Stories (Tintin X Reader) [DISCONTINUED]

Familar Faces, New Places

"Q, wait up!" you giggle, running after the blonde boy in front of you. He looks back, smiling as his steps start slowing down. Once he's within arms reach, you grab him in a hug, taking the both of you down and rolling in the green grass of summer.

Tumbling down, you two slow down, and you end up on top of him. Giggling, you roll off the boy and lay down beside him, looking up at the sky. He puts his arm around you, and kisses your forehead. "This is the best day ever," you say, snuggling into his side. The boy nods, and smiles at you. "So, why are you only available on Tuesdays? We never get to play any other time..." he pouts, sitting up and brushing the grass off himself.

"I'm not supposed to tell..." you trail off, sitting up with him. "I'm your best friend! You can tell me anything!" he exclaims, and you look away. Biting your lip, you sigh and finally give in.

Once he knew, you could've sworn you saw the tiniest smile on his face. Laying back down, you turn on your side away from him, ashamed that you broke your promise to your father. You feel a hand on your side, and you look up to find the boy frowning down at you. "What's wrong?" he asks. "I shouldn't've told you that." you mumble, and he sighs. "Ich liebe dich," he whispers, snuggling into your warm body.

~

Loud banging wakes you, and you groggily sit up, squinting your eyes. You're in a cage, and the slight rocking from side to side tells you that you're on a boat. Standing up, you reach through the bars to the lock, jiggling it furiously, hoping someone one forgot to lock it. No such luck.

Looking around, there are boxes, crates, and other empty cages. "Hello?" you call out, hoping someone answers. Again, no such luck. Yet once you plop back down onto the rotting floorboards, a can of soup rolls towards you. It gently bumps against your container, and you take it carefully, not knowing if it could be a trap. You look at the seal; it hasn't been opened. The date says it was only produced a week ago, so it should be fine. "Th-thank you..." you mumble to the darkness, and open it. The smell is heavenly, and makes you realize that you're absolutely starving.

"Go ahead (Y/N), you must be hungry. And I'm terribly sorry that you must be in these conditions, we just need you to look realistic when the male my father captured is brought in," a voice says, and you furrow your eyebrows. "How do you know my name?" you ask the voice, and the person it belongs to steps into the single, flickering light. (Picture above)

Eyes widening, you are speechless at the sight before you. "Que-" you start to say, then are cut off by three men. Two are carrying something, while the other is ordering them around. The one in charge has a maroon tuxedo and a cane, while the other two look like thugs. Maroon tuxedo guy goes over to the corner, waiting for something. "Did you find it?" one man asks the other. "Not yet. Check that other pocket."

"I already checked that one."

"Then go through his socks!" His socks?

"Sir, it's not on him!" one of them say to the dressed up man, and he growls. "Check over him again! We must find it!"

"Find what?" a familiar voice says groggily, and you gasp. "Tintin?!" you call, putting the can down, standing up and trying to reach through the bars to him. "(Y/N)! What are you doing here?!" he yells, scrambling to get up when he is pushed back down by the maroon tux male's cane. Holding Tintin down, he addresses the other two. "I thought I told you two to gag and tie her up!"

"We did!" they respond, and the ginger boy glares at his captor. "How dare you handle a woman like that! She deserves to be treated like a queen!" A small smile graces your lips, and you look down at your now ruined shoes. Yet your head snaps back up at the blonde boy's voice. "And she will be, once you give us the scroll," he tells the redhead. "Yes, a piece of paper like this!" the dark brunette says, taking something out of his front pocket. "You mean the poem?" Tintin inquires, and he nods his head. "Yes."

"The poem written in old English?"

"Yes."

"It was inside a cylinder."

"Yes."

"Concealed within the mast."

"Yes!"

"I don't have it," Tintin finishes with a smirk, and you have to bit your cheek to keep from laughing. The man's face twists into one of fury, and he lodges his cane in the cages bars, pulling out a long sword. He points it at Tintin's face, and you gasp. "No! Don't hurt him!" you shout, pressing yourself against the bars tightly, as if maybe you'd be thin enough to slip through them. Turning his attention, the guy with the sword looks at you annoyed.

"Would someone shut her up? That broad is getting on my nerves," he tells his henchman, which sends you into a fit of rage. "I am NOT a broad, unlike your wife for choosing such an uncultured swine! If you even have one, you're uglier than a mule's rump in the mud on a hot day!" you spit, just managing to get it out before the two thugs gag and tie you up. The man just stands there, his face darker than a beet, while the boy in the coat has to turn the other way, shuddering with what seems like uncontrollable laughter.

Tintin, however, is not as subtle. The ginger boy snorts loudly at your insult, then tries to cover it up with coughing, in which he is not successful. The dressed up man snaps his head around to look at the journalist. Putting his sword away, he takes it and locks the cage behind him, motioning for his men to take you away.

"I'll deal with you later," he growls at the redhead. "Right now I want to talk with an old friend," he spits at you, and you finally recognize him. You toss and turn screaming, yet are held down and muffled by the thugs and gag. You hear your name being called, and then are thrown into darkness once more.