Shattered Perceptions (Rick Sanchez x Reader)

The Red Portal

Good. You're here. Rick and Morty have just returned from one of their dangerous adventures and, while I feel we should probably give them time to breathe, that wouldn't be very fun for any of us.

While you're over there, you'll notice that you have some special equipment and clothes specific to the task at hand. It should also be noted that, while I am writing this, I'm pretty much as along for the ride as you are. Enjoy!

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"Aww geez, Rick... " Morty whined, "What's that? I-I really just need, like, a break or something from all this, y-ya know?"

A red portal, not unlike the green ones formed by Rick's portal gun, had appeared in the garage and was swirling ominously. Rick rolled his eyes and stood between Morty and the portal. "S-shut up, Mo-uurp-orty," Rick spat.

You stepped through the portal and into the garage to stand before Rick and Morty. You smile at them. It was impossible to believe, but here you were. "Rick Sanchez," you purred. "I can't believe it's actually you. You have no idea how far I've travelled to see you."

Rick stood his ground, cautious of the strange woman standing in his garage out of  the blue, watching you closely and ready to pull his gun and shoot you where you stand.

"Relax, Rick," you continued. "I'm not going to try to hurt you, Morty, or anyone else. I came here from my reality to meet you."

"And why the fuck sho-uurrp-uld I believe anything you say?" Rick said, his apathy setting in.

"You have no reason to believe me and I can't really give you one, unless Morty leaves this garage."

"I-I'm not going anywhere with you!" Morty shouted, stepping out from behind Rick.

You laughed, "Oh, I'm not taking you anywhere, darling. Goodness... I'm no monster. Just go grab a soda and watch T.V. or something while Rick and I talk, provided he agrees."

Morty shrugged and left the garage to do as you suggested, mostly to just go take a load off after the adventure he had just been on. With Morty gone, Rick pulled his gun and aimed it at your head. You smirked confidently. "Oh, honey, you're not going to pull that trigger," you purred, your voice smooth and sultry.

"Is that what you think? I will shoot you. If you know me as well as you seem to think you do, I do not hesitate to kill anyone," he snarled. You take a step closer to him and notice his grip on the gun grow shaky.

"It's what I know, hon. You won't shoot me, because you can't." You move close enough to him that the barrel of the gun is pressed into your forehead. "Go ahead, sugar. Pull the trigger. I dare you. Burn a hole right through my skull. Come on!"

Rick desparately tried to squeeze the trigger, if only to prove you wrong, but he couldn't. His trigger finger wouldn't budge. You grab his hand that's weilding the gun and lower it. A strange force loosens his grip on the gun. You didn't forcibly disarm him and he didn't willingly let go of the gun, but you took the gun and laid it down on the workbench behind him. "Told you, sweetie. You won't shoot me. I'm a Reader. In my reality, this that's happening right now is one of many fanfiction stories based off of your show. Even now, the Writer of this fanfiction is deciding how this interaction will unfold."

He searches your face for any sign of deceit or a sign that you're some botched, glitchy simulation.

"I have no reason to lie to you, Rick. I wouldn't want to either," you said softly. Your heart was racing, betraying your cool demeanor. He was so close. Your breasts were pressed against his chest and you could feel his heart beating ever so slightly out of sync with your own. You consider kissing him based on the level of squealing fangirl bouncing around in your head, but you decide against it and take a step back from him.

He keeps his eyes on you, bracing himself against his workbench. His perception of himself as being a master of his reality was shaken down to its core. He began to question which choices, if any, he had made on his own and which ones had been pre-determined by the Creator of his original reality. More pressing to him at the moment, were the choices he had thought he had made in this "fanfiction" reality he found himself in. Did he really never actually have any control of anything he was doing? Were all of his decisions made for him before he had even given those decisions a thought?

"Rick?"

Your question rips him from his existential crisis and he looks at you again. Your (e/c) eyes were filled with concern. You had thought that Rick would be more than strong enough to hear what you had told him, especially since it had certainly seemed as though he was fully aware.

"I-I had hoped that I was wrong... Is it so fucking much to ask for me to be wrong about this?" Rick's voice came out raspy and shaken and his intermittent burps had stopped.

You watched him with concern. The strong, maniacal genius you loved was a quivering mess in front of you. Your teeth clenched and you slapped him as tears started to well up in your eyes. "Dammit, Rick. Stop being a fucking Jerry and get a hold of yourself. You're better than this!" you yelled at him through your tears.

"I'm not, though. I'm reckless because I can be, I think. At least, that's how my Creator intended me to be. I try as hard as I can to keep things entertaining so that my reality can continue to exist. I don't believe in any sort of God, but I do believe in the fickle nature of humanity's taste in television. If I fail to keep things interesting, I risk the very existence of every conceived universe in my reality," Rick replied. His voice was bitter and crestfallen.

You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off. "Save it," he snapped, and he exited the garage, leaving you standing there alone.

'You don't understand, Rick. As smart as you think you are, you're still a big idiot. I only hope that you'll let me show you the truth,' you thought to yourself as you watched him leave.