DEATH ISLE ( jotaro x Reader)

Ch. 1: The Surprise Warning

        I pull out my keys to open the door, and when I look beside me I see shoes, not mine, and certainly not any of my parents. There must be people in the house, a little warning for them at least. 

        I struggle with the door, but when it opens— "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" And the LED lights of the kitchens chandler shift like chameleons to match the energy of my family as they surprise me. I jumped when I heard my whole family shout but I laughed it off. If the sight of them didn't spook me enough, the attack of smell from the desserts and perfumes of each person in this too cramped room would've.

        "Guys, c'mon," I say with a smirk as I drop my backpack and groceries. When I stand again my breath leaves me and I'm a hollow sparring dummy to my Eli as he tackles me into the living room's couch with a laugh, I'm beyond happy, but that doesn't mean I'm not getting crushed to death. As a weird mixture of pained and pure happiness I let out a strangled noise and kick him off me, and when I do Eli falls to the ground and the family laughs out loud like seagulls. I swore my parents had forgotten my birthday this morning, but I guess I made a bad bet.

         Before I left for school, I woke up with a giant smile and expected mom and dad to be as excited as I was for my 17th birthday. I skipped with meaning to my step ready to devour birthday pancakes, but I was dumbfounded by lazily done scrambled eggs with a bottle of  ketchup on the side with a grocery list for when I got back home from school. 

        I snort when I stand up off the couch and watch Eli wail, "so mean," he teases amongst the chit chatter of my family. He rubs the side of his arm that must be sore from landing on the rough carpet, looking at it now it looks as pink as the blushing LED lights that shined right as he hit the ground.

        I roll my eyes at his comment with a smirk and feel sorry for kicking him when I offer him a hand to get off the floor with. He doesn't hesitate to grab it and I haul him up, "says the one that pounced on me like a lion," I reply to his comment and he's the one to snort.
        "Yeah whatever," he says. 

        Our moment is paused when the ting of silverware hitting a glass stings my ears and my attention is stolen by its source, my older sister holds a wine glass and a fork at the kitchen's island and when the house goes silent the attention is hers as her two girlfriends stand behind her like backup dancers, there to make her look good, but not to say a word. She's never admitted it but she thoroughly enjoys being the center of attention and taking credit, and that tinging of hers let me know she's the hostess of my own birthday. "I thank you all, really for coming here to Y/n's party, it really means a lot to her," it would've meant more if you hadn't brought your girl group of vipers. I eye them at the thought and will the look on my face to not be a cringe of disapproval, "it's been awhile since we've all been together like this, and, I just want to say, to my sister, and to all of you that," she pauses, putting drama to her speech as she looks to me and I will my eyes not to show my boredom, "that I really couldn't have asked for a better sister, so, as much as it means to her, it means so much to me as well that you all came, so, with that, let's have a fun time," she says and everyone cheers save for me and Eli...

        Eli shuts the door with a gentleness and I throw myself with the opposite energy onto my bed and groan so deeply it felt like it echoed internally. Eli is a very close friend of mine and the adopted son to Dad's best friend. "Too many people for too long of a night?" Eli is four years older than me, and yet for for 20, he's 5 and 1000 years old at once.

        "I couldn't have said it better," I say and roll over onto my back on the bed.

        He chuckles and sits on the corner of my bed, "it's like that," he says. My walls are LED themselves as they softly project indigo and my whole room feels like a haven as I stare at the shift digital clouds on my ceiling that make my room look roofless. 

         I sigh and look at Eli, "at least cake was good, you did a good job on it," I say and he chuckles again. 

         "Yeah? I never thought myself too much of a baker," he says. 

         I think to myself, "it did taste kinda like you added a bit of something, maybe a tad bit of oil and butter," I say as I try to suck the flavor of chocolate mousse out of my teeth. 

        He shrugs, "I didn't have a measuring cup and just eyeballed it," he confesses. 

        "Well," I say and face him, "I liked it a lot more than the packaged cake my mom bought me last year," the memory of it burned my tongue, "I thought it tasted like sugar cardboard lined with acidic chemicals," I say as my face sours. 

        "Or maybe you're just a picky eater," he says and I scoff before he smirks. There's a silence and nothing about it is awkward. I ease in the silence as I feel my social battery recharge. "How was school?" He asks and I huff out a breath at the memory.

        "Boring."

        "But, why?" He asks annoyingly but in a way of being playful.

        I pinch my lips, "well, my teacher woke up on the wrong side of the bed and there was a new student," I say.

        The new kid was a boy, two years younger than me, and strange. In my class there are five kids my age, twelve that are 16, and now four 15 yearolds. It was strange, my whole educational lifetime was spent with that one teacher in that one building, I practically was raised by her. And that 15 yearold boy I met had something off with him, I was overjoyed to meet someone new, but by the tremor in his aura I gave him space. Eventually though, he came up to me, I forced more softness, and security to myself than I usually did and he told me with a thick accent of what he told me was British, he said the classroom looked unsettlingly like a office rather than a classroom. I sat there trying not to have judgment in my face as I asked, "what should a classroom look like?" 

        He hesitated, and looked around us and swallowed the soreness in his throat to the best of his ability before he said, "this. This looks too much like a blank canvas waiting to be painted." 

        I looked at him wordlessly before I found some in my rubble of words, and with them I changed the subject, "you're quite the poet, do you like to write?" 

        He wanted to say something but stopped himself as I saw something shift in him, something to hide whatever he was presenting of himself earlier. He stood and pointed to nothing before asking, "can you see this?" 

        I stared, despite all my concentration I saw nothing but the other kids taking to eachother a few feet away. I told him I couldn't see anything, he pinched his lips and struggled with words before he said, "I don't think you should come back here tomorrow." 

         I have no idea what he meant, and I still don't. I cringe, "the new student was a weird kid, but that was all from today," I tell Eli.