Title: The Brit Next Door
Rating: M (For language, sexual themes and situations, and mentions of drug use)
Summary: Alfred F Jones is a normal high school teen, graduating in 2 months like any other kid. And like these kids, he has big hopes for the future. The only problem? He's at the bottom of the social pyramid, and a stepping-stone for the other kids, along with his three best friends Francis, Antonio, and Gilbert.
However, when Alfred catches sight of his new neighbor- an ex-porn star named Arthur- undressing, new interests and problems arise. Though one thing's for sure; Alfred wants to capture the Brit's body for his own.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or the 2004 Film, 'The Girl Next Door.' I am simply using the characters and plots for mine and others entertainment. I will in no way prosper off of this work. Couples involved in this story;
Spamano (Side couples)
Uk/Another character who will not be mentioned at this moment in time
Couples involved in this story;
Well, hello there, lovely readers. I'm back with yet another Fanfiction for Hetalia. This is based off of the Girl Next Door (2004) film, and I intend to make it silly, perverted, and fluffy. Smut may come in later chapters, but for now it's all lovey-dovey happiness.
Thank you for reading, and I'm sorry this chapter's particularly short. It's more of an introduction. The next one's will be longer. *Important note* There will later be Uk/Others involved in this story. It isn't going to be an official pairing, nor the main pairing of this story. But if you dislike it, it's not too bad, and is only a few mentions.
*Important note* There will later be Uk/Others involved in this story. It isn't going to be an official pairing, nor the main pairing of this story. But if you dislike it, it's not too bad, and is only a few mentions.
"No fucking way!"
There was a static-soaked, silence from the other end, though the receiver of the call could only guess the male he was talking to was cracked up just as much as he. It didn't last long, and soon the shrieking voice of his companion entered his ears once more; it was annoying and high pitched as always, but it was the same voice that had been there for him for years. Therefore he didn't mind it. "You'd never win! I could pick up more girls than you in a week! And they'd all be hot!" And like always, he was spouting obnoxious rambles, usually to try to upstage the other. Whether it was something simple or not, the owner of the other voice always attempted at besting his long time friend.
Alfred F. Jones found his eyes rolling automatically in reaction to the words of his friend, Gilbert. He knew Gilbert would be doing the same as him; sitting alone on his bed, staring at the ceiling on a Friday night, having nothing better to do than talk about the imaginary partners they were sure to come across in the following years.
As mentioned, they were imaginary. Unfortunately, to Alfred's dismay and Gilbert's utter despair. Gilbert never understood this – his excuse as to no one wanting him was that he was just too unapproachable for people, and not in a bad way either. At least he secretly hoped so.
"Like hell you'd somehow find the power to be more charming than me!" Alfred argued, sporting his pride for another time this evening. "I'm always getting more love notes than you! Remember that time in 8th grade, when Lili Zwingli gave me that valentine? Then her trigger-happy brother – Vash, right? - pegged me in the ass with his Bebe gun after school the next day...Besides, why is it always chicks for you? I thought you were-"
There was the sound of fumbling, and the albino said in a quick whisper, "Dude, speaker phone. My mutti and the stick-in-the-mud don't need to know anything." He calmed himself when Alfred has silenced his sentence just before the ice-breaker, and continued on. "Does it matter, though? You have to admit, tits can be pretty hot. Especially Katyusha's. I didn't even know anything was godly enough to get them that big. And damn, they're soft!"
"And... how would you know this?"
"...I touched them in gym yesterday."
"Oh hell no! You did not! How'd you get past the wall of meat?"
"Ivan? That was easy. I just told that one stalker girl where he changed in the boys dressing room. She kept him busy for quite a while!"
"I'm known for having the best!"
Gilbert's cackle was loud and extended, leaving Alfred to wander his eyes around the room. Nothing had changed, of course. On the top of his dresser, his action figures stood, ranging from Marvel characters such as Captain America- which happened to be his favorite- and the colorful animals from his child-hood show, Pokemon. Under that, his drawers were featured, stuffed and hanging open to their full capacity, plaid boxers and dorky turtlenecks years old hanging from their edges. All of the clothes he actually wore stayed on his floor, so he'd find them easier. Pretty smart idea, if you him.
Spread around his walls, he had various posters. But his favorite was on the right of his window. There was a bodacious, blond actor posing in a cowboy suit. He was placed atop a great steed, running off into the horizon with the hero looking back with a wide grin. Funny; he looked a bit like the slim figure pacing around in the house he could see outside the glass of his window frames-
Wait. What? Alfred's blue orbs zoomed in on said shape, only to be surprised at what he saw. Across the way, there was indeed the form of a human, though they seemed terribly like a mix of a male and female. The flat-chest made the curious American fall closer to the barrier keeping him from the sight, and he soon realized it was simply a lithe man moving around the cavern of his bedroom. It wasn't just the male's tired but quick movements that kept him focused, but the fact, from what he could see, this person seemed oddly... beautiful. Of course, that was weird to say about another boy, but it was true 110% in this case. The man wore a loose-fitting vest over a button-down shirt, accompanied by a pair of khaki pants that, while typically unfitting and frankly, unattractive- he was able to wear as if they were a pair of designer jeans.
And slowly, ever so slowly, the blond-man-who-resided-in-the-next-house's hands began inching down his body, touching every curve and dip and groove visible through the distracting clothing. Alfred couldn't help but stare as the man began tugging at the hem of his sweater vest, slipping it up his chest and over his head. When it popped off, his hair was mussed and twinged, as if someone had been pulling at it in fists. Alfred about commented to himself what messy hair this mystery person really had, until he caught his breath as the first buttons on the bottom of his white-long sleeved were popped from their holes and freed, the tiniest bit of milky skin from his lower abdomen poking through. And oh god, was that... a tattoo? Not only was the man dead sexy, he even had a fucking tattoo that resided on the low part of his right hip. It wasn't a necessarily large tattoo, but neither was it small. Bonus points, man. It was simply a black-and-white, smartly shaded soccer ball, two wings sprounting from its sides. While it wasn't anything special... damn it was attractive.
Alfred was so RUDELY ripped from his sight when the crimson-eyed student yelled as loudly as he could into the receiver, catching his slight attention.
"What? I'm busy," Alfred excused, biting his lip when he noted the buttons were getting snagged in their holes of the other's shirt just to tease and torment him as he watched heatedly. "There's someone in the next house over.."
"Is she cute?"
"I can't say it's a she... but, yeah. You could say cute."
The male now had his dress- shirt free, and his little nubs showed through. He neatly folded the unused articles, tucking them away in a hamper for later. And now the zipper came undone.
"Really? Get me pictures! I need to see who could make Mr. Asshole fawn so badly! You went silent for minutes!"
Slowly, as if waiting for the entire world to stop and behold this sight, the metal circle was free, greatly loosening the waistband of the khakis. The male dipped his hand inside the free space, wiggling his hips so the fabric fell down out of sight, and he was left standing in his briefs, the skin down to his knees showing. "Holy hero fucking Jesus Christ of all that is good and holy."
"I have to go, Gil. See ya' at school, tomorrow."
"Hey! Don't you dare hang up-!"
The briefs began slipping down his thighs, and, with the one being observed facing away to fold his clothing on the top of his bed, he had absolutely no clue what events were taking place. And delicately, as if Alfred's gaze would break the male's frame if he stared too eagerly, he trailed down the sweet, angelic skin. From the craning neck, glancing down at his clothing being neatly prepared to be put in its spot to be washed at a latter date, to his shoulders which hunched as he leaned, to the grooves in his sides that formed an attractive curve, to his lower back that led to the sweet and awaited-
Emerald met sky-blue, and Alfred soon noticed he had been caught. In the act. Taken red-handed. There was no joy for him left. He had been seen peeping, and now he'd be shunned forever. The blond he should have walked to the house of, torn down the door from its hinges and taken the man right in his spot wouldn't talk to him ever again. He'd probably go to lengths to avoid Alfred by any means possible. He'd call the cops! Alfred would be ruined. All because he had been spotted.
Smart idea time. Alfred dove to the floor in a panic, bumping his head on the corner of his dresser. The reddening spot began to throb when he hit the floor face-down, cuddling to it as if it would make it all go away. He had no nerve. How could he look up and see that perfect body hating him? It was a risk he had to take.
So the American slowly crawled to his hands, raising to his knees, and set his nose on the edge of his windowsill. There was a gruel scent from the dust sprinkled along it's edge, which he ignored and trained his sights on the darkened window of the male. The curtains were drawn shut. But there was no one mad. No one shouting. No one stomping over to flash him the bird. He had seen the sexy, and made it through!
With a content sigh, the pupil collapsed to the floor, a goofy and silly smile plastered on his lips. Just from that one sight... Alfred F. Jones thought he felt love.
It might have been lust.
But then again, love sounded like the better option.
Thank you for reading, and review, please!