#rick sanchez fic

[blackcatgreengrape]

rick sanchez is soooo epitome of ‘he just fucked my brains out and now he’s tinkering with his portal gun’

[xenubins-circus]

pls someone give me good rick and morty fics that arent incest its not my cup of tea, i jsut want more rick angst pls god

[blackcatgreengrape]

i wonder if anyone feels that way abt my fic… trust guys its coming 😭

let us join hands

[lil-kittennn]

Lil story I wrote !!! If anyone wants a part 2 lemme know !!! B^)

[mintytrifecta]

Looks like somebody got passed down a family heirloom

[lon3rlife]

Why wasn’t I invited?

Rick Sanchez x Fem!Reader

You and some friends go on a trip, but Rick can’t stand to be away from you (Aka Rick being clingy and soft for once)

You’re in your apartment doing some last minute packing that you have been procrastinating on for days. You go through your closet trying to figure out how you’re going to fit a week of clothes into 1 suitcase and a carry on bag. As you throw some clothes onto your bed that you’ll fold later, you turn to see a green portal appear and your boyfriend walking into the room rambling on about something that you’re to busy to even be paying attention to.

“Woah baby it looks like a fucking tornado went through this place. Why the hell are you packing a suitcase? Where are we going?” He asks taking a quick swig out of his flask

“What do you mean we? I’ve been telling you about this trip for weeks.” You say annoyed that he obviously didn’t listen when you were going on about your excitement for your trip. You and some old friends are going to Europe for a week on a girls trip, you are actually pretty excited to get away for a bit and spend some time catching up with people you haven’t seen in years.

“Wait-where are you going? Why wasn’t I invited? Who’s going to be going? How long are you going for? When do you leave?” He spits out a million questions at once

“Did you seriously not listen to me when I was telling you?” You say aggravated as you attempt to fit more clothes into your already full suitcase

“N-no I didn’t, I was doing something important and I didn’t think you would be going without me.” He continues on but you’re to annoyed to deal with him right now.

“Listen I’m leaving tomorrow morning can you at least drive me to the airport?” You ask in a final attempt to resolve this situation.

“Y-yeah of course. Can I spend the night tonight? I mean I haven’t gone two days without seeing you since we met and I don’t know how I’ll be able to sleep without you.”

As you fall asleep you hear Rick mumble something about not wanting you to leave, but you’re too tired to be able to fully make out what it was.

The alarm goes off at 6am sharp. You try to get up but Ricks arms are firmly wrapped around your waist with his face nuzzled into your hair.

“Rick come on the plane leaves in an hour and a half.” You say secretly enjoying this rare moment of affection.

“Five minutes.” He mumbles

“Two”

“Fine”

You lay down closing your eyes for a minute and turn to face him. You give him a quick kiss and pull yourself off of him, and rush to the bathroom to get ready and make sure you have everything.

After some hustling around the apartment to get everything you need Rick sleepily gets out of bed and you guys drive to the airport. As he’s driving you he’s very quiet. You’re not to surprised at his silence due to his anxiety over you leaving but it still worries you a bit.

“Well I’ve really got to go.” You say giving Rick a gentle kiss goodbye as the final call for your plane is announced.

He wraps you in a very firm but gentle hug, resting his chin on your head.

“Im going to miss you.” He says as you walk off

The trip is great. You catch up with people you haven’t seen in years, you get to visit places you’ve always wanted to, you spend way to much money getting souvenirs for Rick and the Smith family, and get time to relax alone as well.

Being in a relationship with Rick is not easy. You guys are constantly on an adventure or working on something new. It’s pretty nice to not have to worry about yours, your boyfriend, or his grandsons life being threatened for once and you have time just to relax and have a bit of fun.

By day 4 of the trip though, you’re pretty exhausted. The constant sightseeing and social interaction is pretty tough, but you’re still having a great time. You go to bed around 8 to catch up on some well needed rest.

You don’t know what time it was, but it was very late. Your friend who you’re sharing a room with is sound asleep on the pull out couch in the room.

Out of the darkness of the room an all to familiar sound of the glowing green portal appeared out of the pitch black of the room.

“Rick what the hell are you doing here???” You whisper scream trying not to wake your sleeping friend up.

“I haven’t been able to sleep without you. Please can I stay here for the night I’ll be out before anyone wakes up and if your friend wakes up I’ll erase her memory no big deal.” He says way too casually.

“Jesus Rick. Okay just tonight, and you have to be up before she wakes up.” You say still disoriented and tired.

As your eyes adjust to the darkness some more and by the faint glow of the moon you can see the sleep deprivation and stress on Rick’s face even more so than usual. The second he gets into the bed he wraps his arms around you he practically melts into you. You feel his muscles relax and his breathing slow. His arms resting on your lower abdomen and he’s asleep almost instantly. You feel a little sad seeing him curled up on you sleeping so peacefully after obviously not being good mentally for the past few days. After a bit of laying down sinking in this moment you end up drifting off.

You awake abruptly just as the sun is about to rise hoping that your friend didn’t wake up, but you open your eyes to find her still passed out on the couch. You turn to face Rick, who is sound asleep lightly snoring with his long arms still wrapped around you.

“Rick you need to get up.” You say in a loud whisper.

“Mhm.” He grunts sleepily

“Seriously Rick you can’t just crash a girls trip unannounced.”

He pulls you closer and you try to figure out a way to get him out of the bed before your friend wakes up.

“How about we go walk down the street, get some breakfast and watch the sunrise?” You say desperately hoping that will get him up

“Okay.” He says finally opening his eyes

You guys head down to the café to get some breakfast and sit out on a park bench to watch the sunrise.

You check your phone to realize you have completely lost track of time and was supposed to meet your friends in the hotel lobby 15 minutes ago.

“Shit Rick I really need to leave. Please take care of yourself I’ll be home in 3 days, and then we can spend as much time together as you want.” You say rushing to get your stuff together

“Orrr I can just meet you tonight?” Rick asks hopefully, with a face you really can’t resist.

“Okay but you need to leave before sunrise.” You say giving him a quick peck on the cheek before hurrying to meet your friends.

[angelyuji]

Can you write a itty bitty drabble of our old decomposing man being a yandere (rick sanchez) 🙏🦭

hello my friend. sad news, i was gonna write some noncon with this but also its been so long since u sent me this and i feel bad for taking so long

tw // kidnapping, yandere, rick sanchez, physical abuse, implied noncon

yandere rick c-137 sanchez x gn!reader

in every universe, rick can’t make (y/n) stay. in one, they die. in another, they break up. in the next, they never meet. rick C-137 won’t let what happened to them happen to his (y/n).

you couldn’t breathe, sprinting through the woods. something had exploded in the house, bringing the security down for only a few minutes, but you saw your opportunity and took it. when beth wasn’t looking, you booked it out the back door. you heard her yelling for… him and your legs moved faster. you had finally gotten out, climbed over the brick wall surrounding the house, and ran. you can hear rick scream out your name in rage as you get farther away.

you had gotten to the woods by the time you run out of steam. you collapse against a tree, and rain start to tap against the leaves. the cold drops of rain and the wet dirt beneath you helps cool you down as you catch your breath. you think out your next steps, mumbling to yourself. “no cops, mr. nimbus would help rick. no doctor, rick would get an… alert…. shit.” the tracker rick planted in your skin flashes in your head. “fuck, fuck, fuck.” you crawl around, looking for a something sharp. the rain gets worse, thunder and lightning booming in the sky. ‘i’ve been here too long.’ you get up to keep moving when you hear a flash.

“all done running, (y/n)?” rick’s voice comes from behind you, amused. your heart stops and you turn to face him. rick laughs in your face with one look at you, “j-jesus christ, baby. all that just to get caught…. again.” he grins.

“fuck you.” you seethe.

rick burps, “so feisty,” he laughs, “let’s play a game. i’ll give you a 30 second head start and to help you even more, i won’t look at your tracker or use anything to find you, just p-plain old rick. i’ll give you t-ten minutes to keep away and when i catch you in less than 10, i’m going to make sure you never even think of leaving my side.”

“what if i win?” you stare rick down.

he laughs, “you won’t.” he steps closer to you, “you should start running.”

you take off away from him, going deeper into the woods. you can hear rick’s maniacal laughter echo behind you as you run. you couldn’t breathe, panic setting in. you take as many confusing turns as possible, trying to throw off rick as long as possible. the sun had set and the rain stopped. you slow to a stop, hearing silence. you lean against a tree and message your burning legs.

“did i win?” you say, relief settle into your bones and you close your eyes.

“no, baby, y-you didn’t.” rick’s hand wraps around your throat and slams your back into the tree. you choke and your vision blurs as rick’s manic grin comes into view. “s-sweet, stupid (y/n),” he grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back. the tears start to fall quicker as pain rockets through your body. he leans in, leaving a trail of wet kisses up your neck before whispering into your ear, “it’s time for my reward.”

[conanssummerchild]

ive dipped my toes into a little bit of unserious fic writing for rnm and i felt it was about time i dropped an autistic rick fic 🫡

ive had this idea circling around in my head for a while but i wasn't really sure what direction the fic would go in but ive decided to go for some good old internalised ableism (me writing angst? shocking /sarc) bcs rick never seems to see his autism as a disadvantage which is super slay BUT there is also a lot of difficult things to deal with being autistic and you know that old fucker hates admitting he needs help with anything so im gonna fucking force him to >:) this is set in like maybe season 2 or early season 3 btw just to make rick even less inclined to admit he needs any help !!

ok enough yapping, here we gooo

~~~

It was awfully quiet in the house for a Saturday afternoon. Usually by now Rick would've come barging into the living room, demanding Morty come with him and tugging him through a portal without waiting for an affirmative answer, always at least a little drunk on whatever he could get his hands on.

Today there was none of that, only fragrant smells of whatever dinner Jerry was cooking coming from the kitchen, juxtaposed with the harsh screaming match going on between him and Beth. Summer was scrolling on her phone absently next to Morty on the sofa as he pretended to watch some film that Jerry insisted was a masterpiece on non-interdimensional TV.

Overall, it was a normal night at the Smith's house from before Rick had come into their lives, but Morty wasn't relaxed like he would've been before, or even upset over having to listen to his parents' petty argument. No, he was ansty, fidgeting around enough to earn several annoyed glances from Summer.

He combed back through his memories, doubting whether he'd seen Rick today at all. He hadn't been at lunch or breakfast, in fact Morty hadn't seen him at all since their brief adventure yesterday, during which Rick had been in an increasingly foul mood. Had no one else even noticed his disappearance?

"I'm gonna check on Rick." He blurted out, stumbling off the sofa.

Summer didn't even spare him a glance.

He tried not to run down the hallway, nervous jitters going through his whole body. What if he had left again? No, probably not, Morty had seen his ship in the driveway. Shit– Rick had thousands of enemies, what if he was lying dead in his room right now?

Morty knocked on Rick's door so hard his knuckles stung a little, ignoring the small buzzing sound that accompanied the knocks. He heard a groan akin to one of a dying man and some shuffling from inside the room.

"Rick?" Morty called out to no answer, anxiety only rising.

He shifted nervously from foot to foot. If he just barged into Rick's room and he was fine Rick would be super pissed, but if he didn't and Rick was dying Morty would never forgive himself.

He shoved the door open. It didn't have a lock anymore. Morty held his breath as his eyes darted around the room, he feared it would look like a crime scene, but it looked... normal. He hadn't been in Rick's room that many times but, despite the darkness and slight mess, nothing seemed particularly out of place.

Well, that was, of course, apart from the translucent green force field type thing in front of the door.

He frowned, calling Rick's name again, but he was lying in his cot, facing the wall, unresponsive. Not even seeming like he'd heard Morty, the rise and fall of his tense shoulders the only thing showing he was still alive.

Morty chanced a careful touch to the force field, preparing for some kind of electric shock, but none came, only a quiet hum was emmited as Morty's fingers passed through. Rick moved again slightly, but other than that showed no visible reaction.

The field gave way easily and Morty passed though completely, standing meekly at the doorway of Rick's room. He was surprised to find that it was silent, like completely. No sound passed through the green barrier, not the sounds of sizzling pans, or the movie playing faintly in the background. Nothing.

"Rick? A-are you okay?" It wasn't said particularly loudly, but it felt that way in the complete silence.

No answer. He took a step closer, repeating himself louder, in case Rick just hadn't heard. "Rick? W-what's– is everything good?"

He expected anything, from Rick yelling at him to the person in the bed just being an alien wearing Rick's face, not even Rick himself.

He didn't expect Rick to cover his ears and curl into himself further.

"Uh-" Morty hesitated. His head hurt? Was he, like, hungover? Dying?

He only paused for a second more before turning and running out of the room, if something really was greviously wrong with Rick he would much rather be safe than sorry.

"Mom!" He called, running into the kitchen, interrupting the argument going on abruptly.

Beth downed a large sip of her wine glass, emptying it and setting it down on the counter with a sharp clink.

"Morty, honey, the adults are talking right now." She said, rubbing her temples tiredly.

"Mom, something's w-w-wrong with Rick."

"What?" That got Beth's attention, straightening from where she was topping off her wine once more. "What's wrong with Rick?"

"I don't know." Morty replied, agitated. "He's in his room just– just lying there, he's not answering me."

Beth was already heading in the direction of his room—not without grabbing her wine. "Come on, sweetie." She said to Morty.

"Wha- Beth, come on! We were having a conversation here!" Jerry exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

"I have more important things to deal with right now, Jerry." She said coldly.

Jerry's complaints were drowned out by Morty's rushing thoughts as he led Beth down the hall.

She peeked into the dark room without passing the noise-cancelling field, expression changing when she saw Rick curled into a ball, hands still clamped over his ears. While her frown stayed, a sort of realisation flashed in her eyes.

"Um, I think your grandpa just needs a little bit of alone time right now, okay? Let's give him some space." She said, taking a step back and closing the door gently.

"What? Why?"

"He just... Well, honestly, I don't know. I just vaguely remember he would get like this sometimes when I was a kid, when he was stressed. Mom always told me to just leave him alone for a while. I thought he'd probably grown out of it, like it was a midlife crisis thing or whatever. Guess not." She gave a small shrug.

That didn't really answer any of Morty's questions and raised several more, but Beth didn't seem to have the answers.

"Okay."

"Okay." Beth echoed, taking a swig of wine, her demeanour changing back to a bored one. "Well, I gotta go deal with Jerry now, go play video games, or something."

For the rest of that day, and then one more after that, Morty waited anxiously for Rick to emerge from his room. He felt like he was losing his mind, all while everyone else didn't even seem to care that Rick was gone at all.

He was picking at his pancakes uninterestedly when he finally caught a glimpse of blue hair in the hallway.

"Rick!" He exclaimed, making the old man nearly jump out of his skin.

"Jesus fucking christ, M-Morty." He muttered, grabbing some orange juice from the fridge and downing it straight from the carton.

"What happened?" Morty asked, getting up from the table and hovering by Rick. No one told him off for leaving the table. He could tell that they were all listening in on the conversation.

"What happened when?" Rick asked dismissively, playing dumb. He rummaged around in the overhead cupboard until he found an opened box of wafers. "What– who the fuck opened my wafers?"

Morty rolled his eyes. "You did, last week."

"Oh yeah." Rick shoved a wafer in his mouth.

"Rick, come on, seriously, I was worried."

"Well then maybe you should mind your own business, Morty."

Morty huffed. "What so you'd prefer I didn't care about you at all?"

"Yes. Obviously. Why does that surprise you? I've clearly stated it on multiple occasions."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I do care about you, Rick. I just want to make sure you're okay, because it seemed like you weren't" Morty said earnestly.

"Ugh, I'm fine, Morty." He scowled. "Don't be so– so weird about it."

"I'm weird?! Y-you're the weird one, Rick! Wh-what the hell is wrong with you? You just dissapear for– for two days and won't even tell me why? Can you give half a shit about anyone but yourself?"

"Jesus, I was overstimulated! O-okay? I'm autistic! Is that what you want to hear? You– you fucking dick."

Morty shook his head lightly, processing the stream of information "...What?"

"What? You can't be autistic." Jerry chimed in from the dining room.

"Okay, Jerry, and you won't be alive when I stuff your tiny dick in your mouth and freeze you, so we can put you on the mantle like some kind of fucked up decoration with your balls hanging out. Wait, actually, you will be alive. You'll feel the whole thing. Suuuper painful."

Rick snatched up Morty's virtually untouched stack of pancakes and sauntered out.

A quiet washed over the table, Morty looking over at Beth and seeing that she seemed just as surprised as him.

"What, you guys seriously didn't know?" Summer's bored voice broke through the silence.

"Y- you did?" Morty asked incredulously.

"Uh, duhh, Morty. It's like super obvious?" Summer drawled, not even looking up from whoever she was texting on her phone.

"How is it obvious?!"

"Becuase, Morty, I'm not uneducated like all of you guys."

"What? Wh-whatever, I'm just– I'm gonna go talk to him."

Summer didn't grace him with a response.

Morty peered into Rick's room but he wasn't there, so he wandered towards the garage. As he approached, he could already hear the sounds of Rick tinkering with something or other.

"H-hey, Rick." He said carefully, but Rick didn't seem particularly upset, offering Morty a small grunt in greeting.

"S-sorry I said there was something wrong with you." Morty added.

Rick looked up this time, quirking an eyebrow at him. "Okay?"

He went back to his project for a bit, but when Morty still didn't leave after several minutes he sighed, setting his wrench down harshly next to Morty's now half-eaten pancakes. "Yes, Morty?" He asked, irritated.

"I-I just... You could've told me, you know? That you're autistic. I'm not– you don't have to be, like... ashamed."

"Screw you, I'm not ashamed." Rick snapped. "L-look at me Morty, do you know how smart I am? You think any fucking neurotypical could ever reach my level of genius? Fuck no!"

He crossed his arms like a petulant child, pouting at the floor.

"Oh– Sorry." Morty stuttered. "I just thought..."

"What? That just because I'm autistic I have to be ashamed? Pretty ableist stuff there, Morty." Rick said sharply.

"No! Jeez, That's not– not what I meant, Rick. Jeez... I was gonna ask why you never t-talk about it, then?"

"Becuase it's none of y-your damn business, that's why."

"But– I mean, sure, but not even my mom knew. Did... did your wife? Did she know?"

Rick's shoulders tensed and he looked away, his loose grip on the table becoming harsher.

"R-rick?"

"She... knew." He said tightly.

"Did anyone else?" Morty made his tone a little gentler, seeing Rick wasn't exactly thrilled to talk about it.

"...Birdperson. And Squanchy."

"That's– no one else?"

Rick frowned. "My parents knew. But they didn't like it... Diane– my wife she was the first person I chose to tell myself."

"I'm sorry." Morty said quietly. "About your parents and... Diane."

Rick sat silently, staring at the work bench in front of him without saying a word.

"Is that... why you guys divorced, or?"

"No, Morty, jesus." Rick huffed. "She was actually the only one that didn't treat me like less than because of it. I mean, until BP and Squanch."

"So why–?"

"I don't want to talk about my failed marriage, M-morty." Rick sighed.

"...Sorry."

Rick shrugged.

Silence stretched on as Rick went back to his project again, it wasn't an uncomfortable silence, but it wasn't exactly comfortable either.

"It's embarrasing. Sometimes." Rick said haltingly. "When I get overstimulated. Becuase I know that doesn't happen to normal people and I don't like admitting I need help with things that other people don't. It's a sign of weakness."

"That's not–!"

"Shut the fuck up, Morty. This isn't a discussion, you got what you wanted out of me, so now you can fuck off."

"But, Rick you–"

"Morty, just fuck the fuck off."

Morty hesitated for a second, before lunging towards Rick and trapping him in a tight hug. Rick tensed up.

"Morty, you little shit, get off me!" Rick wriggled, trying to get out of Morty's embrace.

"I love you, grandpa. Thank you for opening up to me, I know it's hard for you." Morty whispered, which only made Rick thrash around harder. "I don't think you're weak, by the way. Or that there's anything wrong with you."

Morty finally pulled away from the hug and Rick crossed his arms again, his face now a little flushed in embarrasment.

"Don't do that again, you asshole." He grumbled. "I don't like it when you hug me."

"Sorry." Morty said, mostly meaning it. "Hugs always make me feel a lot better."

"Well I'm not you, Morty, and they m-m-make me uncomfortable."

"Sorry." He repeated. "But I-I still mean everything I said."

Rick pouted, turning away. Morty knew Rick was stubborn, and that he wasn't going to erase years of self-hatred and internalised ableism in a few minutes, but he hoped that one day Rick let him in enough to at least try.

"Okay, bye grandpa. Love you."

"Bye, asshole." Rick muttered back.

Love you too he thought, but didn't say.

+ extra

Rick had been in a shitty mood all day, and Morty could tell something was brewing under the surface, but he couldn't tell what until they were already on their way back home from grabbing some crystals from some drug planet Rick stole from all the time.

Usually Rick would be in high spirits after another succesful crystal-stealing mission, but today he just glared through the windshield, gripping the steering wheel tightly. Morty could tell that, despite his intense stare, he wasn't really paying too much attention, so it wasn't a huge shock when an large asteroid chunk flew into their field of vision and Rick didn't even try to swerve.

They crashed into the asteroid hard and an alarm started blaring, red rays flashing in the interior of the spaceship. Rick's hands flew over his ears, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

Morty had seen this alarm go off several times, due to Rick's often reckless driving, and it usually didn't bother Rick very much at all, not warranting more than a curse and flipping the alarm off annoyedly.

Rick bit down on his knee hard as Morty hurried to shut down the alarm, Rick's hands moving into his hair and tugging when it was finally switched off.

Rick had a tendancy to hurt himself when he was overstimulated and it made Morty endlessly anxious. He searched desperately in the backseat for the noise cancelling headphones he'd given Rick and "forced him to wear" as Rick would say, but Morty could tell he appreciated it. Especially when he snatched them out of Morty's hands before he'd barely even handed them to him, shoving them onto his head agressively and clicking the button he'd added himself for improved noise cancellation, claiming the headphones were trash and that he'd had to modify them to make them at all a useful tool.

He slumped back in his chair with a sigh, his eyes were still shut but Morty could see the tears that had collected on his eyelashes.

"Do you want me to drive us back?" Morty asked, barely finishing the sentance before Rick was hitting the button that switched their chairs around so Morty would be in front of the wheel. Morty let out a small exclamation of surprise, but quickly took the wheel, putting the ship back on track.

Rick didn't say anything else for the short journey home, jumping out of the ship before it was even parked properly. Morty hurried to keep up with him as he unlocked the door. He stopped abruptly in the middle of the entryway and Morty almost crashed into him, managing to stop himself just in time.

"Thank you." Rick said gruffly, not giving Morty time to respond and just rushing off to his room.

Morty still smiled, though. He knew that was about as close as it got to his grandpa expressing affection.

"Love you too, Rick."

---

THE END IM CHEESEY OK I KNOW SORRY BYE

[lara60]

Ever since I saw theories going around about how Prime uploaded a part of himself/his consciousness into Rick's mind when their cybernetics connected I can't stop thinking about it. If anything it's such a good concept for an angsty AU. Prime appears like a ghost to Rick, nobody else can see him nor hear him talk. Rick doesn't know how to get rid of him, he tried digging in his own head, swapping out parts of his cybernetic enhancements, but he can't figure out just HOW Prime did this and it's driving him insane. He tries to ignore him, for his own sanity, but it's impossible.

He sees Prime standing by the window as the family is having dinner. He sees him sitting on the counter of the garage, whistling to himself as Rick tries to busy his mind by tinkering with some new invention. He sees Prime lounging in the back of the ship as he takes Morty on another adventure. As much as he tries to pretend that he's not there, it's all he can think of. Prime is chatty, of course. He wants to strike conversation with Rick all the time, he offers his (very unwanted) opinions on everything Rick is doing, mocks him when things don't go right during his adventures. The family (Morty most of all) would gradually notice that something is wrong with Rick - he keeps staring at empty points in space, glaring and muttering to himself. Sometimes he flinches or jumps at seemingly nothing, and his mood is getting worse by the day.

I'm just so curious about how Rick's and Prime's interactions would go in a scenario like this - they can't hurt each other, they just have to coexist now.

[d33pwithinmys0ul]

One Shot For Pondhue: Rick Sanchez x Reader Fluff

I hope this doesn't format weird, but I've been doing one shot fanfic for art trades, this is my first finished one! If you're interested go ahead and dm me but I've got lots to tackle.

I love @pondhue's art, be sure to check them out, this is what they requested, enjoy :)

“Summer!” Morty yelled up the stairs in an exasperated voice. Both his hands are clenched on the straps of his backpack. “I-I’m gonna be late for math, Mom said we have to walk together this time.”

You were cross legged on the recliner as you watched her bound down the stairs with a pink zippered pouch in hand. 

“Don’t act like you give a shit about your education Morty, it’s not a good look for you.” She rolls her eyes in his direction and hands you the pouch. “You can use anything but Funny Bunny and the glitters. See you tonight!”  She was out the door before you could even say thank you. 

“She’s fuckin’ killing me, y/n.” Morty gave a frustrated huff. The door slams shut and you stifle a laugh.

You almost slide off of the recliner in favor of the floor, then go through Summer’s nail stuff. The polish bottles all clink against one another gently. 

It was empty and quiet. The Beths and Jerry had said something about a galactic honeymoon before being cut off by disgusted groans from Rick and the kids. It was an easy job to take.

You turn on the TV for some background noise, and decide to pick your favorite color.  

House sitting seemed unnecessary for the Smiths, but it would be nice to be around Rick more in light of your recent “exclusivity.” Rick’s chosen word, not yours. It was kinda sweet, you supposed.

You start with your left hand, laying it flat on the coffee table. It was fun, and soothing. 

Exclusive was a nice term, you think. Not too distant, or too territorial. He respected you.

You were starting another finger when you heard the familiar warp of a portal materializing in the kitchen. 

God, Rick was noisy. Every box and bottle in the fridge resounded as if he were taking inventory, he hacked and coughed every few seconds. Was he aware that you were here? Was he trying to make a point, like you had to acknowledge his presence first?

You continue without a word. Maybe you could do your toes too? Should you match, or pick another color?

Your mouth twitched as you saw him from the corner of your eye. He plopped himself down on the couch, adjacent to your spot on the floor, with a drink in his hand. He burps and changes the channel. 

There was a comfortable silence, only the noise of different shows and commercials, human looking humans, nothing you’d usually see on interdimensional cable with him. 

Rick drapes his arm on the back of the couch. “Y-you gonna join me?”

“In a little bit, I’m almost done,” you said.

He grunts in reply.

Why was he being so quiet, almost shy?

You finished your last finger, waving them around a little to dry. You look back up at the TV, and literal shit is being spread on a bagel. 

“Jesus,” you automatically cringe and turn to Rick, “Why?”

“Poop deli,” he shrugs and takes a big swig of beer.

“That.. Is not–romantic,” you said.

He snorts but changes the channel anyway. “I didn’t realize you needed wooing right now, sweetheart.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“Who said I needed it?” You say incredulously, flapping your hands to dry your nails faster. You know you looked silly and laughed a little as soon as you started.

“‘S a good color on you,” Rick almost mumbles, vaguely gesturing to the little set up of polish and remover, and all the other contents of Summer’s pouch on the coffee table. 

“Thank you.” You slide the nail stuff across the table and sit on the carpet next to Rick’s foot. “Maybe you could join me?”

“On the floor?” Rick’s voice almost reflected your own earlier regarding ‘poop deli.’

“It won’t kill you,” you said. “I was hoping I could do your nails too?” You almost didn’t ask, but you were curious. Sure, Rick usually gave most things shit, but you’d like to think you were his soft spot. 

“And what are you thinking, exactly?” He squints at you almost mockingly. He lowers himself smoothly onto the floor next to you.

“How about…” Your hand hovers over a few different bottles in Summers collection. “Lincoln Park After Dark,” you said and handed him the bottle. 

“I’m—eughhh–’m not wearing purple.” He said flatly. He places it on the table and takes another swig of beer. 

“It’s basically black,” you scoffed. “I think it’s pretty. You’re lucky I don’t want to do the whole damn nail routine on you. I’m sure your cuticles are atrocious.”

Rick exhaled sharply through his nose, and rolled his eyes dramatically and splayed his large, bony hands out on the coffee table. “Before I change my mind.” 

You smile with satisfaction and scoot closer to him, going from sitting to kneeling. Tall bastard. You almost get poked by his knee as he crouches in an almost frog-like position, you laugh at the look on his face as you untwist the bottle. You give him a quick kiss on the cheek right before he starts complaining.

“That is a purple tinge,” he insists, emphasizing the color. 

“It’s black,” you set the bottle on the table and grab his hand. You start on his pinky finger, feeling the rough skin of his palm. “It’s not permanent, don’t be a child.”

“I’m aware of the properties of Earth nail polish,” he uses his free hand to take a swig of his beer, which almost spilled all over the carpet. “Forgive me for being a little more s–eughh-selective.”

“Earth nail polish?” You laugh. “So there’s alien versions, you mean?”

“Obviously. More durable and vibrant iterations of this shit. Think of that blackest black bullshit, but better. And it doesn’t stink. Just an obvious superiority of the wonders of the galaxy over puny mundane humanity.” His lab coat collar was wonky and he didn’t sound too serious about the last part.

“Mhm,” you said as you spaced his pinky away and moved onto his ring finger, careful not to smudge your own. “And how’d you get so familiar with galactic cosmetics?” He shrugged. “Old band days. I’ve told you about this before,” his eyebrow furrowed.

You could see a little bit of the purple tint as you finished another nail. 

“Drunken rants barely count as telling me,” you said. “The Flesh Curtains,” you said with a flourishing stroke.

“Th-this, it’s the first time since then I’ve gotten my nails painted,” he said, a little surprised at himself. “Bit of bird DMT and common sense is m-euguhghh-more than enough to overcome, fuckin gender societal bullshit.” He was watching your hands, one painting, the other keeping his still. “If you paint it all over the fingertip it’ll come off in the shower. Don’t exactly shower much at Birding Man, though.”

“That’s where you guys met, right?” You asked.

“Mhm,” Rick said. “Thirty somethin’ and didn’t give much of a fuck to do shit else. Just shows and drugs and all the usual rockstar bullshit. I was young. BP gave me a guitar and we were too shitfaced to stop ourselves.”

“Bird Person doesn’t seem the musical type,” you say as you take his other hand and dip the brush into the bottle of polish. “That’s pretty cool.”

“He’s a fuckin’ genius.” He waves his free hand. “Bird planet stuff gave him a natural advantage, I think. Heavy into classical. Would’ve been a w–eughhh–waste, -i-if he never did anything with it.”

“So what kind of music did you make?” You asked, smiling. You were trying not to seem too enthusiastic. You didn’t think he’d be so willing to open up. 

“Eughh–it was the eighties, I think, don’t fuckin’ remember too much. Rock, nu metal. For a bit we used an invention of mine with an algorithm that c-cal-calibrated the data from other successful rock acts across the known universe to write songs for us, bullshit like that. Didn’t work out. BP almost got us to do new-wave, n-eughh-not my cup of tea.” He takes his flask from his lab coat pocket. 

“Squanchy didn’t want that either. Too hyperactive. We found him squanchin’ backstage by the drumkit when we wanted to crash the festival, so that role for him happened naturally. I don’t think you’ve met him. When we were on the road I’d have to sing him to sleep while I drove cuz BP would just pass out. If Squanchy didn’t get a goddamn lullaby he’d have to squanch to go to bed, and that was when I actually gave a shit if my ship was clean..”

“I advise you to restrain your speed. Breaking Blimmyjink highway laws will further delay our performance,” Bird Person said in his monotone voice.

“I swear to fucking god, I’ll eject you into the vast emptiness of space if you spill that goddamn beer!” Rick yelled over his shoulder while keeping his eyes on the road. He coughed and hacked before narrowly swerving around another vehicle. 

They worked real hard to get a gig at the Celestes, and he wasn’t going to let shit ruin it. Rick growled a little as he forced himself to ease up on the gas pedal. 

“I didn’t spill squanch!” Squanchy whined.

“Should’ve brought my damn portal gun, you stupid fucks,” he barked at the other members in the car. “U—eughh-unbelievable.”  Rick had thought that a road trip-esque approach to a few of their gigs would create some type of positive relationship without too many drugs involved.

The galactic highway had too much traffic for a Thursday night, they had a shit time slot. He weaved in and out of lines of other ships and cars, speeding to get to the venue. His glass beer bottle nearly tipped over in the cup holder, before his bandmate caught it with a feathered hand.

“You’re in distress,” BP observed. 

“You deserve a medal,” Rick muttered.

“What seems to be the issue?” Bird Person persisted. 

“We need time t-to set up. No fuckin’ brainer. Even with the damn Band in a Box mechanism every .5 seconds counts in this GODDAMN TRAFFIC!” Rick yelled and honked his horn. 

The driver in front of him extended a tentacle out of their window.

“Is he flipping me off?” Rick asked, glancing at his cat-like drummer in the back seat. 

“Nah, he’s just giving you the squanch. Could be way worse, Rick.” Squanchy replied before chugging the rest of his drink, his feet kicked up on the drivers seat.

“Paws down asshole, you’ll sing yourself to sleep tonight,” Rick said through gritted teeth.

“Your voice is slightly hoarser than usual.” Bird Person said. “Perhaps your agitated state is creating strain on your physical health.”

“Only by 20.8%, which literally d-eughh-doesn’t matter,” Rick quipped. “This is a really important show, you know that.”

BP rifled through his satchel made of leaves and other stupid shit Rick didn’t see the point in before. He pulled out an unusually large acorn. 

“It is infused with healing syrups and herbs from my home planet. I insist.” He handed it to him when they slowed to a stop at a light. “It may soothe you.”

“What-am-am I supposed to eat this like an apple?” Rick's eyebrow arched before glancing back at the road.

“If by apple you imply a hand sized, edible food source–”

“Whatever,” Rick grumbled and took the acorn begrudgingly.

“Thank you for giving me your trust,” his bandmate replied.

The show at the Celestes had been a hit. It helped them book other gigs–turns out there were some good connections to make on a random Thursday night. Rick wasn’t on vocals that show, but he felt a lot better. He got so drunk that he crowd surfed and shit his pants in a broom closet. 

“We ended up having a p-pretty decent sized fan base on Blimmyjink even after we disbanded. Pers didn’t neutralize any of the tannins in that acorn, though,” Rick said with a laugh. “Tasted like shit.”

You were almost done with his second hand, almost wishing you could stall so he wouldn’t stop talking.

It was really nice of him to speak more about his past, considering Rick wasn’t very comfortable with his backstory, or a lot of what happened before he and Morty moved to this dimension. You could tell he was really trying. 

“That seems really fun. It would be nice to meet Squanchy sometime.” You put away the polish and rubbed his shoulder. “I didn’t realize you and BP had been so close. He doesn’t seem like the type to paint his nails.”

Rick scoffs. “Yeah, no thanks to me. They wanted to be lame and go onstage as they were, like f-fuckin’ Weezer or something. It was fun styling everyone. I had pierced ears back then too, we were so fuckin’ drunk–shit was lopsided.” 

He rolled his eyes and pressed a button on his watch, careful not to smudge his nail. 

A little holo projection appeared of an old picture you’d seen before. Rick, Bird Person, and Squanchy on stage. Fire effects erupting by the drumset, Bird Person with his wings displayed powerfully behind him, Rick lost in thought as his face contorted while striking the strings of his instrument. 

“Wow, yeah. You guys look amazing,” you try not to giggle a little at Rick’s get up. You hadn’t seen it in detail like this before— spiked leather bracelets, a skull on his belt buckle, the loosest, skinniest tank top that was as far away from his chest as possible, and a choker around his neck. Jesus Christ. What a choice, what a man.

“Clearly I was the o-eughh-only one that actually looked good,” Rick said with a wink. “But it was some good shit. We never made any money doing it. But we had some good memories.”

Rick's hands were both free as the nails dried, so he used them more as he talked. “That time in my life w-was a goddamn free for all. I trusted BP for no good reason when I’d been bitter and angry for years. We all almost wrote a whole album that night, after Birding Man, but Squanchy drunk pissed all over my equipment and we lost the files.”

“And drunk Rick didn’t waterproof his stuff back then?” You ask dubiously. 

“I–eughh–I think I can say I was a lesser man back then.” He said with a shrug.

“Do you miss it?” You ask.

“Loose shirts, shittier tech, different mindset back then. I don’t regret it, but I was...just running from a lot of shit. It was escapism. Every musician is disturbed, art is mental illness, whatever bullshit you wanna . I-I think I needed it.” He said fondly. “I’m a little less likely to do donuts in a Blimmyjink parking lot these days.”

The TV hums quietly in the background and you take in the natural pause. 

You take his hand cautiously, admiring the fit of yours with his, the new polish on your nails. “Thank you for giving me your trust.”

He brings his palm to your cheek, and kisses your forehead.

[blackcatgreengrape]

pirate rick… someone get on that fanfiction STAT.

[ashustrashu]

Latex rick (placeholder name LOL)

Rick B-376 and morty G-528 designs.

These two have a somewhat coworker relationship but rick shows he care A LITTLE .

Also both this rick and morty moved into summer G-532 house after her rick and morty got killed during the collapse of the citadel .

[dark-tides-interdimensional]

Rick Master List

Intergalactic Asshole (5/5)

Rick stoops to new lows to get what he wants.… Rick Sanchez x YOU! 18+

Memory Lane (2/2)

You lose your memories and Rick comes up with an... ingenious way to try and get them back…. Rick Sanchez x YOU! 18+

The Butterfly Effect (4/5)

Your much needed alone time is gatecrashed by a post-adventure needy Rick…. Rick Sanchez x YOU! 18+

Grick’s Anatomy (2/?)

You're a nurse covering a shift and unfortunately for you, Rick is your last patient…. Rick Sanchez x YOU! 18+

A Gambling Man (3/3)

You and Rick make a bet…. Rick Sanchez x YOU! 18+

If You Let Me (one shot)

Birdperson finds Rick after a three day bender…. Rick Sanchez x BirdPerson! 18+

Down Where It’s Wetter (1/?)

Against Rick’s instruction you take a dip in the ocean. Chaos ensues…. Rick Sanchez x Mr Nimbus x YOU! 18+

Integrity (one shot)

A sad story about Rick and his bird…. Rick Sanchez x BirdPerson! 18+

Dimension Hoppers (one shot)

You wake up in the night needing a glass of water and stumble upon Ricks new side hustle…. Rick Sanchez x YOU! 18+

Fanart

Rick Prime Comic

Loneliest Man in the Universe

Yesterdays

Bad Santachez

[dontfuckingestablishcanonicalbac]

me + my wretched girlfriend who eats 27 joints a day and lovebombs my grandson till he leave me

(X-216 is from @thesoftboiledegg 's fics here)

[sadiecoocoo]

Someone please tell me that I’m not the only one who thinks that Rick would try to teach Morty how to play guitar or something and then Morty would join a band at some point but then end up being the drummer or back-up guitarist