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ficsforeren · 3 years ago

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Our Little Secret - Chapter 1

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader

Genre: College AU, Spider-Man/Spider-Girl AU, Fluff, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Eventual Smut

Series Summary: Eren Jaeger, a 21-year-old virgin college student who loves his camera a little bit too much, has a crush on you. Every night, he switches on his camera and talks about you but he never could find the courage to speak to you in real life. Strangely enough, he finds it easy for him to befriend Spider-Girl, the crime fighting vigilante, not knowing that you both share the same identity.

Chapter Summary: A prologue to the story where you meet Eren Jaeger, the resident hot nerd, for the first time.

Content Warnings: explicit sex scene (happens at the end of the series, can be skipped if you want), swearing, mentions of characters going through depression, traumatic past events

Word Count: 4k

Poster art by the most talented @rainbuniart (follow her on Twitter)

“So, there’s this girl.”

Twenty-one-year-old Eren Jaeger has been making a video journal every day for the last three years of his life, but never, not once, did he ever start with “So, there’s this girl,” like a lovesick fool.

Making daily entries of his life as a college student may sound a bit weird when he has zero social interactions with popular kids, zero chances of being invited to frat parties, and zero experience in dating cute girls—or just girls, period. Eren won’t think of himself as a nerd, despite what the jocks and rich kids called him. His neighbor—a.k.a his one and only friend—Armin Arlert is a nerd and Eren looks nothing like him.

Unlike the blonde boy who dresses himself in baggy clothes and huge thick eyeglasses, Eren dresses casually in a pair of dark jeans and a button-down denim shirt with his long sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His mother used to say that he was the prettiest boy in the world, but then again, she was his mother so she was obliged to say that. He thinks he looks okay.

He has dark brown hair, silky smooth. When he was younger, his strands used to be long enough for him to dress himself up like Pocahontas on Halloween without having to wear a wig (he got five buckets full of candies in one night, the neighbors loved him, he was the prettiest Pocahontas ever), but since he often got mistaken as a girl, he decided to trim it off. Now, his hair is only long enough to graze his shoulders every time he wears it loose. He tries to look cool and sporty by tying it up in a man-bun, which is probably quite popular in, like, a decade ago but whatever.

What makes him look totally different from those bunch of losers–no offense to all the nerds out there–is the fact that he is actually quite muscular for a college student. He does a part-time job every summer at his uncle's moving company where he's forced to lift stuff, ranging from boxes full of clothes and delicate dishes to a three-piece living room sectional. It builds up his arms and core, giving him a nice set of pecs and a pair of guns that don’t belong to someone who stays up all night playing Days Gone.

He’s taller than most of the nerds too, thankfully, standing six feet tall with his broad shoulders hunched slightly as he walks. And unlike Armin who has a human-size pillow featuring a printed image of a half-naked anime girl in a questionable lying pose, Eren’s bed is as dull as his life—a single size bed with normal size pillows and gray sheets that he wishes someday can smell pleasantly like a girl’s bergamot perfume instead of his yesterday’s sweat.

What makes him look a little bit like a nerd is probably the way he carries his Canon EOS 90D camera in his hands at all times. At one point, he swore he heard a girl named Hitch laughing behind his back, jeering, “Bet you a hundred bucks he named his camera Rachel or something and pretends it’s his girlfriend.” Eren pouted and groused under his breath for the rest of the day because Hitch was completely wrong about it. He doesn’t treat his camera as his girlfriend. He treats his camera as his life partner. They’re committed to each other. It isn’t just a fling. And no, its name isn’t Rachel. It’s Sarah. But that’s beside the point.

Nerds often wear thick eyeglasses due to their endless hours of gaming, binging TV shows and anime, or reading hentai mangas late at night. Even though Eren does all of those things, his eyesight is perfectly fine, maybe even better than most people. He’s shared infinite hours of gaming too—Overwatch is his favorite online game at the moment—but his vision is so perfect that he often catches the little details that people missed or perhaps he’s just pretty observant. But Eren doesn’t like his eyes that much. They’re too green, too radiant, and combined with his thick eyebrows knitted together in a neverending frown, they make him look a bit… frightening. They make him seem unapproachable.

“You’ve got a resting bitch face, that’s your problem,” Armin concluded one night as they sprawled next to each other on the floor with their Xbox controllers in hands. “That’s why you always scare people off. This is why you don’t have a girlfriend, man.”

“Yeah, 'cause you’re so popular yourself,” Eren snorted which was quickly followed by a groan when Armin’s character on the screen managed to shoot him dead for the fifteenth time that night. “You fucking kidding me right now? Gonna shoot me from behind like that? That's cheap, bro. I was still changing my weapons.”

“Pussy. I would’ve had your ass killed in a real war within seconds,” Armin mocked back, fixing his eyeglasses. “And excuse me, I don’t have a girlfriend because I choose not to have a girlfriend. I’m loyal to my wife.”

“Your wife is a 2D character with fox ears wearing a kimono that highlights her unproportional boobs.”

“Yes, your point?”

Eren sighed in defeat. When he said he was married to his fictional waifu, Armin wasn’t kidding. All those photoshopped pictures he hung on his wall and the silver wedding ring he kept around his fourth finger were solid pieces of evidence of that.

But Eren never really cared about finding himself a girlfriend. Actually, despite popular beliefs, he had a few girls asking him out for a coffee date. That goth girl Mikasa Ackerman was even obsessing over him at some point. He received a text from her one day that said, “Do you feel it?” which he answered with a frown, “Feel what?” Not a few seconds later, another text appeared on his screen. “I’ve got your voodoo doll. I’m sucking your balls right now.” And Eren, almost right away, thought All right, that’s enough social interaction for the day. He changed his phone number right after. He low-key wanted to change his name too and maybe invent a new whole identity for him, just to be safe.

Now, let’s go back to his video journal. Due to some personal reasons, Eren has been making one every night, usually right after he got home where his memory was still fresh. Today, his last class is canceled so he returns earlier than usual to the small house he shares with his Aunt Dina. She was the one who took him and his older brother Zeke into her home right after their parents passed away. Zeke, three years older than he is, has been taking a late shift at a local restaurant so he won’t be back before midnight.

“Hey,” Eren greets the beautiful old lady as he closes the front door behind him.

“Hey, darling,” Dina responds with a benign smile. “You’re early. How was your day?”

“Last class was canceled. A bit burned out from all the pop quizzes but if I could survive high school, I think I’ll live. I’ll be in my room if that’s okay?”

“Sure. Gonna talk to your girlfriend again?”

So, yeah, the camera is his life partner but his computer? Now that’s his girlfriend. “Yep.” Placing a little greeting kiss on her cheek, Eren makes his way to his room. He yawns as he tosses his bag without a care to his bed, switching on his iMac before he plops himself down on his favorite swivel chair.

Throwing his head back, he heaves the loudest sigh ever known to mankind as if he had the roughest workday on NASA trying to stop an asteroid from hitting the earth when all he did was try not to cry over the pop quiz he had in his advanced statistics class. It’s some kind of stress relief for him, sighing like that, which is another habit that he often does just like how he nibbles on his bottom lip whenever he feels nervous. That sigh is also a signal for his other girlfriend to come along.

“Hey ya, girl,” Eren coos as a little Siberian Husky climbs up to his lap. He just bought her from a very shady pet shop called “Bow Wow.” She’s a four-month-old puppy with a black and white fluffy coat and striking icy blue eyes. She always does this little bark whenever Eren tilts up his chin and howls at her as if she’s trying to communicate by imitating him but she’s too young to produce a howl. It never fails to make him laugh. “Who needs a girlfriend when I have you,” he giggles, nuzzling their noses together. “Not that I’m into bestiality or anything, but I think you’re super cute, Muffin.”

And yes, her name is Muffin, literally because the first thing he saw after he stepped out of Bow Wow—god, he hated that name—was this little girl wolfing down a blueberry muffin as if her life depended on it. Does he regret it? Probably. Should’ve named her something better like Grey Wind or Nymeria or something. Then again, Game of Thrones’ ending sucked balls so maybe he’s glad he didn’t name his dog after stupid direwolves that literally contributed nothing to the show but have cool-looking CGI.

Activating his iSight camera, Eren watches the little green indicator lights up above his monitor. He starts recording, staring blankly at the screen for a couple of seconds as he contemplates what he should say as a form of greeting. His favorite introduction had always been, “Today sucks donkey’s ass,” which promptly followed by him rambling for a whole thirty minutes about how ridiculously boring college was, or complaining about how good his archenemy Jean Kirstein’s hair looked that day—that stupid horseface.

If he was having a good day, he tended to be more chatty, not just talking about his day but also making theories about life itself. His last video lasted for almost two hours, trying to answer “Does fate exist? If so, do we have free will?” It was the stupidest two hours he’d ever wasted in his life as he, by the end of his session, couldn’t even come up with a single gratifying answer.

But today, Eren can't think of anything else but one thing, or rather, a person, which is why he gives up with a groan, rubbing a hand over his face as his cheeks turn rosy. Keeping one hand on his puppy’s head, idly stroking its fur, he stares straight at the camera and confesses, “So, there’s this girl.”

This girl is you, one of the most popular girls on his campus. You’re not notorious for your skimpy clothes or getting handsy at parties. Honestly, you’re not even sure why almost everyone—even several teachers—knows your name. Sure, you’re one of the brightest kids in the university who has a few science trophies under your belt, but surely, that’s not what makes you famous, is it?

But unlike you, Eren knows perfectly why you’re popular. You’re kind, every junior knows your name because you’re a reliable senior who’s always eager to help people. You’re not only smart, but you’re witty too. You have a wicked sense of humor, sarcasm is your weapon of choice, and your confidence level is over the roof. Eren can tell from how easily you can make people smile and laugh whenever you strike up a conversation. You have the sweetest smile he’s ever seen on a girl’s face—or anyone’s face, really, maybe even more beautiful than the smile he used to witness on his mother’s face. It doesn’t help that you’re super cute too—cuter than Muffin, even, and that’s saying something.

There are so many things he adores about you and he knows that once he opens his mouth to form your name, he’ll never stop until his computer explodes from overheating. He’s been trying not to talk about you for so long, keeping all of these emotions bottled up inside his chest because he doesn’t want to sound like an obsessive stalker more than he already is. He’s too ashamed to admit it, but he’s been keeping his eyes on you for… what, maybe a couple of years by now? God, he’s such an embarrassment. Even right now he’s giving himself secondhand embarrassment by watching his face turning all lovey-dovey on screen as he talks about you. But how can he not after what happened today?

It was during lunch break when he felt like his world was flipped upside down. He was sitting in the backyard of his campus, just chilling on the ground with his legs stretched out, not caring if it would leave grass stains and dirt on his dark blue jeans—which he would enormously regret in the next seven minutes as it made him look like he just shit his pants. He was playing with his camera—because what else could he be doing? Talking to himself? He already did that during the first period—when he caught sight of you sitting on a bench with a few of your close friends: Sasha, Historia, and Annie (yes, aside from knowing your habits and your favorite sweaters, he memorized your friends’ names too, what a loser).

Sasha was telling a story with her mouth full of a salami sandwich—which was nothing new, of course—and you looked so adorable when you pushed a lock of stray hair behind your ear, listening intently with a little angelic smile breaking on your pretty lips.

Now, Eren didn’t mean to be a stalker. He knew how terrible it felt to be stalked by someone after what he went through with Mikasa. But he had taken a thousand pictures of you without you knowing, so why should he stop now? Plus, he had never seen you wearing that blouse with that skirt before and he had to have this look in his collection.

“Eren you stupid fuck,” he mumbled to himself as he brought his camera to his face. “Could’ve just told her she looked beautiful–maybe even ask her out on a date, but no, you just had to be gross.” And yet, he still did it. Switching his shooting mode to portrait, he adjusted the ISO and focused the camera on you. He pressed the shutter button repeatedly, taking pictures after pictures, every bit of your smile, the way your eyes turned crescents as you laughed, the gestures you made as you took the lead of the conversation.

God, you were breathtaking.

He took a quick look at the photos, reviewing them with a little content sigh escaping his lips. “I am so whipped.” He had taken around twenty pictures, which meant he had to take another twenty before he was satisfied.

Repeating the same action, he zoomed in to focus better on your facial features. Through his lenses, he noticed how you were wearing a new shade of lipstick that day, a little bit pinker than red, which made you look younger—and made him want to kiss you even more but that was a secret he would bring to his grave (unless you are willing to stop for a full make-out session behind the bleachers, of course).

He was smiling to himself as he took your pictures when suddenly, you spun your head around and looked directly into his camera.

“Shit!” Startled so hard he almost pissed his pants, his camera slipped off his grip and fell onto his lap. Panicking, he tried to gather his belongings quickly in his arms because apparently, his pea-sized brain thought it would be a great idea to run away instead of trying to make up excuses like how a normal person would do in that situation. To his defense, being normal wasn’t really his thing. Being a fucking dumbass was more like it.

“Hey there, whatcha doin’?” You greeted in a sing-song voice with your hands placed above your knees as you bowed down to match his eye level.

“I—I—” Yeah, that’s great, genius, just stutter like a fucking idiot, that would make everything better. He gulped. “I was, uh…” Say something faster, say something faster. “N-not taking your pictures.” Say something better, say something better. “Landscapes. I do landscapes. I was—I was taking pictures of the, uh, the park—the yard—the campus.” Fuck, just stop speaking. Never speak again, oh my God.

He’s cute, was the first thought that entered your head. And an idiot was the second one. But that was what made your smile grow a little wider. “So you weren’t taking pictures of me?”

“N-no, why would I?”

“I don’t know, maybe you find me cute?”

He almost cho—no, he choked. He definitely did. “I don’t find you… c-cute.” Somewhere at the back of his head, someone is shouting, “LIEEEEESSSS!”

“Oh, no,” you faked a pout. “It would've made me happy if you did.”

Is she... flirting with me? This was your first time talking to him, and you were flirting with him? Eren was about to explode. He would've punched himself in the face to make sure he wasn't dreaming if you weren't looking down at him with your pretty eyes.

Marry me, oh my God, marry me. “I was just taking a picture of the cherry blossom tree. You just happened to be sitting under it.” Hey, for once, he actually made sense! Time to pat himself on the back.

“I see,” you said, taking a step back when he rose to his feet to avoid your heads bumping against one another—Eren was dumb enough not to think about that before he jumped up. “We’re similar then. ‘Cause I’m an artist and I draw landscapes from time to time. Can I take a look at your photos? Might give me some inspiration.”

“Umm—no.” He shook his head, more times than necessary.

You did this little cute thing where you tilted your head slightly to the side and Eren thought, Fuck, I should’ve gotten this look on camera. “Why not?”

“‘Cause, uh… My pictures are boring. They won’t inspire you.”

“I don't think so. You’re from the photography club, right? I think I saw you documenting our homecoming party. I saw the photos you took. They’re pretty cool.”

Eren was so happy he felt like he was about to throw up a bucket of rainbows—or his insides, which would've made more sense. You noticed him? You acknowledged his presence? He wasn’t a speck of dust in your world, but actually a whole size human being that you remembered by face? Holy shit, his heart rejoiced. Holy—

Holy shit, his eyes widened in horror. I am so fucked.

Because now he couldn’t lie, could he?

“What’s wrong?” That little angelic smile of yours turned into a devilish smirk, letting him know that yes, dumbass, I saw through your lies, but Eren only felt his heart thumping faster because damn, that smirk was hot.

“I–I have to go to class,” he stammered, slinging his bag on one shoulder before he made his run but you were fast to catch him by his wrist.

She’s touching me. She’s actually touching me. Her fingers are so soft, so delicate. I want–

“Just one look?” If your smile didn’t work on him, it was time for you to use your ultimate weapon: batting your eyelashes. “Please?” You asked with a pout and Eren swore, he just felt his jeans turn ten times tighter.

“I... can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I took pictures of my dick.” Now, clearly, that wasn’t the best excuse to say but it was the best one he could come up with when all he could think about was how you smelled pleasantly like strawberry (is it her shampoo? fuck, that's cute). His reason made sense too, in a way, so hopefully, that would work.

You quirked up an eyebrow, not judging him for his actions, but simply not believing him. “Fine,” you muttered, and Eren almost breathed out in relief, when suddenly your hand swooped in to steal the camera from his hands. He yelped in surprise—an actual girly yelp—before he felt like his soul just left his body. Right, so plans for today: jump off a fucking bridge and die.

Then, the devil whispered in his ear: or you can just steal it back from her.

Eren reached out a hand but you were faster, swinging his camera to the side and spinning your body around. No matter how many times he tried, he couldn’t snatch the stupid thing from your grasp. Growing desperate, he shrouded his arms around your body from behind, catching you off guard for a few seconds, enough for him to pry the camera from your hold (Eren was too caught up in a frenzy to realize that he was practically giving you a teddy bear hug). Instead of running away, he did the most brilliant thing his dysfunctional brain could come up with.

He deleted the pictures. All of them. And Eren thought, ah, so this is what dying must feel like.

Thankfully, he had already backed up all the photos he took yesterday on his computer but these last photos he snapped—with you wearing this new wonderful blouse—he had to kiss them goodbye.

“Here,” he said, returning the camera to you with his shoulders sagged forward, and a great wrench of sadness in his chest.

Your forehead creased in lines, a bit confused. Clicking your thumbs against the buttons, you realized that his memory card was empty. “Did you just delete all the pictures in here?”

“No,” he replied, rubbing his nape as he looked away. Then, he added a little, “Yes,” with his face turning scarlet.

“Do you have copies of them?”

“Some of them…”

“But not the ones with me sitting under the cherry blossom tree?”

He tucked his chin, kicking one foot against the ground. “No,” he murmured under his breath.

Ah, he’s so cute, you held back a laugh. You wished you could shrink his six feet tall body so you could carry him inside your pocket, maybe dress him up in a bunny suit so he could cheer you up during rainy days. “Well, let’s fix that, shall we?”

Eren almost dislocated his jaw when he saw you lift the camera in the air. Making a peace sign to accompany the gleeful grin on your face, you faced the lens and pressed the shutter button. “There,” you said, returning the camera to his hands with a radiant smile. “I’m not sure if I got the cherry blossom tree in the picture, but I can guarantee you got everything else.” Still flabbergasted, Eren could only stare at the camera, his fingers shaking as the screen showed a close-up picture of your beautiful face. “Don’t delete it this time, big boy.”

With one last smile, you pivoted on your heels, your hair fluttering as the warm wind of spring caressed your strands. Eren felt like he was living in a fucking shoujo manga where he was the heroine clothed in a frilly summer dress and you were his rugged, super masculine male lead. God, he could already hear wedding bells ringing in his head.

“And that,” Eren talks to his computer screen, finishing his video journal of the day (it’s already one and a half hours long for fuck’s sake), “ladies and gentlemen, is the story of how your best boy, Eren Jaeger, had his heart stolen from the very first meeting. I think it went well.” He brings his gaze to his lap, scratching his furry friend behind her ear. “Don’t you think so, Muffin?” The puppy lets out a growl in response. “Don’t worry, baby, you’re still my number one girl,” he chortles, lifting her in the air just so he can nuzzle his nose against her belly.

He exhales heavily, casting a dreamy gaze on the ceiling. “I can’t believe she knows I exist.”

This is the best day of my life.

If only a mere thought of you acknowledging his presence already makes him feel so surreal, then maybe he should start consuming his chill pills to avoid having a cardiac arrest because once he discovers the truth about your identity, he’s going to lose it for sure.

Because you’re not just the it girl on your campus now, are you?

“And we’re back on earth,” you say to the little boy in your arms as you return to your feet. The toddler, dressed in an adorable Spider-Man costume, wobbles on his little feet, dizzy from having his body suddenly lifted off the ground, right before he was hit by a passing car. He watches you let go of your web, cutting the natural fluid from your wrist. Your costume itself is already eye-catching enough even without the web—black on the lower body with a white upper body, complete with a hoodie and cyan soles. The underarms and inside the hoodie are magenta covered in cyan web patterns, while your lenses are white with magenta accents.

His mother embraces her child, smiling in gratitude with tears lining her cheeks. “Thank you,” she says. “For saving my son’s life.”

“You’re very welcome, Ma’am.” Your mouth twitches in a smile, even if it’s not going to show on your mask. Smiling has always come naturally to you. It’s harder not to smile than to do it. Offering him a fist bump, you say, “Stay off the street, Spidey.”

He knocks his little fist against yours, grinning at you. Ruffling his curly hair, you turn on your heels, ready to shoot your web to swing yourself from one building to another.

“Wait,” his mother calls right before you lift yourself off the ground. “Who are you?”

“Well, Ma'am,” you perform a little bow, being theatrical is a part of your job. “I’m your friendly neighborhood Spider-Girl.”

***

Hi, everyone! I'm back with a new mini series this time! This one is going to be all fluff with a sprinkle of comedy and smut (no angst, I promise lmao). I've decided to post early 'cause I couldn't wait to share this story with you hehe. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it ❤️

Thank you Sandra, Nissa and Ben for being my beta-readers for this one. I love you, guys! Oh, also, I've decided to go with Spider-Gwen's costume 'cause I think it's cute but you're welcome to imagine a different outfit for y/n.

Tagging:

@l6ffys @vivi-et @halparkebitch @fwess @littlemochi @thebeardedmoon @didiyogo @coyloves @erenbean @tehehebri @justasketch @infnteen @naiomiwinchester @spiderlingh @doyochii @ahornyenby @aengelren @sakurashell @the-princess-button @resonancesoul @blrqt @cacapeepee @persyhange @jaegersdiary @erentoes @trashgremlin36 @meed18 @j0livi0ni @snowflake-201 @jaymihawk @eva-gates @claudevonstrukesblog @sofijaeger @rinsie @blanccofiie @ereninbunu @natanialora @khinjito @ackersune @watermelon-online @tropicsoda @damselofblueroses @alexackrman @bblgumz @jurrasicpork @erenjaegercult @holycandypizza Thanks for reading, lovelies ❤️

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