Micheal afton x reader oneshots

Old together

The golden hues of sunset painted the sky as Michael and I sat on our porch, weathered but content. The years had etched lines on our faces, and our hands bore the story of a lifetime intertwined. Together, we embraced the simplicity of our days in this quaint house that had become a haven for our shared memories.

"Remember when we first moved here?" Michael said, his voice carrying the weight of years filled with joy and challenges.

I chuckled, a flood of nostalgia washing over me. "The walls were bare, and we had to figure out where to put everything. It feels like a lifetime ago."

Our gaze wandered to the photo album resting on the small table between us. A collection of moments frozen in time, each picture a testament to the journey we'd traveled together.

As we flipped through the pages, the younger versions of ourselves stared back, capturing moments from the early days of our relationship—weddings, birthdays, the births of our children. The laughter and tears embedded in those photographs spoke of a life well-lived.

"Do you remember our first dance?" Michael asked, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

"How could I forget? You stepped on my toes a couple of times, but we laughed through the entire song."

Our laughter echoed through the quiet evening, a melody that had accompanied us through the ups and downs.

In our old couple routine, each day held a simple beauty. Breakfasts were shared moments of quiet companionship, the aroma of coffee mingling with the comfort of familiar routines. We strolled through the neighborhood, hand in hand, greeting neighbors who had become friends over the years.

"Look at those kids playing in the park. Reminds me of our own little ones," Michael observed, his gaze lingering on the scene.

"They've grown so fast, haven't they?" I replied, a mix of pride and wistfulness in my voice.

Our home, once filled with the clamor of children, now embraced a quieter ambiance. Yet, the walls seemed to resonate with the echoes of laughter and the warmth of family gatherings that had shaped our past.

As the day unfolded, we found ourselves immersed in familiar activities—tending to the garden that had seen generations of flowers bloom, settling into our favorite chairs to read side by side, and sharing stories of the past.

The memories flowed effortlessly, a tapestry of shared experiences woven through the fabric of time. We recalled the challenges that strengthened our bond, the triumphs that filled our hearts with joy, and the quiet moments that spoke volumes without the need for words.

"I'm grateful for every moment, every season we've weathered together," Michael said, his gaze fixed on the setting sun.

"Me too," I whispered, reaching for his hand. "We've built a life full of love."

As night descended, we retreated inside, the coziness of our home cocooning us in warmth. The soft glow of lamplight danced on the walls, casting shadows that seemed to tell stories of a lifetime.

As we settled into our well-worn armchairs, Michael reached for the old acoustic guitar that had been a silent witness to our journey. Its strings hummed with the melodies of days gone by, and together, we sang songs that held the essence of our love.

In the quiet moments before sleep, I traced the lines on Michael's face with a tenderness that spoke of years of familiarity. The room, filled with the soft cadence of our breathing, was a sanctuary—a testament to a love that had weathered the storms and emerged stronger.