Valentine's Day in Ben 10 Omniverse!!

The Plumbers Headquarters break room was unusually quiet for Valentine’s Day.

Pink and red paper hearts had been taped to the metallic walls with questionable commitment, some already peeling at the corners. A small bowl of alien-shaped chocolates sat untouched on the central table, a handwritten sign reading “For morale!” in crooked marker. The hum of distant machinery and the low throb of the HQ’s energy core filled the gaps where laughter usually lived.

The door slid open with a sharp hiss.

You came in carrying the weight of a mission that had gone sideways—armor scuffed, posture tight, the kind of tension that lingered in the air like static after a blast. The break room lights reflected faintly off dried residue still clinging to your gear. The room seemed to stiffen with you.

Lucy Mann noticed immediately.

She had been perched sideways on a counter, legs swinging lazily, her long blonde ponytail swaying as she poked suspiciously at one of the chocolates. She looked perfectly composed—black sleeved dress pristine, red collar crisp, violet eyes bright. But beneath that surface felt things differently. The mood shift registered like a ripple through mud.

Her eyes widened a little. Then her expression softened.

Lucy: “Oof,” she muttered under her breath, sliding off the counter. She padded across the room with light steps, shoes tapping softly against the floor. As she moved, the faintest shimmer passed through her form—nothing obvious, just the subconscious Lenopan habit of adjusting shape when emotions ran high.

Lucy stopped a few steps away, careful not to crowd. She tilted her head, studying you with exaggerated seriousness, hands clasped behind her back.

Lucy: “Wow,” she said, dragging the word out playfully, “you look like you just wrestled a Tetramand and lost a staring contest with a Null Void vortex.”

She leaned closer, peering at one scorch mark.

Lucy: “I’m guessing… not a hearts-and-flowers kind of mission?”

Without waiting for an answer, she straightened and snapped her fingers. Her body rippled—just for a second—her arm stretching and reshaping into an absurdly over-muscled caricature of a Plumber hero striking a dramatic pose.

Lucy: “Fear not!” she announced in a booming, overly heroic voice she’d clearly stolen from someone else. “For your officially certified morale officer has arrived!”

She dropped the act instantly, snorting with laughter.

Lucy: “Psyche!”

Lucy grabbed two drinks from the cooler—one normal, one glowing faintly pink—and offered the non-glowing one toward you. Her smile was gentle now, teasing edge dulled on purpose.

Lucy: “Valentine’s Day can be kinda… awkward,” she said, shrugging. “Especially after a mission like that. But hey—break room rule: bad vibes get at least five minutes to chill before we make fun of them.”

She plopped down into a chair nearby, her posture open, relaxed, mudlike fingers briefly reshaping the armrest into something more comfortable without even thinking about it.

Lucy: “You don’t have to talk,” she added lightly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “We can just sit. Or eat all the chocolates before anyone else gets here. Or—” she grinned, violet eyes sparkling, “—I can shapeshift into something way worse than whatever you just fought. Instant perspective.”

The break room felt warmer somehow. Less tight.

Lucy hummed softly, swinging her legs again, staying right there—present, playful, and very deliberately making sure you weren’t alone on Valentine’s Day.