For Miley Smiley: Tomáš Rosický
You were a prominent female football star in your own right, which is how you and Tomas had met the first time. You played for the women's Arsenal side and he played for the men's Arsenal side. Both sides saw each other frequently because we shared the same training ground. You and Tomas had hit it off right away, and everyone on both sides could see the blooming love.
You two would just talk, you felt like you could tell him anything and he felt like he could trust you with his life and his heart. So, the two of you started dating. You kept it low key at first, neither of you quite understanding or wanting the spotlight fully. However, as months turned into years, your relationship was discovered and the two of you were thrust into the limelight.
And the part about your relationship that the press and critics liked to pull apart was the age difference. It wasn't anything spectacular, six years, but they liked to blow it out of proportion. Tomas was accused of robbing the cradle and it would come up often in interviews. You nor Tomas had any problem with the age difference.
Your families supported you whole heartedly, as did your friends. You were both adults. You were in your late twenties and Tomas was in his early thirties, so you were both fully capable of making your own decisions with or without everyone else's agreement with those decisions. It never really bothered you when people questioned your relationship, you were headstrong and didn't give a damn about what the paparazzi were printing in their magazines. Tomas was a bit of a different story.
You knew it got to him, he just tried to hide it. Along with the criticism he got for injuries, lack of playing, etc. he also had to deal with the criticism he got for your shared relationship. He tried to hide it, not wanting his burden to ever overflow into your own, but you could see through his walls. You knew that your relationship meant a lot to him.
It was midsummer and he had just come back from the international call and was laying on the couch. You went to join him on the couch, the replay of the game playing on the screen. A Czech article was on the coffee table. Tomas had taught you some Czech, but you weren't completely fluent in his mother tongue. You could make out a few words, however, and the picture of the two of you walking through London one afternoon confirmed your suspicions.
"Why do you read their lies, Tomas?" you asked, picking up the article. "You know how I feel about this," you sighed, referring to how you knew how upset he got, which in turn made you upset.
"It's nothing, (Y/N), just some meaningless article," he insisted, grabbing the article and tossing it back on the coffee table top.
"You can't lie to me, Rosicky, I know you too well," you replied, resting your head on his shoulder. "You know I love you with all my heart, right?"
"I know, and you know I love you too," Tomas responded, kissing the top of your head gently.
"I know," you mumbled. Flicking your eyes over to the game on the screen, you smiled when the camera focused on him, dribbling with the ball down the side of the field. He passed it and the camera zoomed off of him and towards his teammate. The player took a shot, but it missed the goal by a hair and a goal kick was awarded. Feeling Tomas's chest rise and fall in a sigh, you took your head off of his shoulder and looked at him in the eyes. "You can get those thoughts out of your head right now, Tomas. I don't care that you're six years older than me. I don't care that everyone else in the world thinks that we shouldn't be together. I don't care that you think that I'm too good for you. I don't care because I love you, and I'd never leave you for a younger guy."
The article had been titled: '(Y/L/N) and Rosicky on the Rocks? Is a younger man to blame?' You knew it grated on Tomas's nerves when people brought up the age difference. You also knew that you leaving him for a younger man was his greatest fear, even if he wouldn't say it straight to your face. "I know," Tomas smiled, brushing the hair out of your eyes.
"I can only hope you won't leave me for a cougar though," you joked, resting your head on his chest, which rumbled with pent up laughter. "They always go for the guys with hair."
"I'll alert Mikel immediately," Tomas chuckled, running a hand through your hair. The two of you laughed and joked around for a bit longer until the TV screen emanated cheers. You and Tomas looked over at the screen where the replay of his goal was showing. He had gotten a cross from the corner and had embedded it in the bottom left corner of the goal. The keeper had been powerless to stop it and Tomas's Czech NT teammates piled on top of him.
"You still got it in you, old man," you joked, causing Tomas to laugh once more.
"Wish I could say the same about you, (Y/N). But, you missed the wide open goal last week, so I'm afraid I can't," he told you, a humorous smile on his face.
"It wasn't wide open, there was three defenders and the goalie in the way!" you protested.
"The goalie was out of her box," Tomas replied.
"Well, I'm sorry. Not all of us can be little Mozart's," you teased, poking his chest with your finger. Wrapping his arms around you, he rested his head on your shoulder as you rested yours on his chest.
"I love you," he whispered in your ear.
"I love you more."
"I love you most."