Toxic Sparks || Rick Sanchez x Reader

Chapter 3 - Brokenhearted

Six weeks had passed since you moved into the Smiths' house, and five since the drunken kitchen mishap with Rick. Life had mostly settled into a rhythm. You and Beth often shared conversations over wine or unwound with board games and snacks, the kind of evenings that helped you feel at home. Summer and Morty had also warmed up to your presence. Summer frequently asked for opinions on her outfits or advice on the latest social drama she was wrapped up in, while Morty, although you didn't have much in common, was happy to chat. He reminded you of a younger family member you had.

Even Jerry, with his rambling rants, had become something you grew used to, usually listening until Beth or Summer often told him to shut up mid-speech. They were all welcoming, and you never felt like a stranger—except for Rick. Since that night in the kitchen, he had mostly acted as if you didn't exist. You didn't mind. In fact, it was a relief. Your few interactions with him had been nothing but unpleasant, and while you wouldn't tell Beth, you really didn't like the guy. Still, you sometimes wondered what went on behind those cold, calculating eyes—he was clearly a genius, but there was always something darker lurking beneath the surface.

***

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" Beth asked, standing in the driveway as Jerry and the kids packed the car for a family camping trip. They'd invited you along, but you'd politely declined.

"I've got a lot to catch up on," you lied with a small, apologetic smile, crossing your arms as the autumn chill crept into the air. In reality, you didn't want to admit that the idea of spending nights in the woods terrified you.

"Maybe next time then," Beth said with a hopeful smile before slipping into the passenger seat. You waved as the car pulled out of the driveway, disappearing down the street.

Your smile faded as you dropped your arm, feeling guilty for not being honest with Beth. It wasn't like you didn't have any work to do—you just couldn't shake your fear of the woods, and the idea of revealing that seemed... silly.

"You're a shitty liar, you know?" Rick's voice cut through your thoughts, startling you.

You spun around, scowling. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He snorted. "You're a preschool teacher. What could you possibly have to catch up on?"

You rolled your eyes, already annoyed. This wasn't the first time he'd mocked your profession—just days ago, he'd called your job useless, claiming "anyone can teach shapes and colors." It was clear Rick thought the whole concept of education was beneath him.

"Why didn't you go? You're their family," you shot back, irritated that he had the nerve to comment on your choices when he had every reason to join the trip himself.

"That's none of your business," he said with a sneer. "Besides, I don't trust you not to go through my shit."

You let out a frustrated sigh, pushing past him to head inside. You didn't bother saying "excuse me" like you usually did, and you could tell he was annoyed by it. A weekend alone with him in the house was already shaping up to be unbearable.

***

Your Saturday morning was spent preparing lesson plans. The kids were going to start learning the alphabet next week, and you wanted to make it fun for them. It was part of your routine—work on lesson plans, maybe cook something, then tackle chores. With most of the family gone, there wasn't much to clean, but you could hear various sounds coming from the garage. Whatever Rick was up to, you had no desire to check.

Needing a break, you decided to go out. You changed into something cute, did your makeup, and smiled at your reflection. When you came downstairs, Rick was sprawled on the couch, watching some show called Ball Fondlers.