TMNT Stories

Mickey x Mutated!Reader

You shiver behind a garbage can, whimpering quietly as the cold seeps through your fur, your wings wrapped tightly around you. It was warmer for a few moments, but nothing more. Tears run freely down your cheeks, sniffling echoing off of the brick walls towering over you.

You can't fly. You're too cold to move. No one knows where you are, but you doubt they would help. They'd probably run away, calling the cops or pest control.

You'd always been small for your age, four feet at sixteen. But having turned into this is just rubbing salt in the wound. You haven't measured, but you're certain you've lost six inches, at least. Not only that, but now you're practically blind.

Shuffling from the roof makes you smother every sound, curling into yourself and hoping you look like any other trash bag. Muffled voices come from above, though your ears pick them up perfectly.

"I'm telling you, I head crying!" A young voice pleads.

"Mickey, whoever it is probably won't be comforted by a bunch of mutant turtles suddenly dropping down on them." Another voice responds, older then the first.

Mutant turtles. They could help.

More shuffling. "Just let me go check?" The first asks.

A growl resonates, followed by a third voice. "We ain't got time to waste on broken hearts."

"Raph, don't be rude." A fourth voice chides the third. A long moment of silence, your heart seeming to consume the entire city of New York as it hammers in your ears. "Go straight home when your done. Be careful." The fourth finally concedes to the first.

Running feet fade into the distance, followed by someone coming to the edge of one of the roofs. You don't dare move, for fear they want to hurt you. Or worse.

"Hello?" He calls down.

You flinch, letting the faintest squeak out. It resonates through the alley, giving you a weak layout. The boy above you is big.

Clanging shows he's jumping down the fire escape. He hits the ground a little hard, but it doesn't seem to faze him. He walks around a little, looking for you.

"Hello?" He asks, a little softer.

He stays a moment longer, looking around, before sighing and turning back to the fire escape. Fear shoots through you at the thought of being alone again, drawing a clear squeak from you. Your ears twitch and turn, picking up the echoes.

He turns towards the trash pile, in which you're hiding. "Why are you hiding in there?" He asks, slowly removing the bags.

You realise too late that your fear of being alone again overrode your fear of being hurt. It might mean your death. Your body gives a violent shiver, shaking off a bag.

He gasps, taking a step back. Too late. You slowly raise your head, your black, near-sighted eyes peeking out from behind your wings. You see the blurred, mostly green shape of a young man a few feet from you. An orange strip wraps around his head. The light is too dark, the alley too quiet, and he's too far away to pick out anything more.

"Hey." His voice is soft and soothing, happy. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" He asks, slowly scooting closer and reaching for you. His hand is a foot from your wing when you see he only has three fingers, wrapped in tattered, thin strips of cloth.

You unwrap your wings carefully, pulling the leathery skin into your arms so your long, thin fingers are free. Your shaky hands reach out, grasping one of his fingers. You realise you must have shrank more then you thought. He must be close to six foot, and though his hands are bigger then a normal humans, you can still barely wrap your hand around two of his fingers.