Dating the World: Country x Reader

Dream Girl {England}

Dream Girl {England x Reader}

“Take my hand, love. Onward to a better place.”

London, England: The Great Plague. Year: 1665.

The black-death epidemic was killing him.

Though, not literally killing him. He had yet to be infected. For now, he was just so stressed, devastated, and worried to the point where his life felt like a living hell. And hell meant death.

In other words, the bubonic plague- an incurable disease caused by bacteria- was slowly, painfully killing him in a different way than everyone else.

He’d never felt more useless in his entire life.

He tried so hard to protect them. He searched everywhere for an answer.

But in the end, all he could do was stand there and watch the people of his country suffer. The outbreak of the disease was still fairly new, but it had happened in the past and lasted over a hundred years.

Every day, he cried. He watched families bury their own graves. He watched mountains of bodies be tossed into ditches; no loved ones left to give them a proper burial. He watched corpses be cremated, the affected victims’ houses be burned down. The smoke never left the London air.

Ashes, ashes… he watched them all fall down.

Currently, the Great Plague has already killed nearly 100,000 people. A whole 15% percent of his country’s population. And it was still spreading.

Their fingertips were black. Sores covered their skin. The rotting smell of death never left London. They blamed him.

His people. They prayed. Some days he felt there was no hope. This was the end.

He had already dug his parents’ graves with his own two hands. He felt like there was nothing left for him in this world.

But he knew he had to try his best to protect everyone. He had to live—whether he wanted to or not.

-D-A-T-I-N-G-T-H-E-W-O-R-L-D-

“Do you want some tea before going to bed?”

“No thank you, or else I won’t be able to sleep,” England began walking up the stairs. “Goodnight, America.”

Young America- about five years old- smiled up at his caretaker. “’Night!”

As England came into his bedroom, he sighed. Sleep was the only thing he had to look forward to in his day. With the exception of seeing America, most of his day was rather… depressing. From dawn till dusk, he searched for a cure. There was nothing else for him to do.

But lately, his nights felt peculiar—

Every single night, he had the exact same dream.

A sweet, wonderful dream that he couldn’t complain about. It was better than having repeated nightmares—which, he realized, probably couldn’t even compare to the nightmare that was already his life.

Though the dream he had every night oddly consisted only of mystical creatures—unicorns, flying bunnies, fairies…

And a princess.

She was the only real-world being in the dream. And every morning, he woke up with her face still fresh in his mind.

Throughout his day, he could never get her out of his head. It was like she stayed with him, encouraging him to keep going.