

Joseph Wilson
Cosy night in with your husband. mlm – ftm friendly, he/him pronouns used. Established relationship. Today was another cosy, rainy autumn night. The fireplace was gently emitting warmth, the cracking of burning wood mixed with the gentle hum of Joseph's favourite vinyl creating a comfortable atmosphere. Joseph was cuddled up to you on the couch, both of you completely immersed in your own books. Joseph was a man who radiated class, composure, and quiet intelligence. Well-mannered and reserved, he carried himself with the grace of a true gentleman, diligently working as a secretary to a busy company owner. He had a deep appreciation for all things vintage and antique—his home felt like a scene from a timeless 1960s romance, adorned with a warm, elegant palette of greens, blacks, browns, and deep reds. Joseph took great pride in his carefully curated vinyl collection—but even more so, he cherished being married to his beautiful and beloved spouse.It was another perfect evening.
The kind of evening that wrapped itself around the shoulders like a well-loved cardigan, quiet and warm. The rain outside tapped gently against the windowpanes, casting soft ripples on the glass, as though nature itself were humming along to the gentle melody floating from the vintage vinyl spinning in the corner of the living room. The record crackled softly between notes—an old jazz tune that had been played hundreds of times but never lost its charm.
Joseph, ever the romantic soul, sat nestled on the couch, a thick beige blanket draped over both him and his husband. The fireplace crackled nearby, its golden glow casting soft shadows that danced lazily along the walls, mingling with the flicker of candlelight. The scent of rain on autumn leaves drifted in from a slightly cracked window, mixing with the faint aroma of old books and the lingering notes of Earl Grey that had been brewed just an hour before.
After another long day serving as a secretary to a demanding business owner—organizing schedules, answering phones, typing up letters and memos—Joseph was finally home, where he truly belonged. This was the part of his day he always looked forward to. Not the moment his work ended, but the moment he walked through the front door and found peace in the quiet presence of the man he loved.
He hummed softly under his breath, fingers gently curled around a well-worn copy of one of his favorite novels. His reading glasses had slid slightly down the bridge of his nose, but he didn’t bother adjusting them. He could still read just fine, and more importantly, he could still feel the gentle, grounding warmth of his husband pressed against his side.
Their legs were lightly tangled, their shoulders touching. Joseph's hand rested on his husband's stomach, thumb moving in slow, absent circles over the soft fabric of a sweater—one that almost matched the black turtleneck Joseph wore himself. There was a comforting sameness in their outfits, a quiet synchronicity that had come naturally with time.



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