Random Yandere JoJo Writings

Can't Fight This Feeling: Yandere Speedwagon

Note: This is another short story I came up with using the picker wheel method. Just like with Santana, I had the wheel pick a random prompt from a list of yandere prompts from Tumblr and then had it pick a character from a list of JoJo characters I haven't written for yet. The character was our favorite Best Waifu Speedwagon and the winning prompt was: "Yandere watches darling sleep and imagines their future together." I wrote most of this while I was sick so if it sounds weird in some parts, I'm sorry. This is lighter fare as I don't really see Speedwagon as the hardcore yandere type. I'm honestly not happy with this at all. The ending isn't very satisfying in my opinion, because I just wanted to finish it and get it posted. Again, sorry for the poor quality in this one.

Robert listened to the slow ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway as he gazed down at your sleeping face. Something as lovely as you simply shouldn't exist in this world, and yet, here you were. Robert had seen his fair share of ugliness. Ogre Street was where ugliness in all of its forms thrived. It's where he learned all of life's cruelest lessons. That's where he learned that someone could stab him to death and leave him to bleed out in the streets and not a soul would care. It made him bitter.

When he met Johnathan Joestar, most of that bitterness went away, but it left a hole in his heart where it used to be. Jonathan's rare show of true nobility and kindness was not something that he was used to. He was so used to being looked down on by those in the higher class and always having to watch his back around his peers. He had his allies, but he had made it a point not to get too attached to any of them. He never knew when a street fight would go wrong and he'd end up losing them.

Robert couldn't handle losing people. He'd only known Zeppeli for a little while, and he spent most of that time arguing with him, but watching the man die such a gruesome, painful death nearly destroyed him. Then getting word of Jonathan's death only a short time after, when they all believed that the nightmare was finally over... It was almost enough to make him return to thuggery.

He'd gotten drunk the night after Johnathan's memorial service. He just wanted to drink himself into such a stupor that he couldn't even remember his own name. If he drank himself to death that night, then all the better. Life had taught him another of its cruel lessons... the cruelest lesson of all: Genuinely good people were rare and it was even rarer for them to live very long. It seemed the world couldn't handle even an inkling of kindness, bravery, or love before it snatched it all away. Zeppeli and Jonathan didn't deserve their miserable deaths. If he'd had a chance to take the place of either one of them, he'd die in their stead in a heartbeat. Death like that should be reserved for people who hurt people, like Dio... like himself.

He wandered far away from Ogre Street and the miserable hovel he called home until he found himself in a neighborhood he didn't recognize. Or at least he didn't think he recognized it. His vision was so blurry that he could only follow the streetlights at this point. The lights were the only things that he could see properly. His wobbling steps caused him to step wrong and he staggered off of the sidewalk and tripped over someone's front steps. He bumped his head on the railing and yelped in pain. He ended up sprawled across the steps, his bottle of liquor smashing on the cobblestone walkway. His head was spinning and he wasn't sure if it was due to the bump on the head or the alcohol. Just before he lost consciousness, he saw a light go on in one of the second story windows of the home whose steps he was laying on. He supposed he'd wake up in a prison cell in the morning, probably pinched for trespassing, vagrancy, public drunkenness, or all three.

He was more than a little surprised when he woke up in the most comfortable bed in the world with the worst hangover in the world. Once his blurry eyes managed to focus on his surroundings, panic started to settle in. Instead of cold stone walls, he saw polished wood. Instead of iron bars on the windows, he saw lacy, poofy pink curtains. The more he examined his surroundings, the more he thought that this looked a lot like a woman's room...