literature

America x Reader: Getting Lost

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Literature Text

WARNING: swearing!




You were only listening to the tour guide with half an ear because you currently had a big problem at hand. You had to pee. Very, very badly. You have had refused to go to the toilet before the tour because you had been profoundly convinced that you wouldn't have to go to the toilet in the next few hours.

Big mistake.

You hopped from one foot to another. At the moment, you weren't able to think straight. You had to pee so freaking badly, you nearly weren't able to take it anymore. You needed to go to the toilet quickly before an accident would happen.

You looked around frantically, searching for a restroom sign although you knew you weren't allowed to use the restrooms in the White House, but you couldn't care less. You certainly didn't want to pee on the expensive carpet in this hallway.

The President wouldn't be pleased, too.

Finally, you spotted a restroom sign, a bit behind you. You looked back to the group of people, led by the tour guide. They were already ahead of you, almost rounding the next corner. You would catch up with them once you had settled the affair.

You scurried over to the restroom, looking around stealthily. No one was around, not even a guard. Lucky you! You sneaked into the restroom and relieved yourself in record time, washing your hands and swiftly checking your appearance in the big mirror above the sink.
You nodded to yourself and left the restroom, after peeping through the ajar door and seeing that still no one was around.

You hurried to the corner where you had seen the group last only to find them gone – like fallen off the face of the earth.

Your heart stopped for a split second, and you broke out in a cold sweat.

This couldn't be true – this couldn't be happening. You had been gone for ten seconds and they were nowhere to be seen? Not even a door was ajar. The entire corridor was deserted. You couldn't even hear a single voice.

You bit your lip, looking around worriedly. Where could they be? You didn't want to run around and haphazardly and open every door to find them, you were way too afraid you'd get caught by a guard or get lost.

„Holy smokes.“ you muttered. „Why me? What am I supposed to do now? I can't encounter a guard, he would ask me why I got separated from my group in the first place, and then I would have to explain to him that I used the restrooms illicitly and –“ You interrupted yourself, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down. „I'm royally in for it. Fuck my life.“

You leaned against the wall behind you and slid down, tucking up your knees and wrapping your arms around them, propping your chin on them. This was all you could think of for now. You remained in this position until you heard footsteps coming closer.

You hastily got up and scampered to a nearby pot plant, hiding behind it. You didn't want a guard to run across you.

No way.

You just hoped the guard would be too visually impaired to spot a girl hiding behind an obvious plant. Nonetheless, you peeked out from behind your hideout.

A young man – perhaps 20 years old – walked around the corner where you had looked for your group. He had short blond hair with a cowlick sticking up and blue eyes behind glasses. He was holding a hamburger in one hand and a large-sized soft drink in the other. He strode down the corridor like he owned this place.

What is a hot guy like he doing here? And isn't it prohibited to eat and drink in here? You pondered, leaning forward a bit to get a better view of him. Of course you had to lose your balance, the consequence being that you toppled over and right to the guy's feet.

„Oh my God!“ exclaimed said man, dropping the hamburger and the drink in fright. „What the hell?!“

You hurriedly leaped up to your feet. „Please, don't fink on me!“

The young man laughed loudly, causing you to flinch and look around to see if any guards were alarmed by the sound but appearently, they weren't. „Why should I, dudette?“

You teared up a little, covering your eyes with your hands. „I'm lost. I was here on a tour, but I got separated because I went to the toilet, but when I came back, everyone was gone and I couldn't find them and –“

The man engulfed you in a hug. „Whoa, dudette, chill out! Don't cry!“ he pleaded while patting your back comfortingly.

You clenched your teeth and swallowed the lump that had built in your throat. „I'm sorry. It's just – I don't want to get caught by a guard.“

„You won't, dudette! No worries! You're with me now, after all!“

You sniffled, inhaling unintentionally the man's scent. He smelled like burgers (what a surprise), Axe cologne and leather. In other words: He smelled good. Really good.

You blushed and banished these thoughts from your mind. „What difference does it make?“

He released you and laid both hands on your shoulders, grinning at you. „A great one! You said you were on a tour, dudette?“

„Yes.“

„Come with me, then! I'll show you 'round, dudette!“

„But this is prohibited!“ you protested as he grabbed your hand. „We can't just run around in the White House!“

„Why not?“

„Because it's the freaking White House?!“

He merely shrugs. „Whatever, dudette! Do you want to come with me? You can stay here and wait for someone to find you, no problem.“ He let go of your hand and made a move to leave, but you rapidly grasped his hand, letting it go as soon as he turned back to you.

„No, please, don't leave me here all alone!“

He smirked. „Alrighty! Follow me!“ He picked up his hamburger and soft drink from the ground and continued to eat/drink, you following close behind.

You wondered who he was and why he was here, why he was walking around in the White House without the slightest trace of worry about being caught (yes, this was your greatest concern, as you may have noticed already).

The man suddenly turned around, flashing you a wide smirk. „Oh, yeah, by the way, my name's Alfred F. Jones, the hero! The F stands for freedom, of course! What's your name, dudette?“

You giggled despite your nervousness. „I'm (First Name) (Last Name). Nice to meet you, Alfred.“

„Nice to meet you, too, (Name)!“

„May I ask you a question?“

„Go for it!“

„Who are you exactly?“

„What do you mean, (Name)?“

„I mean, you can't be a normal person. We are in the White House, and you act like you own this place. You aren't even afraid of being caught by guards.“

Alfred grinned crookedly, tossing the empty soft drink into a nearby trash can. „You're totally right, but you don't need to know the answer! C'mon, let's go, (Name)! There's so much to see!“ He took you by the hand, pulling you with him.

For the next few hours, Alfred dragged you across the entire White House. Entire. He even showed you rooms you weren't supposed to see, which were locked, but he just conjured a key out of thin air and used it to unlock the door.

Alfred amazed you once again with his seemingly never-ending knowledge about the history of the United States of America. He just went on and on to you for hours, telling you every little detail of the White House and its history.

You had a slight panic attack when you spotted a guard – the first in a long time, all the others seemed to had vanished – down the corridor, keeping the door to the Oval Office under guard. You froze immediately, refusing to follow Alfred any longer.

Alfred turned around to look at you puzzled. „What's up, (Name)? Do you have to go to the bathroom? There was one a short while ago … But you were in the toilette only recently. Have you drunk too much?“

You glared at him embarrassed, shaking your head. „There's a guard!“ you whispered, trying to hide behind a plant – again.

„Huh?“

„A guard! Right there, right under your nose!“

„Of course there's a guard, (Name)! It's the Oval Office! There has to be a guard.“

You face-palmed. „That's not what I meant …“

„C'mon, don't chicken out, (Name)!“ He tugged at your hand. „The Oval Office is the last room I have to show you!“

„But –“

„Get a move on, (Name)!“ He gave your hand a rather harsh tug, causing you to stumble after him. He pulled you towards the guard in spite of your protests – verbally as well as physically – and stopped in front of the guard. „Hey, Dave, how's it going? Is the Pres in there?“

The guard who apparently bore the name Dave shook his head no. „He's out. You can go in.“

„Dope! C'mon, (Name)!“ Alfred dragged you with him, past Dave who shot you a amused glance whilst opening the door for you two.

„Alfred, why the heck are you allowed to be in the freaking Oval Office? And why am I, too?“ you questioned, confused exceedingly. „This makes no sense at all. You make no sense at all.“

Alfred laughed his booming laugh. „That's the hero's secret, (Name)!“

Suddenly, the door was opened, and the President stepped in.

The President.

He sighed once he saw Alfred and you holding hands.

„Yo, Pres, what's good?“

You gawked at Alfred. He had to be kidding.

The President smiled mildly. „Alfred F. Jones, stop doing a bunk and sneaking out of the meetings. We need your opinion.“ He looked at you. „Good afternoon, miss. I hate to say that, but you have to bid farewell to Alfred.“

You nodded, stunned. „OK.“ you squeaked.

„I want to see her to the door, first! I have to make sure she makes it out without getting lost!“ Alfred interjected, pouting.

The President sighed once again. „Agreed. But hurry up, Alfred.“

„Yes, sir!“ Alfred saluted for fun, a wide grin on his lips, then he grabbed your hand and dragged you with him, down the corridors until you were in the lobby. „Pleased to meet you, (Name)! We totally should hang out one day or another! What's your number?“

Taken aback, you told him your number.

„Alrighty, (Name)! The hero will call you, don't worry! So long!“ He turned around and took a step forward, but then he stopped dead in his tracks. He turned back to you, gave you a quick peck on the cheek and stormed off, blushing …

And leaving you a blushing mess, too.

Needless to say, he called you in the evening, right after the meeting had ended, and asked you out to McDonald's.
It seems to me that the ending is a bit rushed, I hope it doesn't suck!
To cover up my little writer's block (actually, I'm just procrastinating - again Llama Emoji-74 (My kawaii cheeks) [V4]  - and not feeling like writing my series - for whatever reason??? bunneh icon17 ), I wrote this! Enjoy! Neko Emoji-37 (Yay) [V2] 

EDIT: I changed the preview pic to something more fitting.

Writing and idea belong to me
Hetalia belongs to Hidekazu Himaruya
Artwork belongs to the one who made it (if you don't want that I'm using it, please note me and I'll change it!)
You belong to America

Inspired by cactusluv.tumblr.com/post/9113…
© 2014 - 2024 LadyLyacaria
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american-otaku-girl's avatar
He smelled really, really, really, really good! Fangirl Yasuko Takasu (Fangirling) [V1] 
Gosh I wish the Hetalia dimension was connected to ours... but we don't got that kinda tech yet rainbow cry