Epic Mickey Blot Novels & Stories

The kind where standing in front of an open fridge pretending to be productive is the most I can manage. Half a sandwich. One sad tomato. A bottle of almond milk. I grab it. Just as I’m closing the fridge, a dramatic yell pierces the silence. “RUBY! Did you finish the almond milk again?!” Micah barrels into the kitchen shirtless, holding the empty carton like it’s crime scene evidence. His curls are wild, and he’s got one sock on like he sprinted halfway through getting dressed. “I didn’t finish it” I say, completely calm. “I just… finished drinking it.”

Mickey growled, pulling me up by my hair in a flash of speed so that neither Eddie nor Ace could take a shot. He didn't count on me punching him in the throat, though — something Danny had taught me. He stumbled back and a piece of advice Jericho had given me not too long ago came to mind. I grabbed Mickey's bald head and dug my thumbs into his eye sockets until blood dripped out. He tried fighting me off but I was running on adrenaline which helped me push through. The sound of shooting picked up again in the background but I kept my focus.

He looked cocky enough without me showing him how much I needed his scent. “I got a new one,” Mick appeared behind his brother with one of the blankets from their office in his hand. He lifted it to his nose and took a deep breath, then sighed. “Nice and fresh.” When Rodger was out of the room, taking the old blanket with him, Mick smirked while taking the ‘new’ blanket and intentionally wiping it against his crotch. As Jamie stood snickering in the doorway, Mick swiped the blanket over his brother’s crotch too.

Attached was a blurry image. Me. In the hotel room. Shirtless. With Micah.