#zeyneva

it’s hot when you’re going through hell — zeynep sönmez/eva lys, zeynep sönmez/alexandra eala.

teen and up audiences, no archive warnings apply, f/f, tennis rpf, english, 3k words, one shot.

WTA, abu dhabi open 2026, indian wells 2026, jealousy, texting, guilt.

goodbye zeyneva matching kits

OH THIS IS SO CUTE.

It had been a few months since Eva had moved into her new home—thousands of miles from where she grew up—and somehow, she didn’t expect adjustment to be this hard. First, she’d done this move solo, which, though an achievement on its own, made it all the more difficult to get out of the house and start feeling comfortable here. There was nobody she could lean on, nobody to egg her on to keep her moving and remind her how necessary a reset could be.

Every day, she’d wake up and have to press the same thought into her head: Eva, remember. You did this for a reason. But maybe she was naive. She was freshly twenty-three. Twenty-three year olds don’t always make great decisions.

And yet, she was here. She did the damn thing, as foolish as it seemed when she was feeling lonely or anxious. She couldn’t stand just being holed up in her apartment all the time, even if her work didn’t require exploring the city day in and day out. She could write anywhere, really, but that didn’t make for great work, either. Her first real journalism job post-grad—at the Women’s Tennis Association, no less—was, for all intents and purposes, her dream job. She was still in the beginning stages of it, so it wasn’t like she was being sent across the globe to cover tournaments, not yet anyway. But that didn’t mean she was exempt from writing actually good, interesting pieces. She wanted to do her job well. Yes, watching enough tennis to write consistently about the tour took lots of time. But not all of her time. She knew that achieving her goals meant getting comfortable with her new home. Making connections. Getting to know people. It would make her happier, better.

So, Eva started with the library. Truthfully, it was a place that always made her feel comfortable, being surrounded by books, but it was a step in the right direction. Sure, a better step would’ve been on a tennis court, but she was taking one thing at a time.

When first Eva spotted a posting about a local book club meeting weekly—with her arms piled high with books on various subjects—she felt it was a sign. It would be a nice avenue to meet people in her community, and through discussing a shared interest, it was low-pressure way to form some friendships outside of the coworkers she was slowly getting to know.

The first few meetings—despite Eva’s nerves—went smoothly. The club seemed to range in ages, from those a few years younger than her to adults in their mid-to-late fifties. The cohort also tended to range in size. Although their membership was into the double digits, not all their meetings were as well-attended as one would’ve hoped.

One day in particular Eva walked into the designated conference room where meetings were held and, with a few quick glances passing over the whole room, spotted only one additional party sat at one of the tables. It was a woman seemingly her own age, with fluffy brown hair pulled back from her face into a tight ponytail.

Once the girl turned to face Eva and caught her eye, she smiled, setting Eva’s nerves at ease.

“It’s just you here?” Eva asked, scanning the room again as she made her way over to the table the woman was sitting at.

“I think so.” The stranger cracked a grin, seemingly relieved at Eva’s presence and humor over the circumstances.

“I’m Zeynep.” Zeynep’s eyes were warm. It made Eva feel better, too.

“Eva.”

“I think I recognize you. I know we hadn’t introduced ourselves, but you attended some of the last meetings, right?”

“Yes, I have.” Eva smiled sheepishly, her face flushing lowly. “I’m sorry I don’t remember you.” There were lots of new faces to take in over the past couple weeks, although now she was surprised Zeynep’s didn’t stick in her mind.

“No worries. Seriously.”

Eva leaned over the table now, unburdening her arms from both the bag slung over her shoulder and a container she was carrying with both hands. She sat down with a huff and brushed some stray hair from her eyes.

Zeynep’s eyes darted to the box between them. “You made something?”

“Yeah—I thought there would be more people to share it with.” The two looked over again at the empty room around them and smiled at one another.

“What is it?” Zeynep asked curiously.

Eva opened the container wordlessly, revealing a simple but clearly carefully decorated fruit tart. The fruits were arranged meticulously, even if it wasn’t as flashy as other desserts could be.

“It looks beautiful!” Zeynep looked back up at her. “And you made this yourself?”

Eva nodded, slightly proud of herself. It did take some time, but it was worth it to her if she could share something handmade with a group. Unfortunately, there was only the two of them to share it, but at least there was someone else there to enjoy it.

“Wow.” Her eyes widened. “I’m impressed.”

“Would you like some? I mean, maybe while we discuss, or after, or…” Eva didn’t want to be too pushy. But Zeynep seemed to take it in stride, able to ease Eva’s tendency to overthink things.

“How about while we discuss?” Eva liked how convicted Zeynep seemed, how easily she could make up her mind, but not asserting herself in any way other than was clearly just her sharing her thoughts.

“That’s perfect. I have plenty of thoughts about this chapter.”

“Me too. Although, I read ahead a little bit.” Zeynep chuckled.

Eva’s heart lightened once more. She had a good feeling about all this.

—

When the two concluded their discussion—which, admittedly, derailed into a million directions, including getting to know one another in between servings of the fruit tart and sips of coffee—the room was still ringing with chatter between the two women. Eva learned that Zeynep was in fact her age, and that she’d lived here ever since she’d started University, so she was now quite familiar with the city. Zeynep, in fact, also played tennis, which Eva had to conceal her enthusiasm over. Zeynep was smart and very driven, she learned, as she was considering going to graduate school in a couple of years. She was also very funny, and receptive to Eva’s weird sense of humor. Basically, the perfect person to meet and form a connection with living somewhere new.

As Eva approached the door, suddenly Zeynep pressed something into her palm. “I know we’ll see each other again, obviously, but—my phone number. In case you wanted it. If you ever want to text me, I can show you some of my favorite places around here, we can just go for a walk or grab a drink, whatever.”

Eva grinned at her, and she could see Zeynep’s shoulders soften with relief.

EVA LYS

Via Instagram posts — @/eva.lys: ily a millie (say it back)