Ebony Gold (Jotaro x black reader)

Thanks for the Food || 00

Your grandmas dining room was filled to the brim, voices upon voices echoed atop one another. Grownups whispered into each other's ears, gossiping about god knows what. Kids screaming and chasing each other around the legs of adults, almost making your uncle lose his footing and drop the mac and cheese.

"Quit all that damn running and sit down!" He hollers, making the wide eyed kids skid to a halt, immediately sitting where they once stood.

Almost everyone from your family gathered around the oval shaped dining table, all getting ready to eat: except for you.

At least not yet anyway.

While your family were chatting and laughing together you were up in the attic, rummaging through old boxes and looking through old photo books.

You weren't looking for anything in particular, though it would be nice if you found something interesting. In all honesty, it was just fun to look at old pictures of your family, secretly laughing at their fashion from back in the day.

By this point you had gone through countless boxes but one caught your eye. A medium sized box sat beside a tower of other boxes, slightly hidden behind a bigger box. How did you not see this one? It had a line of pearls hanging down the side, draped beside a piece of tape labeled 'heavy'.

You drag out the heavy box from its spot on the floor, pealing the top back to reveal all kinds of miscellaneous items filled inside. A gold necklace, a black key, a broken camera, etc etc. Your eyes shimmered at the amount of crap in the box, it was like opening a box of hidden treasure; and although the items were old, they still seemed to shine brightly under the dim lights of the attic.

You excitedly dipped your hands into the box carefully pulling out the old camera, holding it close to your face to inspect it. The lens was cracked and it was insanely dusty, making you reel face away from it; you didn't want to inhale any of it.

You exhaled, slowly and carefully placing the dusty beast back into its spot in the box. You dipped your hand back into the clump of treasures, rummaging around for anything else that may be interesting. you were so distracted by the box when suddenly a loud voice called out to you.

"[Name]! [Name], honey where are you!"

You jump at the sudden call of your name, a sharp bolt of pain shot through your hand as you cursed, quickly snatching your hand out of the box. You glance at your hand, a huge piece of gold and silver metal was lodged into your palm. The worst part? It was your dominant hand.

You turn around, your eyes snapping to the attic ladder, catching sight of your grandma as she hiked her way up. You quickly hide your bleeding palm behind your back, gulping before you replied, "I'm here gran-mom."

"[Name] you silly child, what are you doing up here? The food is almost ready so come down." She playfully affirmed once she finally made her entrance into the attic; a tiny smile on her brown wrinkled face. She scanned the small space, her lips forming a straight line, silently scolding you for the mess you made.

"I-I was gonna clean it once I was done gran-mom!" you sputtered, meekly waving your uninjured hand out to her. Your other hand however began leaking blood, a bright red line flowed from your wound, to your fingertip, to the floor; leaving a red dot on the stale wood below.

Your eyes snap to the dot, praying your grandma didn't notice; she did.

She looked you dead in the eye, her lips downturning into a frown. "You hurt yourself again didn't you?", she accused. "Let me see." She held her manicured out hand to you.

You exhaled, pulling your hand from behind you back, slightly gripping the wrist of you injured hand as you held it out to her.

She gasped, cupping your bleeding hand with care. "God—[Name]! Why didn't you say anything!", she exclaimed while examining the wound. Moving her hand to your back as she lead you out of the attic. "Come on, let me wrap it for you. Quickly!"

Once you were out of the attic your grandma led you to the guest bathroom, flicking on the light and closing the door behind you. She rummaged through the medicine cabinet, pulling out bandages, numbing cream, and a needle and some thread. She wet a cloth with some soap and water and began cleaning the wound.

This wasn't the first time you needed stitches, this was maybe your 4th time? You weren't exactly sure, most of the time your grandma was the one to do it. You nervously glance at your grandma, her brows furrowed as she carefully removed the shard of metal from your palm making you wince quietly.

"So," she suddenly uttered, "What did you find this time?" Her tone was soft as she shifted her gaze up to you before grabbing the cloth again.

She wiped the remaining blood from the wound when you replied, "I found an old box—it had all kinds of stuff in it, but I only got to really look at an old camera before...that happened." You stated gesturing to your hand at the end.

She placed the rag on the counter before grabbing the numbing cream, spreading the chemical around the injury. After that she started threading the needle, waiting for the effects of the cream to settle in.

She shook her head while chuckling a little. "You say that like it's just a little scratch," she sighs while lightly pressing the skin around the wound, eyeing you for any sign of pain. You nod at her signaling that your hand was numb and she could begin.

As she starts stitching up the wound she spoke up again, "I really need to teach you how to do this yourself, I won't be here every time you get hurt like this you know."

This made you frown. You knew what she was implying and you knew she meant well, but it still made you sad. She was getting old and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

"I practically already know how to do it," you muttered. "I've seen you do it a million times already."

"Seeing someone do something is much different from doing it yourself." She states as she finished up the last stitch, grabbing the rag one last time to gently dap over the fresh set of stitches.

She picked up the bandages wrapping them snugly over your hand. She opened the bathroom door and walked out with you following close behind her.

Your thoughts wandered to what she said to you. She was right, it would be better if you learned everything you could from her before she was gone. The thought makes you lift your bandage to your face, inspecting it closely. Your heart sank a bit, you didn't know if you could.

Your family cheered at your sudden entrance to the dining room. Multiple shouts of 'there you are!' and 'where have you been' echoed throughout the space. It made you embarrassed, why did they always have to act so extra with you?

"[Name]! Sit here honey!!" Your aunt shouted as she pat the seat next to her. You sat next to her, she always smelled nice: like coco butter. She smiled at you while everyone else made their way to the table. Your aunt leaned over to you whispering into your ear, "What happened to your hand?" Her eyes darted to the bandaged limb.

"Got cut, had to get stitches.." You whispered back, she hummed in response, she wasn't surprised at all.

All the food was on the table; mac and cheese, greens, yams, pecan pie, corn bread, turkey, etc.
Once everyone was seated the family speech started, you zoned out during the whole thing, only being pulled from your thoughts when everyone shouted.

"Thanks for the food!"

"....Thanks for the food." you mindlessly mumble after them.

At least you'll have something good to eat tomorrow.
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tell me if i made any mistakes please 🫶🏾