welcome to zoyetâs little side of tumblr đđ your source for zoya lott x monet de haan works during zoyet week(s) and every other day! just trying to keep our girls alive {looking at hbomax directly} tracking #zoyetweek
I don't post on here much but I thought I share a few of my Zoyet (Zoya X Monet) Fanfics on here.
The Girl is Mine
After a luxurious summer in Europe, Monet returns to school and aligns herself with her best friend Luna in a feud against their former friend Julien.
All while maintaining her distance from Zoya after ending their summer romance.Â
Word Count - 13K
Twist of Fate
Monet let out a mocking laugh. âThatâs rich. Zoya, please spare us the humble act. You may be a model now, but you are certainly no actress.â
âWell, at least I can hold my liquor,â Zoya teased, hinting at Monetâs notorious attitude after a few drinks.
or, After a terrible breakup, Zoya and Monet attend Julien's Bachelorette party
Word Count - 47K
Masks Off
Zoya secretly attends a masquerade ball and shares a passionate kiss with a mysterious girl. To her surprise, the mystery girl turns out to be her former tormentor, Monet de Haan.
While in Dumbo Hall, Zoya found herself overcome with boredom. She couldn't help but wish she had remained at home, resisting Julien's persuasive efforts to join in for a "girls" night out. Standing at the bar, she impatiently awaited the drinks that Julien had insisted she orders, all the while observing Julien engrossed in a small photoshoot using Luna's phone working on her angles.
Amidst her anticipation, Monet entered the scene, and Zoya's heart seemed to momentarily cease its beat. A history between Zoya and Monet remained hidden from prying eyes, a secret romance growing since Friendsgiving's fateful night. When Zoya discovered the shocking revelation of Obie and Julien's affair. That same night she left her apartment to keep her distance from Julien and found herself at Dumbo Hall. As the pieces of her world unraveled, she found solace at the bar, where Monet, too sought refuge. With the allure of alcohol, they bonded over shared experiences of familial complexities. They ended the night in a hotel room where they let their inhibitions go and shared a night of passion. From that very night, an unforeseen connection had formed, leading to a series of secretive rendezvous for weeks.
Initially, their connection had been purely physical, devoid of emotional entanglements. However, time and proximity had conspired, causing Zoya's sentiments to shift. The very person who had once been her tormentor had unexpectedly become the object of her affection. Zoya wanted to tell her she was falling in love with her but knew confessing it to Monet would only push her away. Expressing emotions was something Monet consistently avoided, and she was aware that disclosing her love would likely follow the same pattern.
Monet had walked in with her latest hairstyle, vibrant red hair with bangs. From the very first moment, Zoya laid eyes on Monet, she believed that Monet was the most beautiful person she had ever seen. There was not a single day where Zoya didn't feel like Monet's beauty took her breath away. However, seeing Monet flaunt this new luminous appearance sparked something within her. The coloring of Monet's hair brought to mind characters like Ariel from "The Little Mermaid" and Mary Jane from her favorite comic book and superhero of Spider-Man.
As Zoya watched Monet approach, she offered Monet a drink. "I got this for you, knowing you'd show up," Zoya admitted, a slight smile on her lips.
Accepting the drink, Monet playfully remarked, "Stalking me now, are we lil Z?" Playing into the appearance of not being friends, and proceeded to savor her martini. Monet's gaze shifted towards Zoya, who found herself unable to look away. "What is it?" Monet asks, her irritation evident.
Drawing strength from her drink, Zoya mustered the words she could. Nervously, she muttered, "Monet, you're my MJ," finally allowing her feelings for Monet to see the light of day.
Monet appeared puzzled, prompting her to ask, "What is an 'MJ'?"
Zoya sighed and playfully rolled her eyes, realizing she shouldn't have anticipated Monet to grasp the comic book reference. "Forget it. Let's join Julien," she suggested, reaching for the remaining drinks from the bartender.
*****
At school, Monet claimed her usual spot at the table where she and her friends would gather. While she waited for them to arrive, she took a moment to respond to a "good morning" text from Zoya that she had inadvertently overlooked earlier in the day as she had been preoccupied with getting ready for school.
Following, Aki skated up to the same table and hopped off his skateboard before taking a seat. "Hey, Monet," he greeted, his attention immediately drawn to her vibrant red hair. A warm smile spread across his face. "I like your hair."
Monet offered a gracious nod in response. "Hey, Aki. Thanks. I wanted to try something new."
He nodded in understanding. "I get it," he remarked, gesturing towards his pink buzzcut. "Trying something new can be fun, and it suits you. Reminds me of MJ."
"Mary Jane?" Aki offered with simplicity. "She's Spider-Man's girlfriend? She is the love of his life, his everything."
Monet was taken aback, a sudden realization dawning upon her as she grasped the analogy and the intent behind Zoya's words. Zoya, in her nerdy way, revealed her genuine emotions. Referring to Monet as her "MJ" was Zoya's clever way of confessing that Monet was the person she cherished most, the love of her life.
"I've got to find Zoya," Monet declared, swiftly rising from her seat at the table and scanning the surroundings. Observing Julien's presence at school, Monet guessed that Zoya must also be around. She walked over to Julien. "Have you seen Zoya?" she asked urgently, to which Julien shook her head, implying no. Monet then resumed her quest through the school premises.
Her eyes then caught sight of Zoya at a table on the far side of the courtyard, engrossed in a book and sitting alone. Monet's voice rang out across the open space as she shouted, "ZOYA!" Without hesitation, she rushed toward her, closing the distance between them.
A hint of fear appeared on Zoya's face as Monet approached. Her mind raced, thoughts spiraling with worries like, "Did we get caught?â âIs she about to break up with me?" "Is she here to criticize or humiliate me?" Zoya mustered her nerves and asked, "What is it, Monet?"
A smile began to grace Monet's lips as she looked at Zoya. "I want to be your MJ," she uttered. Zoya's face changed from nervousness to confusion as she responded, "You...wha-"
Monet's actions cut off Zoya's words as she softly cups her cheek. Leaning in, she pressed her lips against Zoya's in a tender, unabashed kiss that speaks volumes of their connection. No longer concerned about the observers around them.
Zoya is taken aback by Monet's bold move. However, she is pleasantly surprised and finds herself reciprocating the kiss.
Monet pulls back from the kiss, their eyes locking in a moment of pure bliss and realization.
Monet is Zoya's Mary Jane. She is the love of her life, her everything.
Can you do fluff with Zoya and Monet De Haan? Maybe an annversity date?
lemon and lavender, zoyet
pairing - monet de haan x zoya lott
summary - a small look into domestic zoyet and their third anniversary
warnings - none, just pure, unadulterated fluff
word count - 1,263
Monet woke up to an empty bed and the smell of a fresh latte on her side table. She could feel sunlight warming her skin through the windows. Sighing, she pulled the mask off her face as she sat up, letting her legs hang on the side of the bed.
She stood up, not one for lollygagging, grabbed the mug from her side table, and switched off the mug warmer it was on. The postcard that rested beside it read, âwent to the library early today, youâll do the same someday. Iâll see you tomorrow night, beautiful.â
Monet smiled, softly, at the rhyming and the small xo next to the nickname she had been rewarded with at the beginning of their relationship. Zoya had been dedicated to writing rhymes to help her side project a short story written completely with rhythmic poetry. The fact that they were untrue wasnât important to her.
Her handwriting had evolved over the years from the use of different writing utensils. More cursive-like from the prolonged use of fountain pens on parchment to create the love letters she wrote for Monet on random occasions that now inhabited an empty shoebox in the back of her closet.
With a relaxed demeanor, she grabbed the postcard, a rather faded one from the 90s that Zoya had found on some website in a set of 150, and put it into the drawer of her side table along with the other 37⊠from this set.
Sunlight flooded the coupleâs home through the four large windows that took up most of the east wall, except the small floor to ceilings bookshelves bordering them, of their Soho loft. The purple drapes that covered them through the night were open and cluttered against the sides of them.
Scattered across the coffee table in the parlor was Monetâs late-night endeavor. While Zoya woke early, Monet stayed up late and the same could be said for the night before. She had spent hours pouring over fashion magazines looking at their flaws, things they exceeded in, and trends while Zoya slept peacefully in their bed.
Their respective ambitions rarely gave them free time together. Even now, Zoya had left before Monet had even awoken to get a jump on her work and that was something Monet could respect, but still, they were in a relationship, and even with two people who had similar work schedules and found it easy to spend time together.
Relationships took work.
Even more work for two people with as much ambition and devotion to their future as Zoya and Monet.
This year Zoya had an internship at the New York Times which mostly considered running errands, getting coffee, and editing the occasional atrociously written article. Monet had heard the lengths of their incompetence during their rarely shared dinner of pasta and wine on the couch (she never thought she could laugh that much). And almost all the spare time she had gone to the creation of her own personal writings.
She was going to make her mark in the world of literature if she had to work herself to the bone to do it. Monet respected that and loved her even more for it.
Monet, on the other hand, was currently interning at Burberry. Her duties were buying textiles, assisting with sewing, pattern making, and helping with brand promotion. Rolls of fabric that she had stumbled through the door with three days ago still stood in a corner of their parlor. Zoya helped her bring it over the threshold with muffled laughter at her disgruntled look and a spoon in her mouth. She was making her rounds in the fashion world and learning the weaknesses of various brands.
While Monet had fallen in love that didnât change her mentality. She would one day be at the top. Editor-in-chief of her own magazine running the fashion world⊠with Zoya by her side making her mark in literature.
But, even with their demanding ambitions, the two managed to make time for each other, if only, by scheduling weeks in advance.
While Zoya showed she still loved and cared for her with a morning latte and postcards and love letters. Monet showed her with lunch sent to her job for her coworkers because âconnections are needed, sunflower,â and âI love you.â
Fresh bouquets of chocolate cosmos were placed on the parlor room table in the dark of night, clashing with their decor, with a card that only had Monetâs lip print in whatever color she had worn that day, and short stories were read, criticized constructively and as thoroughly as possible as many times as needed for the most impeccable finished product.
But right then, she needed to get to work.
The next morning, Monet awoke to a latte with a heart made in the art on top and a new postcard that simply read, âMy love for will continue to grow until the day weâre both wrinkled and old. Happy anniversary, beautiful. Iâll see you tonight,â with another xo written.
While Monet had managed to get the day off Zoya didnât and wouldnât be home until later that night giving her time to prepare for their anniversary, or rather, receive the deliveries.
Monet smiled and put it into the drawer with the rest before walking down the hallway and into the parlor with her latte in her hand. Scattered all over the coffee table were pages of Zoyaâs play all marked with the red pen she edited with and notes in the margins written in black.
The strong smell of lemon and lavender drew her to the kitchen where she found a plate of lemon-lavender scones and a container full of large chocolate chip cookies with more dough than chips just like she liked them.
Her day had just started and Zoya was hitting it out of the park. She would be too when Zoyaâs lunch was delivered with her charm bracelet. She had bought a personalized literary charm bracelet with charms of six of her favorite books and one extra of a mock-up cover she created for one of Zoyaâs short stories.
Monet sat her latte down on the bar when a knock sounded on the door.
This was shaping up to be a great third anniversary.
When Zoya walked through the door of their home Monet greeted her with a chaste kiss, took the bags from her hands, and immediately shuffled her toward their room for a shower and to put on her leisure wear. The past two anniversaries they had gone out to dinners and specific locales but all Zoya wanted to do this year was to stay in, eat, relax in comfortable clothes, exchange gifts, and spend quality time with her girlfriend.
And Monet granted her request without hesitation.
âIâve missed you,â Zoya whispered, her head lying in her girlfriendâs lap. Monetâs right hand ran over her hair with a light touch. âSo much.â
âIâve missed you, too, sunflower.â
âWhat if I donât want to be loved? Love only exposes you to trouble,â Monet once said with Lunaâs comforting presence by her side and neon lights shining down upon her.
But if trouble was a fresh latte in the morning, postcards and love letters written out of nothing but pure adoration and respect, short stories written with a character that always seemed to have something that was distinctly her in them, dinners shared on their couch in the dark of night, the lingering smell of lemon and lavender around their home and in their sheets.
Monet would gladly weather the storm.
shadow spiels!
first time writing zoyet! also, i know i cut the celebration short but i felt like that scene flowed well with the ending.
blakekathryn
janainaart
tangentwithtanner
germansingergirl
kaledo-art
