crazy how it's still valentines day on february 15th and im not late at all? anyways heres a valentine for u and your opposing color on the color wheel. feel free to use if u are also super not late to the holiday
Happy V-Day!
Here is my yearly set of Ben 10 themed Valentine's day cards! Feel free to send these around to friends or partners! :) Individuals will be under the line
For VDay requests: maybe flyboy!Jake first Valentines with his girl? Or through the years maybe??
it is slightly after vday, but here we are! <3
flyboy!jake x female reader - you know i never turn down an opportunity to write flyboy!jake. all usualy flyboy!warnings apply. comments, reblogs, asks, etc. all welcome, i miss ya’ll!
I.
“Come in,” you call out, voice nasal from the cold that was wrecking its way through your body. You don’t bother turning around, choosing instead to stay curled up in fetal position on your side, the covers wrapped securely around you. You keep your eyes on the laptop, which you had flipped on its side to align with the current orientation of your head, half focused on the re-run of the sitcom playing on screen.
You hear the door swing open, and shut. The next movement of the visitor is swift and surprising, as you feel cool skin press against yours. It shocks you, the side of the face which is pressed against yours, but the familiar smell of laundry detergent tells you who it is.
“Jake,” you groan, “why aren’t you at the dance?” You don’t move and neither does the head which is resting against yours.
“Didn’t feel like going,” you feel him shrug. The show running on your laptop screen flickers between scene transitions and it offers you a view of Jake’s head pressed against yours for a brief second before it goes back to full colour.
“Didn’t you have a date with Mindy?” You ask, knowing full well that Mindy had been, and had made no show of hiding, fully obsessed with Jake for a good part of three months now. She had asked him to the valentines dance and had been insufferably pleased when he had agreed.
“She’s sick,” he gives another shrug which you feel against your face, “this thing is catching like wildfire.”
Jake flicks the bridge of your nose as he says it, and you wrinkle your nose in response as you start to move to sit up, shrugging him off you.
“Yeah, but you could have still gone,” you say sniffling as you sit up to look at Jake who is now sitting on your bed. He looks as Jake Seresin always looks, skin slightly bronzed with a healthy glow from a constant routine of football practice, eyes bright, and hair casually tousled.
“Nah,” he says without much of an explanation. Jake reaches across you for your laptop before settling against the head board of your bed.
“Why not?” You press, body still seated upright as you watch him stop the show that is playing before flicking out of it and through the list of titles you have on your laptop for another show.
“Doesn’t seem like it’ll be that interesting,” he answers offhandedly.
“And staying in with a sick person is,” you say bluntly with a scoff as your eyes narrow suspiciously. “You’ll still be able to make it in time if you leav-”
Jake cuts you off immediately as he lifts himself from the headboard for a second, which is long enough for him to sling an arm around your neck. He lets himself fall back against the headboard with a thud, dragging you with him. You land, face smushed between his bicep and the side of his chest, elbow on his thigh.
“Jake,” you yelp in protest, only for him to shush you as he continues scrolling through the titles on your laptop, clearly unperturbed.
“Fantasy or action?”
II.
“Wristbands,” Seth, one of Jake’s teammates hollers, as he approaches the group waving a stack of paper wristbands in a myriad of green, orange and red.
He makes his way around the group making quick work of disseminating the bands according to the availability status of each member of the group.
“Red?” You ask as he reaches you and Jake who are hanging at the back end of the group, the last two red bands left in Seth’s hands.
“Apparently,” he starts while glancing back over his shoulder, “there’ve been some changes to the status of certain members of our team.”
“Surely they must have more green bands,” you say craning your neck to look towards the entry booth.
“Green is oversubscribed unfortunately.”
“Figures,” you murmur as you reach out to receive one red band with Seth proffers. A valentines day event in a club, it figured that the most popular colour would be green and plenty of the actual couples would have taken their celebrations elsewhere instead.
“Don’t sulk,” Jake chuckles as he slaps the red band onto his wrist with less fuss than you “I’ll let you take me home for the night.”
He finishes his sentence off by snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you into flush against his side.
“What a catch,” you say, tone mocking, but you don’t fight the movement. You slide the hand that has landed on Jake’s upper bicep up his shoulder to steady yourself.
“And all yours for the night,” he says with a joking leer. You roll your eyes outwardly but feel a tug south towards the pit of your stomach.
-
“So much for a valentines day event,” you grumble as you step into your apartment, fingers working on tearing the red paper wrist band off.
Your grumbling earns you an amused chuckle from Jake who steps in after you while shutting the door behind him. The apartment is silent with your roommate out at her girlfriend’s for the night.
“Hey, you still went home with the hottest guy in the club,” Jake jokes as you walk towards the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of water from the fridge. You are both lightly buzzed from the steady stream of drinks you had ingested, in a way that makes a person slightly reckless but still in complete control of their mental facilities.
“Did I really,” you uncap the bottle with a twist before putting it to your lips and tilting your head back. You lean against the counter, gaze still on Jake as he comes to a stop in front of you, arms crossed loosely in front of his chest. You lower the bottle from your lips only for Jake to reach out and pluck it from your grasp.
“I’m curious,” he pauses to take a sip from the bottle, before taking a step towards you, trapping you between himself and the counter behind you, “what was it you were looking for tonight that has you so bummed.”
Jake places the bottle down on the counter beside you before leaving his hand on the counter. He rests his other hand on his hip, stance almost caging you in. Jake lips are quirked into a smirk, but the amusement doesn’t hit the intensity behind his eyes. You feel your knees go weak, and you press yourself back against the counter for support, the marble edge digging into your back a reminder for you to keep breathing.
“I don’t know,” you say, eyes locked onto Jake’s. You can smell the sickly sweet scent of red bull from the trio of Jägerbombs you both had downed before deciding to call it a night, “something fun.”
“Something fun,” Jake drawls, his voice a low hum. Jake’s eyes are focused on yours and you resist the urge to let your gaze dart to his lips.
“Yeah,” the affirmation comes out more petulant than you had intended, and you see Jake lose the same battle you had been having with yourself as his gaze flickers to your lips for a split second.
“I cou-” he doesn’t finish his sentence thanks to a series of loud knocks which pierce through the tension between you both.
“GUYS OPEN OPEN.”
“You left without us.”
“How could you leave without us.”
“We want pizza!”
The voices of a group of males, his teammates echo from behind your front door. You see a tiny frown pass Jake’s face as he drops his head slightly before taking a step back and pushing himself away from you with his hand thats still pressed against the counter.
“Coming,” you half yell, half hiss as you make a scramble for the door. Although the tenants of the apartment block were largely students, it didn’t always guarantee a free pass for noise late a night.
You swear you hear Jake swear quietly to himself as you yank open the door in a flurry to make way for a line of tipsy, rowdy football boys to stumble in.
III.
They are there when you get into the office, long stemmed tulips in white, red and pink sitting in a long glass vase. A rough glance has you guessing that they are anywhere from 30-40 stems sitting on your desk.
You don’t need to look at the small white card sitting beside the vase to know who they are from. They aren’t from Dan because he had his red roses sent to you at home the day before.
If you got yourself a girlfriend you would have someone to send flowers to on Valentines day.
You shoot the text to Jake with a smile on your lips. He replies almost instantly.
You would miss my flowers.
Hah, you wish.
Admit it.
The smile on your fave brightens as you read Jake’s latest reply. You position yourself beside the flowers before extending a hand and flipping on your front camera to take a picture of yourself looking exasperated with the tulips in frame before firing the photo off to Jake.
IV.
“I love you,” you hear the quiet words against your skin as Jake presses a kiss to side of your head before pressing another kiss behind your ear.
“I love you too,” you say as you absently tilt your head, allowing him to press another kiss to the side of your neck. You let yourself sink further against Jake, both of content to be in each other company, neither truly focused on the soft murmur of the television flickering in front of you.
The lights of the living room are dim, and your children are all tucked away in bed, the remnants of valentines day scattered around the living room - flowers they had exchanged with friends at school, chocolates and glittery cards, which they had all paraded to you and Jake before bestowing their own versions of the same on both of you. Jake had given you your flowers earlier in the day, along with one mind blowing orgasm before you had both gotten out of bed for the day, but the quiet time you both had now was what you found yourself enjoying most about the day, or of any day, really.
“Should we continue where we left off this morning,” you hear Jake say beside you ear as his hands drift along the sides of your body, fingers starting to dip beneath your top.
“I don’t think we really left anything hanging this morning,” you hum in response.
“I can’t seem to remember,” Jake’s hands brush against the underside of your breasts as you slide a hand up his thigh, “guess you just have to remind me then.”
