title: Mementos From A Friend

Donatello x Child!Reader [Platonic]
TMNT 2016

request: S203324 Can you do donnie tmnt 2016 x human female child reader and by that I mean he has a friendship with the child?

note: AAAAAA sorry this took so long!! Hope you like it :)
(F/N) - fathers name
(M/N) - mothers name
(F/C) - favourite colour

warnings: cuteness 👉👈

~~~

It all started with the strange orders.

Four extra large pizzas: two pepperoni, one vegetarian, and one strange mix of all the possible toppings. This was normal enough, that is until you heard about the instructions of delivery.

"Leave it in the alley."

"The what?"

"The alley. By the manhole cover."

Then the phone call would end, leaving a bewildered (F/N) to wonder what on earth his customer was smoking. But still, (L/N)'s Pizzeria always obliged these strange requests -- actually, it was part of the company's guarantees: 'No mater the order, we'll do it.' (*as long as the money was provided upon collection.)

It became a routine; (F/N) would take the order around 7 pm -- by now he had memorized the strange customer's number -- and (M/N) would prepare the bases and leave it in the alleyway.

During this routine, their seven-year-old daughter was left to wonder. Naturally, she was curious of her parents' strange actions. By now the girl was well versed in the order of the family business and knew that the other pizzas were collected over the counter or delivered to a home address. So why were they leaving stacks of pizzas in the alley every night?

Over time, (Y/N)'s small upstairs room began to fill with crudely drawn pictures of the customer. Or at least who she imagined them to be. Depictions of various monsters and odd figures drawn with cheap dollar shop crayons littered the walls. Her parents didn't think much of it, merely blaming the burning embers of their child's imagination. They assumed that the drawings would dampen her wild fantasies.

But they only fueled the fire.

By the time the season slid into Autumn, there was no drawing that could sate her curiosity. No. The only remedy was to see for herself.

On a chilly evening in October the Order™ came in right on schedule. As soon as the phone rang, (Y/N) raced down the stairs from the upstairs apartment into the pizzeria with reckless abandon. In front of a full house of customers, she threw herself at her father (who had just put down the phone) and begged for him to let her take the pizza out this time. Her father was embarrassed at his daughter dramatically pleading in front of his customers and reluctantly agreed to her terms.

She heaved the stack of boxes and dismissed her mother's suggestion to wear a jersey. Due to the significant height of the stack and her lack thereof, she could barely see where she was going. It took a few painful tries to find and open the door but eventually little (Y/N) stumbled into the brisk night air.

She left the pizzas on the steps as per instruction. But she didn't return inside. No, instead she beelined towards the back fence. A large amount of rubbish bags, cans, and other miscellaneous trash were stacked against the fence. (Y/N) crouched behind a beaten-up rubbish bin. The bin's silhouette easily swallowed her petite frame, and as long as the mysterious customer didn't move too close, she'd surely pass unnoticed.

It was at least five minutes before anything happened. Admittedly, (Y/N) regretted not bringing a jersey as her mother had suggested, but was too afraid to dash inside lest the customer come while she was away. So she waited, patience waning and arms prickled with goosebumps.

The five minutes passed by incredibly slowly and the sound of metal grating against concrete caught her off guard. Immediately she stared at the figure emerging from the sewer.

The person looked very strange. That much (Y/N) could tell. But as they stood up -- though all details were hidden in darkness -- the silhouette didn't look like any pizza-loving person she'd ever seen. For one, a massive, wiry lump secured to their unlike any backpack. Two, they were incredibly tall.

"Even taller than Mr Jenkins next door!" She thought.

But the real excitement came when the figure stepped into the streetlight's glow. He (she realised by the lack of clothes on his torso; remembering her mum's lectures about ladies wearing tops in public) was definitely the most interesting person (Y/N) had seen yet. Because though New York was full of storage characters, no one else had green skin. His green skin and domed back reminded her of the turtles she'd seen swimming around at the Bronx Zoo.

It was mildly terrifying. She was out of her depth. She should've stayed inside. But as the young girl watched him count loose change in his massive hands, the mundaneness of his demeanor soothed her like a comforting wave.

The strange man fumbled for a coin, but it slipped between his (collective) six fingers and rolled into the pit of the alley: stopping beside (Y/N)'s crouching form.

"Mother of pearl!" He swore. (Y/N) stifled a giggle at the silly curse which was much unlike the coarse words she had heard from passing conversations on the street. Before she had time to think better of it, her fingers closed around the coin and she stood up. With stiff knees, she walked from the shadows.

Of course her parents had warned her of stranger danger. But something about this strange man set her at ease. Maybe it was his glasses, or his adenoidal and good-natured voice, or his fascinating hands. Whatever it was, (Y/N) was now in front of the stunned man, holding his pizza change.

~~~

Donatello didn't want to be on pizza duty. It was actually Mikey's night to collect dinner, but by some improvised excuse, it had been lumped on his shell. Again. But as he stared dumbfounded at the girl no older than seven standing bravely before him, all lamentations ceased.

He was startled when she first emerged from the inky shadows. If it were anyone else he would've thrown a smoke bomb and dashed back into the sewers, but a child?

Donatello slowly crept forward to meet the girl. She stayed put; unwavering. After a moment of hesitation, he gently held out his hand and she placed the coin into his palm. Donatello internally winced as he watched her stare at the fingers he was so self-conscious of. Much to his surprise, the girl gently grabbed his fingers -- his were so big in comparison, her entire hand could barely hold one finger -- and held them as if they were the most intriguing things in the world.

Donatello was afraid to say anything.  The last thing he wanted was to scare her away like a doe at the crack of a twig. So they stood there in silence, both in wonder at each other. It could have been barely a minute before they were interrupted by a woman's voice coming from behind the door.

"(Y/N)!"

The girl quickly dropped Donatello's hand and looked to the door. When she looked back, the giant turtle man was gone. On the doorstep, the pizza boxes had been replaced by a neat stack of coins: the only evidence that the green man had ever been there.

Well, except for the tingly feeling that remained in (Y/N)'s fingers.

~~~

The next day she waited for him, though this time from the doorsteps. When Donatello finally popped out of the manhole, he was surprised to see the girl there. Waiting for him.

"Hello," He winced at his voice crack. "Uh, hello there?"

(Y/N) smiled a wide, gap-toothed grin but said nothing. Instead, she patted the empty place beside her.

He was shocked by her invitation. Was she not afraid of him? Was she not repulsed? But after a moment's hesitation, he carefully sat beside the small child.

"Why are you green?" She asked bluntly. Donatello fought back a smile at her childlike candidness.

"I was born like this." He softly replied.

"Oh. Why do you have a shell?" She asked again.

"To protect myself from things that want to hurt me."

(Y/N) paused. Her furrowed eyebrows betrayed deep thought. Donatello fiddled awkwardly with his goggles as he waited for her to say something, anything.

"Are you a turtle?" She finally asked after a minute of silence.

Donatello paused as he considered what to say.

"Yea, I am." He chuckled. It wasn't every day that he got to have a conversation with someone outside of his family, so he figured he may as well be honest.

At his affirmation, (Y/N)'s face lit up like a Christmas tree. The child-like wonder in her eyes as she looked at him was unmistakable and pure. In that moment, Donatello silently swore to never let a hair on this child's head be harmed.

"My name's (Y/N). My mum told me not to talk to strangers, but if I know your name you're not a stranger." She said. The streetlight flickered.

"I'm Donatello." He replied, smiling. Actually, throughout their whole conversation, the smile hadn't left his face. (Y/N) looked into his eyes with an intense stare as if she was reading his soul. The heavy stare of a child wasn't something that Donatello would admit to feeling scared by, but in the moment? He squirmed in his shell.

After an eternity of her scrutinizing gaze -- well, to Donnatello at least -- she finally spoke.

"What's your favourite colour?" She said as if it was the most character defining question of all time.

"Purple." He replied without skipping a beat, then parroted her question back.

(Y/N) was going to say (F/C), but her eyes caught the worn bandana wrapped around her new friend's head. The word died in her throat. Instead, without thinking, she replied:

"Purple."

~~~

After their official meeting, (Y/N) began to leave an extra pizza in the alleyway every night. She made it herself, and often used green capsicum topping to make the shape of a turtle. It warmed Donatello's heart to see tiny fingerprints in the uneven base; and though the pizza was of a lesser quality than the ones her parents made, he found himself looking forward to it every night.

Sometimes (Y/N) would wait kn the steps to talk with her green friend, 'Donnie' (Donatello was one too many syllables for her to process). But on the nights she wasn't there, a drawing or craft would take her place. Donatello was unashamed to say that he kept every single one. He too began to leave small gadgets for her in return, harmless of course and child proofed to avoid disaster. Her favourite was a purple night light, particularly comforting after nightmares.

One afternoon in the lair, Michelangelo was feeling outlandishly bored and his stomach growled dangerously. Since Donatello had begun to voluntarily collect the pizzas every night, he was Mikey's first thought.

"Donnie, I hope you're getting the pizzas soon because this turtle is hun-gry!!" He called out, but was rewarded with no response.

"Don~!" He called again. After another minute of silence, Mikey waltzed into Donatello's room.

"When are you getting pizzas? I'm starving!" Mikey whined at the back of his brother, who had been hunched over his latest project.

"In a minute, Mikey. Be patient." He said softly. This answer wasn't enough to cure his boredom, but Mikey knew better than to bug his brother when he was focussed. On his way out, the many pictures and crafts that adorned the room caught his eye.

"Interesting decór, bro. Didn't realise you were into the arts and crafts." He said, gazing at the many childish pictures taped to the wall. Just as he was about to pick up a small, haphazard structure of pipe cleaners and popsicle sticks, his hand was slapped away.

Mikey jumped at the sudden presence of his brother and let out a girly squeak.

"You make these?" The orange clad turtle asked after recovering from the fright with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"No, not me." Donatello looked fondly at the picture above his brother's head -- a portrait of (Y/N) and him smiling. "They're mementos from a friend."