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jsprnt · 11 months ago

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Healing Hearts PT. 16 | Virgil van Dijk

Would a fresh start bring you more than just a new job?

A/N: sending you all the love you might need on this day <3 enjoy!

WC: 4.217

Summary: Y/N L/N is a very skilled and praised physiotherapist. A certain event pushing her for a fresh start, as a physiotherapist for Liverpool FC. One question always being in the back of her mind: Will she be able to let go of her past and allow herself to experience new things?

"Right that's perfect." I state, giving Ryan a high five. "You've improved a lot." I tease, patting his shoulder. He smiles, giving me one of his pearly smiles as he stands up.

Recovery day would always be one of my favorite days at this job. No stressing, just rejuvenation.

We did have to keep in mind that we have another match tomorrow, this time for the Carabao Cup against Bournemouth.

We decided to mostly focus on recovery as that was the most important thing right now. Especially, to prevent any problems down the road.

"Of course, you still act like I'm a teenager!" He retorts, looking down at me. Damn, was he getting taller or was I going crazy?

"Can you blame me-"

The sudden feeling of something hitting my leg makes me stop talking, looking down to see a ball roll away from my feet.

I look up to find the perpetrator, a smug Curtis looking at me.

"Excuse me! We're actually busy here!" I shout, giving him a half serious look, folding my arms up to my chest.

"Sorry Doc, two touch got too intense. Right, Harv?" He says, looking over to a equally smug looking Harvey.

"Curt, do you ever leave y/n alone?" I hear, snapping my head to see Virgil walk over. His tatted arm overwhelmingly distracting. An immediate rush of adrenaline flowing through my body.

"I'm sure you would want me to." Curtis replies and I send a cold glare, raising my eyebrows in warning. One more word and I'd rob him of those 500 pounds.

I hear muffled chuckles somewhere in the gym, but don't dare to move another inch.

"Aren't you supposed to be with Dr. Davis right now?" I change the topic, tapping the watch on my wrist.

He huffs, and I kick the ball back to Harvey.

"Come on, go on." I usher Curtis, waving my hand.

I turn to Ryan again, dismissing him with a smile and grab my folder off of the floor. Checking for the next player I had to observe.

I look up, making eye contact with Virgil. The look in his eyes speaking millions of words.

"Your turn." I fake sigh, trying to hide the smile on my face, tapping my shoe on the mat multiple times.

Thankfully, we had to begin at the exercising equipment in the far corner in the room, being able to ignore some glances from the other players. They didn't even try to hide their chuckles and whispers this time as they glanced at us.

I had obviously heard about the bet about us- or whatever Curtis had told me. Our days of hiding our relationship were numbered, and I was scrambling to stretch them.

I decide to act clueless, pretending to be busy with the folder in my hands. Looking up now and then at Virgil. Hoping I was putting on some Angelina Jolie or Lupita Nyong'o acting.

I'd do anything at this point.

"You look good in red." Virgil whispers through a tired grunt and I look up again, raising my brows.

"Really? Right now?" I whisper, looking down at his exercising form.

Droplets of sweat forming on his forehead and gliding down his neck, making contact with the reddish-purple bruises peeking out of his collar.

Yes, my office was a highly dangerous place at this point. Especially, in the morning before training even began.

The entire and I mean the entire gym goes quiet, apart from the foreign song blasting through the speakers. I glance around, almost everyone staring at us.

Virgil follows my eyes, realizing the deafening silence as well.

Damn, I really needed an Oscar at this point.

"Do you guys want exercising tips from your skipper or is winning the Carabao Cup and being in top form more important?" I ask, cocking a brow up to the guys, but I can't help but chuckle at their puzzled faces.

The loud chatter returns again, I laugh again watching them go back to their own exercises.

"You know I didn't do anything." Virgil whispers, voice deep as he looks at me, his hands up in surrender for a moment. He stands up, fixing his shirt. He leans closer to me, whispering.

"Play along with me."

His hand suddenly goes up to his arm, a very convincing pained grunt leaving his lips.

My eyes go wide, confused but looking up at him concerned.

"What's wrong?" I ask my voice a little louder, my hand going up to his arm, hoping he was actually faking it.

"You alright captain?" I hear, Joe coming up to us. His eyebrow raised, other players looking at us as well.

"Think I strained my arm." He replies, closing and opening his fist repeatedly. His eyes looking into mine, a hint of urgency in them.

"I'll check it out in my office." I quickly say, looking back and forth in between the two men.

I let go of Virgil's arm, motioning him to start moving. Taking him to my office, not daring to look behind me.

"Are you being serious?" I ask Virgil as he sits on the treatment table. My hand going up to his arm, the skin of his jacked bicep soft against my fingers.

He chuckles lowly, grabbing my other arm to pull me closer.

"No, just wanted to do this." He mumbles, his hand coming up my chin, his fingers running down my jawline.

He leans in without another word, his lips are on mine tenderly. I gasp into the kiss, but melt into it. Fluttering my eyes shut, letting go of my worries, allowing him to pull me closer. A feeling of desire burning through me, flickering like a raging flame and consuming my senses.

I move my hand up to his chest, fisting his shirt with a firm grip. I pull away, opening my eyes, small annoyed smile on my lips.

"You made me worry for that?" I say, hitting his chest, no malice in my touch.

"You look too good in red." He replies, hands on my waist.

"-and see how no one is looking at us now?"

"Like this made us look less suspicious?" I reply, letting go of his shirt.

"Works for me."

I open my mouth to respond, but my grumbling stomach beats me to it.

"Think it's lunchtime." He teases, and I close my eyes in embarrassment.

"You think?"

"It's weird because I've never really cared about the opinions of strangers. Growing up I wasn't a insecure or very sensitive child. I was pretty independent." I explain, lifting my leg up to the sofa comfortably. Looking at my therapist, her black hair falling in front of her face as she leans forward to look at me.

"Would you say it only happened after adulthood?" She asks, eyes sweet and kind behind her glasses.

I look away, thinking of my answer.

"I think? I made friends easily when I was younger, but when I left my teenage years it started getting more- difficult? Then I started really thinking of the opinions of others."

"Were there any changing factors in your life? Did you move? Change classes? Or another boyfriend maybe? Could you say they're intertwined with your change of heart?"

I bite my lip, humming at her words.

"I did get an internship back then as you know- and met my ex awhile later."

"Right your ex- Theo. You've told me so much about him already- but did he also have a say in how you acted around certain people or in some scenarios?"

"I guess? We went to these dinner parties and other fancy places. We'd meet these business partners of his mother and other wealthy people. I had to essentially play the role of a perfect girlfriend."

"Would you say it made you act more 'aware' of yourself and your actual real personality?"

"I just remember feeling so exhausted and empty after getting home or to our hotel room. Like my soul was sucked out of me or something. It was even worse when he'd started yelling at me for certain things I did, or he'd say that some stupid businessman wasn't liking my attitude or some dumb stuff. I very much argued with him the first couple of times, then I just started taking it like some constructive criticism. It wasn't like that at all though. When our relationship was plastered on the news everywhere- I remember feeling even worse, and to read the opinions of strangers. Those opinions that were already drilled into my mind by own partner- it just got worse."

I explain, fidgeting with the fabric of my trousers. My nails scratching them harshly, feeling my palms get clammy.

"Right- and with your current relationship now- do you see this happen as well?" She says, her voice softening.

"Not at all, I feel the total opposite. Like I can do or say whatever I want with him- and I can. I don't feel like I have to perform or have a fake personality."

"But you'd said you feel the same as in not wanting it to be revealed to the public. He's a footballer if I recall correctly?"

"He is- I just feel like it'll be the same reaction from the public- mean and judgmental."

She hums, fixing her glasses, repositioning them higher on her nose bridge.

"Let's say you have to make a really important decision. Who do you consult? The people closest to you or complete strangers."

"The people closest to me obviously."

"Then you'd have to put it that way, you don't care about the opinions of strangers in personal critical moments- then you shouldn't be allowing their criticism get to you in that critical moment. For example, your relationship being revealed." She finishes, looking at me with a smile on her face.

I stare at her, letting her words sink in. Them clicking like puzzle consisting of a thousand pieces.

I lean back, letting go of my pen, cradling my cramping hand close to me. Ink smudged all over my palm, the corners of the used pages curled up and wrinkled as my eyes dart over the page again.

I had to admit, taking out your frustration and anxiety on paper was insanely relieving and calming. My therapist had recommended it in our last session, and so far I was liking it.

I had four sessions with her so far, and the wisdom the woman had given me was so obvious, but never actually happened to cross my own mind. I was so happy we formed a connection instantly. Especially, since I barely had the mental capacity to look for another therapist.

My glowing laptop screen allows me to see the paper better, as the sun had set awhile ago. The recent emails from my lawyer staring right back at me.

My lawyer had emailed me concerning the break-in. It already felt like a while ago, making me look back at the traumatic incident again. He had given me updates about the case. The police did have camera footage from a nearby shop, which they heavily used to try to identify the guy. Jail time wouldn't be considered, if the intruder was a first offender they'd probably let him go with a fine.

This wasn't the biggest problem, as the only thing I actually wanted was for Theo to get what he'd deserved. The intruder would probably give some bullshit excuse and get off- making me practically lose my mind out of anger. I wanted to put it behind me already, but the fact that Theo would also be let off infuriated me.

My journal now- was scribbled full of my worries. I had written about six full pages, fighting the urge to just scratch out entire pages out of frustration.

I turn off my laptop, rubbing my eye tiredly. I connect my charger to my laptop, and grab my phone. Blowing out the half used vanilla scented candle on my vanity.

I check the time, reading a unnoticed notification. My parcel- or parcels would arrive, brightening up my mood a little.

One thing I had learnt in life was; shopping won't solve the problem, but it definitely will distract you from it- at least for a moment. I'd open the package for the split of second serotonin and that was enough.

The sound of the intercom ringing had me standing up immediately. I run to my door, half tripping on one of my shoes, which I had lazily left there, before checking the cameras and letting the delivery man in and switching on the lights.

The sight of my appearance in the mirror makes me cringe. Not that the delivery man hadn't seen me like this before. I had been insanely busy with work lately and with the ongoing case and the dating rumors. It was honestly taking a toll on me already. I knew it was partially my fault, I could just let go of the case and stop worrying about dating rumors. At the end of the day they weren't things I actually had control over, but it got more frustrating knowing that I didn't have any control in both situations.

I had checked social media- sneakily, redownloading the apps, using my quickly made fake account as I scrolled through the gossip pages.

Most of the reactions were trying to figure out who the "A list footballer" in question was. My heart had skipped a beat when I read Virgil's name, but I had panicked and shut my phone immediately- you couldn't stress me out on the phone I was paying for.

I was still trying to half keep up with my strategy of ignoring the problem, but I slowly started to feel like the problem itself. I promised myself things, just to not even follow up to those promises.

I open my door as I hear a knock, checking the peephole for a second and grabbing the door handle.

"Hi." I greet, grabbing the two big parcels from the poor, all too familiar man.

Shit, maybe I did have a problem...

"You've been buying too many things young lady." He replies, adjusting the cap on his head.

I chuckle embarrassed, setting down the packages next to me on the floor.

"I'm sorry sir, will try to minimize my shopping. Would you like anything? A drink?" I say, smiling at him. I felt bad for the man, even though he was just doing his job.

"No, I'm alright. Have a good evening." He says smiling and turning away, as he presses on the elevator button.

I watch him leave, the elevator door opening with a sound. To my surprise, I see Virgil walking out of it. His face partially covered by his scarf and a black beanie on his head as he walks up to me. Greeting the delivery man kindly.

"Is that the delivery man? He was here last Monday as well wasn't he?" He asks, pointing behind him as he stands in front of me.

I step back, kicking the parcels out of the way and opening the door wider to let him in.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, ignoring him flaming my shopping addiction, now a little self- conscious of my appearance, trying to cover my face with my hoodie. He'd shown up without word many times, only not when I- or the house looked like a dumpster fire.

"Missed my girl." He says, voice deep as he clicks his tongue, stepping into my house and grabbing my wrist to close the door behind me.

"You saw me at work, literally like four hours ago."

"And?" He asks, pressing a kiss to my cheek. His hands going up to remove his scarf and jacket, hanging them on the rack.

"You could've called- I look like this." I say, pointing at my appearance.

"And the house is a mess." I add, sighing.

"And?" He says again, his hands coming up to my shoulders. His brown eyes staring back into mine.

I sigh, shaking my head at him, a soft smile forming on my lips.

"Have you eaten dinner yet?"

I shake my head, his eyes darting to the parcels on the floor.

"How about you show me what you bought this time and I'll order dinner?" He suggests, running his thumb softly on my cheekbone.

"Can I pick?"

"Of course."

"Okay- ready?" She shouts, walking into the living room. A black mini-dress on her body, ending right in the middle of her thighs. The square neckline giving it the right amount of sexy, the back still unzipped clumsily.

She walks up to Virgil, who's sitting on her sofa. Man-spreading comfortably as he looks her up and down, his tatted arm folded on his other one, up to his chest.

"Can you zip the back?" She asks, turning her back to him as he stands up with a low hum. His fingers ghosting her skin as he plays with the zipper.

"Turn for me love." He mutters, close to her ear.

She turns facing him, adjusting the dress and smoothing down the fabric. It accentuating her body perfectly.

"How is it?" She asks, following his eyes roaming her body.

A low hum leaves his lips, his hand coming to wrap around her waist, other hand traveling down to her behind, pulling her closer.

"Where are you going in this?" He murmurs, longing eyes on hers.

"I'm getting drinks with Clara and Sofia tomorrow. Why? Is it- bad?" She asks, voice in a whisper. A hand fidgeting with the fabric, feeling unsure.

"No, you look too good." He whispers lowly, squeezing her waist delicately.

"Really?" She smiles, face lightning up immediately as her eyes roam over his face.

"Now I'll have to worry about my girl being taken from me." He worries, his hand coming up to his chin, as if to ponder.

She rolls her eyes playfully, tapping his arm repeatedly.

"Like you take off your shirt in front of camera's before asking me. You get thirsted over by the entire internet, let me have this." She tuts, fluttering her eyelashes in an animated way.

"Oh I will. Only after this."

He says, raising his brows, lifting her up and throwing her onto the sofa carefully. His fingers digging into the fabric of her dress as he tickles her.

"Okay! Stop, you know I'm ticklish." She exclaims, tears forming in her eyes from laughter. Struggling to hold his hand back. He listens, pulling back and hovering over her body.

"I also got matching heels." She breathes out, escaping out of his hold, and grabbing the shoe box off the table. She grabs the heels out of the box, turning towards him. The diamond buckles and details glistening in the overhead light.

He walks up to her, grabbing the heels and bending down. She leans forward, placing her hands on his broad shoulders, pushing her weight on him to balance herself.

He unbuckles the heels, slipping them onto her feet and buckling them up again.

"Thank you." She says, letting go of him and watching him stand back up.

"Do a little twirl for me love." He suggests, watching her intently as she does. A low whistle leaving his lips. His hands traveling down to the small of her back.

"Can you skip the drinks with the girls and just come over to mines instead." He says, eyes flashing with lust and desire.

She laughs, shaking her head as her hand comes to pat his arm.

"Nope, I can come over after though?" She teases, already trying to wiggle out of his hold as a joke.

He opens his mouth to reply, but the sound of the intercom makes them remember the food delivery.

"I'll change!" She shouts, already running back to her room. He watches her leave surprised, his tongue running over his cheek annoyed before he gets the door.

"Good food always makes me sleepy." She mumbles, her head in his lap. Thankful for their stomachs being full and satisfied.

He runs his fingers down her face, his thumb smoothing down her eyebrows, moving down to other facial features, humming in agreement.

"What is it? What are you thinking of?" She asks, noticing how quiet he is, looking up him.

"Just thinking." He mumbles, looking distracted.

"About?"

"Us."

She huffs, poking his firm abdomen.

"Tell me." She say impatiently.

He clicks his tongue, finally making eye contact with her.

"I just came from speaking to my agent. Talked about us with the publicist."

"What did they say?" She asks, sitting up, facing him.

He shifts, his hand coming up to squeeze her shoulder. Looking at her with a serious expression.

She furrows her brows, looking confused.

"You're worrying me. Tell me, come on." She urges fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, trying to read his face.

"They told me that there was an article released this morning- about us, with pictures." He explains, trying to soothe her with soft caresses on her cheek.

Her eyes go wide, her grip on his shirt tightening as she gasps. Her heart starting to thump excessively faster in her chest.

"They- know?" She stutters, blinking repeatedly, feeling panic surge up her body.

"I'm sorry baby." He whispers, looking at her, his hand traveling to her nape to soothe her further.

"What did it say?" She asks, millions of thoughts running through her mind.

"It was about our date back home, in Amsterdam. Pictures of us getting into the car." He explains, voice softer than usual.

"Did they identify me too?" She asks, hoping it wasn't the case.

To her horror he nods, trying to calm her down with soft shushes.

"Normally, they wouldn't be able to identify you this fast, but the article mentions the blind item and- that piece of shit. So, they put two and two together, and probably bought the rights to some pictures secretly taken by someone who approached them."

She breathes out shakily, letting go of his shirt and looking away. Her eyes noticeably full of worry and panic.

"What are you worried about love?" He coaxes, continuing to run his thumb on her cheek.

"What people would think and say." She mutters, tears accumulating in her eyes.

"Why does that matter to you?" He asks, voice as calm as possible to not disturb the fact that she's taking in the privacy violating news.

"Last time, it was bad- like really really really-"

"Hey, it's alright. You've got me this time. I'll make sure with my agent and publicist that it won't be bad. Besides, you know our supporters won't care right? The criticism will come from strangers at the end of the day. Why should we string importance to what they say?" He says, trying to calm her down with his words.

"I just keep thinking about those comments from the past, they still hurt." She says, voice cracking unpleasantly.

"I understand that love. Let's just stay off of our phones, yeah? We'll figure it out together, I promise."

"I'm not some gold digging bitch or whore-" she whispers, tears twinkling in the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill and holding her feelings back. Like a dam trying to keep its ragging waters back, a crack forming at its base. Threatening the very purpose of it.

"You're not those things. It's alright sweetheart, I'll take care of it yeah?" He promises, practically boiling on the inside. The fact that anyone could call his sweet girlfriend those words, making him both mad and his heart ache for her.

She sighs, remembering her conversation with her therapist again. Why care about the opinions of people whom you don't value, right?

"Well what about work? They'll look at me weirdly. Oh my god- how am I going to look at them in their faces." She groans, placing her head into the crook of his neck, now straddling him.

"Why are you embarrassed of me?" He says, trying find some humor to cheer her up, even if it's just a bit.

"No, of course not! It just looks like I got the job to fuck one of their players-" she exclaims, frustration gnawing at her.

"Alright, alright I get it. Let's take it step by step hm?" He suggests, making her look at him again.

"HR and Klopp already know. It's not like the players are fully unaware of something going on between us, you're aware of the little bet the younger guys have on us, right?"

She nods, biting on her lip as she still cringes at the thought of it being officially known by the club.

"That means they're fine with it. I promise." He assures, running his hand up and down her back.

"If HR and Klopp are fine with it, other staff will be okay with it too. No worrying needed love."

She sighs, placing her head onto his chest. Pondering over every single thing he'd just said.

Thinking of having to face her worst nightmare tomorrow. Something she'd dreaded since they started dating. She could only ignore and dismiss her problems until a certain amount of time, then she'd obviously have to face them, eventually.

“Did I at least look good in those pictures?”

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