Within the Pages | Various! Hetalia x Reader | Mythical One-Shots [SLOW UPDATES]

One and Only (Vampire! England x Reader)

Requested by https://www.quotev.com/26852875 (Quotev)
⚠️Warning! ⚠️ light amount of blood drawn!
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Thud. Thud. Thud.

The slight throbbing ache in her mind rouses (Y/N) from her sleep, a high pitched ringing in her ears and hazy, sleep filled eyes leaving her disoriented for a moment before finally shaking her head and rubbing her eyes. A muffled hiss leaves her lips as she reopens her eyelids, the naturally bright light of the sun slipping into view, needing a minute to adjust to the sudden illumination before being able to scan her surroundings. With the pain in her head reduced to a dull ache, she sits up, confusion washing over her like a wave at her location; this was not where she last remembered being. She winces, digging into her skull to resurface her memories and mentally fighting some sort of thin invisible barrier blocking her from remembering— aha!

The tinkling. The shimmering mist. The voice. The warmth. The library— the book! And... those two alluring, mysterious emerald green irises, oh how could she forget? The viridity of those eyes and their curious gleam, enchanting her to no end as she slipped into her slumber, and leaving her wondering of just whom those same eyes belonged to; was it a man? A woman? Eccentric or silent? It seemed she would never know.

Taking in a breath, she shakily pushes herself off the ground and stands on her feet, eyes widening in shock at her attire, "When in the..?" The dress wasn't made for someone of high status—which she would be—but was certainly more comfortable than the dresses her mother shoves her in. It was a little puffy, but fine otherwise. The dress was primarily a light blue, slipping off the shoulders with the sleeves having an open slit from her elbows down. There was a brown bodice resting under her bust and sitting atop her hips with an outer skirt of the same colour. Adorning her feet were brown flats, the same shade.

The fabric of the outer skirt wasn't the softest, but not worn and rough either. The female's eyebrows furrow as her lips thin in confusion before her gaze darts to her surroundings; it appears she had awoken by the edge of the woods. She takes a wobbly step forwards, leaning on an oak tree for support as she stands by the tree line. Her lips part at the sight in front of her—a beautiful manor rest only yards away, a small maze of bush trimmed neatly in the front garden with colourful and lush flowers lining the edge.