#and i just cant write anything without staring dead-eyed at the screen

[descendantofthesparrow]

me trying to write this one damn writing commission

[tmnt-imagines]

Haunting: Ghost!Mikey x Reader

WARNING: NONE

Requested by: Anonymous

Hello there!! Love everything ya write <3 Is it possible if you could write something like Ghost!Mikey x Reader ? Like he is been dead for so many years but for some reason cant move on and one day the Reader ends up in the Lair and since they are a runaway they decide to try and bring it back to life the place and it kind of goes from there? Sorry if its to much of a request -covers face-

A/N: Sorry it took a while - hope you like it :)

It was cold out on the mean streets of New York - November hit the city hard and the brisk winds were becoming more and more difficult to endure. Being homeless wasn’t a piece of cake, put it that way, and you were desperately searching for a way to get out of the cold. And, it wasn’t like you could just go home, so you had to look elsewhere. 

You weren’t entirely sure how it happened, or why the idea had crossed your mind at all, but after a couple hours of wandering the streets trying to keep warm, you found yourself in the sewers. It stank - obviously - but the chill wasn’t as bitter down here as it was on the surface. Even in spite of the stench, you thought this wouldn’t be that bad, at least not for one night. You could find a place to stay tomorrow, but while it was dark, these tunnels were your best bet.

You could remember those stupid comics you and your brother used to read as kids, about weird and wonderful things that would live beneath the city in the labyrinth of it’s sewers, and you couldn’t help but distract yourself with those fanciful thoughts as you continued to trudge around corners and down pipe lines in search of a place that seemed reasonably comfortable, or as close to that as you could get down here, in which you could spend the night. Perhaps there were monsters roaming down here, perhaps there weren’t, if they let you crash at their hideout for the night you couldn’t care either way. 

Another hour had passed before you found a suitable destination, where you could remain for the upcoming hours of darkness that was still looming over the city. It was a large, derelict subway station, or so it seemed. The place was littered with pizza boxes and old furniture, and so you presumed it had since become a drug den or something. It looked like it, but given it’s current state you would assume even the druggies got tired of the smell, and moved to find a better den elsewhere. This would be a good enough place to stay, if only for the night.

It was fair to say that over the upcoming fortnight, any attempt to locate a permanent location in which you could spend your cold, November evenings, had been shut down upon inquiry. There was no where for you to go, except back to the sewers. After the first week, the smell wasn’t as obnoxious anymore, and it became easier to stumble your way through the pipes to the ex-drug-den you had found before. The place was actually kinda cool. There were several rooms, which you explored, coming off of the old station, and in each of them there was an old bed and a few trinkets which you began to collect for your own entertainment. You thought it wouldn’t take much to redecorate and make this place actually inhabitable, and with nowhere else for you to go you thought that was not a bad plan. 

It was only as you walked towards an old arcade machine, which had been discarded beside an open drainpipe, with a mouldy blanket thrown over it, that things began to become somewhat strange. You’d been bringing lights, and old furniture items you could find, down here for over a month - and it was starting to feel like a potential hideout - and in all the time, there hadn’t been anything unsettling about it. Ok, perhaps an old place like this in the middle of the sewers was slightly unsettling on it’s own, but besides that there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Until now...

You somehow managed to pull the arcade machine upright, and though there was no power, it still looked pretty cool. It hadn’t seen use in several decades, you thought, and odd bits of tape had been used to hold it’s walls together, but all in all it was in pretty good shape. You marvelled at the multicoloured art on it’s sides, and only as you looked closer did you find the first clue to something odd. 

“Huh,” You said aloud, figuring no one was around to hear you talk to yourself. You ran your fingers over the different coloured writing on the side of the machine, and stared at it carefully. “Leonardo...” You read aloud, looking at the blue writing closely, “...Raphael...” That had been written in red sharpie; “...Donatello...” purple. And finally, in big, orange handwriting, “Michelangelo.” You recognised all of the names, they were famous Italian artists, but it seemed strange that someone had written those names on the side of an arcade machine, and abandoned it down in the sewers. You ran a finger over the last name; orange had always been your favourite character. You could understand the others being names of people, even Donatello, but Michelangelo seemed a bit far fetched. 

The next day, when you awoke, you found the screen of the machine glowing bright with the name of the game displayed in bright, blocky writing. There was no electricity down here, and the machine certainly wasn’t plugged into anything that could supply power to it, so how the hell was it on? 

You managed to convince yourself that the machine probably had some power stored in it from the last time it had been used, and it would soon run out and switch itself off. It was a stretch, but it was more comforting than letting your imagination come up with an explanation. 

You did your best to ignore it, but over the upcoming days it became clear the machine was going to stay on. More pizza boxes accumulated around the abandoned station as well, which was incredibly creepy considering you hadn’t eaten pizza while down here. It occurred to you then that someone else had to be down here. There wasn’t any other logical explanation as to how things were moving, turning themselves on and off, and multiplying without someone else being behind it. It was possible, you told yourself, that you could go about living down here without crossing paths with someone else, and so you set about trying to find them.

“Hello?” You called out, walking through one of the multiple tunnels. The stench by now was familiar enough that you weren’t fazed by it as you walked through the pipes, in some insane attempt to discover if there was anyone else down here. 

Your voice echoed around the stone labyrinth, and was the only audible sound above the squeak of rats and the rushing water. No one replied, and you couldn’t decide whether that was a good or bad thing. You continued to walk the sewers for what felt like forever, calling out in hopes of a reply, but no such luck. 

It was only as you walked back to the derelict subway station that you found the source of the problem. There, stood beside the arcade machine, was a figure. It was not human, nor was it like anything you’d seen before. It seemed to be a...turtle. Only, it glowed blue and pale through the darkness. If you were the superstitious type, you might consider it being a ghost, but that was impossible as far as you were concerned, yet you had no other potential thoughts as to what it could be.

“YES!” It cheered aloud, in an almost childish voice, as it raised both it’s arms into the air in celebration. “MIKEY WINS AGAIN!” It proceeded to do some sort of excited dance while it celebrated whatever it had just achieved on the arcade machine. It seemed cute, from where you were standing, in a mutated and abnormal way, and you wondered what exactly it was and why it was here, of all places. 

“Uh...hello?” You said loud enough for it to hear you, and stepped forward so that it could see you. It froze where it stood and didn’t say a word, as though if it stayed still you might no longer see it. “Don’t worry I’m...” You weren’t really sure what to say that could be reassuring, mostly because you didn’t know why it was the one afraid of you, it seemed only likely for it to be the other way around. 

You took another step forward, and this time it looked at you. It had a bandanna/mask across his eyes that looked grey in it’s pale blue glow, and on it’s belt was a pair of nunchucks, though you could not be sure they, or him, were real at all. 

“Who are you?” You inquired, holding your hands up in some feeble attempt to show you meant no harm. Why, you didn’t know, but then none of what was currently happening made any sense to you. 

It’s blue eyes grew slightly, but then it simply smiled. “My name is Michelangelo.” It’s - his smile was almost cute, and looked harmless enough, so you edged further into the room. “You...You can see me?” He asked with a slight frown, seemingly confused by this just as much as you were. 

“Well, yeah; unless I’m hallucinating. Which is highly likely.” You chuckled nervously, and watched as the ghost-turtle’s smile formed into a grin. “What...are you?” You asked meekly, hoping not to offend him. You didn’t now why you cared about his feelings, it was just that he seemed too friendly to upset. 

“I’m a ninja turtle.” He said with pride, and placed both of his hands on his hips. “a mutant ninja turtle.” he emphasised the ‘mutant’ and gestured to himself. You stared, wide eyed, at him for a moment, and acknowledged how seemingly unfazed he was by that sentence. “Oh, and I’m dead.”   He added with a priceless grin. 

This was slightly too much to take in, and so you simply stood there, most probably with a blank expression, waiting for it all to sink in. You didn’t understand how this was at all possible, or what this even was, but for some reason you weren’t nearly as terrified as you probably should have been. 

“Don’t be scared.” Michelangelo exclaimed quickly, probably sensing your hesitation toward him, “I’m a ghost, I won’t - can’t hurt you.” He smiled innocently and titled his head at you. For some completely foreign and insane reason, you believed him.

“Michelangelo.” You said it slower, remembering now why that was so familiar. It had been on of the names written on the side of the very same machine you were stood next to, the one written in orange. You supposed that the bandanna on his face would have probably been that colour too if he wasn’t all...ghostly. 

“My brother’s call me Mikey.” He shrugged, still smiling widely at you, as if trying to seem as harmless as possible. 

“Brothers?” You rose an eyebrow, “there are more of you?” 

“There were,” Suddenly, Michelangelo’s voice sounded sad. You gathered that seeings as he was dead, his brother’s probably were too. “Their gone now.” 

“So why are you still here?” You ask curiously, not entirely understanding how the whole dead thing was working. 

“Haven’t got a clue.” Michelangelo smiled lopsidedly, and lent against the arcade machine casually. “I’ve seen you around here, for a while. You moved in?” 

“Suppose so.” You said sheepishly, not unnerved by the fact he’d been watching over you the entire time. As harmless as he may be, it was still unsettling. “Kind of...ran away, a couple weeks ago. I found this place and figured it would be better than the streets.” You felt the need to explain, wondering if this was in fact Michelangelo’s home before he bit the dust. You guessed a group of mutant ninja turtles couldn’t just live in a house in the middle of New York City. 

“Fine by me, it’s nice to have some company for a chance.” He smiled, and to be honest you agreed. 

Michelangelo was cool, he was funny and entertaining and it was somewhat comforting to have someone to spend your time with these days, even if he was a dead, mutant ninja turtle.