Yandere! Ranma x reader

the box

Ranma forced me to rest for the next few days, though I doubt I would've been able to do much else anyway. That first night, my fever had spiked, leaving me delirious and weak. It was Monday again before I finally started feeling better, my body still sore and my spirit drained.

Unfortunately for me, that meant enduring Ranma's self-appointed role as my caretaker. He took it upon himself to wash me, dress me, feed me, and, of course, tease me at every opportunity. He treated it like some kind of game, but I could see the worry in his eyes when he thought I wasn't looking. It didn't stop him from taking full advantage of my weakened state, though.

His hands wandered far more than I was comfortable with, lingering under the guise of helping me with my clothes or adjusting a blanket. When I had the strength to weakly push him away, he'd just chuckle, brushing off my protests with that maddening smirk.

"You're so cute when you're flustered," he'd say, his tone far too casual for someone taking liberties. "Don't worry—I'm just making sure you're comfortable."

I'd glare at him as best I could, my energy too low to fight back properly, but he never crossed any lines that would make me scream at him. He kept just shy of that threshold, his actions calculated and infuriatingly deliberate.

And then there were the pills. Every day, he'd casually mention them, the small box sitting on my nightstand like a ticking time bomb. "You know," he'd say, holding one up between his fingers, "these could help. They might even make you feel a lot better. You trust me, don't you?"

I never gave him the satisfaction of a response, turning my head away or pretending to be asleep. He'd sigh dramatically, tuck the box back into its place, and go back to pretending everything was normal.

But nothing about this was normal. I sat up slowly, the weight of days spent bedridden making my body feel heavy despite the return of some energy. I wasn't sick anymore, but the lingering cloud of depression hung over me like a fog. The memories of Ranma's "care" over the past few days were fresh, and I couldn't decide if the helplessness I'd felt was worse than the frustration at how he'd handled it.

Still, I'd had time to think—too much time. After all those hours spent staring at the ceiling, a plan had finally started to take shape in my mind. It wasn't perfect, and it was far from guaranteed, but I was desperate enough to grasp at straws. I couldn't keep living like this, trapped in this limbo of guilt, fear, and Ranma's suffocating presence.

Maybe Cologne's advice about a matchmaker or one of those "curse-breaking" places wasn't as ridiculous as it sounded. Sure, it was all hocus-pocus and probably a scam, but what choice did I have? I was in no position to be skeptical when nothing else had worked.

I glanced over at the small box on the nightstand, the pills Ranma had been pushing on me like some kind of solution to all our problems. My stomach churned at the sight of them. I couldn't let things keep spiraling out of control. I had to try something—anything.

Pushing the blanket off me, I stood up, my legs shaky but steady enough to hold me. Ranma wasn't in the room, likely off making breakfast or scheming up another "surprise." It gave me a small window of peace to focus on what I needed to do.

If I could just figure out where to start—who to talk to, where to go—I might have a chance at undoing this mess. It was a long shot, but it was better than sitting here waiting for Ranma to push me further into a life I didn't want.

I rummaged through my room, trying to find my phone. The plan was simple—do some research, find a place that claimed to break curses, and let Ranma tag along since there was no way he wouldn't. If nothing else, I could say I was trying.