*the muke fan that pops every few months to actually find the question I’ve sent since I always post the on anon* not to be a downer but the muke fic you’re planning will have mashton in it? ): because i hate reading muke with other 5sos pairings.
I assume you’re referring to this ask, in which I said that I was working on a muke story, sort of, but all I had finished was mashton?
Personally, I don’t really like stories in which one pairing becomes another (such as mashton becoming muke), because I am an impatient reader or I am afraid that I will like the initial pairing better than the endgame pairing. I don’t really tend to write them for roughly the same reasons. So the muke story isn’t that. (And, for the record, neither is the mashton one.)
Technically, the muke is unrelated to the mashton.
What I actually meant in that ask was I was(/am) working on something; however, the only part that I had done was mashton specific. There is more beyond mashton - muke, for example - but, at the time, mashton was the only part I even had started. Now, I can say with certainty that I have muke in progress… though I dunno really when I will finish it for reasons.
(Lemme be honest that one of those “reasons” is that I am working on stories outside of the 5sos fandom.)
But, with that being said, the muke piece is over halfway finished. I think. I am having such a blast working on it. Seriously. This is the most fun I have had working on a 5sos piece in a very, very long time, and I hope that you, as well as other readers, enjoy reading it even just a quarter of the amount that I have enjoyed writing it. :)
I really wanted keep this under the wraps because I love it so much, but, what the heck, here’s a snippet of the muke for you to chew on…
“You’re Michael of Clifford.”
The stranger—Michael—grinned.
“So you are smarter than you look.”
“Guess Calum left out that part?”
Michael hummed in his throat. Heran his tongue along his bottom lip, wetting it, as he considered Luke’s words.Luke found himself oddly entranced by the way Michael’s lip glistenedunderneath the dim lighting of the basement.
“Interesting. He was the one wholiked to tell me I won’t ever change.”
Luke said nothing. Partly, hedidn’t know what to say. The real reason—and he would deny this if anyone were to ask—was that he was still distracted byMichael’s lips.
Neither Ashton nor Calum hadmentioned how… attractive Michael of Clifford was.
“So, tell me, what does that statutefetch for these days? Froma good thiefspawn, I mean? Gotta be more than a couple hundred coin, or I can’timagine Calum would have sent you my direction.”
“Not to burst your bubble, butthere was surprisingly little information about this job,” said Luke. “Icouldn’t even get a straight answer out of Ashton as to why this was gonna beone hell of a sweep—and that’s almost verbatim, by the way. Straight from thehorse’s mouth, so to speak.”
Michael laughed again, like Lukehad told a good joke that Luke himself wasn’t privy to. He shook his head.
“Doesn’t matter how long I’m gone,”he said, mostly to himself. He looked back down at the pendent that rested atopthe collar of Luke’s armor, and he stared at it for a long time as if it heldall of the answers in the world. “Tell Calum that the sweep was nothing. Easy-peasy,if you will. Hell, tell him I wasn’t here. That there wasn’t even a sign thatI’d been here in ages. Whatever. Just don’t—”
He stopped. His eyes flashed toLuke’s and stayed there. It was suddenly, terrifyingly intimate, staring intoMichael’s eyes in the dim lighting of the musty basement with hardly a coupleof feet between them. Luke felt a rush of heat dance up through his cheeks.
“I’ll let you walk out of here,unscathed with that statute and my dead mother’s precious jewels, and you don’tbreathe a word of my being here, deal?”
Luke narrowed his eyes, even as thepouch with the stolen goods seemed like it now weighed an imperial ton. Lukedidn’t like to think about mothers, about those who died before their time,about those who had no choice but to let their children starve. He didn’t,because thinking about mothers made him think of that gods-forsaken tundra ofhis childhood and of the way that frozen, spoiled meat tasted two weeks pastthe last successful hunt.
“And what d’you get in return formy silence?”
The corners of Michael’s lipsquirked up, like he could go for a smile if this were any other situation, butit wasn’t. Luke was still very much trespassing upon Michael’s property andstealing Michael’s trinkets, and Michael was still very much in possession of asharp, deadly sword.
“For starters?” he asked, steppingforward with fire in his eyes and the quirk of his lips drawing even fartherupward. “This.”
Then—Michael’s lipscrashed against Luke’s, and it was like lightening danced between their mouths.
(Feel free to tell me what you think, if you’d like. ♥)
