#The Eurovision Confessions | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jamesmcalover · 25 days ago

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one blink and it's over

Hálfdán Helgi Matthíasson (Væb) x Reader

Warnings: slight angst, fluff!! i love him sm

Summary: During Eurovision week in Basel, a contestant from another country forms an unexpected connection with Hálfdán from Iceland’s Væb. What starts as playful flirting turns into something deeper as they share stolen moments, kisses, and quiet confessions. Though she fears it’s just a fleeting Eurovision fling.

a/n: this is so cute i almost threw up writing this

3.8k words - not proofread

There were too many people here. Too many sequins, too many camera angles, too many languages bouncing off the rafters of the St. Jakobshalle arena. And you had your own delegation to manage, your own interviews to nail, your own choreography to perfect.

But the blonde boy dressed in silver with the big rhinestoned glasses made himself hard to ignore.

Maybe it was the way he was always there, just loud enough to cut through the fog of nerves that hung around everyone else. He was never quiet, never still, but never annoying either. Somehow walking that impossible tightrope between chaotic and charismatic.

The first time you properly spoke was during a joint rehearsal walkthrough for camera angles. You were waiting for your turn, pacing near the catering table, half-focused on your own nerves. Væb had just finished their run, the five of them climbing off the stage, still catching their breath.

Hálfdán spotted you and beelined like a guided missile.

“You were mouthing the lyrics,” he said.

You blinked. “I wasn’t.”

“You were,” he insisted, eyes bright. “At the second chorus. Little bit. I saw.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Were you watching me instead of your camera cue?”

“Multitasking,” he said proudly.

You tried not to smile. You failed.

“Fine,” you said. “Maybe I like the song.”

“See,” he grinned. “We’re growing on people.”

You shook your head, amused despite yourself. “Do you always flirt with everyone who knows your lyrics?”

He tilted his head. “Only the ones who pretend not to.”

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of blushing, but something about the way he looked at you made it harder to keep your usual professional mask in place.

It wasn’t the last time he found you.

In the cafeteria. In the hallway after soundcheck. During that one press mixer where you’d both been corralled into a Eurovision-themed trivia game and ended up on the same team. He was quick and loud and fearless, and it should’ve been too much. But it wasn’t.

The flirting became a thing. Little comments. A lingering glance during a group photo. His arm brushing yours when you stood too close. You told yourself it was harmless. Eurovision week was always a fever dream. No one ever left this bubble with something real.

One night, after a long day of rehearsals, your delegation had gathered in the hotel bar. A few drinks in, you slipped outside for air and found him there too, leaning on the railing, hoodie pulled up, his usual glasses instead of rhinestones covered sunglasses tonight.

“You hiding?” you asked.

He turned, smile tugging at his mouth. “Maybe.”

You joined him. The Basel night air was cool against your skin.

“Your rehearsal looked solid,” you said. “You didn’t almost drop your glasses this time.”

“Progress,” he said. “In the final I will be like a pro.”

You chuckled. It was quiet for a moment.

“You’re good up there,” he said suddenly. “Like, annoyingly good.”

You glanced at him. “Thanks.”

“I mean it. You’ve got that… locked-in thing. Calm. Makes people pay attention.”

“You sure you’re not just saying that because I know your lyrics?”

He smirked, then grew a little more serious. “No. I just wanted to say it. Before everything goes completely insane.”

You knew what he meant. The semi-finals were around the corner. After that, everything would accelerate. Every moment would be captured, clipped, memed, shared. Then it would be over.

“I keep forgetting it’s not real,” you said quietly.

“What’s not?”

“This. Eurovision. This week. It’s like a dream, but with more laser shows and strobe lights.”

“Yeah,” he said, nudging your arm gently. “And maybe one or two people you actually want to remember.”

You looked at him.

For a second, there was no noise. No LED screens. Just him.

You didn’t say anything.

You didn’t need to.

───────────────────

It was supposed to be just a few minutes.

You’d followed him out onto the balcony behind the arena, the one technically reserved for accredited staff, but Hálfdán had grinned and said, “You’ve got a lanyard. That counts.”

The night air in Basel was cool against your skin after the heat of the lights and crowds inside. Below, the city sparkled. Neat and quiet, so different from the whirlwind behind you. Hálfdán leaned on the railing beside you, his shoulder brushing yours now and then, like he couldn’t quite stop moving, even when he was still.

“They’re gonna yell at us for sneaking out,” you said, watching him.

He smiled, then looked at you. “You can blame it on me. I’m very blameable.”

“Not a word.”

“Yet.” He nudged your arm with his. “I like it out here better. Don’t you?”

You didn’t answer immediately. The sounds of the river and the distant buzz of Eurovision still hung in the air, but this felt quieter. Not still, but slower. Like you could actually hear yourself think.

“I think I’m going to miss this,” you said finally, surprising yourself with the truth of it.

He turned toward you, just slightly. “The contest?”

“The chaos. The people... The feeling that something big is happening.”

Hálfdán was watching you. You could feel it.

You opened your mouth to say something else. To deflect, maybe, but he stepped a little closer. Just a gentle shift. He didn’t touch you, not yet. Just looked at you with that open, unwavering way of his. Like he didn’t mind being seen.

And then, quietly: “Can I?”

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want to. You did. You’d been thinking about it since the first rehearsal, since the first time he grinned at you like you were in on some secret.

But this wasn’t just a kiss. It was a promise you couldn’t make. Not really.

He must have seen something in your face, because he added, softer, “You don’t have to.”

You didn’t move for a second. Then you reached up, fingers light against the edge of his hoodie, anchoring yourself to something.

“I know,” you said. And then you kissed him.

It was slower than you expected. Less of a crash, more of a pull. Like gravity, like an answer to a question you hadn’t realized you’d been asking. He kissed you like someone who didn’t need to prove anything, who had nothing to rush. Like the moment was enough.

When you pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours.

You didn’t know what to say. Your heart was beating too fast, and your brain was already trying to catalogue the way he’d looked at you. Like he wanted it to mean something.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

Because Eurovision would end. The glitter would fade. You’d go home, and so would he.

And maybe this kiss was just a beautiful moment, tied to a stage and a spotlight and a city that didn’t belong to either of you.

He stepped back, finally, giving you space, but not distance.

“We should go back in,” you said, your voice quieter than usual.

“Yeah.” He didn’t move. Just smiled, a little softer than before. “But I’m glad we came out here first.”

You nodded, trying to keep your face neutral. Like your chest hadn’t just cracked open a little.

Because even if this was temporary, even if it was just an ESC fling like you feared, it was still real.

And that was going to make walking away so much harder.

────────────────────

The delegation lounge was buzzing. Rehearsals were done for the day, and people had started to loosen up. Shoes off, jackets unzipped, nerves temporarily tucked away behind empty coffee cups and half-eaten sandwiches. You were curled up at the edge of a couch, legs tucked under you, pretending to scroll your phone while trying not to stare across the room.

Hálfdán was mid-conversation with a couple of the Danish crew, animated as always, hands flying as he talked. He wore a hoodie now, rhinestones still decorating his pretty blue eyes, but the big black glasses were off. He was wearing his usual glasses now, which made his already big eyes appear even bigger and bluer. The look was casual, comfortable. Too comfortable, maybe, for someone who’d kissed you in on the balcony in the back and then grinned like he hadn’t just upended your entire sense of balance.

It had started with teasing. He’d made a comment about your staging, something about the dramatic lighting cue. You’d fired back. It had escalated. There had been laughter, and a pause, and a look. And then: his hand in yours, pulling you towards the back of the venue.

You weren’t sure what it had meant to him. You hadn’t talked about it. You didn’t want to ruin the bubble of it, not yet.

But now, watching him laugh like nothing had changed. Like that moment hadn’t left your heart stuck somewhere just below your throat. You were suddenly very aware of the countdown again. Eurovision wasn’t a real world. It was a two-week sugar high. What happened here didn’t follow normal rules.

Eventually, everyone left.

Eventually, the lounge thinned out. You hadn't noticed how long you had sat on the couch alone until someone turned off the overhead lights, leaving just the glow of a corner lamp and the soft flicker of LED strips along the bar. You didn’t notice Hálfdán slipping away from a conversation until he was standing in front of you.

“You’ve been hiding,” he said, hands in his pockets, voice lower now.

“Not hiding. Observing,” you said, even though it was kind of a lie.

He tilted his head, a little skeptical. Then he sat down next to you, knees brushing yours. The closeness felt easy, natural. That was part of the problem.

“You okay?” he asked after a second.

You hesitated. “Yeah. Just tired.”

He didn’t push. Just nodded, letting the quiet settle. You weren’t used to him being this calm. It threw you off.

“You looked like you were having fun,” you added after a moment.

He grinned. “I'm always having fun.”

His smile faded slowly, like he’d remembered something heavier.

“I was trying not to look at you,” he said, voice a little more careful.

You blinked. “Why?”

“Because when I do, I forget how to be normal,” he said, and then quickly added, “not that I’m great at that anyway.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

────────────────────

The green room was louder than ever. You’d stopped being able to hear your own heartbeat about five country announcements ago.

Two spots left.

You gripped the edge of the couch, knuckles white. Your delegation around you was trying to stay upbeat, but the tension was a living thing. Wrapping around your spine, pressing against your ribs. Every time Hazel or Sandra said, “The next country to qualify is…” your breath would catch, and then another country would be announced to qualify.

One spot left.

It wasn’t going to be you. Not this year.

You felt it settle in your chest like a weight. This quiet, awful acceptance that your time was up. That the months of planning and hoping and rehearsing had led you here, to a final camera shot of your team trying to clap politely while your insides folded in on themselves.

You didn’t even hear your country’s name, just your team and the stadium screaming. Someone grabbed your hand. The camera cut to your face and you tried to smile through the overwhelming rush of relief, disbelief, and something dangerously close to tears.

And then he was there.

Hálfdán.

He didn’t walk. He sprinted from the opposite side of the green room, past the Swedish sofa, around the Italian camera crew, dodging a boom mic and yelling your name like he was celebrating his own win.

You didn’t have time to process it before his arms were around you, lifting you clean off the floor in a dizzying, breathless spin. You squeaked as your feet left the ground.

“You did it!” he laughed, spinning you once, twice. “I knew it! I told you!”

You were laughing too now, breathless with it, holding on to him instinctively as the world whirled around you.

“Hálfdán put me down, I’m going to fall on live TV–”

“No chance,” he said, voice bright in your ear, before finally setting you down, hands warm on your waist to steady you.

Cameras were on you. Your delegation was cheering. You should’ve been thinking about the thousands of people watching, the clips that would be shared before midnight. But you weren’t.

You were thinking about how close he was. How his hands lingered on your hips a moment too long. How your heart hadn’t slowed down since he ran to you.

“You looked like you were about to throw up before they said it,” he teased gently.

“I felt like I was going to throw up.”

“But you didn’t. You’re in.”

You smiled, still slightly stunned. “We’re in.”

His grin softened, and for a second, it felt like the noise fell away.

“I’m really glad,” he said. “Really. I don’t want this to end yet.”

The implication sat between you for a moment. This, meaning Eurovision. This, meaning you.

You wanted to say something. Something light. Something safe. But all that came out was a quiet, shaky, “Me neither.”

The camera moved away. The moment should have ended.

But it didn’t.

Because when he looked at you then, it wasn’t like someone sharing a stage or a press line or even a kiss on a balcony. It was quieter than that.

And scarier.

Because you were starting to believe you’d miss him when it was over.

Really miss him.

Which meant you were in trouble.

────────────────────

The semi-final afterparty was everything you expected it to be and a little more chaotic.

The venue had been converted into a low-lit sea of LED strips and mirrorballs, with Eurovision bangers blasting from the speakers and performers from all over Europe dancing like tomorrow didn’t exist. Glitter clung to your arms like second skin, and someone had already spilled prosecco down your sleeve, but you barely noticed.

And somehow, through all the noise, you still knew where he was.

Hálfdán had been orbiting in and out of your vision all night. On the dance floor with Erika and his brother, singing into an empty beer bottle like it was a mic, getting handed Go-Jo's cowboy hat and not giving it back. He’d winked at you across the bar more than once, but he hadn’t come over. Not yet.

You weren’t sure if you wanted him to or not.

No, that was a lie. You did. You just didn’t know what it would mean.

You were sitting on the edge of a velvet bench, drink in hand, skin warm from dancing, when he finally appeared beside you, Hoodie unzipped, hair tousled, cheeks pink. His sparkly glasses were positioned on top of his head and he looked flushed and out of breath and almost too real for this surreal night.

“You’re a ghost,” he said dramatically, flopping down next to you. “I kept losing you in the fog machine.”

“You could’ve looked harder,” you said, teasing, but softer than usual.

He leaned in a little, voice warm in your ear. “I was afraid I’d find you kissing someone else.”

You snorted. “I’m not that fast.”

“I am,” he said. “Incredibly fast. Blink-and-you-miss-it fast.”

You looked at him. His grin was crooked. Confident. Stupid. Dangerous.

The music was too loud for thinking. Or maybe you were just too drunk for denial. Your heart had been beating too hard since the green room, and he was here now, close and warm and looking at you like he was trying to memorize you.

His expression shifted. Still smiling, but less performative now. Like he’d dropped something.

“I want to kiss you again,” he said, honest and simple.

“Then do it,” you said, almost without thinking.

You were drunk. You were exhausted. You were floating somewhere outside your own body, glitter-sticky and a little too warm.

But the second his mouth touched yours, everything dropped back into place.

He kissed you like he meant it. Like he remembered exactly how you’d tasted the first time. Like he’d thought about this moment in all the in-between silences. His hand came up to cradle your cheek, thumb brushing your skin with something impossibly gentle for a guy who’d just danced barefoot to his own backing track.

The kiss deepened slowly, lazily. There was no rush now. Not with the bass shaking the floor and laughter spinning around you in circles. It was just you and him and the bright hum of being wanted.

When he pulled back, breath hitching slightly, his forehead stayed pressed to yours.

“I keep thinking I’m going to wake up,” he said.

You kissed him again. Just once, softer this time.

────────────────────

Hours before the Grand Final, you were sitting backstage with your knees tucked to your chest, barely noticing the crew rushing past. The buzz was different now. Sharper. Cleaner. Everyone around you was running on adrenaline and sleep deprivation, and so were you. But something else had settled in your chest tonight.

It wasn’t stage fright. It wasn’t fear of failure.

It was the knowing that this was almost over.

You heard the footsteps before you saw him. Not rushed or loud, but deliberate. Familiar.

Hálfdán crouched in front of you, his glasses slightly fogged up from the heat backstage, hair a mess from where he’d tugged his hoodie off. He didn’t say anything right away. Just looked at you.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

You hesitated. “I don’t know.”

He sat down beside you without asking, one knee up, arm slung over it. “Is it the final?”

You shook your head. “Not just that.”

You glanced at him, chewing the inside of your cheek.

“I keep thinking… this ends tomorrow. And then we all go home. And I don’t know what that means for–” You stopped yourself. “For us.”

There. You said it.

Hálfdán didn’t flinch. He just turned, facing you more fully. The loudness he usually carried, his confidence, his chaos, his voice that filled roomy, it softened here. Like he understood that this needed something different.

“It won’t end,” he said simply.

You looked at him, unsure. “You say that now, but you don’t know how it’ll be. We’ll be in different countries living different lives.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding. “But I still know what I want. That doesn’t change just because the lights turn off tomorrow.”

He reached over, his fingers brushing yours, then lacing them together without forcing it.

“I’m not pretending this has been normal,” he said. “It’s Eurovision. It’s weird and loud and shiny. But you and me? That’s been the most real thing in it.”

Your chest ached.

“And if you want this after,” he added, “I do too. I’ll visit. I’ll call. I’ll do whatever. I’m not just saying that because we’re sleep-deprived and surrounded by LED screens.”

You laughed, half a breath, mostly relief.

“Okay,” you said quietly. “Then I want it too.”

He smiled, and it wasn’t one of his playful grins. It was something steadier. Something you wanted to believe in.

“Good,” he said. “Then let’s go survive the final. And then we figure out what’s next.”

────────────────────

Austria won.

You were happy for JJ, really. His song was clever and bold, and the crowd had gone wild. But once the flags stopped waving and the cameras turned off, the high began to settle into something quieter.

The afterparty was in full swing again, but this time you and Hálfdán slipped out early. Not because you were tired. Not really.

You ended up outside, walking aimlessly through the quiet parts of Basel near the river. The air was cool, your shoes in your hands, heels clicking against each other with every step.

Neither of you said anything for a while.

Eventually, you stopped near a bench. Sat down. He joined you, hoodie zipped halfway, fingers brushing against yours again.

“Feels weird that it’s over,” you said.

He nodded. “Yeah. Like we blinked and missed half of it.”

You looked at him. The way the city lights reflected off the water. The way his glasses caught a flicker of gold. The way he looked at you like this was only the beginning.

“I’m glad we had this,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want it to turn into one of those things that only ever existed here.”

“It won’t,” he said instantly. “You think I’m gonna go home and forget the person who sang my lyrics and pretended she didn’t?”

You laughed, eyes stinging for some reason.

He leaned closer, hands cupping your face. “I meant it, okay? About visiting. About calling. About you.”

You closed your eyes. Let the moment settle. Let yourself believe it.

And when he kissed you again, it wasn’t glittery or loud. It wasn’t born of adrenaline or stolen under stage lights. It was slower. His hands cradled your jaw, thumbs brushing over your cheeks as though memorising the shape of you, as though trying to hold this exact second in place.

He kissed you like he had time now. Like this wasn’t running out.

You melted into it, hands gripping the front of his hoodie, pulling him closer, anchoring yourself to something that didn’t feel fleeting. His lips were warm and soft and a little uncoordinated, like he was smiling into it. You were too.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you a little breathless but content. His glasses had fogged slightly and neither of you could stop grinning.

“God,” he said, voice low, rough, “you ruin me.”

You laughed into his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you in that familiar way, like you fit exactly where you were.

Later, back at the hotel, you traded hoodies in the hallway, your perfume clinging to his sleeves, his scent wrapped around you. You sat cross-legged on the floor of your room, sharing terrible 3 a.m. snacks from the minibar. Gummy bears, weird chocolate, a bag of chips neither of you could identify the flavor of.

There were maps open on your phones. Screenshots of budget flights. Notes with time differences and half-made plans.

“I’ll visit you in July,” he said, pointing at a weekend with a circle drawn around it.

“And I’ll come to you for New Year’s,” you promised, already picturing it. Fireworks, Reykjavík, him.

At some point, you moved to the bed, limbs tangled together, talking until your voices faded into murmurs and silences. He lay back with one arm behind his head, the other curled around you. You rested your cheek on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. Every so often, his fingers would trace lazy shapes along your spine, not even fully awake anymore.

Outside the window, the sound of distant laughter and music still drifted from the last of the Eurovision parties. The city buzzed quietly around you, but the room felt still. Peaceful. Yours.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

Part 2 <3

#eurovision fanfiction #eurovison 2025 #eurovision song contest #eurovision #esc #esc 2025 #esc25 #væb #vaeb #hálfdán #hálfdán helgi matthíasson #fanfiction #x reader #x you #fluff

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openwiindow · 21 days ago

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can i request something with kyle alessandro x reader, like her being his friend and always being there for him all the way to eurovision (they both have crush on each other but are too slow to realise it) 👉👈

pairing: Kyle Alessandro x fem!reader

You went with him as his support. Of course you did—you were his best friend after all. You were with him through every Eurovision journey this years. You were there when he was writing song to moment he won and qualified. You were there as best friends, and you knew that and you were so so happy that he brought you with him—but you wish that you were here for other reason, that you were here with him cause you were something more that just friends.

Now they both were in caffe bar—getting ready to go back to hotel. As they leave the caffe, you could feel it was getting a little cold as you walked more and more. Kyle noticed you shivering and went to take off his hoodie:

“You really don’t have to give me that.”you say as you softly and tiredly smile at him.

“Yes i know. But i want to give i to you. I don’t want you to get cold right before my performance. How could i survive out there without my biggest and favourite support?”

You slightly blushed at that but tried to keep your cool.

The walk back to the hotel was wrapped in a comfortable, familiar silence—just the soft sound of your footsteps and the occasional hush of passing cars. His hoodie hung around your shoulders, warm and a little oversized, carrying the scent of his cologne.

You stopped in front of your door.

“Well, this is me,” you say, voice soft as you turn to face him. Your fingers tighten around the sleeves of the hoodie, unsure what you’re hoping for—maybe a longer goodbye, maybe something else entirely.

He steps closer, pulling you into a gentle hug, arms lingering around you just a second longer than necessary.

“Goodnight,” he whispers against your hair.

You want to say it. That you care about him—more than you’re supposed to. That watching him live his dream was the proudest you’ve ever felt. That wearing his hoodie shouldn’t make your heart race, but it does.

But instead, you just whisper back, “Goodnight, Kyle.”

And the door closes too quietly behind you.

Kyle’s POV

I should’ve said more. I wanted to say more. I always do. But every time I see her looking at me with those eyes—the same ones that saw me at my worst and still stayed—I forget how to breathe, let alone confess.

Maybe after the performance. Maybe when I’m brave enough.

But tonight, her in my hoodie and that almost-smile she gave me… it felt like hope.

#esc x reader #kyle alessandro x reader #kyle alessandro #esc 2025 #eurovision imagines

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timewillpasssoon · 1 year ago

Text

NO ME QUEDA MÁS

pairing . Joost Klein x singer-gn! reader

content . you are addressed as 'reader', reader can be seen as male or female, mentions of unrequited love, jealousy, insecurities, suggestive mentions, making out, best friends to lovers, angst to fluff

summary . you find out that your crush of three years, Joost Klein, might have a girlfriend, you can't hold onto your feelings anymore.

word count . 2.7k words, 15,6k characters

author's note . i love Selena, i grew up with her music and this song is the bomb. i HAD to make a fic. wanted to make this pure angst but the angel on my shoulder said no. sorry for not uploading, gas leak in my house iususisjhs, also sorry to all the Jazlyns...

These past three years have been an agonizing struggle, concealing your true feelings in the depths of your heart. Having to pretend that you don't see him in a romantic light. During meet-ups with the friend group, you have act as if his light touches don't affect you, that they don't make you think of unspoken actions.

Despite knowing Joost for a decade, it's only recently, three years ago, that you've confronted your true feelings. The realization that your heart yearns for more than just a friendship with him shattered your view of Joost. You recalled of all the time where you dreamt of him. The way he loved you in those dreams made you squeal with excitement, though, you always remind yourself that those are just silly dreams. The weight of this secret is unbearable. No one can know of this, especially Joost.

A year ago, a new addition was made upon the friend circle you are apart of. Appie introduced her into the group, Jazlyn. She quickly found her place among the group, being welcomed with open arms by everyone, which included you. With each gathering from then on, the dynamic shifted, letting her in on the activities the group does. As precious time went by, everyone could see the slight bond between Jazlyn and Joost.

You got word that the two were hanging out privately within nine months of knowing her. There was an unwelcomed feeling in you, jealousy, which was brewing up inside you. The horrid feeling took root within your heart. The thought of Joost being with some else haunted you. When they were seen to have a moment together, shadows filled with doubt and insecurity casted over you.

They were seen as a cute match, flaunted as a picture perfect match. That ignited a volcano of emotion within you, a blend of rage and sorrow. You longed to be the one by his side, to be his perfect match. Yet the shards of your broken heart prevented you from vocalizing your feelings. Your silence was too haunting that Joost couldn't help but notice. He was accustomed to your endless support and enthusiasm, so when you kept to yourself for a few months, he sensed the complete switch.

The announcement of Joost's acceptance into Eurovision was exciting- thrilling. You were overjoyed with happiness, your heart filled with support. You were planning on congratulating him with a typical hug with words of support and love. But before you were able to, Jazlyn took the chance to lunged at him like a leech. She showered him with affection.

She held him in her grasp, not letting Joost go for what felt like two whole minutes, he didn't let go. You hoped he did, but he embraced her as well, pulling his right hand over her. Looking at everyone, then to you. Full eye contacted was made, Joost really could sense something was wrong.

That night, you made a conscious choice to retreat into silence, to shield your heart, sacrificing the warmth of his presence to protect yourself from further pain and heartbreak.

Your interactions with Joost reduced to mere small talk. Despite his much persistent attempts to figure out why you have been so detached, you would dismiss his worries by say, "I'm fine." Yet Joost remained suspicious, you're 'reassurance' was not much help.

You didn't have much courage to confess your feelings knowing something might be happening between Jazlyn and Joost.

You had nothing left other than to just cheer for the two.

All you can do is relegate yourself in the shadows, concealing the overbearing thoughts of Joost. Over the span of two lonely months, you had hope, deep in your soul, that one day he'll return to you- to stay with you. That hope slowly faded, the past two months passed breezily and there was still no confidence in you to speak your mind. Your heart having to play as if you only see him as a friend.

Within the complex code of your feelings, the realization settles in. That you played yourself a fool. You thought the love you had for Joost was to be reciprocated, but amongst more thoughts to yourself, it was truly just banter for Joost. All the jokes about being each others future every things were empty, sweet, nothings.

. year twenty thirteen

"What if I never find a boyfriend?" You say, chewing apart the gummy bear in your mouth into shreds. The scenery ahead of you two was quite beautiful. Joost and you were having a picnic in a near by park. He smiled, his eyes illuminated by the soft hues of the late afternoon. He was on your left, a light chuckles left his lips. "I'm sure you'll find someone charming and handsome, reader!"

"Someone like you?"

you joked, but now that you think back, it wasn't a joke.

He laugh at your quote-on-quote joke, his hands grabbing a gummy bear. "let's make a promise," He shifted to his right so he can fully face you, "If were are still single by the age of... thirty, we'll marry each other!" Your eyes widened, you heart beating a little more faster for some reason. Your hands shaking just a tiny bit.

"How did you come up with his promise?" You tilt your head to the right, your eyes locked with his. "I just want an excuse to be able to marry you." he pauses for your response, but your not quite sure if he's joking or not. He quickly laughed at his own joke so you can tell he wasn't serious.

Something in you wanted him to be serious.

"So?" Joost says, waiting for an answer. "Don't you think thirty is a bit young?" Joost nodded, his right hand placed on your left shoulder just now. "Fine~"

"If we are still single at thirty-five, we will marry each together!" He stuck his hand out, all his fingers down except for his pinky.

You reach for his pinky, interlocking yours with his.

"Alright!! Deal."

. year twenty twenty-four

Eurovision ended, it was an crazy event that was not at all fair. the whole time when Joost was in Sweden, he tried to text you everyday, yet you wouldn't respond. when you do reply, it would be excuses on why you haven't responded. saying that you're busy with producing your latest song, that you are at an event and so on.

Upon Joost's return to the Netherlands a week post-Eurovision, Appie and Stunje orchestrated a small gathering for everyone in the friend group to relax and celebrate the amazing achievement the three men achieved, despite the horrible treatment they got they stood tall. Reminding each other that making it to Eurovision was still a life long goal they had.

As you entered the restaurant selected by Appie and Stunje, the smell of delectable cuisines floated around the establishment lure your senses from the moment you stepped in. Approaching the hostess, you asked if there wads a reservation under the name of Joost. With a gracious smile, she directed your eyes to the spacious booth in the left side of you. You thanked her and walked to the circle booth. In the middle of the circle booth was Joost and Jazlyn, him being on Jazlyn's left side.

As you drew in a breath, a smile graced your lips. Sending a wave to your friends, commencing a exhale with a hint of nervousness. "Hey guys, sorry for being late!" You spoke up so they can hear you through out the other building's noises. Appie's grin enlarged upon your arrival. "No need for apologies, you're five minutes late tops!" He said cheerfully, as the others echoed their reassurances, Appie casually passed you a menu. "Order what you want." He encouraged you to get whatever delight you desired.

The gathering that was ensuing was a nice, relax one. Where everyone was sharing experiences and exchanges. Stunje, Appie, and Joost telling the group about the adventures they had in Sweden, beyond Eurovision. After that you eagerly said details about the latest and upcoming album in the making. The remaining in the group also recounted their own memorable adventures and enjoyed time from the preceding two months.

"To Joost!" exclaimed a friend, lifting their glass of liquor in a toast, prompting others to follow them. In unison, everyone raised their glasses, their voices saying, "To Joost!" With that announcement, they all partook in a sip, sealing the sentiment of celebration.

Some time has now past from the first shot of liquor, what seemed to be around an hour and a half of more and more talking and drinks. Throughout the event, you could feel a pair of eyes on your body. You looked at Joost a couple of times, often catching him staring at you, sometimes he wouldn't look away when you caught him. You often had to be the one looking away.

What was up with him? You think in your mind, the weight of his staring making you start to slouch in your seat. You weren't uncomfortable, you were more curious of why he would staring at you and not Jazlyn.

As the alcohol began to take its effect, the atmosphere grew increasingly relaxed, ushering in a wave of lighthearted banter.

Amidst the hangout, one friend, ventured into more intimate territory. "So, spill, Joost and Jazlyn," they teased, their curiosity peaking. "What really goes down when you guys are alone?"

When the question popped, Joost shifted in his seat, his eyes hovering over you and the friend. Jazlyn seemed to love the question, clearly into him as well. "That's a secret between us!" She exclaimed, hinting to something suggestive. Joost shook his head in defense at her as some quietly yelped an 'oooh'. "Nothing really happened, we accidentally stumbled on each other at a cafe." His defense silenced the people at the table, he soon turned his gaze at you.

An individual detected the palpable tension polluting the atmosphere and drifted the conversation towards more joyful topics. As the subject shifted, so did the collective mood, transitioning into a brighter one. However, despite the huge effort to uplift everyone, your countenance remained stone cold, a hint of heartbreak brewing beneath the surface. Despite your façade of a fake light smile, the searing ache of what really could've between them gnawed at your soul.

You found yourself stuck in your head and loathing- yearning for him still. The desire for his touch in places deemed inappropriate stirred in your head. You wanted him all over you, and you hated yourself for it. Similar thoughts were in Joost's mind, craving to feel your hands upon his body. He wished you were the one clinging on to him, not Jazlyn.

Unbeknownst to you, tears welled in your eyes until the ringtone of your phone jolted you back to the present moment. Hastily, you lowered your head to covert your face, also stealing a glance at who was calling, which was Bambie. With a shaky voice, you excused yourself from the table, "I need to take this…" The sadness in your voice betraying you. As you raised your head slightly, Joost's view revealed the glisten of tears in your eyes and the wetness of your left cheek. Rising from your chair, you swiftly answered the call and hurried out of the restaurant.

Your voice quivered slightly as you responded to the call, "Hello?" Stepping outside the establishment, you were met with Bambie's eager greeting, "Hey reader-!!!" However, their sentence trailed off as concern laced their voice. "What happened?" Bambie's voice dripped with worry, ears catching the shiver in your voice that hinted at tears.

"Nothing happened-"

"Do not say that! Tell me the truth."

You let out a resigned sigh, knowing that not answering Bambie's questions would be futile.

"It's just Joost. I need to get over him. Jazlyn is clearly into him, and he's probably reciprocates those feelings," The weight of unspoken emotions bearing down on you. Finding solace on a nearby bench along a secluded pathway, you continued,

"I've held these feelings for what feels like a lifetime, yet I've never found the courage to confess. Maybe if I had spoken up years ago… maybe then, I would have stood a chance."

The discourse extended for an additional eight minutes, during which Bambie provided comfort and support. Throughout, a mutual exchange of humor ignited shared laughter. As the conversation drew to a conclusion, Bambie's attention was diverted by another incoming call, ending the conversation with you short.

Once you ended the call, you sat by yourself. The scenery before you was beautiful. Despite the unwavering support offered by Bambie, your heart remained steadfast in its love for Joost.

The thoughts in your head circled back. there was still tears in your eyes. You sighed at looked at your lap, not noticing the person walking up to you.

"You okay?"

You looked up to see who was there.

Joost.

With a swift gesture, you brushed away the traces of your tears, composing yourself and assuming an upright posture. "Yeah, I'm fine," you uttered, averting your gaze from his eyes. In response, he emitted a soft sigh, removing his jacket as he sat next to you. Draping it around your shoulders, "What's really going on?" he persisted, his tone had a twinged with concern, prompting a deeper exploration of your underlying emotions.

"You've been weird since Jazlyn was invited in the friend group."

You rolled your eyes at his try to get you out of your shell. You didn't respond to him, "C'mon reader! Please, tell me..." Joost's voice was very whiny, that made you bite your lip. "Why do you want to know? Go back inside, it's your party after all... you should be there."

"It's not fun without you. I miss you." You look at his eyes, around three inches apart from each others lips.

"I just been busy. It's taken effect on me." You weren't really lying, you have been busy with your new album. Although, that's not the real reason why you were crying today.

"Be honest with me!" He begged you with deep whininess in his voice. "Please."

As you remained motionless, a palpable tension hung in the air, from the intensity of his gaze. His piercing blue eyes wants to see every contour of your body, as if seeking to unravel the deepest secrets of you, imbuing the moment with an undeniable sense of desire.

"We should go back inside." Your asserted dominate. Your stern voice made him widen his eyes for a bit, catching him off guard, before going back to his begging eyes. His fingers lingered to yours momentarily, it was his silent plea of more connection to one another. "I'm begging you reader," He stopped to catch his breath.

"Please, please, please. I won't judge you."

You still didn't have the confidence to confess, yet you were prepared to get rejected. "Joost, I have to confess something."

You breathe in and exhale lightly. "I like you- a lot. I liked you since the day I met you."

His demeanor softened perceptibly, a subtle shift that suggested a newfound sense of ease. "If you don't like me back, I understand-." He stopped you by grabbing your hand. "Can I kiss you?"

"h-huh?"

You stared at him like he was crazy, yet he was still waiting for an answer. "I like you too reader. Since the day we had that picnic... it felt like you've casted a spell on me."

"You remember the promise?" Your heart swelling from his confession. You intertwined your fingers with his, placing both of your guy's hands on your lap.

"Yeah. I was afraid you forgot about." You laugh at that joke. You? Forget that precious moment?

Never.

"Kiss me." You whispered, not having much confidence behind those two words. He smiled, pride and love in his face. In the hushed intimacy of the moment, you and Joost's eyes locked in a silent exchange of longing and anticipation.

He inched his face closer to yours, his free hand was placed on your chin. You couldn't wait any longer, not even a second more. You filled the gap between you, lunging your lips onto his. Your free hand on the back of his head.

Your two's lips met in a tender collision, a symphony of sensation that sent shivers down each person's spine. Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in the gentle exploration of each other's warmth.

Joost pulled away before coming back for seconds. The small kisses grew more urgent, more steamy. The two lost themselves in the passionate, heated make out session. Them wanting more, to take off the cloth that's covering the parts they want to see.

As they broke off the kiss, their chests rose and fell between seconds. They stared at each other, lust in there eyes, yet loved was the more massive feelings as of right now.

HAD TO CUT IT SHORT OF I WANTED TO FINISH IT. lowkey would've wrote 1k more if i didn't have a deadline for myself. take care guys

#joost klein #joost klein x reader #joost x reader #joost klein fanfic #joost klein fanfiction #joost klein fluff #joost klein x you #joost klein x fem reader #joost klein x male reader #joost klein x gn reader

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stochastique-blog · 2 months ago

Photo

Im Human

#eurovision #latvia #2008 #national final #triana park #confession

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just1cefor4ll · 17 days ago

Note

What do you think about Daniel x female reader who might be am Italian representative, maybe even sort of female version of Lucio?

—Danya Leshchynskyi with a Lucio Corsi type gf hc’s

do I see hearts in his eyes or is it just me??

low key makes those tik toks like he did w/ Lucio “searching for [Name] in Madrid”

you finally interact after the first semi-final where he comes to congratulate you

persuades you into singing his song and vice versa which he of course posts and gushes about in the caption

doesnt mind that you dont talk much, he takes it upon himself to talk enough for the two of you combined which you dont mind

^^defends you when someone tells you to speak up like how dare they

fans/photographers always see you together and theres so much fanart of you two its insane

^^danya reposts some of them (most of them being the ones where its very obvious the creator is shipping you) man is down bad

gives you sm merch that his brother has to tell him to stop so some is left for the others

sings the loudest during your grand final performance

after eurovision you stay in contact but due to distance hes afraid to confess and so he leaves his feelings be for a while

until you tell him you booked a flight to see him

he cries^^

you spend the whole week together and eventually he confesses (wrote you a letter in italian because he was learning it just for you)

now its your turn to cry^^

every month you visit each other for at least 2 weeks but after a few months you decide its best to move in together then going into debt because of plane tickets

you probably move in somewhere where both of you have a managable distance to visit family

loves to hear you speak italian

begs you to do the makeup you had in eurovision on him and then on yourself for pictures

teaches you ukranian and is so proud when you speak it to his family

you come to him with the idea of making a song together in both of your mother tongues which he accepts without hesitation

learns your favorite childhood song in your native language and surprises you with it during a livestream you do together

there’s a ‘viral’ joke with fans that you two are the “true winners” of Eurovision because you won each other :DD

we love this multi-cultural/bilingual couple right here<33

#⚖️just1cefor4ll #danya x reader #danya leshchynskyi x reader #danya leshchynskyi #eurovision x reader #eurovision requests #eurovision 2025 #eurovision 2025 x reader

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euroconfessions · 2 months ago

Text

suggested by anon ✉️

Send a link so I can add it in the post! Thank u 🤍

#basel 2025 #esc #esc 2025 #eurovision #eurovision 2025 #eurovision song contest #eurovision confessions #united by music #ziferblat #katarsis

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springgirlshowers · 11 months ago

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How about the reader and Joost are childhood friends that get split up, but reunite because Joost wants them to be apart of his eurovison team. They realize they miss eachother a lot and confess and happily ever after (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃

It’s So Sweet

Paring: Joost x GN!Reader (no pronouns used!)

CW: none!

A/N: ahhhhhh this one is so cuuuuuute! i love the childhood friends to lovers trope so much! thank you for the request and i hope you enjoy it <333

masterlist!

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Joost and you were never seen apart as kids. Always walking in the school hallways together, sitting and partnering up in the classes you had together. Constantly hanging out after school and on the weekends. You two were basically connected at the hip.

Until your family gave you the news you would be moving to Sweden. Something to do with a better job opportunity. You begged for them not to, to move somewhere where you currently were at least. Though you knew your pleas wouldn’t do much.

Before you left, Joost and you exchanged emails. To keep in touch while you two would be apart.

You did for awhile. But as you both got older, your emails to each other took longer. It would be weeks, months, before you replied to each other.

Until they just stopped completely. You two had gotten too caught up into your adulthood. You hadn’t returned to your hometown since you moved away.

Joost fell into a successful career as a musician. You getting yours as a dancer.

It’s been years since you and him talked.

Your heart nearly stopped once you saw the notification when you were on the bus after a rehearsal.

joostklein has requested to follow you.

His profile picture was a picture of him as a toddler. The one you’ve seen so many times before, hanging on the wall in his living room when you went over to hangout after school.

You looked through his account, he almost looked the exact same as he did when he was a preteen. Only his body was scattered in tattoos, he had grown a mustache, much taller, and his hair was dyed into a nearly white color and cut into a mullet.

His most recent posts were a reel revealing how he’d be representing the Netherlands in the next Eurovision competition, and another video revealing the date his song for the event would be released.

Minutes after you accepted the request and followed him back, he messaged you.

It was a simple question, asking if you were the same one he knew as a kid. You responded, telling him you were.

The texts following after that were a little bit awkward. Soon the tension between you both was gone, you told each about what you’ve been doing for the past years, how they’d gone, what you’ve been doing now.

After exchanging phone numbers, the texts turned into calls, then video chats.

You listened to his songs, almost going through every single one of his albums in one night.

You were surprised by a lot of the lyrics, by how the innocent boy with a side swept haircut you once knew, was now singing about having sex with women to a mario kart remixed beat and saying “suck my dick bitch” multiple times in another song.

You honestly found them catchy, however you realized they were better to listen to with earbuds in or alone, rather than in any public place.

However, the lyrics in other songs were more heart breaking. God, soul shattering even.

“Maybe it was wrong. But I miss us, I miss home.”

“My dad who was laying there, seen but no authority. We'll see by the days, we don't say goodbye. My mom who was laying there, I often think about that day.”

“Hey, I have a disease, it's a very specific one. I always panic and they have no therapies.”

“But still it hurts. Am running from myself. Cry the entire day for "help"

Joost would show you his tattoos, the ones he already had and the ones he wanted to get in the future, drawings he made, but he refused to show you the idea concepts for his Eurovision costume.

He told you he wanted it to be a surprise.

The day before he revealed his outfit to the rest of the world. He called you during a work break, telling you he had to show you something.

You opened the video call to see him standing there in a big bright blue suit with extremely pointy shoulders.

You felt bad when you let out a laugh, slapping your hand over your mouth to muffle it.

“You like it?” He asked, posing goofily.

“Yeah. It’s very…silly. Very big.” His grin only grew larger at your words.

“Perfect. That’s exactly what I was aiming for.” He smiled and sat down.

“So, your other friends, one of them is gonna dress up as a bird? And the other is gonna wear a clip on ponytail?”

“Yep!” He pipped. You just laughed and shook your head. He cleared his throat, his face on the screen looking nervous all of the sudden.

“So, you told me you still dance.”

“Yeah! I do group shows and stuff.” You nodded, placing your head on your fist.

“That’s great, very great. Um, do you still hakken?” You were a bit taken aback, confused by why he was asking about that specific dance.

“Uh yeah. But usually jokingly, like when I’m with friends.” You bit at your thumbnail. “Did you ever learn?”

“Yeah! I’ve gotten pretty good at it.” He chuckled, going silent for a minute after. “I’m wondering if you would perform with me, like on the stage. I need another back up dancer. And you’ve always been so talented at it.” His words made you blush, but you were still a bit unsure on what he was asking you.

“So, um, you want me to do the hakken dance with you? At your performance?” You felt nervous, when you did the dance you usually did it after a night of drinking to make your friends laugh.

“Only if you want to! I mean, we could meet up, I’m in Sweden now.”

“What?” You shouted, cringing at how loud it was.

“Yeah, i’ve been here to do interviews and all that stuff.” He scratched at his arms, a bit embarrassed he didn’t tell you earlier about this.

“You really don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” He spoke, “Its free of charge for you, you’ll get paid for it. If that persuades you.” He added on, joking.

“I’ll do it for free.” Maybe your answer was a bit too quick, maybe it was impulsive. But you really wanted to see Joost again, you’d jump at any chance you could see him.

The both of you agreed to meet up a few days later at a park not far from where you lived.

The park was quite empty, most likely due to the fact the sun was already going down, an orange gradient filling the sky.

You nervously walked up to him, he was sitting on a bench. He looked so familiar yet so different. It gave you a strange sense of nostalgia.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” He immediately grinned as he saw you. You sat down next to him.

The sunset cast a golden glow on his face, making his blue eyes so much more prominent, his face was so gorgeous.

“So you’ll really dance with me?”

“Yeah, why not.” You shrugged, completely unbothered by his question.

“You’ll be on a giant stage in front of thousands of people. You’ll be on TV with the entirety of Europe watching.” Joost felt nervous, he didn’t want to pressure you into doing this, he really wanted you to be there with himz But he wasn’t gonna force you into something you had no interest for.

“I’ve never been one for stage fright.” You smiled, the sweetness in your expression made his worries begin to drift away.

“Perfect.” He looked down at his feet, smiling so hard his cheeks begin to hurt, “I’ll text you the schedules and everything you need to know.”

“Cool.” You looked down at your shoes as well. Enjoying the comfortable silence and soft breeze of the air.

“I really missed you.” He spoke out, added your name to the sentence, making it more impacting. You looked at him, jaw ajar in admiration.

“I missed you too.” You said softly, placing your hand over his. Soon wrapping it around his. You both sat there for a few minutes like that.

“I’ve been thinking of moving back.” You broke the silence. “To the Netherlands, that is.”

“Really?” Joost looked at you, a mixture of amazement and shock in his face.

“Yeah. A company reached out to me, giving me a job opportunity. Really good pay, positive reviews, a safe workplace.” It felt funny, you were thinking about coming back to your hometown for the same reason your family made you leave.

“That’s great! You should take it!”

“I probably will. It seems promising.” You squeezed his hand. “And it’d be nice to be close to you again.” You added on, pursing your lips to try and hold back a smile, it failed.

“Yeah, yeah, that would be nice.” He murmured,“Um, I should get going, early TV interviews tomorrow.”

You nodded, getting up before he did.

“Just text me what channel you’ll be on, i’ll make sure to watch for you.” You said, a little bit too excitedly.

“Yeah, yeah, I will! I’ll see you later.” He chuckled.

“I’ll be in the Netherlands in a month most likely, just so you know. See you, Joost.” You turned, only getting a few steps in before his voice stopped you, causing you look back at him.

“There’s this really great ice cream parlor that opened up there, maybe we could, uh, go there when you’re back, if you’d like?” He cleared his throat.

“I’ll be going back in a month too, just for a little bit before I have to come here again.” He fiddled with his fingers.

“Awesome then, it’s a date.”

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#joost klein fanfic #joost klein x reader #joost klein #joost klein x gn!reader #joost klein x fem!reader #joost x reader #joost x you #joost klein x you

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