Rick Sanchez x Reader - oneshots

"Hes not a machine, Rick!"

In the dimly lit living room of Beth's house, Morty winced in pain as he clutched his broken arm. Rick and Morty had just got back from an adventure and Morty was begging to be taken to the hospital. The air was thick with the smell of alcohol as Rick, visibly drunk, swayed unsteadily.

I was furious with Rick, he couldn't give a shit about Morty. "Rick, can't you see Morty's in pain? Show a little decency."

Rick, belching loudly, scoffed, "eeuugh- Decency? Morty needs to toughen up. Life's not a cakewalk, sweetheart."

Morty winced in pain as he tried to move his arm and I shot Rick a stern look, "This isn't about life, Rick. He's hurt, and you're just being an ass."

Rick, slurring his words, grumbled, "Ass? I've been through worse. Morty just needs to ha-eeuugh-ndle his shit."

Is he serious? I looked over at Morty as he was poking at his arms trying to move his fingers and turn his wrist but he couldn't.  "guys, I just need a break. It hurts like hell." He said

I was getting angrier by the second "He's not a machine, Rick. You can't treat him like one. Show some compassion."

Rick, agitated, turned around to face me as he towered over me "Compassion? Spare me, Y/n. Morty needs to learn, and I'm not sugarcoating shit for him."

I stared up at him is disbelief "There's a difference between tough love and being an outright jerk, Rick. You're crossing that line."

Rick, angrily, took a step closer, "You think you know everything, don't you? Morty can handle it. He's tougher than you give him credit for."

Morty, tired of the argument, pleaded from behind us. "Guys, please, I-I just need some time to rest."

I continued to face Rick "Enough. Morty's hurt, and your attitude isn't helping. Either you cut the crap or deal with it."

Rick, with a dismissive wave, burped, "eeuugh Deal with it? Or deal with you? I don't have time for your melodrama, Y/n."

"Well, you better make time, Rick, because I won't let you treat Morty like this."

As the tension in the room escalated, I remained resolute in defense of Morty, while Rick, fueled by alcohol and stubbornness, seemed unwilling to back down, and Morty, caught in the middle, longed for the conflict to subside.

Feeling a wave of frustration and concern, I took a deep breath, realizing that arguing with Rick in his current state might not lead to any positive resolution. I glanced at Morty, who looked visibly tired and pained.

With a sigh, I muttered to myself, "Rick, you're impossible." Then I turned to Morty, gently placing a hand on his uninjured shoulder, "Come on, Morty. Let's get you to the hospital. We can deal with Rick later."

Morty, relieved, nodded weakly, and we made our way out of the chaotic setting, leaving behind the drunken belches and stubborn attitude of Rick. As we walked, I couldn't help but worry about the bigger picture, realizing that Morty's well-being was the priority.

I heard the distant sound of Ricks flask opening as we walked.

The challenges of dealing with Rick's erratic behavior were just one of the many things that came with being a part of his chaotic world.