Chapter 1: Oversimplification
Chapter Text
The summer heat was humid and sticky as Rick finished his latest project. The sweltering seemed to permeate the garage just the same with the door opened or closed, and with Beth and Jerry’s latest fight reaching its peak, he decided hiding away was his best bet.
Rick and the heat did not get along well, something that translated to the rest of the family, it felt as though he was fending off Summer and Morty with a stick. Their boredom was not his problem though, he had much better things to do. The thought of slipping away had plagued his mind for the last few hours, but the fever of the summer seemed to make his mind feel like syrup.
“What I wouldn’t fucking give for a pool right now?” Rick murmured to himself, his brow furrowing at the reminder of his own sticky misery. The sky bathed the house in a silky red with the sun slipping down under the horizon. He took another sip from his flask, turning to lean on the workbench.
He heaved a deep sigh as his phone caught the corner of his eye, you were ignoring him, and in true Rick fashion he had taken that in stride. His eyes narrowed unconsciously as he thought about it, his empty hand tightening into a fist. He didn’t fucking need you.
He didn’t need anybody.
Beth’s shrill voice cut through the air followed by some thuds and an “Ow!” from Jerry. That earned an eye roll from Rick and while he wouldn’t mind going in there and tearing them a new one, it was too much work. Morty was breathing down his neck about letting them be, that they were happy. He had scoffed when Morty said that, it was bullshit and he wouldn’t be surprised if someone wanted another divorce in the next 6 months.
Nonetheless, he was stuck in this stuffy house with his family’s bullshit to avoid your bullshit and he was starting to feel suffocated. Why did he give a shit if you were mad, fuck if you wanted to play that game so would he. Maybe it was the liquor he had just downed but it really didn't take much to get Rick riled up. And you knew that.
He could feel the anger blooming in his chest, he wasn’t some fucking teenager in a petty fight with some dumb, little girlfriend. Suddenly he was hot with anger and before he knew it, a portal was in the center of the floor and he was walking through. Damned be his new fibermesh epidermis defense, and fuck his family, always asking him for shit.
One foot through he stopped and thought of you briefly softening, he had been pretty rough on you lately. You called, he declined. You showed up, he went out the nearest portal. He had really only been around lately to take care of his own needs.
A particularly loud curse from inside the house brought him right back to his original train of thought, he was the smartest man in the universe, he didn’t need to take crap from you. You should be thanking him for his presence in your life.
“You have some fucking nerve.”
You shrieked as Rick pulled back the shower curtain. A cold shower was one of the better ways to fend off the heat with the air conditioner broken, especially since Rick had moaned, groaned, and wormed his way out of fixing it.
“What the fuck are you doing?” You hissed as he climbed in fully clothed, his brow in a prominent V-shape, lids half mast. It would have been comical in any other situation, his lanky body struggling to fit in your small shower, an almost bored expression on his face as the water drenched his clothes.
“Me?” Rick scoffed, and narrowed his eyes at you. He began to lose his composure a bit, having your wet naked body in front of him.
“Yes, you. You can’t just barge in here unannounced anymore Rick. I’m not some toy you can pick up when you’re bored and throw it away when you’re not.”
He feigned a hurt look, shrugged the now soaked coat from his shoulders. “I have enough toys, sweetheart, if you were one you’d know.”
That earned a huff from you, it had been a long day and the last thing you needed was Rick’s bullshit. Turning back to face the water, you rinsed the rest of the soap off of you, jumping slightly as his arms snaked their way around your waist.
“C’mon,” he murmured, pressing kisses to your shoulder, you could feel the hard press of cold denim against your ass as he ground into you, “you know you can’t refuse my huge dynamite penis.”
That earned a snort from you, the hard shell of anger cracking slightly. “You’re not off that easy, Rick. You’ve been a huge asshole lately, even more than usual.”
His hands came up to massage your breasts, the feeling amplified by the cold water. You let out a low moan as he latched his mouth to the sweet spot on your neck while one hand tweaked your nipple, and the other snuck its way down to stroke your fluttering core.
“S-shit baby you can’t still —is this all for me?” You could feel his wolfish grin against the back of your neck, and in return you arched your back more to grind against his erection. His long fingers trace through your folds as he removes his other hand to undo his belt, you feel the tight heat in your lower belly as you gush around his fingers.
“Fuck,” Rick murmurs, stopping his motions momentarily to land a hard smack on your ass. You bite back a whine, wanting to maintain some semblance of composure, despite him being knuckle-deep in you. His fingers suddenly press against something deep and spongy within you, your knees buckle as you lurch forward, the unexpected waves of pleasure shivers down your body. Rick lets out another curse, his arm darting out to grip your waist, surely you would’ve fallen face-first into the wall had he not been holding you up.
He inhales sharply as you clench around his fingers, whispering good girl into your neck as you ride it out. He eases out of you, your juices dripping down your thighs, the feeling coupled with the uncomfortable chill of the water makes you shudder.
“You’re a dirty little slut,” you tense again as he aligns himself to your entrance, still a little sensitive from your release, “beg me baby, I-I want to hear you.”
You mewl as he pushes into you, the stretch rides the line of pleasure and pain, Rick barely gives you enough time to get used to it before he bucks his hips and grips your jaw as a warning, “Beg.”
“Please, Rick, I want — I want you to fuck me,” your voice comes out whiny making you wince a bit, but it seems to please Rick as he sets a deep pace, biting into your neck hard enough it's sure to leave a mark.
You can’t help but arch your back even further, this seems to please him as he releases his bite on your neck, “Someone’s eager, y-you can’t seem to get enough of my dick can you?” You moan in response, snaking a hand down to rub the tender bundle of nerves.
You clench at the contact, leading Rick to fasten his pace, his hand moving to tighten around your neck.
“You’re my — you’re daddy’s good girl aren’t you? Can’t get enough of m-my monster cock, you wanna come don’t you? Don’t fucking dare, not until I say so.”
All you can manage is incoherent moans with the occasional Rick! thrown in, you’re too cockdumb to be embarrassed or angry anymore. Rick has his way of getting out of trouble, especially with you.
His brutal pace coupled with your own fingers becomes too much for you as you near your second orgasm, Rick seemed to egg you on as his own fingers replaced yours, you could feel your stomach tightening as your release began to stir in the peak of your stomach.
“Come on my dick, baby, let the neighbors hear you scream my name.”
The pleasure washes over you in waves, your pussy clenching hard around his dick, he thrusts with wild abandon chasing his own release. You can feel him rut against your sensitive walls, riding your post-orgasmic haze. He spills inside you a few moments later letting out a string of expletives in true Rick fashion. You feel yourself stir again slightly as you feel him fill you up, but Rick extracts himself from you gracelessly.
Coming back to your senses you rinse the mixture of juices off your legs, much to Rick’s distaste, and turn off the water. You shiver from being drenched for so long, side-eyeing Rick as he avoids your gaze.
“You’re dripping on my floor,” you murmur, he stands there uncomfortably, it's not lost on you that his portal gun has returned to his hand.
“Well, I-I should go.”
“Typical.”
Rick can feel the anger simmer low in his belly at your dig, “What do you mean typical?”
“Well let’s see Rick, you show up angry and unannounced, seduce me in my show—” “I didn’t seduce you! And —and frankly, I resent the accusation!” “And now you’re leaving with no explanation. This isn’t sustainable long term, Rick.”
“And what makes you think I want to be here long term,” He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, a hurt look flashes across your face before it's replaced with anger.
“Come on, baby, I-I didn’t mean it.”
He reaches out for you and you jerk backwards, “Your family may have taken you back, but I’m not this time Rick.”
He opens his mouth, but you cut him off, “Just go, it’s what you’re best at.”
Rage blinds him as he shoots a portal to the floor, “Don’t — I’m not coming back this time.”
“I know you're not.” And with that he’s gone.
Chapter 2: get you
Notes:
I hope you enjoy this chapter! I promise things will make more sense as we continue along, comments and thoughts are always appreciated!
Chapter Text
“Rick!”
He stiffens at the loud call of his name across the club. The dorlekian he’s following into the dimly lit room gives him a suspicious glance from the corner of his eye that further annoys Rick. He was already in a bad mood — something that seemed to become more and more frequent for him, much to the chagrin of those around him — and this was the last thing he needed. Especially in this dimension.
Summer and a couple of friends had snooped around the garage in search of god knows what, and it had led to the breaking of a vial that contained a rare crystal he was using to upgrade the house’s defense system. It was targeting Jerry’s pogonias, not that he could blame it.
So here he was in a shitty downtown club in a different dimension, a different planet and yet someone had managed to recognize him. Maybe he should have expected it. Rick had always hated places like this: loud, dark, and the booze wasn’t that great either. The floor was sticky and made his shoes squeak, which irritated him more than it should have. He didn’t know what was causing his recurring foul moods, but it was almost as if the toxic traits of him had formed an alliance and decided their life’s goal was to bother him.
He wants to ignore it, the syrupy call of his name ringing in his head. His gut tells him not to turn around, to continue with his plans and get the fuck out of there. The sooner he gets the crystal, the sooner he can stuff down his annoyance and agitation with booze and drugs. He had picked some good stuff up from Gear Head, not that he knew that. His curiosity gets the best of him.
There sits you. Dolled up to the nines.
He can’t help the crawl of pleasure that shivers deliciously down his spine at the sight. Your neck is draped delicately with diamonds too expensive for a place like this — a small alarm bell rings somewhere in his head — but he pushes it down in favor of the growing bulge in his pants. His wide eyes return to their usual half-mast as he shoots you a wink before dipping his lanky body behind the back curtain.
You can’t help but pout, Rick was 30 minutes late to your anniversary dinner. A wave of anxiety flushes over you as you continue to stare at the curtain he had disappeared behind just moments before. The place you had picked was a little dingy, but Rick should’ve known it was one of your favorites, and sentimental for the both of you.
Maybe his taste for finer things had upped his expectations. Despite the nostalgia.
You had worn his favorite dress, and the necklace he had given you for your birthday. He had rented out a small room in a beachside resort, and fucked you over the railing with the ocean view behind you. He had claimed the sunset would make the diamonds shine prettier against your skin. You couldn’t help but smile at the memory, it was one of the only times Rick had shown his softer side towards you.
He emerges from the back and you can’t help but perk up at the sudden reentry. You knew better than to interfere with business, it was not lost on you the hushed way Rick usually spoke to his men around you. You had tried to inquire about it once. It had not gone over well and a nasty fight ensued. Rick had taken you to Paris to make up for it though, and it was a little hard to be mad when draped in Channel.
You care more for intimacy, but Rick was not a man to be open and emotional. His love was shown through other ways, and you had to pick betweens all of your needs being fulfilled or Rick. You chose Rick.
“Hey baby,” Rick slides into the booth across from you, his ever permanent smirk on his lips. You smile back with bright eyes, preening at the validation his presence brings. Your excitement, however, falters slightly at his attire. It's an outfit you’ve never seen him in before: a long white lab coat, teal shirt, and brown pants. It's a little dorkier than his usual attire, and definitely underdressed for the evening. It was. . . odd, to say the least. You can’t help but quirk an eyebrow, something that does not go unnoticed by Rick.
“Hola, mi amor,” you drop the thought, slipping your hand into his, bringing it to your mouth to give it a little kiss instead. His eyes widen at the blatant display of affection, a nervous laugh erupts from his throat. You can’t help but narrow your eyes at that, Rick had never been shy about his affections, especially in public.
“C —c’mon sweetie, don’t look at me like that,” Rick tries to keep his cool. Who was this chick? A quick scan of your body leads him right to the not so subtle ring that rests delicately on your left hand. Suddenly a thick lump has appeared in the middle of his throat, one that seems to be connected to the knots in his stomach.
“You were thirty minutes late, on our anniversary!”
Rick momentarily goes rigid at the mention of an anniversary at the end of your sentence. His sleazy grin soon returns, he knows how to play this. A good fuck would surely break him out of his rut, may even lead to an improvement on his mood swings. Not that he would call them that, however, rather his ungrateful daughter who seems to stir the thick pot they stew in.
“At least I didn’t forget, right?” He can’t help but laugh at the incredulous look on your face. He laughs even harder when you snatch your hand away, and pout just as you had a few moments ago.
“I’m serious Rick! You can’t weasel your way out of this one.”
“You —you sure, princess?” He lifts one side of his prominent brow, not so subtly using his fingers to form a V in front of his mouth as he speaks.
You can’t help but flush at the indication, Rick was not a selfish lover by any means, but work had kept him tied up except for the occasional blowjob or quickie.
“I’m not that easy, Rick, you know that.” He can’t help but smile at that, he was going to enjoy this very much.
**
“Fuck!”
You can’t help but cry out at the way Rick is mercilessly pounding into you from behind. Your walls are dripping and spasming at the way the rigid lines of his cock catch against your more sensitive spots. The stretch of him burns, toeing the thin line of pleasure and pain, you think you’d be used to it after all this time.
His fist grips your hair forcing you to arch back into his touch, his mouth is nipping and biting any patch of skin it comes into contact with. His other hand grips your waist, and there’s not a doubt in your mind you’ll be bruised in the shape of a handprint tomorrow.
Your eyes roll back into your head as he angles toward something deep inside you, unable to form anything but pathetic mewls somewhat resembling his name. You search blindly for something to grip but there’s nothing much in the back of the ship, another peculiar item in Rick’s tow, but another well placed thrust forces the thought to the back of your head.
“Yeah, you like — you enjoy being my little slut, don’t you?” There’s an air of cockiness in Rick’s tone that seems misplaced, almost a little eager if you didn’t know better. It still makes you clench around his thick cock, a deep groan emits from his throat at the squeeze.
You push back against him feverishly, the snapping of his hips brutal against your soft skin. You can feel how soaked you are and how it drips down between the two of you, the stickiness as filthy as the sounds that emit from when you end and he begins. Rick moves the hand from your waist to pluck at your clit with slender fingers, you cry out in response. The noise only encourages him, however, as he uses his knees to spread you wider — tilting to angle himself even deeper.
“Answer me,” his tone is harsh and demanding with the slightest hint of desperation, you’re too cockdumb to think about it, instead frantically shaking your head trying to form a coherent sentence.
“Y — yes, daddy.”
The groan Rick lets out at your answer is feral. He pounds into your mercilessly, the grip on your hair tightens and you can feel the friction burn from the legs of his pants against your thighs.
You feel yourself fluttering and twitching, shaking from anticipation and exhaustion. He’s been keying you up for what feels like forever, his brutal pace at the cusp of your pleasure. He knows it too, the way he brushes your clit every now and then. Just enough to rile you up.
You can feel yourself drooling on the pleather seat as his fingers find your sensitive spot, the teasing and formalities gone as he matches the brutal pace that pounds into you. Rick is close too, his tell has always been obvious.
“You think you’re hot shit, don’t you? Walking around — strutting around in this tight little dress, tits and ass out for everyone to see. I bet you want them to see. Want everyone to know just what a little slut you are. I bet you got all f — fucking hot and bothered when I finally showed up, thinking about my fat dick pounding this tight little cunt.”
All you could manage to stutter out were garbled cries of explicatives and he continuously rutted harder and deeper just brushing the surface of where you needed him most. The latest stroke administering the final blow toward your release, the knotted pit in your stomach finally coming undone as waves of pleasure wracked your body with a strangled cry. You continued to thrash and buck as Rick fucked you through your orgasm chasing his own.
He came with a stuttered pacing of his hips, the thick ropes of his come filling the little room left within you. You can feel it leaking out around his cock and dripping down your thighs, Rick twitches at the sight of it.
You turn to look at him coily, he gives a gentle smack to your still exposed ass.
“Best —best fucking pussy in the galaxy babe.”
Chapter 3: doves in the wind
Notes:
I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, it’s the longest i’ve ever written for any fic! I look forward to hearing your thoughts and ideas!! :)
Chapter Text
Fucking Rick.
He comes into your life, charms you, proposes to you; and then starts disappearing and changing while acting like everything is the same. You miss the Rick you met, the one you fell in love with. You don’t know who this is.
Maybe it’s not even your Rick.
The thought washes over you like a bucket of ice water. Your knees feel weak at the notion that Rick took you from your own life, your own universe, and you’ve been living a lie for the last year. You shake the thought from your head. If that was true your Rick would’ve found you a long time ago, at least you hope so. It wasn’t like your Rick to live like this, however, with a family you’ve never even heard of while forcing you into a little, shitty apartment. He had said there was some trouble with business, and that it was safer to be here. It was like his own little version of a witness protection program, and who were you not to follow?
You sighed, trying to shake the gnawing feeling at the back of your brain. There was no use in pulling threads, asking about business would get you nowhere. Rick had thrown himself into this new identity and played dumb anytime you mentioned a former memory or asked about going back. While you were glad he was reconnecting with his family, again that he had never mentioned, he had casted you aside. Maybe Rick’s age and familial duties were finally catching up to him.
You could remember a time where you came before everything in Rick’s life, even his precious empire.
The sand was hot on your legs, your damp skin was illuminated by the beating sun. The water lapped softly at the shore, low tide creating a soft white noise interrupted by Rick and you.
The apples of his cheeks were rosy, a slight sunburn making its way down his delicate skin. You had begged him to wear sunscreen, something he had brushed off as “being for young people.” The warm sun gave your skin a slight tingle given its protection, Rick’s large hand coming down on your ass knocking you out of your trance, giving it a sharper sting enhanced by the chafing of the sand.
His signature shades were long discarded somewhere along with the picnic you had prepared, Rick had gotten you a villa with a private beach in Costa Rica for your anniversary. You involuntarily clench around him, he lets out a soft groan and reaches up to bite harshly at your breasts.
“Rick,” you whine out, “We have dinner with the Peñas tonight, and I wanted to wear something low cut.”
“ Then why do I buy you all that fucking make-up?” He murmurs teasingly, pairing it with a lazy thrust, nuzzling his nose up the length of your neck. You mewl as he begins to nibble on your ear, and you can’t help but grind down faster on him. The sand shifts around the two of you as Rick pulls you down to lay flat against him, an arm around your waist traps you against his sticky skin.
His cock is always a stretch, the warm burning sensation is welcome and could probably lull you to sleep if it wasn’t for the thick desire that encompassed your mind turning everything syrupy. Rick’s libido didn’t surprise you anymore, it was welcomed in fact. The intimacy felt like reassurance, and it wasn’t unlike Rick to channel his affections more through actions than words. This time was different though. You felt yourself shivering despite the warm breeze, your undoing was imminent. Another one of Rick’s talents was the amazing sex, no matter where, when or how.
Love, the word suddenly flashes through your brain very much akin to an airplane pulling a banner. You can’t help the moan that slips out as he brings you to your peak, your recent realization making it even sweeter than anytime before. He follows soon after you, pumping you full of himself as always. He waits for some to drip down from the back of your legs and onto him before seemingly coming back to himself. He peaks his eyes open, gazing at you through small slits before relaxing back into the sand.
“ Marry me.”
The memory brings tears to your eyes. Within the last couple of years Rick had brought you to your highest, and now the lowest. You couldn’t even wear your engagement ring anymore, Rick never seemed to relax when you had it on and had even asked you not to wear it around his family. His excuse was that his daughter hadn’t recovered from his last marriage, and you hadn’t wanted to overstep.
It almost seemed that he was pushing you out, making way for his new life and bulldozing the old one.
You sniffled a little, letting a couple of tears fall. The photo of the two of you from that same trip rested at eyesight on your dresser. Your room was in disarray, all of the travel items you possessed were strewn about. Most of your clothes were hastily sorted and folded into semi-neat piles. Your eyes flickered back to your dresser where your passport and plane ticket lay, a deep sadness and anxiety settled low in your chest as you reread the ticket for the thousandth time.
One Way: Miami
There was nothing here for you in this shitty state, in this shitty city, in this shitty fucking apartment.
There was nothing here without Rick. You pinched the bridge of your nose hoping to relieve the pressure of your headache. You had to tell him you were going, it would be closure. Only it wouldn’t be, at least you hoped. You hoped he would beg you to stay, or at least promise to take you back. You wanted him to promise to make everything better, a small part of you hoped he actually would. The bigger part of you, however, knew that wouldn’t be the case. Not after the last fight the two of you had.
**
You’re tense as you pull up to Beth’s house. You don’t want to call it Rick’s because then it means he’s moved on, chosen a life without you in it. It’s not as if he had invited you into their lives, even though it was one he had dragged you to. It was a hard pill to swallow that there would be no wedding, no life together, no family. Rick already had one of those. Maybe this was his way of getting you to break things off. Make you do the dirty work. He was able to walk off guilt free because you were the one leaving, despite his behavior over the last year. You’re almost thankful the garage door is closed, he might’ve left if he saw you coming. His last words ring in your ears.
“I’m not coming back this time.”
You feel embarrassed, crawling back with your tail between your legs in a last ditch effort to repair what’s beyond broken. Your relationship was shattered glass and all you have is scotch tape. You brought the ticket. It's gripped tightly in your right hand, your knuckles almost white from the tension in your grasp. You stare at the white plastic of the garage door for several moments, trying and failing to summon some courage and ease your breathing. You don’t want to go in seeming desperate, despite the fact that it's practically rolling off of you in waves. Before you lose all semblance of strength your hand knocks softly, almost as if he won’t be able to hear it. Some part of you hopes he won’t, so you can say you tried and be able go home to drown your sorrows in faux peace. He does though. The whirl of the garage springs is loud against the quiet lull of the street, and you try to quell the quivering in your throat that’s trying to claw its way out. His lanky form comes into sight slowly with the lift of the door, even the sight of his legs makes you want to burst into tears. His eyes are soft when they meet yours. Regret shines through but you know he’s too stubborn to ever apologize. Another body comes into view from a back corner of the room, a young boy with a yellow shirt sits on a stool. His brow is furrowed as his eyes flicker between you and Rick for a moment before he speaks.
“Rick? Who’s this?” Your lip quivers at the question. One minute you’re going to get married, and then suddenly the family he seems to pull out of thin air doesn’t even know who you are. Rick’s shoulder’s slump as he gives you a pleading look before turning to Morty.
“Get the fuck out Morty! You — Can’t you see you’re upsetting her!” The boy, now identified as Morty, flinches before muttering something and slipping through the door that leads to the house. You watch his retreating form, knowing that as soon as your gaze returns to Rick it’ll be the beginning of the end. Or rather, moving out here was the beginning of the end.
The thought is just another fragment of the shard of the glass that is your relationship. Seeing Rick’s look of pity makes you feel even more pathetic, and even a little angry at yourself for coming back at all. He deserved to be left alone with no warning, just like he left you.
“Listen I —,” “Rick, I —,” He lets out an awkward laugh, his slender hand coming to rub the back of his neck while he avoids your gaze. It was a telltale sign of Rick’s anxiety, he became very fidgety and refused to hold eye contact. It was only something you had ever seen here, and it seemed to become more frequent as time passed. It was something you would miss, you realize. You would miss his little quirks, and the sharp bite of his wit whenever you tease him or push his buttons. You hadn’t realized just how much you’d miss Rick until you were letting him slip through your fingers. Tears well up, and you have to bite your lip extra hard to keep some semblance of holding it together.
“Hey,” Rick murmurs softly, moving his hand from his neck to gently grasp your hand, “I’m really sorry. I’ve been thinking — I know I haven’t really been around a lot, and I promise things are gonna change. I —I want to change, for you.” You can’t help the tears that escape down your cheeks, as you lunge towards him. You grab a lapel in each hand harshly bringing his face down to yours, it's a bit awkward and he resists slightly in confusion, but you still manage to bring his lips to yours. It's hopeful and desperate, and you’re gripping his coat so hard you can feel your ticket cutting the thick meat of your palm. He’s all teeth and tongue, but you’re not much better as the tears flow freely wetting the both of you. There’s a brief moment after the two of you break apart, it's silent except for your quiet sobs as he pets your hair. It's a fleeting moment of tenderness and the most intimacy Rick has shown you since the major life changes he’s brought to the both of you. You almost wish you could believe him, stay here wrapped up in his arms and have the black hole of sadness that consumes you dissipate. You were better than that. You were better than this new Rick.
“I’m going back home.” He goes rigid at your soft admission, stretching to hold you at arm's length. It’s the first time you’ve made direct eye contact since you arrived, you can’t help but squirm slightly under the pressure of his gaze. His eyes bore deep into yours, searching for any and every emotion and secret they hold. Almost to see as if you were testing him, god you almost wish you were.
“You don’t love me anymore, “ he flinches as you break the silence, finding the courage to stare back into his gaze, “I can’t wear my engagement ring, and let’s not kid ourselves, there’s obviously not going to be any wedding.” He breaks his gaze, and drops his arms. Your tone is harsh, but you don’t care. It’s all the hurt, anger, and sadness you’ve been bottling up since you gave up ever returning to the life you once had together. “We had plans for the future, Rick, and for someone your age the immaturity you’ve shown me over the last makes me question whether you ever meant what you said or if this had been the plan all along.” Rick opens his mouth, but then closes it, as if deciding it would be better not to talk at all. Your chest is heaving, and the tears have stopped falling so rapidly, the blood roaring your ears overpowers his silence.
“I don’t want you to go.” His voice is barely above a whisper, it’s as if he doesn’t want you to hear, or maybe doesn’t want to admit it at all. You shake your head, pulling back a step and wiping your tears away. He was too late, maybe when he had showed up at your apartment when you last fought it could’ve been salvaged. It's over now. You’re locked in a stalemate. Rick is too stubborn to show any real emotion or intimacy, he won’t beg you to stay, or explain himself, or dissolve into some long heartfelt confession. Because that’s not Rick. But you’re not gonna break this time, he’s worn you down to the bone and there’s nothing left here for either of you.
A portal opens up from across the room and your Rick steps out.
From across the. . .
Across. . .
Your Rick.
Chapter 4: Dosed
Notes:
hey guys! i hope you enjoy this chapter, i really enjoyed writing a Rick pov and i hope i did him justice. please let me know what y'all think and feel free to follow my tumblr as well @mortytheestallion
Chapter Text
Leon’s yearly barbeque was the pageantry event of Rick’s business. All of his men loved to tote around their wives, girlfriends, or whatever little pretty thing they managed to get on their arm. He didn’t care for all the small talk or having a random baby thrust upon him, but it was important for the morale of his men. God knows they needed it, it was hard enough to keep them in line as it was.
The heat of the summer always made Rick feel slightly ill, this was amplified by the heat of the grill he was thrust behind. He’d have much rather been lounging poolside in an all too expensive house with a girl in his lap and all the privacy he could ask for. Leon himself, who was laying the thick cut steaks across the chargrill, gave him a big cat-like grin. The smoke made his eyes water, but it was better than being in the pool surrounded by the kids.
The sun hung high overhead, signaling that the real fun had just begun. The cool condensation of his beer dripping onto his hand was enough to tide him over for the time being. The loud squeal and commotion coming from the other side of the yard signaled that someone’s new baby, or engagement ring, or anything slightly less mundane than normal was being passed around. He couldn’t help but peer over the tops of his sunglasses out of tired curiosity.
This “family” shit bored him half to death.
He may have the biggest kingpin in this universe, but this wasn’t some dumb mafia shit no matter how much his enforcers wanted it to be. However, the one year he declined to make an appearance a couple of them got into it with one another, and he couldn’t have that transferred over into his work shit. It was too important.
He takes another swig of his beer as Leon drops down the burger patties for the kids, the sizzle of blood hitting the hot coals is drowned out by the arrival of newcomers. Rick’s bored expression fades slightly with a raised eyebrow at the commotion.
Rick’s lawyer, Vidal, had arrived as expected. The pretty young thing on his arm was not at all what he anticipated though. You were the perfect image of summer innocence, poised perfectly in a sundress with almost too much skin showing.
Rick watched as you graciously shook every hand thrust into your eyesight, and then choked on his sip of beer when the two of you made eye contact. He can see a shit-eating grin out of the corner of his eye, and began to mentally prepare for the shit he’s about to take. Leon had one setting, loud.
“You old, dirty bastard!” Leon’s booming laugh reverberates through his chest, along with the well placed slap on his back that sends him forward a couple inches. “Something good finally caught your eye, huh? Suarez owes me two-fucking-grand!”
Rick pushes his shades up onto the top of his head, begrudgingly tearing his eyes from yours, momentarily pausing to pinch the bridge of his nose before answering, “And what the fuck does that mean?”
“C —c’mon, boss,” Leon chuckles a bit nervously, he flicks his head at a few nearby guys, as though bringing backup would extinguish Rick’s annoyance, “you’re not exactly un hombre joven, anymore.”
Another one of his guys follows Rick's eyesight, currently realigned with the cleavage spilling out of your dress, before letting out a bellowing laugh.
“You like her! You like Vidal’s niece!”
Gerardo Vidal was his most trusted lawyer/enforcer, all work and no play. He was a major asset to Rick’s empire, and would not take kindly to Rick’s new interest. He had to admit, he didn’t exactly have a great track record with women. No wife, no long term girlfriend. It wouldn’t look good given his history. No woman usually lasted more than a couple fucks with him. Rick had high standards, however, and that pertained to every single aspect of his life.
He ignored the stirring in his nether regions, finally managing to tear his eyes away from your silhouette to attend to the rowdy crowd that had surrounded him.
“Hey if — if you fucks wouldn’t mind staying out of my business, maybe you’ll still have jobs tomorrow.” A mutter of apologies makes its way down the line as the formation disperses. His big, bad enforcers slinked away with their tails between their legs like a kicked dog. Leon lets out a low whistle before returning his gaze back to the grill, a smile still ghosting his lips.
His eyes return to you, like a predator observing its prey. You’ve slipped off your dress in favor of a very, very revealing swimsuit. You give him a coy smile before sliding into the pool. His cock jumps at the sight, the purring feeling of arousal working its way through his body and keying him up. He looks around before adjusting himself slightly, what he feels makes his eyes widen. Rick’s harder than he’s been in years, and just from watching you prance around at a backyard grill.
He pulls his shades back down and feigns a cool bravado. He waits until one of the younger sons passes, can’t be older than six, before grabbing the back of his shirt lightly. Rick flashes his signature wolfish grin and holds up a $5 bill, the little boy’s eyes light up as he returns Rick’s smile with a toothy one of his own.
“You want to do me a favor?”
Moments later Rick watches from behind his shades as the little boy “accidentally” spills a full glass of whatever someone decided to hand him onto you. He can’t help as his tongue darts out to lick his lips as you squeal and jump out of the pool, your succulent tits bouncing.
He waits a few moments after you disappear into the house before clapping a hand on Leon’s shoulder and using the fabric to yank him back, “Keep ‘em out of the house.”
He doesn’t wait for a response, but catches a somewhat indignant noise from the despot as he sets his sights on the sliding glass door. His strides are long as always, but he’s trying to restrain himself from looking too intentional. All his men were trained to sense the slightest change in body language, he didn’t need that back firing on him.
He makes it into the house without issue, the quiet silence is interrupted by the running of water that echoes down the long hallway. Every step lights Rick’s skin on fire, he tampers down his boyish excitement, however.
You jump at the sound of a knock on the door. You bite your lip as you survey the situation, you’re topless with nothing but a hand towel at your disposal. You let out a shaky sigh, it's probably one of the wives coming to offer you a cover-up.
Rick can’t help the smirk plastered on his face as you open the door with small bikini bottoms and nothing but a towel to cover up the top. You can feel your face burn as he lets out a low whistle, eyes flickering between the towel and your eyes.
“Mind if I see the damage?”
You step aside to let him in, eyes trailing his every move as he peers into the sink. Your white top has bright blink splotches across the cups, and deep into the seams. He stares at them for a moment before ducking down to open the cupboard under the sink. You watch apprehensively as he produces a small container of clothing bleach and dumps a bit into the already filled sink.
He shrugs as you continue to peer up at him, which he likes. He likes it a lot.
“How did you know to do that?” He grins as you squirm slightly beneath his gaze, he can see the gears turning in your head as you battle your internal conflict. He shifts his stance slightly to put you more at ease, but it's hard to miss the way your eyes continuously shift their gaze down to the hard bulge pressing through his canvas pants.
“Happens every year at these fucking things,” Rick studies your body language, slowly inching closer to where you stand pressed against the edge of the sink, “and as co-host, I thought it would be rude of me not to come— not to check.”
He lets out a small breath, eyes going wide, as you brazenly reach to palm him through the rough material. Before he knows it he’s got you pressed up facing the sink, grinding his erection firmly into your ass.
“A-are you sure you want to play this game with me, sweetie?” He can’t help the dark tone coating his words, another side effect of the profession. One of his hands rests at the base of your throat while the other slides down the length of your hip. “Don’t think I didn’t notice all the looks you were giving me, did— did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
You stare at him through the mirror, mouth slightly agape and pupils blown. You shiver in his hands, arousal submerging you like a hot shower at his words. You shake your head, wriggling slightly in his grasp.
“Maybe you wanted me to follow you here.” You let out the smallest whine at his inference, as though revealing you’d been caught, but Rick needs more than that, “tell me.”
“Y-yes, Rick,” you whimper, eyes rolling back into your head as he begins massaging small circles just under the knot of your swimsuit. He uses his other hand to firmly tilt your chin up in the mirror, forcing you to meet his gaze once again.
“Say it and I’ll give it to you.”
“Please.”
You’re forced up back onto your ass, you head bumping the mirror as Rick lifts you onto the counter with surprising strength. His lips are yours before you have the chance to register his last move. He slips his slender fingers past the clothed barrier, letting out a deep groan at what he feels.
You’re dripping, soaking his hand and he hasn’t even done anything yet. Your hips buck slightly looking for any source of friction he’s willing to offer you. He finally releases your lips in favor of exploring your chest where the towel seems to have disappeared in the last transaction.
He enjoys the wanton moans that spill from your lips as he slips a finger inside your warm core. He coaxes more from you with each sloppy kiss that is placed lower and lower until he reaches where you’re most sensitive. Rick can’t help the moan he releases as he tastes you for the first time. It was fucking addicting. It encourages you to grind yourself more into his hand as he attaches himself to your sensitive nub.
His fingers press against something spongy, anchoring there. You clench and spasm around them as hecontinously laps at your clit, the loud squelching coming from you echoes lewdly against the tiles. The sound fights for dominance against the high-pitched moans Rick is eliciting from you. He’s enjoying this immensely, your pussy is better than he ever could’ve imagined.
His pants are as strained as they can be, his cock aches for what his tongue can reach, but Rick restrains himself.
He wants to lose himself in you. He wants you to know how badly you affect him.
He can’t help himself as he tears his mouth away for a second to carve a sloppy, wet mark into the soft meat of your thigh. You whine at the loss of contact. He responds by curling his fingers just a little bit faster, and smiles into your thigh as you whimper his name.
This shit is gonna go straight to his ego. He can already feel it, this is something he will never be able to top. He’s eating you like his life depends on it. His hands are occupied with keeping your legs apart, you're practically squirming out of his grip as he fucks you with his tongue.
Your orgasm builds itself as a glorious building Rick is trying his hardest to bring down, his mouth is better than any experience you’ve ever had. The burning feeling in the pit of your stomach extends throughout your body as Rick lights your core on fire with his hot mouth.
Your climax sends you thrashing against his hold, you see stars as Rick keeps his mouth on you, riding through each wave that courses through your body. He’s ruined you. Nothing is ever gonna be as good as him.
When you come down from your high he’s peering up at you with an unreadable expression, but you’re eager to return the favor.
He smiles back wide at the coy smile you give from below him.
*
“Shit, shit, shit.”
He’s almost two hours late. It was supposed to be a simple fucking job, but Morales thought he could get away with selling out the whereabouts of the job. Crossing Rick was a lesson most people had to learn the hard way.
Flowers lay discarded in the passenger seat, dry and slightly wilted. He grits his teeth, cursing the stupid fucking thing. It wasn’t his preferred mode of transport, but you insisted on going to that stupid little asteroid for dinner. His shoulders slump slightly, his knuckles are white as he’s hunched over the wheel. He’s pissed.
The stars glimmer as he shoots past. Space is cold and unforgiving, much like how Rick imagines you’ll be when he shows up. He takes a moment, letting his eyes divert slightly from the given path. The galaxies stretch massively across his view, shimmering and almost inviting him in.
He knows better.
His thoughts drift back to you. He’s in deep shit with you as it is, going in and starting a fight for no goddamn reason won’t fix that either. He sighs, relaxing his grip slightly. He could’ve just portaled, but he’s always been a fan of a good after-date car fuck. There was a time when the word date would have made his skin crawl. He was engaged for godsake, he had bought the fucking ring, and pumped his come into you more times than he could count. He could say “date” like a grown ass man.
He’ll be in deep shit for weeks. A couple good fucks and a trip to Italy would make you as good as new though. A little attention, affection, and some casual wedding planning would have you putty in his hands as usual.
The little rock barely smaller than the size of Pluto comes into view, and Rick rolls his shoulders trying to relieve some of the tension. He curses as he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the windshield. Blood is splattered across his neatly pressed shirt, one of your favorites.
It's going to have to do.
He floats into the parking lot as gently as he can muster, any hasher and he’d crash the shitty thing. Irritation floods his veins as he sees another ship parked across the lot, other Ricks always meant trouble, but with the way it was shaking it seemed as though this one was occupied.
He strides across the parking lot, hesitating as he forgot the flowers in the car. It was too late to go back and get them, you’d pick them up when you got in anyways. He lets out a frustrated groan and rolls his neck out. He begins to slide his long sleeves up the lengths of his arms when an all too familiar mewl comes from the cracked window of the aforementioned ship. A chill runs down his spine and right to his cock. He frowns as his hand hesitates over the door knob, the red alarm bells going off in his head would have to wait.
The bar is dark and loud as he enters, Rick manages to melt through the crowd and up to the bar. He motions the bartender over and pulls your picture out of his wallet.
“What table is she at?”
The bartender’s eyes flicker between the photo and Rick a little too much for his liking before he crams it into his back pocket. Rick’s annoyed expression seems to do little to encourage speed before he motions with his hand for an answer.
“She left,” he replies, rubbing the back of his neck before looking up once again to meet Rick’s eyes, “with you.”
His legs are moving before he’s had a chance to register what the bartender’s statement means. The words ring over and over in his head as he pushes through the crowd to the exit, the panic bubbling in the pit of his stomach makes it even harder to breathe amongst the smoke that fills the air.
With you. With you. With you.
By the time he’s managed to get the door open and survey the parking lot, the car’s gone. You’re gone. He falls to his knees, grief shattering through his chest.
“Motherfucker!”
*
There’s bags under his eyes. He hasn’t slept in the last 5 days.
The grief consumes him. It washes over him wave upon wave. His crime syndicate has been forgotten, abandoned. He’s poured every single aspect of his empire into finding you after you disappeared a year ago.
We’ll find her boss, Leon had told him with a solemn face, we’ll search to the ends of the universe for you.
Miami isn’t the same. The summer heat is unbearable, sweltering and suffocating. He refuses to take down the photos of you that adorn the shared penthouse. They mock him everytime he can bear to gaze upon them. Your voice rings throughout his head.
Why haven’t you found me yet?
Maybe he keeps them up because he feels like he deserves the pain. The torture of knowing if he had been there first none of this would’ve happened.
Bottles litter the floor of the living room, Rick can barely find the energy to move from the couch to the bed. The bed that you had once shared night after night for years. Another reminder to taunt him in his failure of finding you.
He rolls his eyes as the phone rings, he lights a cigarette to help tamper down his annoyance before answering.
“This better be fucking good.”
“We found her boss, dimension C-137.”
Chapter 5: i bet on losing dogs
Notes:
I did it y’all!! Weeks and weeks of writing and its almost 4am my time, I hope everyone enjoys this as much I do and I would absolutely love to hear feedback. And do not fret! An epilogue and alternate ending are in the works as you read :)
Chapter Text
He leans against a neighbor's car, parked haphazardly against the soft curb. Vermillion skies flood the glare of his sunglasses. Shaky hands hold a burning cigarette, the forlorn ashes carried softly by the wind. He can feel the migraine forming where his brow is tightly knit, further aggravating his already tense state. The portal gun is held loosely in his other hand, finger twitching against the trigger, as the other takes a final drag from the cigarette. It’s the 7th one he’s had today.
The sky slowly drips beneath the horizon, the final orange hue basking his darkly-dressed figure in soft light. A final farewell to the nightmare he breathes in deeply each morning. The red streaks flash through his mind like blood; the blood on his shirt when he lost you at the bar, the blood covering his hands when he destroyed himself in a drunken rage, the blood shed in the wake to find you. He throws the cigarette to the ground, stomping it out before releasing a long sigh and opening the portal.
The last thing standing between you and him.
Rick steps through the portal into the dimly lit garage, only the cracks between the wall and the plaster door shine light on the couple. A bored expression adorns his face, sunglasses pushed to his crown pinning his unruly hair back. The last rays of sunlight accentuate his silhouette, painting a godly light in the midst of chaos. Heat seeps through the uneven foundation, and permeates even the deepest corners of the cramped space. The air conditioner blasting in the house nor the fridge that rests in the corner offer any relief. He can already feel the perspiration gather around the joints of his elbows, where he keeps his sleeves rolled up for convenience. He feels sick. Rick gazes at the couple in front of him with disinterested eyes.
You’re completely disheveled. You’ve always been silks and diamonds— shimmering and soft as he manhandled you. Regret blooms in his chest, he should have been softer with you. He can’t help the way pity stretches across his face, it becomes worse as fear bleeds into your features. You’ve never had a good poker face.
Rick, the other Rick , holds a mixture of shock and annoyance in his body language. Something only another Rick could pick up on. His eyes continue to flicker between you and C-137 as he leans against the opposing shelves. He checks his watch one last time. A hitch in the breath of the incoming shitstorm.
“Let’s get started.”
You’re dying. You have to be, the way your vision is blurred and your skin burns . The sick pit in the deepness of your stomach flourishes as your eyes flicker between the man in front of you and the man whose arms encase you. You can’t help the bile that rises in your throat, and muted gray floods your vision.
“Fucking gross,” you hear muttered behind you, its drowned out by another loud retch you don’t hear come from yourself. The humiliation is too much to bear, your eyes water blurring the mess in front of you. Before you know it the mess in front of you is vaporized, your eyes trail up satin pants unwillingly to an outstretched kerchief. His cologne fills the room, choking you. His presence always choked you. Another sob escapes you.
Rick, your Rick , continues to be uncharacteristically quiet. Panic rises and replaces the sickness. What if he doesn’t love you anymore? Your breathing becomes uneven. What if he came here to tell you he was leaving you here? More tears blur your vision, and you can feel your lip curl with the impending cry you’re holding in.
“Are you— its fucking weird just standing there.” Rick finally speaks from behind you, his words cut the heavy tension that rests throughout the room like a second skin. Had you been able to lift your head you’d see him, a deep V-brow and clenched jaw, and your Rick’s arms crossed with obvious irritation etched across his unusually gaunt face. It must be the stress. Maybe his work is finally catching up with him. Your body vibrates, you wonder if it's the shock or perhaps the testosterone dogfight happening just a few feet above you.
“C—c’mon sweetheart,” your Rick offers an outstretched hand, his voice sounds restrained, as if it would pain him to touch you. Maybe it would, you’ve been fucking a different version of him for a year. You hope he doesn’t know, but the way he avoids your gaze tells you he does. Finally on your feet, you can properly give other Rick a full analysis. Now that it's all laid out in front of you, the differences are glaring. Your Rick’s movements are much more fluid and loose, and his hair is just a tad more grown out. At least it normally is, now the edges are almost brushing his shoulders. It brings more tears to your eyes, yet another reminder of how long you’ve been gone.
“Okay ass—asshole, you got what you came for,” Rick glares, eyes flickering between your Rick and the way his hand is gripping your wrist, as though you’d float away if he didn’t. Your Rick gives the other Rick a final, suspicious glare before opening a portal, and turning to usher you back to your real reality. Your chest feels tight. You don’t want to stay here, not after everything he put you through, but it will be different once you go back. Your eyes snap back towards Rick's lanky frame, your sudden eye contact seems to pull the hairline trigger on his sensitive state. He chooses to look down into his drink. Hurt bleeds throughout your body, the ache ever present on your face. After all of this— he still can’t help but treat you like shit. You find the strength to turn away from him, your Rick’s warm hand is soft on your back as he guides you from behind. You want to melt into it and sleep there forever.
“And the least you c-could do is fucking stop spoiling her, jesus, I—I mean, holy fuck talk about a glorfied piece of—sugar baby,” Rick’s voice bites through the garage, the echo of his words settles into you, the portal itself closes as though wanting to leave before the confrontation.
Your Rick tenses, dropping his hand from your waist. You’re scared to turn around, savoring the quiet second before all hell breaks loose. Managing to find the confidence to face him again, you watch as Rick takes another swig of his flask. He continues to maintain an aggressive eye contact with your Rick. You’ve never seen him like this, so keyed up he’s practically vibrating. From the corner of your eye, Rick is trying to maintain his composure. His jaw is tight, and his right hand is clenching and unclenching. You wish you could hold it, hold him. Your skin is itching for his touch, his attention. You can’t believe how desperate you are, have you always been like this? He’s barely looked at you since he got here, but the way this other Rick is goading him makes sense. Previous fights flash through your head, lure and lash out seems to be a pattern for him.
“What I do with her,” your Rick speaks through gritted teeth, he looks as though he’s about to lunge across the garage, “is none of your fucking business.”
You’re sure you look absolutely helpless, eyes wide and mouth gaping as your eyes flash between the two men before you.
“Yeah well it sure seemed to become— to be my business when she decided to squeeze that tight little pussy around my dick and call me daddy . Maybe you should've fucking shown her how dangerous space actually is.”
You can’t help the indignant yelp that slips at his comment, tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Unbelievable, the embarrassment that comes along with a situation like this. Blood rushes through your ears blocking all noise as your eyes jerk between the two Ricks in front of you. Rick’s brow briefly softens at your look of suffering, but that subtle fondness is lost once again as he realigns his focus with your Rick.
“Well maybe if you weren’t such a dumb piece of shit , you’d have noticed the fucking dimension marker on the back of her neck.” Your Rick is quick to manhandle you around to present, what had been previously unknown to you, a dimension marker on the back of your neck. You shiver as he runs his thumb across it.
“Jesus fucking Christ Rick!” Anger surges through your body, coupled with the very thought of him branding you makes you lightheaded.
“Oh you don’t think I fucking saw?” There’s a twinge of pleasure in Rick’s voice, more malicious zeal than even the worst of your fights, “Your little toy over there puts out— fucks any Rick within her orbit, and man does she love my big fat cock hitting it from the back!”
You swear you’re gonna faint, the room is spinning. Blacks, grays, and bright blue hair swirl your vision. Your knees give out, and you hit the ground hard .
“Shit,” both Ricks murmur in unison, their attention suddenly drawn to you. The ground captures your focus as the storm of emotions swirl in your chest, choosing to settle deep in your stomach, you find the strength to lift yourself on shaky legs. Holding onto one of Rick’s shelves, you manage to pull yourself back up to full stature.
“I didn’t ask for any of this!” Raw emotion imbues your tone, and it seems to have the intended effect as both Ricks have the sense to look ashamed of themselves, even if it is brief. Rick opens and closes his mouth, a look torn between guilt and anger pushing and pulling for dominance. Your Rick snaps out of it first, he shoots you an apologetic look before returning to his petty fight.
“So you just respond to anything with a pulse and pussy that calls your name? What kind of idiot—you fucking dumbass, aren’t you always going on and on about how everyone in the universe wants to kill you?”
Bile bites at the bottom of your throat, every cell in your body feels like it's on fire. You’ve never been much of a drinker, but suddenly you’re fighting the urge to rip the flask out of Rick’s big hands. The struggle plays out in your head, favoring to ignore the looming assault keying up in front of you. Maybe you could get one hand around it, you muse. You don’t doubt Rick could and would have you on the floor in seconds. He can be quite strong when he wants to, the thought of him gripping you by the hair flashes briefly. Arousal simmers quietly replacing the bile that plagued you seconds ago. You shake your head slightly, as though it would sway the thought from your head completely.
“We may—we’re both Ricks, but that doesn’t mean I’m anything like you. And—and I fucking promise you pal, I’m not ,” Your Rick speaks again, cutting the short silence. You watch as Rick takes another belligerent swig from his flask, you focus in, fixated on the dark liquor spilling out as he waves his arms around.
“You fucking—you got that right pal. What kind of Rick gets married? You could have any—any—anything you could’ve wanted in the galaxy. Sex, money, power, and you chose this?” There’s a sneer in his voice as he gestures to where you’re standing, slightly behind your Rick. He must’ve moved in front when you zoned out, he’s always been animated when angry. Rick must see the hurt in your expression, if it bothers him he doesn’t show it in favor of turning away with a displeased expression and another swig of his flask. That’s what he does best, hurts you and leaves you to nurse the pain.
“Oh yeah?” Your Rick’s voice is dripping with satire, “What about Diane?”
Rick throws his flask across the room with an anger you’ve never seen before, you flinch hard as it narrowly misses you, liquid sloshing against the plaster and onto the floor.
“You don’t get to talk about her,” he’s practically growling, “Why are you still here? There isn’t anything left for you.”
“Jesus Christ you’re asking me while I’m still here? Wouldn’t you know best fucking chasing after, and killing every Rick you could get your hands on after her? You of all people should know why I’m fucking here.”
“This is nothing like that!” Rick’s chest is heaving, both of his hands are clenched so tightly his knuckles are white. Your feet seem to have a mind of their own as you continue to quietly back yourself into the corner of the garage. It's almost completely dark save for a few quiets lights stored here and there, the shadows on the wall appear as malicious as their counterparts. The green underlight shadows both men with foreboding venomousness.
“You stole her,” your Rick steps forward, as if challenging the Rick across from him, “You stole her from me and—and you have the fucking balls to say its nothing like that? You destroyed half the galaxy for her, and you think I wouldn't do the same, asshole?”
Your Rick shifts to look at you, mouth set in a grim line, before turning back to face Rick head on.
“I guess it is nothing like that, because I didn’t let her die.”
The weight of his words don’t have enough time to register before Rick lunges across the room, your Rick manages to duck under his outstretched arm and launch himself over to the workbench. You watch as he hits the switch activating the Home Surveillance Shutdown, and look on with horror as thick metal shields enclose you with the violent men before you. Rick’s momentum collides with the shelving unit briefly before he pushes off; you shriek, startled by the violence and the items that avalanche upon you with the careless shove from Rick.
Your Rick manages to land a punch and you shudder at the crack that follows. It doesn’t deter the other Rick, however, as he manages to catch your Rick by the shoulder and throw him into the washing machine that sits in the corner opposite you. It seems to spur your Rick on as he uses the leverage to catapult back into the fight, landing another punch this time on Rick’s stomach. He finishes with a kick to the groin, and you cry out as Rick howls with pain. They’ve never been known not to fight dirty. As the thought rings through your head, Rick punches upward into your Rick’s crotch.
“ Fuck! ” It comes out of your mouth as strangled garbage, although they’ve turned a deaf ear to you, choosing to circle each other in the small open space in the middle of the garage.
“I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Rick sneers before closing the gap once more, you watch with horror as he manages to get a hold on your Rick, you try to force your eyes closed but with justified panic they remain wide open. As though your prayers had been answered, your Rick elbows other Rick in the stomach, and luckily he slips through the loose chokehold. Dominating his way on top landing blow after blow. You’re slightly amazed—and aroused— not that you would ever, ever admit that to him. Just as you think it will be over, a long hand snakes its way into your Rick’s hair, and pulls. Another scream rips from your throat as his skull collides with the concrete, a thick crack echoes across the unforgiving pavement. You can’t help the sob that escapes, as Rick pushes his limp body aside. He turns to look at you with a hard gaze.
“You’re not even as sorry as you’re gonna be, princess .”
You cry out for a third, and final time as a fist connects with Rick’s temple. You can’t believe your eyes as he hits the floor, your Rick following on top with a second wind and more blows. You watch as other Rick’s fists decrescendo from the fight, until he’s nothing but a couple of groans and a stone cold glare.
Your Rick finally stands with a moan, and he spits on the man spread before him.
“Fucking pussy,” he murmurs before turning to you, eyes impossibly soft, “Hi, honey.”
He extends a hand, obviously in too much pain to come to you. You rise hesitantly, you now understand why he kept you separated from his work. He never, ever wanted you in a position such as this, nor see him like this. Everything will be different. The portal home glows with promise.
“I love you.”
*
Blue curtains flow with a soft breeze. Blood is casually splattered against matching silk sheets, looking natural as if it had been sewn into the fabric. A gun lies carelessly tossed beneath a shimmering golden frame, a soft glow emitted from the rays of sun peeking past the shattered frame. Soft eyes flit about in a haze, cathedral like ceilings suffocating with all the colors one could imagine. Your body is too heavy, your voice stuck like saccharine syrup choking your throat.
There had been a bird. A small, sweet finch. It sat perched so honeyed, like something out of a dream. A dream, you think. Yes. This is a dream.
Rick will wake you up soon, brush the sweaty hair off of your afternoon face. He’ll be here soon you think, the blood thumping in your ears sets him a timer. One, two, three.
Your neck is hot, the pain faded as quickly as it had started. You can’t feel pain in a dream. You can’t feel pain in a dream. You can’t feel pain in a dream. You can’t feel pain in a dream. All you can feel is the 1000-thread count beneath your splayed hand. You spent too much time in bed. Too much time in this house. You’ll ask him to take you away when you wake up, hopefully he comes soon. You hope he comes soon.