Attack On Titan Oneshots [mostly au] {requests closed!}

Has Always Been, Will Be, and Will Never Stop Being - BertoltxPoet!Reader

Well that is a very long title. So, the poem I used is one I've made. It sucks, but even so, ask if you want to use it. The poem might not go with the story, but I wanted it there so it stays. Requested by fxustus

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THIRD PERSON

A game.

(Y/n) walked down the icy streets, her (h/l) (h/c) hair whisking behind her in the nipping breeze.

A game so old it is said to have losts it's name.

She held the ivory papers close to her chest inside a folder as she pulled her (f/c) scarf over her mouth.

A game to see who will win, who will see the world without fear.

Her close friend, Bertolt, was in the hospital and she was going to see him. She never left her poems behind and he loved to hear them, so why not bring them?

A game to see who will fall harder, who will learn its not about progression.

If it would cheer him up, she would do it. Even if the poems were sort of dark, it seemed the brown haired boy held them dear, as he was hopelessly infatuated with the girl he thought was beyond comparison to any other poet.

A game to see who will catch on that innovations are causing more harm than good.

(Y/n) was a little upset at the reason why he was in the hospital. Bertolt was always interested with weapons, despite being one of the sweetest people one can meet. He loved to hunt most of all.

The game we all play, will always play, and never stop playing.

He was in a knife throwing accident, someone unknown attacked him while he was practicing with his own knives. They had cut him deep in some places while others were mere scracthes.

This game is played with a specific song.

No matter how tiny the accident, (y/n) was nauseated by the thought of her friend hurt, as she too was infatuated with the amazing huntsman.

The song that we unconciously fear. The song that will break even the strongest man's will and bring insanity to the weak and helpless.

She walked through the see through, sliding doors and towards the counter, asking where the boy was. They directed her and she immediately took off, giving a short thank you.

This song has played throughout the ages, it has lurked in the corners of your mind, always on a loop. Waiting for its chance to find it's ending note.

(Y/n) knocked on the door to the room, hearing a faint 'come in'. She pushed the door open and Bertolt's face lit up at the sight of the girl and her poems.

Why haven't we stopped it yet, the song of our impending demise? The pause button has never been or ever will be there. It stops when we stop, when we sleep in a dark room with no way out.

She sat down next to him and set the folder down, asking how he was. He was flattered she was concerned, so he answered swiftly. After a short talk, she pulled out a piece of paper and began to read.

We dance before our turns and verses of the song and game can end. We dance around the edge, the dance of our withering souls.

Bertolt listened without fail as the soft words flowed out of (y/n)'s mouth, to him, it was intoxicating the way she spoke and carries herself when executing her poems so flawlessly. He couldn't help but be dazed.

This dance, this song, this game. The name is said to be lost, but we still can not forget.

One after another, she read and Bertolt listened. He was just happy she was here. She finished another poem and looked up to see Bertolt lazily staring at her features that so gracefully shined in the dim light coming from outside.

We can not forget, that even though this game, this song, this dance is still evident, that we can still have our way with it. Not be the puppet of the music of this song or the flow of your body in this dance or the turns you take in this game, but let these be what helps you become the puppet master.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds before each noticed what they were doing and turned away.

You make the turns, and the moves, and the lyrics to the song, so why not take the chance to find the happiness that comes along with the loss, and the gain that comes with the sorrow.

They continued to steal tiny glances at each other and soon enough, it felt like something was pulling them closer together.

The happiness that comes with finding the person you love, and the loss of losing friend that was never really there. The gain of another feeling to never get used to but the sorrow of always missing what has been lost: the carefreeness that came with being adolescents.

A small smile graced each of their faces as they gently pressed their lips to the other in a happy movement, almost like a dance to an unheard song.

But this must never get in the way of remembering the names of this game, song, and dance you have found yourself in. The names...

They pulled apart, now noticing the they were in entangled in each other. They just smiled, pressing their foreheads together.

The name of the game, evolution.

(Y/n) was happy she got to brighten his day. Bertolt was happy because he was able to find the joy in this accident.

The name of this song, death.

The unknown but familiar feelings coursing through their body seemed to move them, as a puppet on strings.

The name of this dance..

They said no words, just lost themselves of the eyes of the other. The green eyes that held gentleness, happiness beyond words, determination, and pure admiration for the other. The (e/c) eyes that held deeper-than-normal thinking, happiness, uniqueness, and..

The name of the dance varies with each personality, but a common one everyone holds..

A feeling so deeply rooted, it would talk years to even find the source. But it was simple what it was, even if took more than one word to describe. The feeling of knowing the future is a chaotic mess of luck on what moves you've made in the past..

A love that has always been, will be, and will never stop being invincible.

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Did that suck? I really hope it didn't. Anyway, hope you like it fxustus . I'm also kinda proud of myself, I did this in a day. After this : idk