pairings. model!manon x f!reader
synopsis. you and manon have been together long enough that it doesn’t feel like a secret anymore, even if the world doesn’t know.
warning. 18+. fluff. romantic tension. kissing. secret dating. jealousy (mild). emotional intimacy. soft angst.
manon didn’t knock when she came in. she never did anymore. she pushed the door open with her shoulder, juggling her phone between her ear and cheek, her voice low and polite in that public-facing way that made you roll your eyes even before you saw her.
“yeah, mm-hm… send it to my manager,” she said, pacing two small steps into your apartment before the door swung shut behind her with a soft click. she exhaled quietly, already tugging the phone away from her face. “no, not tonight. i’m off tonight.” a pause. her jaw tightened slightly. “i said i’m off.”
she ended the call without another word and stood there for a second, shoulders rising and falling as she took a slow breath, eyes closing briefly like she was shedding a layer of herself right there in your hallway.
you were at the kitchen counter, half-leaning against it, stirring pasta that had already been done for five minutes. you watched her over the rim of your glass.
“diva,” you said flatly, though the corner of your mouth twitched.
her eyes opened slowly. she looked at you. really looked at you. and the stiffness in her posture softened almost instantly.
“hi,” she said, quieter now. softer. she slipped her heels off with the back of her foot, bending slightly to kick them neatly to the side before rolling her shoulders like she was physically dropping the weight of the day.
“hi,” you replied, trying to keep your tone neutral and failing when your voice came out warmer than intended.
she walked toward you slowly, unzipping the fitted jacket she’d been wearing for whatever brand event she’d just crawled out of. her fingers moved carefully, almost lazily, like she was exhausted but refusing to show it. she shrugged it off and draped it over the back of a chair, smoothing the fabric once as if muscle memory demanded it.
“you made dinner?” she asked, stepping closer. her eyes flicked to the stove, then back to you. she rested her hip lightly against the counter beside you, close enough that the side of her thigh brushed yours.
“don’t sound so shocked,” you muttered, picking up the spoon again even though you didn’t need to. “i cook.”
“i didn’t say you don’t.” she tilted her head slightly, studying your face, her gaze slow and deliberate. “you’re just usually dramatic about it.”
she hummed softly, pressing her lips together to hide a smile.
the silence stretched for a second. comfortable, almost. but there was something under it. something you hadn’t quite let go of yet.
her hand slid across the counter slowly until her fingers brushed yours. not grabbing. not demanding. just touching.
“what?” she asked gently, her brows lifting just slightly as she leaned in closer, her shoulder pressing into your arm.
“that wasn’t nothing.” she leaned down a little, angling her face to catch your eye when you looked away. “you’re blinking too much y/n.”
you scoffed quietly. “i do not blink too much.”
“you do when you’re pretending you’re not annoyed.”
you set the spoon down a little harder than necessary and crossed your arms, your elbow brushing her ribs in the process.
“mm,” she murmured, unconvinced. she reached up and brushed a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, her fingertips grazing your skin just enough to make your stomach tighten. she let her hand linger there for half a second longer than casual. “so the man at the event didn’t bother you huh.”
her lips curved just faintly.
“he was touching your waist,” you said finally, staring at the stovetop like it had personally offended you.
she blinked once. twice. then she let out the softest, breathiest laugh, shaking her head slightly as if she couldn’t believe you were serious.
“you’re unbelievable,” she muttered fondly.
you turned to look at her fully now, eyes narrowing slightly. “i’m not jealous.”
she leaned forward, forearms resting against the counter on either side of you, effectively caging you in without being obvious about it. her face dipped closer to yours, her voice dropping an inch lower.
“you are,” she said quietly, almost like she was testing the word.
you swallowed, your eyes flicking briefly to her mouth before you forced yourself to look back up.
“i just don’t like watching people act like they can have you,” you admitted, softer now.
something in her expression shifted immediately.
her hand slid from the counter to your waist, fingers resting there carefully. she didn’t squeeze. she didn’t pull you closer. she just held you there.
“they can’t,” she said simply.
“they get to see you all the time.”
“they see a version of me,” she corrected gently. “they see the one that stands where she’s told and smiles when she’s told and laughs at jokes that aren’t funny, but come on.”
her thumb traced a slow, absent line against your side through the fabric of your shirt.
“you see this,” she continued, nudging her forehead lightly against yours. “you see me tired. you see me annoyed. you see me take my makeup off and complain about my feet.”
you huffed quietly despite yourself.
the word hung between you.
your fingers instinctively curled into the front of her shirt, gripping lightly.
“it doesn’t feel like it sometimes,” you whispered.
she pulled back just enough to look at you properly, her brows drawing together. her hand slid up from your waist to your jaw, cupping it gently but firmly, forcing you to meet her eyes.
“us,” you admitted, your voice barely steady. “it feels like we only exist in your apartment. or mine. behind doors.”
her expression softened in a way that made your chest ache.
she exhaled slowly, her thumb brushing back and forth against your cheekbone.
“you think i don’t want to show you off?” she asked quietly.
she searched your face like she was trying to read something written in small print.
“i don’t keep you a secret because i’m ashamed,” she said carefully. “i keep you private because people ruin things they touch.”
her hand slipped from your jaw down to your neck, fingers resting there gently, her thumb pressing lightly against the pulse point beneath your skin.
“i don’t want them picking you apart,” she continued. “i don’t want strangers thinking they know you y/n.”
“but sometimes it feels like you belong to everyone,” you said.
she shook her head immediately, stepping closer until your bodies were fully pressed together, your back lightly hitting the counter.
“i don’t,” she insisted, her voice low and steady. “i come here. i choose to be here.”
her other hand slid up to rest on your hip, fingers spreading slightly as if to anchor herself.
“i leave events early to come here,” she added, her nose brushing yours. “i ignore messages to be here.”
your breath hitched when her lips hovered just a fraction away from yours.
“and you think some random model with good pay, and shit changes that?”
her eyes narrowed playfully, but her hand tightened ever so slightly at your hip.
you laughed softly, the sound small but genuine.
she watched your mouth when you did.
and then, slower this time, she leaned in and kissed you.
her lips pressed against yours gently at first, testing, as if giving you space to pull away if you wanted to. when you didn’t. when you leaned into her instead, she exhaled quietly against your mouth.
her hand slid from your neck into your hair, fingers threading carefully through it, holding you there in a way that felt intimate but not overwhelming.
you kissed her back a little deeper.
she made the softest sound in her throat, almost a hum. and her other hand tightened slightly at your waist, pulling you closer until there wasn’t even an inch of space between you.
when she pulled back, her forehead rested against yours again.
“i don’t belong to everyone,” she whispered, her breath warm against your lips. “i belong to you, remember?”
your hands slid up her arms slowly, feeling the subtle tension there, the tiredness from posing all day.
“really?” you asked quietly.
she kissed you again. slower this time, softer, like she was sealing something unspoken between you.
and when she finally pulled away, brushing her thumb gently over your slightly swollen bottom lip, she smiled faintly.
“next time you’re jealous,” she murmured, her eyes warm and steady on yours, “just say you want me closer.”
your cheeks warmed immediately.
she laughed softly, the sound low and fond, before leaning down and pressing one more lingering kiss to your mouth. unhurried, affectionate, certain.
and this time, when she wrapped her arms around you and tucked her face into your neck, you didn’t feel like a secret.
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