Info - religious family, a little angst, fluff, oral (male receiving), a little bit sub/puppy Timothée, judgemental family, morning sex, purely French Timothée, mentions of very strict Christianity, moving quickly
Timothée was French, and not a devout Christian. This had put him on my family's shit list instantly. He also was someone I'd met online. That was another hit against his character apparently.
We'd been online friends for over a year by the time we met in person. I'd finally saved enough money for the vacation to France I'd dreamed of since I was wee. We had made plans to finally meet one another.
While online it had been friendly, face to face it was instant chemistry. I ended up cancelling half the plans I had because I wanted to spend all my time with him. We played video games, cooked desserts, moved onto card games and board games, we talked into the night, and went to a couple book stores and museums together. On the third day I asked if I could kiss him and it was all down hill from there.
We couldn't keep our hands off one another. It was constantly fucking and kissing and oral. We were on a lovers high. When I had to leave he was actually in tears. He said he never knew he could feel this way about someone. I'd had a small crush on him though he was my friend, but this meeting had turned everything electric.
I kept this all a secret from my family. I had fallen hook line and sinker for a man that was nothing like they'd expected for me. They knew I had an online friend from France, but they didn't know how close we truly were.
He'd come to visit me though he had a distaste for America. We ended up just spending the whole time together doing couple's shit. We'd blurted out at the same time that we were in love with each other and we'd made out for hours until we decided to make love all night.
Things got more serious. We were spending money all the time to see one another. One night in France he'd just said it. He'd asked me to marry him. I was shocked because he'd once expressed he didn't need nor particularly desire to get married. He said he couldn't be without me and he wanted me to be able to be with him and he with me in the same place.
It had come as an utter shock to my family when I told them I was married and moving to France. They'd helped me pack, while warning me the whole time. I didn't much care. I was ready to live with Timothée and be his. This would be our third year knowing one another and it all felt like a fairytale.
I'd always heard the first year of marriage was difficult. It hadn't been with my boy. We were clearly head over heels for one another.
I was so surprised by this man who had once claimed he never thought he'd be married. He told me he hadn't even had romantic feelings for me at first. It had all come gradually and had a beautiful crescendo.
However, when Christmas came along, I was invited back home. Timothée wanted to be with his parents and his sister, who he was very close to.
We made the hard decision that I was to return to America for a month. I was shocked when he cried at the airport and kept pulling me back in for kisses.
Now I'd been back in America for a bit. I missed him terribly. I was also rather fucking sick of all the comments. Before dinner my grandfather had prayed for the meal. He had thanked God that all his grandchildren had found a godly partner, except y/n.
I was appalled. I wasn't going to lie. He was all I needed to get through this. He'd texted me constantly, sent me pics, and updated me. He understood I was a bit down. He knew I loved my family but I really didn't get them sometimes. Oh well. I had my husband, and that made me giddy.
