♡♥︎Soft Days & Tangled Braids♥︎♡

Hey darling!! (Is it ok if I say that??)

Could you possibly do a jinx one, but a self care day! Like they both take of each other, or reader takes care of jinx. Like, reader braids her hair, they eat a full meal. Drink water. Like a full self care day!!

Thank you!!!

Yes you’re alright to use that term lmfao

♡♥︎Soft Days & Tangled Braids♥︎♡

Warnings: tender moments, brushing/braiding hair, gentle touch, eating a full meal, hydration (yes, this is a warning), reader being loving and patient, lots of fluff, comfort, and affection

Jinx wasn’t exactly good at taking care of herself.

It wasn’t that she didn’t care—it was just that there was always something else, something louder, something more urgent that pulled her away from the little things. Eating? She forgot. Drinking water? Who had the time? Sleeping? Maybe when her body finally crashed.

So she didn’t exactly know how to react when you suggested a self-care day.

“Sounds fake,” she had said, draped upside down over the couch, her long blue braids spilling onto the floor. “Like somethin’ rich people do when they don’t got bombs to make.”

You had only laughed, tugging on one of her braids gently to get her to sit up. “It just means we’re gonna take care of ourselves today,” you explained. “No distractions, no projects, no skipping meals. Just you, me, and some basic human necessities.”

Jinx squinted at you, like she was trying to figure out if this was a trap. “That sounds like something I’ll agree to and then ditch halfway through.”

“Yeah,” you said, grinning, “which is why I’m keeping you hostage all day.”

⸻

It starts small.

Jinx is curled up on your bed, blinking sleepily at you as you hand her a glass of water. She stares at it like it’s a foreign object.

“Hydration,” you say, giving her a pointed look. “Drink.”

She groans but obeys, taking a few sips before dramatically flopping backward. “I’m gonna die.”

“You’re literally drinking water.”

“Exactly.”

Rolling your eyes, you pluck the glass from her hands before she can “accidentally” spill it. You set it on the nightstand and crawl onto the bed beside her, watching as she stretches, arms above her head, joints popping.

You reach out, brushing your fingers through the mess of her hair, unraveling the braids that have long since loosened from days without care. “I’m gonna fix this,” you murmur, combing through the tangles gently.

Jinx makes a sound—somewhere between a hum and a whine—but doesn’t protest. Instead, she rolls onto her stomach, resting her chin on her folded arms, letting you work.

The room is quiet, the only sounds being the occasional scrape of your nails against her scalp, the soft shhk of fingers untangling knots. You work slowly, carefully, unraveling each section with patience.

After a while, Jinx sighs, the tension melting from her shoulders. “Y’know,” she mutters, “I used to do my own hair all the time. After silco…ahem. No one else ever really…” She trails off, shrugging. “Didn’t matter much.”

Your heart aches at that. At the thought of her, trying to braid her own hair with shaking hands, no one there to help her after silco passed.

“Well, it matters to me,” you say softly, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck.

Jinx is quiet for a moment, then—softer than before—“Yeah.”

You take your time rebraiding her hair, weaving each section with care. By the time you finish, her body is loose, relaxed, eyes half-lidded as she stretches again, fingers flexing.

“Mm,” she hums, shifting onto her back to look at you. “I look hot, don’t I?”

You laugh, smoothing a hand over her hair. “Always.”

⸻

The next step? Food.

Jinx isn’t exactly picky—she’ll eat just about anything if she remembers to—but she also doesn’t put much effort into making actual meals. Half the time, it’s just whatever’s within reach.

So you make something warm, something filling. Jinx watches you from her seat on the counter, swinging her legs as she chatters about her latest ideas, her fingers occasionally sneaking towards the ingredients before you swat them away.

When it’s done, you both sit down together—an actual meal, side by side, plates full. Jinx pokes at her food, glancing at you.

“You sure this isn’t poisoned?”

You give her a deadpan stare. “Jinx. Eat.”

She grins and finally digs in, and the second the first bite hits her tongue, her eyes go wide. “Holy shit.”

You laugh. “Good?”

Jinx nods vigorously, already shoveling another bite into her mouth. “Okay, okay, maybe this whole ‘self-care’ thing isn’t a total scam.”

You smirk, nudging her plate closer. “Told you.”

⸻

The rest of the day is spent in easy comfort.

After eating, Jinx curls up beside you on the couch, feet tucked under your legs, flipping through random blueprints with idle interest. At one point, you guide her to the bathroom, helping her wash her face, rubbing circles into her skin with gentle hands.

She grumbles at first, but when you press a kiss to her cheek, she melts just a little.

Later, when the sun starts to dip, she rests her head in your lap, tracing patterns on your arm with absent fingers. “Y’know,” she mutters, “this wasn’t the worst day ever.”

You smile, brushing a hand over her newly braided hair. “That’s high praise, coming from you.”

Jinx snickers, then goes quiet for a long moment before shifting, peering up at you.

“You’re kinda good at this,” she admits. “Makin’ me feel like a person and all.”

Your heart squeezes. You cup her cheek, thumb tracing the curve of her jaw. “You are a person, Jinx. And you deserve to be taken care of.”

She swallows, eyes flickering with something soft, something vulnerable. Then, she huffs, rolling onto her back dramatically. “Ugh, you’re gonna make me soft.”

You grin, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Too late.”

Jinx groans, covering her face, but the blush dusting her cheeks gives her away.

And as the day winds down, as she sighs contentedly against you, you know—self-care days? They might just become a habit.