The Biggest Yapper Of The Bunch

My Orchard (masterlist)

Random Ideas:

Platonic yandere Sheriff

Platonic yandere Hunter

So in order to combat this, villain mom reacts very dramatically when we get any kind of scrape or bump. Dramatic gasp, rushing over and hugging us, whole package. Anything to try and sell to us we should feel more hurt than we are.

Ohhh, most definitely, Agent Reader has been trained to be able to handle bullets, fire, being drowned, and everything in between- you've been told from the first day of training that showing any sort of emotion is weakness, including crying. If you ever got hurt, you got back up and kept going, maybe grabbing a small ice pack to nurse your wounds or aches. No one has time or the will to baby you; they are more concerned with keeping threats to national security at bay. If you cry, you're mocked; if you whine, you get told to toughen up- you grow to be cold and calculating, refusing to show any sort of emotion other than what you're told.

Villain mom is definitely dramatic whenever you get hurt; any bump or scrape is met with you being coddled and villain mom shushing you gently- maybe she purposely puts objects in your way to make it so you may bump into something and she can run over and smother you. She definitely uses it as a way to manipulate you into feeling small and that your mommy is the only one who can keep you safe! If you ever fall in the house and get a splinter in your knee, you may stand up and brush yourself off- a subconscious thought telling you that you shouldn't cry, you're weak, but it feels far off and quiet- like a distant memory.

You continue to stand up until villain mom rushes over and begins to smother you, grabbing your face between her hands and ladening kisses all over your face, gushing all over you, not stopping until she sees your bottom lip wobble and tears begin to dribble out of your eyes. You give a small hiccup as villain mother returns with the first Aid kit- a small, clear, blue box that has rainbow stickers over it and one shaped like a dog, but it has a stethoscope. She pulls the splinter out with surgical precision, disinfects it, and places a green Band-Aid with tiny dinosaurs over the minuscule puncture.

She then scoops you up (she's stronger than she looks), wraps you in a soft blue blanket, and takes you over to the rocking chair in the corner, slowly rocking you, holding you princess carry style so that your head is against her chest, gently brushing her hand through your hair until you're fast asleep, cooing sweet notings, “my sweet baby”, “so brave after your accident”- you both stay there until villain father comes home from work and you’re continuenly cuddled and loved with your mom cooks dinner, sneaking you a cookie for being so good.

Some headcannons/ ideas I have for her! 1. She loves to cook and bake/host, adoring having guests in the house and making them feel welcome (even if they are her and her husband's business associates and they are discussing new weapons of mass destruction they are selling to clients) 2. She sometimes handles clients and business deals, talking to those who seek her help and making sure to squeeze them dry or have them so deep in debt they are in permanent servitude to her and her husband. 3. Her name is something like Joyce or Laurane! Idk...I like how it sounds

4. Is spoiled rotten by her husband- he loves nothing more than to buy her expensive diamond necklaces, properties, yachts, private chefs, and some of the rarest jewels known to mankind.

5. Was the one to suggest buying a suburban home in a cute little neighbourhood, as much as she likes her vast amount of properties all over the world with their private staff ... there is something strangely appealing about a large clapboard home, painted a pastel blue, sporting a white picket fence which she has bent and molded to her own taste and not the cold, marble chic penthouse she is used to (every member of staff there is somehow involved with her husband- either, they are employed by a company which is owned by her-self or her husband OR they own them a favour and are snivelling at their feet- finding the fate they have much better than death!)

6. Make sure to decorate your room with safe, childproof toys- you can forget about shoes that contain a knife covered in the world's most deadly poison or a ring that electrocutes people- No, you now have soft stuffed animals, carved wooden toys, and drawing supplies!

TW: Thoughts of kidnapping reader is AFAB, but feel free to change them to your liking!

Fangirl Reader: You've been interested in the strange and peculiar since childhood, specifically crime scenes and murderers, the most depraved people of mankind. You used to lay your dolls on the ground and draw chalk outlines around them to simulate crime scenes, even propping up a few teddy bears to act as witnesses and police. Your parents were worried, wondering if you had watched too many horror films and if they were raising a future 'Jack the Ripper, ' but you assured them that it was just how little girls played.

Fangirl Reader: You're fascinated by crime and murder mysteries, drawn to gory scenes and stories and how brave police detectives solve them. You spend most of your time in your room reading real-life crime cases you've managed to access online - laptop on your knee, chewing on the end of your pen, mulling over what made Mrs Day murder her first husband in cold blood or why the killer on Woods Street left a stuffed rabbit on every victim's doorstep. You were curious like that, filled with the world's wonders.

Fangirl Reader: You discovered Sherlock's blog by accident, stumbling onto it when you were too deep into a case you shouldn't have been involved in. It was quite graphic, but you enjoyed that - the most sick and twisted people society has to offer. You devoured the blog's content until your head hurt with questions, but you were filled with awe and wonder at the brave Mr Holmes. By the end of it, you had a new hero, and his name was Sherlock Holmes.

Fangirl Reader:  You don't have many friends of your own, so you scour Sherlock's blog and feel comforted by the limited details Mr. Watson shares about Sherlock's life, learning he was also a lonely man who wasn't liked by many of the children or even adults he had met throughout his life, much like yourself. You don't have a crush on him-no, you look up to him in a mentor sense, taking advice from his blog to hunt for your own evidence and create your own fantasy crime scenes. You want to send him something to show your appreciation, since your comment will surely be lost in the sea of squealing fans, so you grab your fanciest pad of paper and sit at your desk, scribbling as fast as your hands allow.

Platonic Yandere Sherlock: Who sits in the apartment of his residence and sulks, he's quite frankly lost his zest for life, sprawling himself out in his armchair in his small space at 221B Baker Street. He hasn't had a case in months and is seriously considering turning back to drugs just to have some fun. Watson is out shopping, and as much as he'd love to see Mrs Hudson, he knows she's busy and doesn't have the heart to bother her.

Platonic Yandere Sherlock: He sits looking rather pathetic, like a child whose favourite toy has been taken from him. He briefly considers whether to shoot the wall again, but ultimately decides against it-Mrs. Hudson would strangle him. He ponders other ways to entertain himself until... CLINK. A letter falls through the slot in the door, and he practically leaps at it. What is it? A ransom note? Something threatening? Or perhaps a dismembered finger? He can't wait, practically ripping open the letter with animalistic force. He simply can't. Oh... what in the bloody hell is this?

Platonic Yandere Sherlock:  He holds the thick blue cardstock in his hand, analysing the paper. Not common writing paper - no, this is like what a teenage girl would write a love letter on. Oh dear God, he hopes it's not one of those ladies sending him saucy letters about how much they love him. He sometimes receives them from seemingly obsessed 'fangirls.' Sherlock doesn't quite understand them. The letters are often pretty standard, but he's received a few with some... promiscuous pictures, which he disposed of immediately using the kitchen blender.

Platonic Yandere Sherlock: He looks at the swirling cursive handwriting, feeling a strange twinge of guilt at having thrown those letters away before. Instead, he relaxes in his armchair and reads this one - and oh, is he glad he did. He reads the letter from top to bottom with curiosity. You aren't gushing over him romantically, but you've seemingly placed him on a pedestal like a god! You talk about how much you look up to him and want to be like him. You even have your own stuffed dog called 'Watson.' He can't help the small smile that graces his lips as he keeps reading. You're certainly admirable as you discuss how, in his most recent case, it couldn't have been Dr Bentley with the laughing gas since he lost his license years ago, and the man who killed Mrs Robinson was clearly some sort of imposter. You go into details Sherlock himself couldn't comprehend; what a peculiar little creature you are - Sherlock sighs and sits down at his desk, pulling out a wad of his own writing paper, grabbing a fountain pen from his pot, and begins to scribe - he wishes to write back for some reason even though normally he couldn't stoop so low - he has no idea what compels him, perhaps it is your lack of neediness; you carry yourself in the words you wrote with coolness. Sometimes, though, you let childish curiosities and wonders through the dried ink.

Fangirl Reader: You're sitting in your room looking through another detective blog when you hear the sound of the letterbox clinking open and then shut. You wander downstairs and pluck the letter from the floor; you read the address return and squeal loudly at the fact that your hero has replied. HE. HAD. REPLIED! EEEEEEEEE! Your ear-piercing shrieks echo through the house, and you hear your neighbour yell through the walls for you to be quiet. Your parents are out, so no one rushes to see what's wrong as you rip through your bedroom, trying to find your best writing paper and pen, throwing them onto your bed as you draft the first letter in your finest handwriting.

Platonic Yandere Sherlock:  Who is enthralled by your little letters-he enjoys mulling over them, deducing what kind of person you are from the parchment, building your features out of ink and crossed-out words. Perhaps... Perhaps you could work for him. You had expressed a clear interest in being a detective one day, and you seemed like such a spirited thing. He would like to keep you under his wing, guiding you into your true potential, since what was the fun if you turned out like some average detective? You clearly had the brains to be one of the greats!

Fangirl Reader:  A few weeks later, you're wandering around London, not with any real goal but to entertain yourself. That's when you see it: Sherlock Holmes standing in the midst of a crime scene, lips pressed into a thin line as he discusses his findings with Dr Watson. You could faint. Two of your favourite detectives were together, you would definitely have to introduce yourself! So, you waltz up to the police barrier and give a small call, "Mr Sherlock!"

Platonic Yandere Sherlock:  Who whips around at the sound of his name being called and spots you. You're round-cheeked and small, a little smaller than the average teen girl, but still sweet-looking at the same time. He wanders up to you, ready to give a quick signature and be off back to solving the crime unfolding in front of him. He wanders up to you and sighs, a neutral look on his face. " How can I help you, young lady?" he asks, and he watches as your face glows and you say with excitement, "I'm (Y/N)!"

Platonic Yandere Sherlock: whose jaw almost drops in surprise, eagerly reaches over the tape and shakes your hand, which you return. He stares at you bug-eyed; you're definitely smaller now that he stands before you. You're sweet, childlike, though you're still a teenager - maybe around 15? But you're still so...small. It made something deep inside Sherlock throb slowly. He needed to protect you; it was clear your parents were unsuitable since they were letting their young child wander around the streets of London alone.

Fangirl Reader: You stare at your hero, completely lost for words, looking at him in utter awe. You talk at a hundred miles an hour, trying to tell Mr Sherlock things you couldn't put into writing, absolutely entranced by his replies and reasoning-he was so amazing, and you felt like you were going to burst from excitement. You continued to ask him questions until, finally, you checked the time and saw it was time to go home. So, you shook Sherlock's hand one last time before slipping away into the crowd that had begun to gather.

Platonic Yandere Sherlock: He just stares at you as you leave. God, you were so naive and kind, which had been made obvious through your conversation with him. He was a lonely man; Watson wasn't always around, and he didn't like sitting in the apartment alone, especially when he didn't have any mysteries to solve. Perhaps he could... keep you? You seemed to love him enough; he didn't have a paternal bone in his body, but he could try-he could learn to be a father. His mother would love you, probably spoiling you and fattening you up on sweet treats...yes...yes, that was the perfect plan.

Platonic Yandere Sherlock: Over the next few weeks, Sherlock continues to write to you-he wants to meet you again, talk to you. He had started to slowly carve you a small room out of his apartment, filling it with things he thought you might like-he would have to move with you to another part of London or even the country eventually, when you took up permanent residence with him, but his spare bedroom would do for now. He could accuse your parents of something, perhaps; he couldn't just take you, he needed to plan this-he needed to be smart. He sat and thought, he decorated your room and considered options and ideas until, finally, he had a plan... yes, he knew exactly how to get you in his grasp.

Fangirl Reader: You hear the sound of the letterbox clunk open, and the letter falls onto the floor. You've become accustomed to the sound of the mail coming regularly; your parents didn't really ask; they just assumed it was some sort of pen pal you had and were growing friendly with. You opened the letter in your room and scanned the contents; your jaw almost dropped. Mr Sherlock had offered you an apprenticeship with him... You scream! You screamed so loudly with joy that your mother burst into your room and asked what was wrong until you showed her the letter, completely overcome with giddiness. You danced around your room; you had never felt so honoured in your life-you were going to learn from Sherlock Holmes himself, and you couldn't wait!

Platonic Yandere Sherlock:  He smirks to himself when you call him to confirm that you would love to learn under him and be his apprentice. He couldn't wait to have you all to himself, a small, tiny sun forever. You needed to be properly guided. Mrs Hudson would no doubt also love you; you're so kind and sweet to everyone. Don't worry about your parents when he keeps insisting you sleep in his spare bedroom since he knows the commute from his house to yours is long, so of course, it's easier to stay at his... your parents would be properly disposed of. It would be so unfortunate if someone broke into your home while you were with him, and your parents were killed in the crossfire... such a shame.

Awww thank you so much! Villain mom definitely wears long sundresses but also baggy pants with comfy blouses and villain dad wears formal shirts with braces if he’s been at work and comfy jumpers and jeans when he’s not (depending on the weather), even though you’re a grown person (you’re around 18-19 in this au) they definitely try and dress you like a child sometimes with silly graphic tees and loose sweatpants and soft socks! Villain mom likes to bake and she doesn’t mind giving you a little extra sugar if you’re good- she most definitely insists on seconds at dinner since you’re so skinny from being trained! Villain dad would be a little more strict making you clean your plate and eat all your vegetables ect!

I feel like they might get you a pet but they’ve always had a guard dog that was very standoffish with you since he was trained to attack you on site and is so confused why he’s being shushed and pushed away when he snarls and growls! He does warm up to you eventually enjoying laying with you in bed and gently pushing your face while you sleep! He’s a loyal creature though so he wants to hesitate to grab you but your leg if you ever attempt to escape and drag you back into the loving arms of your parents!

Excuse me, can I order a platonic yandere story with Sherlock Holmes from you?

I'll wait for an answer)

*opens oven door* of course, it will be up for collection soon- this is a new recipe I’m trying so I’m sorry if it’s not to your taste but I will try my best! Do you want the modern or old style crust?

TW: Death of spouse, death of parents, kidnapping, drugging

Reader is gender neutral!

Hitchhiker reader: You are a drifter, a hitchhiker. You’ve never really had a permanent home—you follow whatever way the wind pushes you, not staying in one town for too long, always moving. You have your backpack, guitar, and trust, and that’s all. You’re pretty young, around 17 or so. You’re skinny, maybe a bit malnourished, but hey—regular meals aren’t a guarantee when you’re always on the move.

Hitchhiker reader: One day you stumble across a small town. The people there are nice, with wide smiles, helpfully pointing you in the correct direction when you ask where the local store is. You’re in desperate need of money, so in return you offer acts of service—painting fences, hanging pictures! You’re a bit of a jack-of-all-trades.

Hitchhiker reader: You don’t plan to stay for very long. You want to make some cash and then catch the next bus to wherever following the path you have laid out for yourself. You’ll play your guitar, wander, figure it out later. Your parents are dead gone so quickly you never got to say goodbye, and you’d rather be on the streets than in the system.

Platonic yandere Hunter: He’s well liked in the community—he provides people with food and anything else from the forest. He had a wife, but she’s gone now. They planned on having children but it wasn’t in the cards, so his house sits empty, his own thoughts the only company he has. He tried applying for adoption but was denied time and time again. Sometimes, after a long and hard day, he finds himself standing in the nursery he built: a hand-carved rocking chair and crib both painted a soft white, cradling soft blankets and tiny onesies. He would be such a good papa; he just needs a kiddo to love.

Platonic yandere Hunter: After the death of his beloved wife, he became a recluse hiding away from society unless he was needed. He’s rarely seen around town. Children whisper about him, saying he eats anyone who wanders too close to his cabin. In some stories he’s a six-foot beast with white teeth and glowing red eyes; in others he’s a grieving, hurt man who wants something to love.

Platonic yandere Hunter: Spots you in the local general store while scouring the shelves. He’s looking at bear traps and fertilizer while you’re staring very intently at pieces of rope pulling it taught and then allowing it to go slack again. “You ok?” he asks, voice gruff, disguising the way his heart beats a little faster. You’re so small staring at him with wide doe-like eyes as if he might gobble you up… his instincts croon gently being looked at like that awakens something fatherly in him 

Platonic yandere Hunter: Directs you toward what you actually need, smiling slightly at your cluelessness you’re truly only a child naive to what's good for you. He’s surprised you’ve survived in the world this long—any longer and someone would eat you alive. He feels his chest tighten at that, you were so vulnerable in desperate need of protection

Hitchhiker reader: You’re slightly intimidated by the hunter’s hulking frame but you thank him politely for his help and purchase what he recommended feeling more confident in yourself- you can survive, you just need to find something to eat now. He smiles, introducing himself, before asking, “Aren’t you a little young to be on your own?” watching you splutter out an excuse about only passing through town hands fiddling with your backpack straps refusing to meet his eyes.

Platonic yandere Hunter: Raises an eyebrow at your obvious lie. He doesn’t like it when children lie to him, he’ll obviously need to correct that. He relaxes though, it’s not your fault—you’ve been forced to lie in a world that would eat you alive. Proving his point you need protection. 

Platonic yandere Hunter: He sees you as a frightened little kid who needs guidance and love—you don’t need to survive, you need to rely on someone. Someone who can provide for you properly, giving you a warm home, food and as much attention as you want

Hitchhiker reader: You notice him staring, wide eyes as if you’re the answer he’s been searching for and quickly decide get the hell out of there. You practically run out the door without turning back, missing the way his eyes linger on you. Shaking him off as just some weirdo.

Platonic yandere Hunter: He watched you leave can’t stop thinking about you the entire day—the way you politely smile, the way you talk. You’re far too young to be on your own… you need someone. Him… you need him.

Platonic yandere Hunter: When he gets back to his cabin, he takes in the silence, walking slowly upstairs and leaning against the nursery door, lingering on the frame. He can’t stand it anymore. He needs someone here with him—someone to love and take care of. He needs you. Sweet, innocent you're going to be his sweet little one…whether you want to or not.

Platonic yandere Hunter: He begins to stalk you meticulously, realising you go around the same neighbourhoods asking if they need help, earning what you can. He simply can’t have that! You need stability. He begins to prepare you a room. Out goes the old crib and changing table, replaced with a large bed, bookcase, dresser and a stand for your guitar since he can’t have his little musician damaging their instrument. It's obviously more grown up but make no mistake—you are still going to be his sweet baby.

Platonic yandere Hunter: plans you’re kidnapping um…adoption, knowing that you hang around the local diner a lot- he preps your room, smoothing out the sheets and making sure every stuffed animal is sat correctly for the hundredth time. 

Hitchhiker reader: You sit in the sticky booth of the town’s only diner, you count the last few dollars you have periodically sipping on the water the nice waitress keeps refilling . It’s enough to get you a bus ticket but not much else—you can barely afford a meal right now. Maybe you should try and fill up on the free bread.

Platonic yandere Hunter: Slips into the seat across from you, a warm smile painted on his lips. “You ok?” he asks, voice still hardened and gruff but with a notable affectionate twinge. He slowly slides a menu across to you. “You look like you could use a good meal,” he comments

Hitchhiker reader: stares at him awkwardly, he’s the same guy from the hardware store you’re not too sure about him inviting himself to sit with you but you don’t mind, he seems friendly enough offering to buy you dinner- you didn’t like feeling in debt to people but you suppose it was alright this once- you nervously pick up the menu and order something small, thanking him quietly.

Platonic yandere Hunter: He’s displeased with what you order, you need to eat but he lets it go. When he’s caring for you he’ll make sure you’re properly fattened up—he can’t have people thinking he doesn’t feed you! When the food arrives, he slides a bit of his meal onto your plate when you’re not looking, watching you inhale your food.

Hitchhiker reader: You leave a few dollars on the table and stand to leave, thanking Yandere Hunter for his generosity but saying you have to go. Turning away and walking towards the front door thinking about where you were going to set up camp.

Platonic yandere Hunter: He stands quickly, stopping you from leaving and guides you away, asking if you’d like to stay at his place. He quickly corrects himself when you make a disgusted face obviously thinking that the meal was simply a…transaction. “Not like that!” he says face flushed, anger settling in his chest- if anyone ever took advantage of you he would find them and make sure the cops never find a body. He explains that he has a spare room and that it would surely be more comfortable than sleeping in the forest having noticed your tent when hunting.

Hitchhiker reader: You honestly agree not really wanting to get in the car with a stranger…but, it would be nice to sleep in an actual bed. You agree but just for the night, watching as Platonic yandere Hunter practically glows leading you to his car. You clamber into the van and buckle yourself in—ignoring how the hunter checks the seatbelt, making sure it’s tight enough. The drive is mostly silent except for the bland tunes pouring from the radio.

Platonic yandere Hunter: Arriving at his home he allows you to jump out and stand before his home, a modestly sized wooden cabin. He watches as your eyes widen in wonder taking in the beautiful structure. There’s still a child in you; he just has to coax them out slowly and gently. As soon as you’re in the right environment that part will come out.

Hitchhiker reader: He leads you to sit on the couch, politely you remove your shoes and jacket as well as your backpack at the door, tucking them into a little corner with your guitar.

Platonic yandere Hunter: Who busies himself in the kitchen and returns with two mugs of hot chocolate, preparing and lighting the fire offering you a blanket, wrapping it around your shoulders, heart fluttering as you sleep, stare up at him. Sipping your hot chocolate slowly, you and him talk, he tells you about his wife and you tell him about your parents, realising you’re just two lonely people navigating the world trying to find someone to connect to.

Platonic yandere Hunter: Whose heart leaps when you mention your parents are gone, not that they're gone- that is a horrid experience that no child should ever go through but that you need someone- there was no one to ask questions or come looking for you

Hitchhiker reader: you feel your eyes droop slowly, yawning as your cheek rests against the armrest- allowing yourself to be soothed by the crackling fire.

Platonic yandere Hunter: He settles himself into the grand armchair beside the couch, sipping his own drink, watching your eyes slowly droop. He watches the empty mug slip from your grasp onto the wooden floor, it’s not strong enough to hurt you. God no. But just strong enough to make you sleep solidly. He slowly stands, brushes himself off, and scoops you up, carrying you upstairs and tucking you into your new bed, making sure the windows are locked and there’s nothing you can hurt yourself with. Smiling gently at you

Platonic yandere Hunter: He strokes your cheek with his calloused thumb and smiles to himself. No more survival or figuring out when you’re next meal is just a quiet life with a papa who completely adores you. You’re his now, forever, until the end of time.

CW- Kidnapping,loss of children,obsession

Hear me out, platonic Yandere girlfriends father, the kind of guy who is stoic faced and cold after losing his own son in a terrible accident- he threw himself into his work and has built several successful businesses within your small town, being able to buy out other business and overall becoming very rich and powerful. But his heart still breaks whenever he thinks about his child. He may be cold and calculating but he's grieving still even years after. 

He’s fiercely protective of his daughter, hating every single boyfriend his daughter has brought over- all rich, spoiled brats who haven’t worked for anything in their lives waiting for everything to be handed to them on a silver platter. So, when his daughter announces she’s got a new boyfriend he practically gags at the idea

Is pleasantly surprised when you come around for dinner- offering flowers to his wife and firmly shaking his hand- he doesn’t allow himself to be fooled though since all teenage boys want one thing and one thing only. So, he makes polite conversation at dinner and when you say you’ve never been fishing he practically leaps out his seat saying he will take you- besides, it would be a good way to test you 

He and you go to the make the next week and fish, talking about school and he discovers you have a lot of interest aligning with his own son and feels his fatherly instincts swell when you mention your dad isn’t around anymore- after, you give him a awkward side hug when you leave saying “thanks” missing the way his eyes linger on you.

You spend a lot of time with your girlfriend's dad, hunting, fishing or just talking in his study as he tells you how to be business smart and squeeze the best offers out of people, he teaches you to shave properly when he sees the wackjob you call a shave. You and him bond, however, where you realise the line between you dating his daughter and him being a fatherly figure, his blurs until it’s a muddy puddle and begins to see you as his actual son.

When you and your girlfriend break up he goes- for a lack of better word- ballistic, she finishes you having found someone ‘better’, he still offers you hunting and fishing trips but you pull away not wanting to spend time with him any more.

So he’s drastic, he asks you to come over to his hunting cabin to help with furniture and offers you coffee- you wake up in a room on a bed with blue sheets and stars in the ceiling- he walks in all cheery, ruffling your hair and still calling you “sport” 

You understand he needs this, don’t you kiddo?