So you don't know how, but you've been dating a mutant turtle, well actually, a Mutant Ninja Turtle, he is so flamboyant and kinda cool.

His name was Leonardo Hamato, he had 3 brothers and you might know he has a sister who work with Big Mama, but anyways, all you know is Donnie is like Leo twin brother and Mickey is the youngest, so Purple is Donnie and the Orange is Mickey, as well his older brother...well they don't get along well...you might not know why but all you know their not on good terms, the red one, Ralph.

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You have been dating Leonardo for a whole year and always visit him most days and he visits you, he was into things you like and he always got along with you, and sometimes fight about unnecessary things or silly things, but it's fun bantering between you two.

You always had an alright relationship with his family, like his father Splinter, he really respected you and so you respected him and he always told you, you were like his third daughter after his own and April.

Leonardo, eh, if your guardian likes to meet Leo they would freak out and call the police and then they would probably experiment on him and milk him, what he thinks.

But anyways, Donnie and Leo are like anime nerds, Donnie really likes Jujutsu Kaisen and Leo loves My Hero Academia, and they like Shogun anime but sometimes Donnie likes romance anime but won't admit it.

One day, you were sitting with Leonardo in his bed, he sat beside you trapping you between the wall and himself, and you noticed his facial expression changed when he noticed an IzuOcha post, he hated it, he was a massive BakuDeku Shipper.

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Leo’s blue eyes narrowed behind his mask as he let out a dramatic, over-the-top groan that echoed off the lair walls. He slumped back against the headboard, one arm thrown across his forehead like a tragic soap opera actor. His phone dangled loosely from his other hand, the glow of the screen lighting up his face in a sharp blue hue.

“Ugh—why do people still ship that?!” he exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief. He sat up again, thrusting his phone toward you as though it were evidence of a crime. “I mean, look at this! They’re acting like Bakugo didn’t literally blow up Deku’s notebook in the first episode! Like—hello?! Trauma much?”

He huffed and crossed his arms, the muscles in his shoulders tensing just enough to make his mock frustration look serious. You could see the tiniest pout forming under his smirk, his voice thick with exaggerated indignation as he gave you a side-eye that was half playful, half accusing.

“Babe, be honest,” he said, voice dropping into that teasing, challenging tone he always used when he was about to start something. “You can’t seriously think IzuOcha has more chemistry than BakuDeku, right? C’mon—right?”

You barely had time to answer before he leaned in closer, eyes glinting mischievously beneath the edge of his mask. The faint hum of his laughter filled the space between you as his face hovered just inches from yours.

“Because if you do…” He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as though you’d just stabbed him through the heart. “That’s it. We’re breaking up. Over. Finito. Done.”

He threw himself backward onto the bed in mock despair, one arm flopping over his face as he groaned loudly. Then, with the speed of a ninja (and the drama of a theatre kid), he peeked at you from between his fingers.