114. Henry Cavill | Just Say Yes *

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By : shellbilee | Tumblr

Summary: An anon request (thank you my dear anon!) - 'Can we have Henry dating an Australian, and how he convinces her to live with him in the UK'

Pairing: Henry x You, Henry x Reader

Words: 4.4K

Warnings: Mentions of smut!

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Henry watched you from his seat at the ivory covered table, unable to help his smile as he watched you on the dance floor with his sister in laws and cousins. He felt a wave of warmth flood through him as he watched you swing your hips and sing along to the DJ's song, completely enamoured by your gorgeous smile and how utterly stunning you looked tonight. You, his gorgeous, incredible girlfriend, the woman he was almost certain was the absolute love of his life.

You and Henry had been dating for almost a year. And oh what a year it had been. He'd met while you'd been traveling - you'd been on a solo tour around Europe, finishing the last leg of your holiday in London. He'd been at one of his favourite pubs - the Mason's Arms, watching his beloved Jersey Reds in the rugby championship with his friends. He remembered it like it was yesterday, meeting you, the day that he'd always remember as the day that had changed his life forever. He still remembered every single detail of that first day you'd met, every second still as clear as day and burnt into his memory like a brand.

Henry remembered the first time he'd seen you, standing in front of him at the bar when he'd walked over to get another round of drinks. The first thing he'd noticed was your lack of football colours - you'd had to be the only person in the pub not wearing anything to support either of the teams playing. Curious, he'd immediately wanted to ask you why, his eyes then falling to what he'd only been able to describe as a perfect behind. Your ass, round and peachy, covered by a pair of blue denim jeans that seemed to hug your curves in all of the right places. Jeans, he noted, that still to this day, were one of his favourite looks on you.

He remembered stepping forward to stand beside you, glancing over at you in time to see you do the same to him. He remembered the first time he'd seen your face, instantly taken aback by wide, beautiful eyes and plump, smooth lips. He remembered thinking in that moment how gorgeous he'd thought you were, your hair loose and framing your face in soft, relaxed waves.

He'd turned back to the bartender and made his order, trying to decide what to say to you when he'd suddenly heard your voice as you'd made your own order. He'd quickly deduced that you weren't a local, your voice was soft and lilting, tinged with an accent that he'd quickly placed as an Australian. He remembered the way you'd turned and glanced up at him next, parting your lips and offering him a small, soft smile. A smile, he remembered, that had knocked him back for a split second, a smile that had made him pause among all the chaos of the crowded pub and stop in a way that he hadn't in the longest time.

He'd wondered idly if you were a tourist, here on holiday or perhaps passing through on your travels, maybe even visiting for work reasons, racking his brain for the right words to strike a conversation with you as the bartender had placed three pints of Guinness in front of him. He didn't need to think long though, you instead audibly grimacing at his choice of beverage and turning to him as you'd asked how he could possibly enjoy drinking the dark Irish ale. He'd chuckled, feeling his stomach flip flop when you'd shared his laugh with him - a soft, musical laugh that Henry decided then and there that he could listen to for hours.

He remembered how your interaction had felt so comfortable after that, easy and not at all forced as he'd justified his choice of beer, watching as you'd chuckled adorably and shaken your head in response. It was then that he'd introduced himself, holding out his hand for you to shake and grinning when you'd smiled and taken his hand. Y/N, you'd said, Henry's mind pausing momentarily as he'd once again been distracted by your smile, a tingle running down his spine at the contact of your fingers against his.

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