Tintin x Reader

Chapter 3

You snapped, "That is none of your business." You were unnerved by these incidents. Hah, you've gone through worse. You backed away from the thugs, with your hand hovering above your handgun. Another spoke. "You're not going anywhere, unless –" You snatched out my gun from beneath my trench coat and aimed it at the nearest one.

You smirked. "Unless I kick your worthless butts first." You pulled the trigger but aimed at the floor near the one you pointed the gun at before. A loud bang was heard, and you sent a gang of thugs scrambling for their lives.

"She's got a gun!" One of them yelped. "I think I've been shot!" shrieked another. You smiled to yourself, as you twirled your trusty gun on your finger. Cowards. As the gangsters scrambled out of the alleyway, another figure came into view, with a... dog?

Oh no. It was Tintin.

"(y/n)?" he called. "Is that you? Are you holding a gun?"

Snowy barked. Time to run.

You dashed out of the alleyway, with your (h/c) hair flowing behind you. You couldn't let them get to you now. But why? As you ran, you racked the name Tintin in your head. You've seen that name in the newspapers. Oh, he was a famous reporter and journalist, known for debunking many crime schemes and bringing some wrongdoers to justice.

He can't know that you're a free-lance crime fighter! He might turn you in, and that unlicensed gun you had will very much as well give you away.

You reached your flat, dashed up the stairs and slammed the door behind you. You cursed. You weren't thinking straight! Of course, he would have heard the gunshot! You could have at least done some quick punches to the thugs, but they physically had an advantage.

At least scaring them with a gun was easier.

You peered out the window, gasping for air because of the run. No reporter in sight. Good. No white dog. Better. You slumped down, against the wall. What kind of mess did you get into?

Alright, your most recent adventure didn't end well. Mr. Notus, the crime lord whom you almost caught and sent to the police, had escaped, leaving you with a death threat. If he ever finds you again, he'll make you breathe your last. And it happened just last week. Now, these past few days, you have been very cautious about your surroundings and whereabouts. It explains the handgun.

What if he's one of the crime lord's men? But it couldn't be. He seemed nice and he stops outlandish schemes. But then again, you couldn't be too sure.

Then you heard a rap on the door. You froze. You hoped it was the flat owner, Ms. Lark. You concealed your weapon by shoving it underneath a closet. You brushed yourself and opened the door.

It wasn't Ms. Lark. There, at your door, was Tintin the famous reporter. And the lively terrier, Snowy. You gulped, trying your very best to keep calm. "Good morning, Tintin. What can I do for you?"

"May we come inside?"

"Sure, by all means."

Tintin strode into the flat, scrutinizing the place. You knew at once he was trying to find something. He took a seat on the couch, with Snowy beside him.

You took a seat across him. You sighed. Better get this over with.

"Tintin, how did you know where I live?" you asked.

"Well, Snowy and I happened to pass by when we heard gunshots. We approached an alleyway, only to see gangsters running for their lives. We looked to the alleyway and saw a figure – I assumed it was you – holding a gun. I was about to ask you what happened, but you ran off until we followed you here." Tintin calmly replied.

"Wow, I didn't expect you to be so direct with your answer." You commented.

Tintin smiled, which sent butterflies to take flight in your stomach.

"I'm a journalist, (y/n)," he said. "I give direct questions and answers."

There was a pause. You tried to avoid Tintin's gaze by staring at the floor, or out the window behind him. Snowy was probably somewhere, sniffing around.

Finally, he spoke up. "Would you mind telling me why you have a handgun?"

You wanted to facepalm. Of course he was bound to ask you that question.

"Well, I –" you started.

Snowy barked. You and Tintin turned to look, and you found the small terrier trying to squeeze himself underneath the closet. Where you had kept your gun.

Tintin rose. "What is it, Snowy?"

Oh no.

You jumped in front of the reporter. "It's nothing," you tried to say. "Probably just a rat."

"But we might as well see what the fuss is about," he replied. He walked past you and crouched towards the closet. He reached his hand inside, pulling out your precious handgun.

"Great snakes," you heard him mutter. He turned to look at you, with a look of disbelief on his face. "You, (y/n), carry this along wherever you go?"

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "Doesn't it seem obvious, Tintin?"

Tintin stood, with the weapon in his hand. And it didn't occur to you that he could shoot it. But if he did, you'd have a few tricks up your sleeves anyway. He tossed the weapon back to where it had been before.

"Have you ever..." his voice trailed off.

"Goodness, Tintin! I never killed anyone with it. I use it for self-defense."

"That's what a person who used a gun would say."

"Well then, what do you think a person who never killed anyone would have said?"

"Alright, but you've got explaining to do."

You and Tintin sat down in the living room and you told him about your latest ecsapades. Especially the one with the death threat. He nodded in reponse to what you told him. He seemed to look very serious as you accounted your life as vigilante, to which you found very amusing and you tried not to laugh. But you did not your life as an orphan. Quite a sensitive subject, don't you think?

After that, he looked astounded. "I can't believe you've had some adventures yourself, some were a tad bit illegal, but you did it on account for a good reason. I still can't blame you for the firearm, though. Judging your dangerous life, that handgun of yours proves to be very useful. Besides, I've got my own as well."

"You do?"

"Yes, and I have it with me on my adventures as well. But one thing you forgot to mention though. Why'd you take up crime fighting anyway?"

Okay, sensitive subject. "Tintin, you're someone whom I've only met this morning. I can't tell you everything, now can I?" You said teasingly.

Tintin laughed. "Very well then. But at least let's get to know each other better. I know a café downtown, I was hoping you'd like to come. It's almost lunchtime, (y/n)."

D-did Tintin just invited me on a... No, no. I just met him! Just act normal, (y/n). You thought. As if on cue, your stomach began to growl. You sighed inwardly. You were hungry. "Sure," you said, smiling. "Wait first." Tintin tilted his head, confused, until you pulled out the handgun from underneath the closet.

You placed it at your back and covered it with your trench coat. You saw Tintin's puzzled face and said, "I don't take my chances."

Tintin merely grinned. "Ladies first," he said as he opened the door. You shook your head and smiled. "Don't need to be a gentleman, Tintin. We're just going to eat lunch."

You walked out the door, with Tintin following suit. Tintin was strangely acting like your friend. Friend. The word rolled off your tongue as if it was a whole new word to you.

But it felt good. You never had friends for quite a while now.

Hey starlings! The chapter seemed quite long, so I had to end it off here. Thanks for reading! :)