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word count: 10,747
warnings: angst, smut, language
description: Reader is sick of Valentine's Day and all the sappy gift exchanges and 'rom-com-esque' situations, meanwhile J gives his best attempt at making this day special.
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This had been the week to end all weeks and you were at your wits end. At the start of the week, you'd been optimistic. Perhaps this week might be better than the last, or at least that was what you had hoped. You always tried to stay positive in spite of life's many, many complications, and you were by no means someone with a natural positive attitude. But you had been working on it. Like every year, you had certain things mentally noted that you needed to work on.
However, it seemed like every time that you tried to remain positive and carry on with life without a care, some situation always arose and threw a wrench in the works. You wondered when it would stop. When would you be able to enjoy your life from week to week the way you planned? Unforeseen things always happened to you and they were never pleasant.
You unhappily recalled the start of your week, when upon your departure from home on your way to work at the ungodly hour of 6:30 am, you had received a message from your coworker that they had overslept and had not arrived yet. Great. And to make matters worse, you were not the opener and thus far with absolutely no notice whatsoever, it would take you at least fifteen minutes to make it to work.
This little snag also coincided with the shipment your place of employment received every week on the same day. Someone had to be there to check it over, not to mention just to unlock the door for the delivery. So you sped to work and with ten minutes to spare, you came screeching to a halt inside (or, haphazardly inside) an empty parking space and threw your car into park. You hopped out, barely pausing to hit the lock button on your key and ran to the door.
Aside from this somewhat small inconvenience, your day carried on with no further complication.
The next day, you had a hair appointment. Not much issue there, but the hour you were to be at work loomed in the distance and you silently wondered what horrors awaited you today. If something were to go wrong it was always your responsibility to fix it, mainly because no one else wanted that responsibility or pretended not to know what to do in a crisis so that someone else might do the heavy lifting for them. You were that someone.
The week was a blur and not a good one. You were dragging when it rolled around to Friday, the day you had been dreading all week. Despite the issues, you had immersed yourself in working especially harder than usual this week. By the time you got home each night you were exhausted, only barely managing to have a bite to eat before crawling into your bed. You even put off showering some nights due to exhaustion, which you hated.
