won't be playing in any more tournaments until Wimbledon. I've made it clear, you need to stop," he said firmly, now taking a seat beside you. "We're heading to London. Your psychologist is already there."

You had resisted having a psychologist travel with your team for months, but now circumstances were different.

"You'll see the psychologist tomorrow and then you'll rest for a few days. Your rackets are off-limits," your physio said, your bag slung over her shoulder as she tried to lighten the mood. "Seriously, no tennis, not even for fun," she added quickly, when she saw you about to protest. "We'll focus on light gym sessions, nothing more. These are your days off, you'll do anything but tennis."

You nodded, feeling somewhat scolded, almost like a child.

As the tension eased, the reality of a few days off in London began to sink in.

"Leah," you muttered.

"Huh? Did you say something?" Lucas turned to you when he heard your voice. You hadn't realized you had spoken aloud.

"What time is our flight?"

#leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson x you #woso x reader #woso imagine #giggling kicking my legs

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