jamesmcalover

[jamesmcalover]

hey so....

i'm actually not okay

[jamesmcalover]

COMEBACK OF THE CENTURY YES MAAM!!

HEHEHEHEH i'm so happy to be back!!

i probably won't be posting every day but i'll try my best to slowly get back into writing so u finally have sth to read again😋😋😋

[jamesmcalover]

WE ARE SO BACK!!!!

hello lovely people!! i hope u didn't miss me too much😋

the wedding was so amazing & i've had so much fun BUT reality kicked in & i was reminded i'm still a uni student💔💔💔

i have to turn in my bachelor thesis by monday wth😔😔

BUT ILL BE POSTING MORE AFTER IM DONE!!!!😭😭😭

ily all sm thank you for your kind messages💘

[jamesmcalover]

Hálfdán having a rough day during Eurovision and coming back to the hotel in the middle of the day because he’s so tired and reader is looking around for him just for him to be sound asleep in his hotel room

- I LOVE your work also feel free to make changes if you’d like !!

too tired to be loud

Hálfdán Helgi Matthíasson (VÆB) x Reader

Warnings: none

a/n: a VERY short & cute one for my comeback

380 words

You’ve asked three people and circled the venue twice. No one’s seen him.

Which is weird, because Hálfdán is never hard to spot. Loud voice, wild hand gestures, a laugh that echoes down entire hallways. He doesn’t exactly blend in. But today? Nothing. He missed press rounds, skipped the crew lunch, and left his phone in the dressing room.

Something’s off.

You try not to overthink it as you leave the venue and head back toward the hotel. Maybe he just needed air. Or quiet. Though, knowing him, “quiet” usually means humming Eurovision entries or italian brainrot in the elevator until someone begs him to stop.

The receptionist barely glances up as you head toward the elevator. Everyone knows you’re with the Icelandic delegation by now. Or at least, they know you’re with him.

You knock on his room door softly at first. No answer.

Then a bit louder. Still nothing.

You hesitate, then try the handle.

Unlocked.

You poke your head in. “Hálfdán?”

The room is dim, curtains pulled closed against the afternoon sun. The air is still, quiet… and then you spot him.

Face-down on the bed, one arm hanging off the side, shoes still on. Asleep.

His sunglasses are tossed on the nightstand, his hoodie half-off like he gave up halfway through removing it. You can hear his breathing, deep, steady, the kind that only comes from complete exhaustion.

Something in your chest softens.

You step inside, carefully shutting the door behind you. You don’t want to wake him, but you do want to check if he’s okay. You sit down gently on the edge of the bed, just far enough not to disturb him.

Then, after a moment, you brush a bit of his messy hair away from his face. His lashes twitch, but he doesn’t stir.

You whisper, just in case he’s halfway awake. “You should’ve told someone you were leaving.”

A pause. Nothing.

You lean back a little, watching his shoulders rise and fall.

“Everyone’s been looking for you,” you add quietly. “I was looking for you.”

Still nothing.

Then, very faintly, he mumbles into the pillow. “You found me.”

You blink. He doesn’t open his eyes, but his lips tug into the smallest, sleepiest smile.

Your heart does something ridiculous.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I did.”

[jamesmcalover]

hi!! i won't be posting for a few days bc my brother is getting married & my whole family is visiting & there's just so much going on😭😭💔

dw i'll be writing soon again!! xx

[jamesmcalover]

did u watch halfdans stream last night? it was so adorable!! his last victory royale of being 21 🥹🥹🥹 and the chess game before that..... hes so 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

i didn't watch it fully bc i was tired asf but it was so cute!!! i love him sm😭😭

[jamesmcalover]

birthday surprise

Hálfdán Helgi Matthíasson (VÆB) x Reader

Warnings: fluff, alcohol

Summary: birthday surprise party for the twins

a/n: in honour of big væb's birthday, i wanted to write something quick & cute, hope you enjoy!! xx

1.5k words

You could feel the energy crackling like static in the small venue as you and Matti finished stringing up the last of the twinkling fairy lights. It was warm, the low ceiling and soft light turning the rented space into something almost magical. A pile of balloons sat in the corner, and a table was loaded with cake and all of Hálfdán and Hjördis’ favorite treats.

Úlla was setting up a small stage with a microphone for a karaoke session later, while Baldwin and Ola fussed over the drink table, trying to make sure there was something for everyone. Matti, who had been buzzing around like an excited puppy all evening, stopped next to you with a wide grin. “They’re going to lose it,” he said, his eyes gleaming. “Hálfdán and Hjördis think we’re just meeting for drinks at a bar!”

You nodded, your own excitement making your chest feel light. “It’s going to be perfect,” you said. “They’ll be so surprised.”

You checked your phone again, your fingers tapping restlessly against the screen. Sirry had sent you a quick update: We’re almost there! She was out “grabbing drinks” with the twins, the perfect distraction to keep them from guessing anything.

In the meantime, you and everyone else huddled in the cozy glow of the room. Matti was bouncing on his heels, barely able to contain his excitement. Úlla was fussing over the cupcakes one last time, carefully straightening the little birthday candles, then shot you a thumbs-up.

The room smelled like cake and laughter already, the faint music of mostly VÆB’s own songs playing softly in the background. You felt your heart race in your chest, a warm, almost giddy anticipation building.

Finally, you heard footsteps outside the door. A murmur of voices, Hálfdán’s unmistakable voice, playful and warm. “Sirry, why are we stopping here? This isn’t–”

The door creaked open. Hálfdán’s face appeared first, his brows knitting in confusion as he took in the darkened room. Hjördis was right behind him, peeking over his shoulder, her expression a mixture of suspicion and amusement.

“SURPRISE!” everyone shouted, the room erupting in cheers and laughter. The fairy lights flickered on fully, confetti bursting above their heads in a cascade of color.

Hálfdán’s jaw dropped, his blue eyes going wide in pure shock. Hjördis let out a bright laugh, her hand flying to her mouth as she took in the scene. Matti was already bounding forward, sweeping them both into a hug before they could even react, his laughter ringing out over the music.

You watched, your heart swelling, as the confusion melted from their faces and was replaced by pure joy.

“You guys–” Hálfdán started, but before he could say another word, Matti was already bounding forward like a golden retriever on a sugar high, his grin so wide it threatened to split his face in two. He threw his arms around both twins in a huge hug, nearly knocking them backward.

Hjördis let out a squeal, her laughter ringing out as she hugged Matti back. Hálfdán’s eyes crinkled with laughter, his confusion melting away into pure joy as he wrapped his arms around them too. Their laughter mingled in the air, warm and infectious, and you felt a thrill of relief that it was all coming together perfectly.

Sirry and Úlla swooped in next, armed with sparkly party hats and glittery paper crowns. “Happy birthday, you two!” Sirry sang out, placing a crown on Hjördis’ head before perching a bright blue hat onto Hálfdán’s messy hair. Úlla added a boa around Hálfdán’s shoulders, winking at him as she did.

Hálfdán finally turned to you, his grin as bright as the twinkling lights overhead. “You knew about this?” he asked, mock accusing, though his eyes were dancing with excitement.

You shrugged, trying to keep your cool as you fought back a beaming smile. “Maybe it was my idea,” you said softly. “Happy birthday, both of you.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, his smile softening, then he stepped forward and pulled you into a hug. His arms were warm and solid around you, his laughter still humming in his chest. “This is amazing,” he murmured, his voice so close to your ear that it made your heart skip a beat. “Thank you.”

You hugged him back just as tightly, the warmth of the room and the happiness in his voice wrapping around you like a blanket. “You’re welcome,” you whispered, your own smile impossibly wide. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Someone turned the music up, and suddenly Róa was blasting cheerfully through the speakers. The lively melody filled the room, and you could practically feel the beat in your chest. Hjördis wasted no time, she grabbed Sirry’s hands with a gleeful squeal, pulling her in for a makeshift dance right there in the middle of the room. They twirled and giggled, their laughter rising above the music, the flickering lights turning them into a blur of color and movement.

Meanwhile, Hálfdán made a beeline for the drinks table, where Úlla was already busy lining up shot glasses. “We’re not doing anything small tonight!” Úlla declared, grinning as she handed Hálfdán the bottle of schnapps. He flashed her a playful wink and took over, pouring out shots with exaggerated care, his concentration making everyone around them laugh.

You watched as he moved easily between friends, slipping shot glasses into waiting hands, always with that bright smile that made it impossible not to smile back. Every time he caught your eye, he shot you a big grin, as if to say This is perfect.

By the time he reached you with your own shot, the music had shifted into the chorus, and everyone was singing along. He clinked his glass against yours with a mischievous grin, and you both knocked them back together. The sharp burn of the schnapps only added to the glow in your cheeks, and when Hálfdán’s laughter bubbled out, you found yourself laughing right along with him.

But as the party swirled around you, the music a little lower now, you found yourself slipping away from the crowd, needing a moment to catch your breath. Hálfdán seemed to notice at the same time. He sidled up beside you, his grin a little softer than before, his blue eyes twinkling in the fairy lights.

“Hey,” he said, gently bumping his shoulder against yours.

“Hey yourself,” you replied, a little breathless. “Having a good time?”

He let out a quiet laugh. “Best birthday I could’ve imagined.” He hesitated, then leaned in a bit closer, his voice warm and sincere. “Really. Thank you for all of this. I don’t even have words.”

You felt your heart flutter at the earnestness in his voice. “You don’t have to thank me,” you said. “You deserve a night like this. Just to feel how much everyone loves you.”

He smiled then, and it was softer, almost shy in its warmth. “It’s… it’s more than I expected,” he admitted. “I’m used to the big shows, the chaos onstage, but–” His hand gestured around the room, where his friends and family laughed and danced, where Hjördis and Matti were belting out a chorus together at the top of their lungs. “This is different. And you made it happen.”

Before you could answer, he reached out and took your hand, his thumb tracing slow, easy circles against your skin. “You’re amazing,” he murmured. “Thank you for being here.”

For a moment, the music and laughter faded around you. It was just the two of you, standing there, close enough to feel his warmth and see the spark in his eyes. You squeezed his hand, feeling your own cheeks warm. “Happy birthday, Hálfdán.” you said softly.

He gave your hand another gentle squeeze, his smile turning a little bashful as he looked down at where your fingers were intertwined. Then, almost like he couldn’t help himself, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek.

“Can I–?” he started, his voice hushed, eyes searching yours.

You felt your heart skip a beat, and you nodded, your own smile growing. “Yeah,” you whispered back.

He let out a tiny breath of relief, then closed the space between you, his lips brushing yours in the softest, sweetest kiss. It was a gentle press at first, a question rather than a demand, and you answered by leaning in just a little bit more, your hand curling around his wrist.

When he pulled back, his grin was bright and a little breathless, like he couldn’t quite believe it had happened. “Best birthday ever” he said smiling, and you laughed softly, leaning in for another quick kiss, just because you could.

[jamesmcalover]

imagine halfdan and stem gf

like she's doing homework or something and he tries to be supportive and help but sees the exercises and dies inside

numbers & nonsense

Hálfdán Helgi Matthíasson (Væb) x Reader

Warnings: maths, physics

a/n: very short one bc i was busy today sorry xx also, i was pretty bad at maths & physics in school so forgive me if anything's wrong😔

478 words - not proofread

The room was quiet except for the soft scratching of your pen across the page. You were sprawled across the table, deep in the middle of some impossibly dense physics homework, your brow furrowed in concentration. Hálfdán was perched nearby, watching you with an almost reverent curiosity, like you were an alien life form that had somehow decided to study him instead.

“Sæta,” he said softly, leaning over your shoulder. “You’ve been at this for hours. Don’t you want to take a break?”

You shook your head without even looking up. “I can’t,” you mumbled. “If I stop now, I’ll lose my momentum.”

Hálfdán made a small, sympathetic noise, shifting a little closer so he could peek at what you were working on. “Can I help at all?” he asked, his voice hopeful. “Or at least keep you company?”

You paused, your pen hovering above the page. “You can try,” you said, your lips twitching at the challenge. “But fair warning, it’s a bit of a mess.”

He nodded solemnly and leaned in. You watched him as his eyes scanned the equations, his eyebrows drawing together almost immediately. A second later, he let out a small, strangled laugh. “What… what even is this?” he asked, tapping the page with a finger. “I see numbers and squiggles and… I’m pretty sure this one’s a cat, somehow?”

You burst out laughing, shaking your head. “It’s not that bad,” you said, though you had to admit the page did look like a secret code to anyone who wasn’t knee-deep in STEM work.

Hálfdán squinted at the lines of variables and integrals. “Okay, but this–” he pointed at an integral sign that stretched half the page “This just killed me. It’s so… long. And curvy. Why is it curvy?”

You reached out and patted his hand gently. “It’s calculus,” you said, as if that explained everything.

“Calculus,” he repeated, his tone somewhere between awe and horror. “I thought I was good at math, but this… this is another world. I’ll cheer from the sidelines.”

You leaned over and kissed his cheek, your own laughter fading into a fond smile. “That’s all I need,” you said. “Just someone to keep me from losing my mind.”

He grinned back at you, eyes bright. “You’ve got it,” he said, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I’ll make sure you get snacks and water and moral support. And I’ll try not to faint every time I look at those math monsters.”

“Deal,” you said, your heart full as you turned back to the page. And true to his word, he stayed there with you, humming little melodies under his breath, every so often making a face at your notes and saying, “Still can’t believe you understand this,” with so much admiration that it made the whole mountain of homework feel just a little less impossible.

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

a/n: re-reading this i kinda made him too stupid i think😭

[jamesmcalover]

Finished worst plus one last night and honestly I am in awe

I haven't properly read a fic in a while,, I've been struggling to find good oneshots in other fandoms,, never mind multiple parts,,

And I just randomly stumbled across this a few days ago when looking at Hálfdán stuff and now I'm just obsessed

You not only made me want to read again and satisfied an urge,, but you have inspired me to write again too (which is bad timing as it uni exam season rn lmaoo)

Anyways,, I just wanted to let you know you're wonderful and tysm 💞💖🌸✨️🤭🫶😍✨️🐛

wtf thank you sm!!?😭😭 that is so cute & i'm so happy i could motivate you!! ily!!!💘💘💘

[jamesmcalover]

Your writing is so good! Please continue writing for hálfdán💕💗

thank you, i will!!!💘💘💘

[jamesmcalover]

ily all & ur requests buttt i'm not really comfortable writing actual smut for real people, sorryy!!💔

[jamesmcalover]

ughhhh i love your writing it always makes my day!! 🙂‍↕️🩷

uhm just kiss me atp???? thank you!!💘

[jamesmcalover]

not an ask but love your fics queen esp worst plus one like TALENTTT never stop writing pls

THANK YOU!!!😭💘

[jamesmcalover]

thinking of writing something for lukas/katarsis but i'm not sure yet

i feel kinda weird writing for people who are in relationships idkidk

[jamesmcalover]

picture perfect

Hálfdán Helgi Matthíasson (Væb) x Reader

Warnings: fluff, pretty unrealistic but cute

Summary: based on a dream i had in which i met Hálfdán on my break at work

1.5k words

You didn’t expect anything special on your break at work today. In fact, you were counting the minutes until your thirty minutes of freedom would let you step outside for a breath of fresh air. It was one of those long, slow shifts that seemed to drag on forever, the coffee machine hissing in the background and the steady clatter of plates starting to blend into white noise. The air inside felt warm and heavy, so when the time finally came, you practically bolted out of the door.

But as soon as you pushed open the door of the small café, your feet skidded to a halt, and you stopped dead in your tracks.

There, leaning against the railing just outside, was Hálfdán from VÆB. He was hard to miss, even when he wasn't wearing his silver outfit.

Tall, broad-shouldered, his signature sparkly sunglasses sitting on his nose, and that slightly wild hair tousled in a way that seemed effortless. Even from a distance, you could see the bright, almost boyish smile lighting up his face as he talked animatedly into his phone, his accent as unmistakable as his laughter. Sunlight caught in the messy strands of his hair, and it took a moment for your brain to process what you were seeing.

For a moment, you just stared, your thoughts stumbling over themselves like a record skipping on repeat. Hálfdán. Right here, in front of you. The same guy whose performances you’d watched on YouTube late at night, who’d seemed so impossibly out of reach on a stage filled with lights and energy.

And now he was leaning on the railing outside your work, dressed in a loose denim jacket over a white shirt and baggy pants that swayed a little in the breeze. The phone in his hand was held at just the right angle, and every now and then, he broke into that bright, infectious laughter that carried across the pavement. His free hand gestured wildly as he spoke to the camera, his whole body language so open and warm that you almost felt like you were watching someone you already knew.

Your stomach fluttered, and you realized your heart was pounding in your chest, thumping in time with the music that still played in the café behind you. You’d dreamed of moments like this, but dreams were easier to prepare for. Real life didn’t give you time to practice.

You took a deep breath, your fingers brushing against the doorframe as you stepped out onto the pavement. The air felt cooler outside, the scent of roasted coffee beans and city traffic mixing around you. Hálfdán didn’t notice you at first, he was focused on the phone, his smile so genuine it made you smile back without even realizing it.

You took a deep breath and walked up to him, feeling your heart thudding against your ribs. He was livestreaming, you realized as you got closer, talking to his fans in his thick Icelandic accent that made every word sound so warm.

“Hi,” you said, your voice a little breathless your palms damp with nerves. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but... could we take a picture together?”

You saw the moment your words registered with him. His eyes widened slightly in surprise before his grin grew even bigger, lighting up his whole face. “Yes, of course!” he said, still holding his phone in one hand. “I’m just streaming, but we can do some pictures together.”

He angled the phone toward you for his livestream, his voice still bright with excitement. “Look who I met! She asked for a picture! Let’s give her lots of pictures!”

Then he turned his face back to you, his grin turning a little playful. “But only if you promise to vote for Iceland,” he said, his tone teasing and warm, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You couldn’t help but laugh, your nerves easing under his playful tone. “Of course!” you said, your voice a little breathless but sure. “How could I not?”

He gave a triumphant little nod, his grin even bigger. “Good answer,” he said.

You felt your face go hot with a mix of nerves and excitement as he pulled you in close for a selfie. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, his laughter ringing in your ears as he shifted to find the best light.

“Another one,” he said, grinning. “More. One with a silly face. Come on, make a silly face with me!”

You couldn’t help but giggle as he leaned in closer, pulling a face so silly it made your own laughter bubble up without warning. His tongue stuck out between his teeth in a playful grin, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. You followed along, feeling a rush of happiness when he burst out laughing. You felt your heart skip, warmth flooding your chest as his laughter wrapped around you like a melody you wanted to hear again and again.

Then he did something you didn’t expect at all. Hálfdán shifted his grip, his arm slipping around your waist as he pulled you even closer. He was so close you could feel the warmth of his chest against your back, his chin coming to rest lightly on your shoulder. You could smell the faint, clean scent of his cologne, and it made your head spin in the best way.

He held your phone up high with his other hand, tilting the screen so you both fit into the frame. You caught your reflection in the glass for just a moment, your cheeks flushed with excitement, your eyes bright with laughter, and then he snapped the picture. His arm tightened around you in a gentle squeeze, and you couldn’t help but lean back against him, your smile growing even wider.

It felt so natural, so easy, like you’d known him longer than just these few minutes. Even as he pulled back slightly to check the picture, you could still feel the warmth of his touch, a lingering heat that left you feeling breathless and a little giddy.

“Okay, last one,” he said, though the spark of excitement in his eyes told you he was having just as much fun as you were. “I want to remember this moment, too.” His smile was so wide and genuine, it made your chest feel like it might burst.

You nodded, your own grin refusing to fade. He lifted his own phone this time, livestream ended long ago, and leaned in close, his head touching yours lightly, the sun catching in his messy hair. For a second, you wished the moment could freeze right there, the world narrowing to just the two of you and the laughter bubbling in your chest.

When he finally lowered the phone and slipped it back into his pocket, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. “Thank you,” you said softly, your voice a little breathless but warm.

“Are you on your break?” he asked, his eyes still crinkling with that easy smile. “I was about to get some food. Do you want to come with me?”

For a second, the question caught you off guard, like a switch flipping from a dream into real life. You blinked, your mind racing to catch up, but you didn’t want to miss a second of this. “Uh– sure!” you managed, your cheeks flushed but your grin brighter than ever.

His smile widened even more, if that was possible. “Perfect,” he said, his voice low and full of that familiar, lilting excitement. “Let’s go.”

So you walked down the street together, falling into an easy rhythm that felt almost surreal. Your nerves slowly melted away as you found yourself telling him about your job at the café, how you spent your breaks dreaming about traveling the way he was doing now. Hálfdán listened with genuine interest, his eyes locked on yours as he asked questions and made little jokes that had you laughing out loud.

He shared stories about his journey. How he and Matti kept accidentally kept forgetting the most important stuff, like how he once forgot his glasses right before a show. His energy was infectious, his laughter coming so easily that you couldn’t help but match it, your cheeks warm from both the walk and the excitement of being there with him.

When you finally reached a little food stand tucked into a corner of the square, he didn’t hesitate. He ordered for both of you without even asking, his confident smile never faltering. You laughed and teased him about it, your voice light as you said, “You don’t even know what I like!”

He just raised his eyebrows with that same playful spark in his eyes. “Trust me,” he said, handing you a paper tray heaped with golden fries. “You’ll love it.”

You took the tray from him, your fingers brushing lightly against his as you did. And he was right. One bite of those crispy, salty fries and you were hooked. He watched you with an almost smug smile, clearly pleased to see you enjoying it. Your laughter mingled with the noise of the square, the moment bright and easy and so full of life it made your chest ache in the best way.

And as you both leaned against the stand, sharing bites of the fries and stories that spilled out like water over rocks, you realized you didn’t want this little slice of magic to end.

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

a/n: you don't understand how much i love it when he poses with his tongue out. i mean-

feral.

[jamesmcalover]

worst plus one 9

Hálfdán Helgi Matthíasson (Væb) x Reader

Warnings: last part </3, party, alcohol, so much fluff it's almost disgusting

Summary: Reader is Matti's best friend and is brought along to this whole Eurovision mess. His annoying brother is making this trip even messier.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

2.5k words - not proofread

The party starts before you’ve even left the arena.

Someone pops a bottle of something sparkling. Maybe it’s actual champagne, maybe it’s cheap prosecco, but it doesn’t matter. The Icelandic delegation passes it around like a holy relic, taking swigs straight from the bottle and laughing with the kind of relief that only comes after weeks of living on nerves and no sleep. It’s messy, it’s noisy, but it feels like a small, defiant celebration. You didn’t come last, and somehow, that’s enough to make you feel like you won.

By the time you all stumble into the official after party, the energy is somewhere between delirium and euphoria. The air is thick with sweat and perfume and that sweet burn of adrenaline, everyone’s faces flushed, limbs loose, voices raw from too much cheering and not enough water. Glitter sticks to everything. Your arms, your hair, someone’s cheek, like the night itself is determined to leave a mark.

The venue is a cavern of noise and color. The music is so loud you can feel it in your chest, the bass rattling your ribs. The lights flash in bright, dizzy bursts of pink and gold, casting everyone in an otherworldly glow. Delegations from every corner of Europe and beyond are mashed together on the dance floor, sequins catching the light, shoes long since kicked off and forgotten. It’s like the whole contest has melted down into this one wild, feverish moment.

You’re in the thick of it, a plastic cup of something suspiciously sweet in your hand, Sirry’s laughter in your ear on one side and Úlla’s high, bright whoop on the other. Matti’s already climbed up on a table with Baldwin, both of them leading a chaotically off-beat choreo to their own song while the DJ spins JJ's track at double speed. They’re not even close to the beat, but nobody cares. It’s glorious.

And Hálfdán? Hálfdán looks like he’s been waiting for this all night.

He’s in the center of the floor, moving like the music is part of his blood, shoulders loose, head thrown back. His sunglasses are perched back on his nose like they never left his face, and he’s got a paper crown someone shoved onto his head, slanted and ridiculous. He’s glowing. Maybe it’s the lights. Maybe it’s the aftershock of everything. Or maybe it’s just him.

When his eyes find yours, he grins so wide it nearly undoes you. He points straight at you from across the pulsing crowd, then crooks his finger in a slow, dramatic beckon, like you’re a VIP guest at his personal concert.

You try to fight the smile that breaks across your face, but it’s useless. It bubbles up and out of you in a bright, breathless laugh as you push your way through the bodies toward him.

“You,” he says when you’re close enough to hear, catching your wrist and spinning you in a lazy circle. “Look dangerously good.”

He’s teasing, you know he is, but there’s something in his voice. A rawness, a warmth that feels like a promise. It does something to you. The world spins around you in a blur of music and sweat and laughter, and for a moment, it feels like you’re both untouchable.

“You’re drunk,” you say, steadying yourself on his shoulder as the crowd surges around you, the beat thumping in your bones.

He leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. “So are you.”

“Barely,” you protest, though your voice wavers just a little. You’re not as far gone as some of the others, but there’s definitely a dizzy sort of buzz in your head, a heat in your veins that has nothing to do with the music.

He tilts his head, his grin lazy and full of mischief. “Then I guess,” he says, leaning his head down, his voice low, a little rough, “I just find you dangerously good all the time.”

You roll your eyes, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, but your cheeks are warm, and he can see it. You can feel it. His fingers brush along your waist, light and teasing, and your heart stutters in your chest.

“You’re ridiculous,” you murmur.

His grin just grows wider, brighter, and he says, “You like it,” like he already knows the answer.

And maybe you do. Maybe tonight, with the music and the lights and the whole world stripped down to this moment, you don’t mind at all.

For a while, you just dance. Not like professionals. Not like people being watched. Just two idiots with aching feet and tired bodies and enough adrenaline left to keep moving. Hálfdán spins you around, lets your hand go just to catch it again, and you almost trip over your own feet because you’re both laughing too hard to care. The music pounds in your chest, and for a moment, you’re sure you could keep going forever.

Someone spills something sticky and sweet on your shoes, and you’re too breathless to even care. There’s a conga line at one point that weaves through the crowd like a snake, and Úlla snatches your hand, pulling you in. She leans in close, yelling the lyrics of whatever song is playing directly into your ear like it’s the only way to make them real.

It’s chaos. Beautiful, ridiculous chaos, and you're still wearing the smile he gave you.

Eventually, the night starts to catch up with you. Your feet are killing you, and your voice is nearly gone from all the singing and shouting. Hálfdán pulls you in close, his hands warm against your waist, his forehead bumping against yours.

“Ready to call it?” he asks, his voice low and hoarse.

You nod, and he takes your hand. You weave your way out of the club together, past the tangle of bodies and the thump of bass that seems to echo in your bones. Outside, the night air is cool and fresh, a relief after the heat and sweat of the party.

He looks at you, grinning under the streetlights. “Want me to walk you back?”

You just nod again. It’s not really a question.

The city is quiet compared to the chaos you’ve just left. The air outside is cool and quiet, like the universe turned the volume down, and your footsteps sound too loud on the cobblestones. You’re still a little drunk on it all. The music, the laughter, the fact that he’s here, that he’s still holding your hand like he’s afraid to let go.

You walk side by side, not speaking at first. There’s no need to.

He swings your linked hands between you. “You alright?”

“Yeah. You?”

He hums. “Think my feet are bleeding. Worth it, though.”

You smile at the pavement.

It’s a slow walk. Neither of you in a hurry. The streets around the venue are mostly empty now, the crowds thinned out, the city calming down after its wildest night of the year. You take the long way back, past the river where you sat earlier with Sirry, past souvenir shops that are now dark and shuttered.

He’s quiet. But not awkward. Just calm. Steady.

When you reach the hotel, he follows you inside without question, moving alongside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The night air clings to your clothes and hair, but the quiet of the hotel lobby feels almost too still after the noise and light of the party. You slip past the doorman, up to the elevator, the soft hum of it carrying you both up to your floor.

Neither of you says much. There’s something soft about the silence, like you’re both too full of everything else to bother with words.

The hallway is dim, carpet muffling your steps. You walk slower than you need to, not wanting the moment to end. He’s beside you the whole time, his shoulder brushing yours, his hand still holding yours like a promise.

You stop at your door, the card key in your hand, suddenly not sure what to do. You’re still buzzing with adrenaline and whatever was in that plastic cup, your chest tight with the kind of warmth that feels too fragile to name.

“I don’t really want to go in yet,” you admit, your voice a little smaller than you meant it to be.

He leans against the wall beside you, one foot propped up, head tilted to look at you. “Then don’t.”

You shift the card key in your hand, heart beating too fast. “And what are we supposed to do instead?”

He smiles, just a little. “I don’t know. We could keep walking around until the sun comes up. Or… I could stay for a bit.”

You swallow. “Stay?”

He nods. “If you want me to.”

It’s stupid how much you do. How much you want to hold on to this night for just a little longer. You press the key card to the reader, the door clicking open.

“Okay,” you say, stepping back to let him in.

He walks past you, pausing just long enough to catch your hand and pull you in with him. The room is dark, quiet except for the hum of the air conditioner and your breathing.

He turns to you in the soft light of the street lamp spilling in through the window. “You know,” he says, voice low, “I can’t believe I hated you two weeks ago.”

You laugh, but it comes out choked, too close to something else. “I know. I can’t either.”

He brushes a thumb along your cheek, like he’s still trying to figure out how you ended up here, together, in the quiet after the storm.

“I don’t hate you now,” he says.

“I don’t hate you either,” you whisper back.

He leans in, his lips brushing your forehead, your cheek, your mouth. “Good,” he murmurs.

You look up at him.

He’s already watching you.

And in that instant, you forget what tired feels like. You forget the crowd, the noise, the months of buildup. All you can feel is his breath against your skin, the way his eyes hold yours like he’s afraid to blink.

His hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing slowly, carefully, beneath your eye. Like he’s memorizing you. Like he’s tracing every line and freckle now that there are no cameras left to catch you, no music to drown out the way your heart stutters in your chest.

When he kisses you, it’s nothing like the chaos of the night before.

It’s unhurried. Real.

You kiss him back without even thinking, your fingers twisting in the soft fabric of his shirt, grounding yourself in the heat of him. In something solid. Something that’s been simmering ever since that first spark, that first moment you realized he was impossible to ignore.

It deepens, slowly, like the world has narrowed to the two of you in this quiet room. His hands slide to your waist, pulling you closer, your pulse quickening in response. You bury your fingers in his hair, tugging him just a little closer, tasting the last remnants of laughter and victory and all the things you’re not sure how to name.

His lips part against yours, and the world outside the door disappears. There’s nothing but this — the warmth of him, the weight of his hands, the way he kisses you like he has all the time in the world.

But he pulls back before it gets too much.

“Wait,” he murmurs, breathing uneven. “Are you sure?”

You nod, chest aching with how much you mean it. “Yeah.”

His forehead rests against yours. “Okay.”

Then he kisses you again, and this time neither of you stop.

You lose track of time. Of the lights outside the window and the hush of the city settling down for the night. Of the faint bass thumping from the afterparty two blocks away, still echoing in your bones like a heartbeat you can’t quite shake.

You don’t know how you ended up here, in this quiet hotel room with glitter stuck to your skin and the faint taste of him still on your lips. The world outside feels far away. Unreal.

Eventually you end up on the bed, tangled in sheets that smell faintly of laundry soap and something sweeter you can’t place. Still fully dressed, shoes kicked off but everything else a blur. You’re both too tired to care. Too wrapped up in the way his fingers trace circles on your hip, in the warmth of his body pressed close to yours.

He tugs the paper crown from his head with a sleepy mutter and drops it on the floor like it’s a piece of the night he doesn’t need anymore. You laugh, just a little, and do the same with your lanyard, letting it fall from your fingers.

Then you curl into his side, breathing him in like you’re trying to memorize the way he smells: sweat and soap and a hint of cologne, something that’s just him. His heartbeat is steady under your cheek, and the slow rise and fall of his chest anchors you in a way you didn’t know you needed.

His hand draws slow, absent-minded shapes against your back. A wordless comfort, a promise you don’t have to hear to believe. Neither of you speak. There’s nothing to say. Nothing you need to explain.

Then you shift slightly, turning your head to look up at him through the dim glow of the bedside lamp.

“Can’t believe I hated you two weeks ago,” you murmur, voice low and soft.

He snorts, eyes still closed but a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “You were obsessed with me. Don’t lie.”

You shove at his chest, just enough to make him crack one eye open. “You were unbearable.”

“I was charming.”

“You were loud. And cocky. And… so sure of yourself.” You pause, then add, “It was annoying.”

He tilts his head a little, amusement flickering in his half-lidded gaze. “And you couldn’t stay away.”

You sigh, letting your head rest back against him, lips brushing the edge of his jaw. “God, I really couldn’t.”

He hums, the sound deep and content, and pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around you like he’s anchoring you there. “Good thing you didn’t,” he says, his voice soft and a little rough with exhaustion.

You close your eyes, his heartbeat a steady rhythm under your ear. The weight of his arm around you, the warmth of his skin, the quiet of the room around you. It’s all so simple, so easy.

His hand finds yours under the covers, fingers lacing with yours without a word. Like it’s always been that way. Like it always will be.

And yeah. Maybe you did hate him two weeks ago.

But now you’re here, wrapped up in each other like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and you’re not sure how you ever existed before this.

Before him.

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

a/n: please don't be mad at me but this is the end of worst plus one </3. THANK YOU to every single one of you for your endless love and support, i had so so much fun writing this!! <3 and don't worry, i'll keep proving you with hálfdán fics & maybe start writing for other esc people too, we'll see :3

[jamesmcalover]

I love ur halfdan fics smm 💕

thank you!!!💘💘