The Last Witness (Journalist reader x AOT Boys)
With the fall of the Titans, Paradis is no longer completely sealed from the world ā but trust is still a fragile thing. Not that Y/N cares. She'sĀ a foreign journalist and war photographer with a mission:Ā become the first outsider brave (or foolish) enough to tell Paradisā story from within.Ā
Levi
He doesn't trust Y/N for a second and sees her as a liability.
If they don't censor her, she could doom Paradis all over again.Ā
But over time, Levi sees her patching up her own wounds, sneaking cigarettes with soldiers, and treating even the lowest-ranked cadets like their words matter. That earns his respect.
Y/N's camera annoys him.Ā āTch. Point that thing somewhere elseā. He doesn't get cameras, therefore he doesn't trust it.Ā
Deep deep down though, he appreciatesĀ someone trying to document the mess they survived. (Even if heāll never admit it).
Sheās a walking mess ā hair never brushed the same way twice, camera strap tangled with her bag, ink stains on her fingers. Her clothes are strange too ā loose trousers, suspenders,Ā shirts with sleeves rolled halfway.Ā Half the time sheās got her shoes untied. It drives Levi insane.
āButton your collar,ā he grumbles. āToo hot,ā she says, camera clicking. āAlso, not your collar.ā
He mutters about āsloppy foreignersā but somehow ends up following her around, picking up her dropped notebooks, wiping dirt off her lens, adjusting her straps before they snag on something. Itās not duty anymore... itās reflex.
One day, rainās coming down hard and she throws her jacket over a kidās shoulders. Her cameraās soaked, she doesnāt care. Leviās jaw tightens. Sheās reckless. But when she turns to grin at him through the downpour, he feels something crack open. That dangerous warmth he hasnāt let himself feel since before the world ended.
He's fallen.Ā
Levi doesnāt allow the thought to grow. He buries it deep under routine, under paperwork. But at night, when her laughter drifts through HQās halls, he listens. He hates that he listens.
Eren
When Y/N arrivesĀ knocking down the walls,Ā he almost kills her. Eren is hostile; seeing herĀ as part of the world that condemned them.
Sheās standing too close, camera raised, asking questions no one else dares to. He warns her once. She doesnāt back off.
āIf you get in my way again,ā he says quietly, āIāll eat you next.ā She only smirks. āThen at least my obituary will be interesting.ā
He should have eaten her right there and then, but something in the way she stared him down, unflinching, planted itself in his head and never left.
From then on, he avoids her like the plague.Ā Jean and Hange callĀ it ārunning away.āĀ Eren prefers the termĀ ādodging bad pressĀ gracefully.ā
But none of it matters, because somehow Y/N always finds him. She finds him in the quiet corners of ruined streets, sitting on a step, pretending not to notice her. She finds him at dawn, by the shore, staring at the horizon like heās trying to memorize the end of the world. And she keepsĀ firing questions that slice through his rhetoric.
āWhat does freedom mean if it costs everyone else theirs?ā āDo you ever miss being right instead of being worshiped?ā
He tells her to leave him alone, but she doesnāt listen. She never listens. And for reasons he canāt name, he stops wanting her to.Ā Eren is fascinated by her defiance, but sheĀ frustrates him deeply.
Because of her challenging and intrusive questions, she becomes one of the few people who can make him pause.
The realization, of his new feelings, comes slowly. In the way her voice echoes after sheās gone, the way he catches himself remembering her expressions instead of his plans.
One day, she calls him out again: āYou keep saying you want to save the island, Eren. But what about yourself?ā He opens his mouth to answer... and nothing comes out.Ā That silence is the truth.
Y/NĀ represents a version of freedom that doesnāt require blood.Ā And to be honest, she knows more about the world than Eren does.
And heās terrified.Ā Because if he admits he loves her, even to himself, then he has to admit heās still human. And humans donāt destroy the world ā they grieve it.
JeanĀ
At first, heās suspicious. Sees her as another outsider trying to make Paradis look like monsters.
But her blunt honesty and visible compassion disarm him.
Jean finds himself watching how she moves through war ruins and listens to survivors ā not with pity, but respect. Heās quietly impressed.
Eventually, he becomes her unofficial escort, making sarcastic remarks about her āsuicidal curiosityā while secretly admiring that she reminds him of who he wanted to be: someone who still believes in something.
Jean realizes he's in love during one of their 'sketch sessions'.Ā
It starts with a joke: she sits cross-legged on the floor of the barracks, sketchbook open, tongue between her teeth as she caricatures him mid-rant. āHold still, soldier boy.ā
He rolls his eyes. Jean doesn't get satirical caricature. Ten minutes later heās kneeling beside her, showing her how to shade with a charcoal stub.
Soon, it becomes routine: late-night drawing sessions after patrol. She sketches the absurd, he sketches the real. One night she draws a cartoon of two figures painting over the words Devils of Paradis on a crumbling wall. āHope that makes tomorrowās paper,ā she murmurs. Jean watches the way she leans over the page and something in his chest pulls taut.
Jeanās reaction? Avoidance, of course. He gets flustered, defensive, starts joking too much around her. But every time she teases him back, his heart races. Itās the first time heās liked someone who scares him ā not because sheās dangerous, but because she sees right through him.
Floch
Absolutely hates her guts. To him, sheās a walking symbol of everything wrong with the outside world.
Heāll call her a spy, accuse her of manipulating people, and might even threaten her early on.
Yet, what unnerves him most is that she isnāt afraid of him.
When she fires back with facts, or challenges his sense of nationalism, heās forced to confront his own hypocrisy.
Y/NĀ become his most powerful ideological rival and the first person to see the broken boy behind the soldier.
Their fights are infamous around HQ ā loud, sharp, and always in public. He calls her naĆÆve, she calls him fascist. And their arguments always end the same ā her walking away, him furious that she doesnāt break.
But the worst one happens after she publishes an article criticizing Paradisā military rule. Floch corners her outside the press room, voice low but shaking.Ā āYou think youāre saving us? Youāre making us look weak.āĀ
āMaybe youāre scared people will see what strength really looks like.ā She fire back.Ā
The silence that follows burns. He sees the disappointment in her eyes ā not fear, disappointment. And it guts him more than any insult. She walks away without another word.
Thatās when it hits him:Ā He realizes, with bitter clarity, that heās falling for the only person who doesnāt worship or fear him.Ā He hates it. Denies it. So he doubles down, becomes crueler, colder, anything to prove she doesnāt affect him.
For the next few days, she avoids him. No quick remarks in passing, no arguments. Just silence. Itās unbearable. He tells himself he doesnāt care, but every time he sees her laughing with someone else, something in his chest twists. When they finally cross paths again, he says nothing ā just stands there, fists tight, wanting to apologize but not knowing how.
He doesnāt want to win against her anymore. He just wants her to look at him the way she used to, even if itās in anger.
Armin
Instantly intrigued. He sees her as living proof that curiosity survives even after hell.
Theyād probably talk late into the night about history, philosophy, and how nations rebuild after atrocities.
Heād want to learn about her world: her journalism, her protests, her ways of holding power accountable.
In return, sheād remind him of what heās fighting for: connection. Thereās mutual admiration there.
Y/N is also keen on teaching him photography.Ā
She drags him outside after everyĀ briefing. āYou think too much. Come on, lightās perfect.ā
Her hands guide his, adjusting the aperture, the focus ring. Explains the different type of portraits, the perfect golden hours. "Itās like breathing. Slow down the world long enough to see it.ā
He peers through the lens and the island blurs into color and silence. For once, everything looksā¦ gentle.Ā
When he develops the photo later, Armin sees it'sĀ blurry, overexposed, but her reflection is caught in the glass beside him. Sheās smiling.
Thatās the moment.
Armin stares at the photo until the paper curls in his hand. For someone who understands logic and cause, he canāt explain why her laugh lingers like an echo in his chest.
His reaction is quiet. He tries to analyze it. Tells himself itās admiration, intellectual connection, nothing more. But when she ruffles his hair and calls him āprofessor,ā his face burns.
He doesnāt fall all at once. He drifts ā a tide slowly pulling him somewhere safe
Connie
At first, heās confused why anyone would willingly step foot on their cursed island. But quickly warms up to her once he realizes sheās not there to judge.
Heād probably be one of the first to laugh at her jokes, help her navigate the island, or pose awkwardly for her photos āWaitādid I blink again?ā.
To him, sheās proof life goes on. That maybe they can still be seen as people, not devils. Heād protect her like a sister and make sure she never gets lost in the darker corners of Paradis.Ā
Connie notices how she photographs everything ā even the mundane. When she points the lens at him mid-bite, he chokes on bread. āPerfect! Realism,ā she teases. āYou trying to ruin my reputation?ā āWhat reputation?ā
Their friendship forms on teasing and laughter. She shows him her photos of protests: smoke, raised fists, defiance, and he listens, fascinated.Ā He starts accompanying her on interviews, helping carry gear, pretending itās for āsecurity.ā
When does Connie realize he likes Y/N more than just a sister?Ā
It happens mid-laugh. Theyāre joking about how awful his first photo turned out ā him cross-eyed, mouth open. Sheās laughing so hard she canāt breathe.
And suddenly, he stops. Justā¦ watches her. The light hits her face just right.
Connieās not the type to overthink, but the warmth that spreads through him is both terrifying and familiar. The kind you feel when you finally find home after too long.
He gets quiet after that.
He doesnāt know how to say it, but he realizes, with a small, honest panic, that he doesnāt just want to make her laugh... He wants to be someone worth writing about. And suddenly, every joke hides a heartbeat.
