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Having made the trip from teen heartthrob to legally thirstable popstar, Ezreal is well acquainted with fanservice and the dubious ethics surrounding it. They'd had him in itty-bitty shorts singing about older women from the time he was fourteen, and posing all shirtless and sultry not long after that – all in the name of numbers and record sales.
Of course, at the same time he hadn't been allowed to date anyone, or drink, or smoke, or eat anything that wasn't within his strict diet, or gain any weight, or grow facial hair (not that he really could, but still), or do basically anything fun. Hell, he wasn't even allowed to do things that might imply he was doing any of those other things – so that meant no industry parties unless he was kept leashed to a handler all night, and basically no time with his friends that might spark rumors. Thankfully they hadn't realized that he and Ekko were both not-quite-straight so at least they were allowed to hang out without immediate supervision at every moment, but every time he got within five feet of Sera or Lux there had been a minor freak out with his PR team – because everyone knows that getting a smoothie with someone means you've definitely gotten them pregnant at least three times.
And it's not like he thought he'd escaped all that moving to Heartsteel (though to be fair, he did escape most of it), and it's not like he doesn't play into fanservice all the time with his selfies. It's just... it brings up a familiar bad taste in his mouth when the fanservice isn't his idea.
Especially when it involves itty-bitty fur trimmed shorts and bralettes and Santa hats, because apparently they're doing a slutty holiday thing... for charity. He'd like to think he's a bit more savvy than this now and doesn't have to go parading around with velvet halfway up his ass to be seen.
And yet – exhibit A, the box of velvet in question.
“Doesn't this seem... gratuitous?” he sighs, picking idly at one of the strings that holds the bralette together before casting a weary look at Phel – the one most likely to be his ally in resisting this, probably. “Not much here.”
And it doesn't even look like it's the right size to be honest – so it'd be slutty and unflattering to boot.
Phel looks up from his phone and scoots over to examine the contents of the box with a furrowed brow, quickly picking through it with deft fingers before pausing and going through again.
“What?” Ezreal asks him when Phel cocks his head, only to get three fingers held up in response. “Three... pieces?”
Phel shakes his head and rifles through the box again, pairing sets together and dangling them from his fingers before lifting them up – there are in fact only three of them, and they're all too big for either of them.
“Huh.”
Maybe the other ones are in a different box... or maybe that gleam in Phel's eyes as his fingers fly over his phone screen means Ezreal is going to have a better afternoon than he thought.
His pocket chimes with the tone he set for the group chat.
Phelonious D: 👀 whos playing slutty santa?
Mom: The costumes are for Kayn, Sett, and K'Sante. The rest of us will be handing out gifts, so wear something clean and nice please.
“Oh my god,” Ezreal whispers in faintly shocked glee as he looks up from his phone to meet Phel's equally delighted grin. “Oh my god.”
Phel nods back at him, looking to the sky with his hands pressed together, and promptly vaults over the back of the couch to run up the stairs – probably to break the good news to Sett.
Things 1 & 2: the what
Dad: It's for charity.
The howl of laughter means at least one of the victims finds this as funny as Ezreal does – confirmed when Sett bounds down the stairs with a blinding grin, his swagger in full swing.
“Phel says I'm gonna be arrested for indecent exposure,” he tells Ezreal as he reaches into the box to fish out the biggest of the very small scraps of fabric. “I figure that'll be a better mugshot than the first one though, so it shakes out, right?”
“Uuuuh, sure!” Ezreal coughs out, realizing for the first time exactly how absurd this is going to be – he was already thinking it was messy when he was holding it up to himself, but on Sett? “Do you think maybe you should bring a robe or something just in case?”
“What, you don't wanna get a peak at the ornaments before the tree is decorated?” Sett teases, holding the velvet shorts up to his hips – and yeah , that's not gonna cover shit. “See some real jingle bells, right?”
“You'll run out of fabric before you run out of puns I think.”
Honestly he'll be amazed if it doesn't explode right off him.
“Nah, it's stretchy, look.” Sett hooks the shorts between two fingers and flings it across the room like a slingshot. “I've ripped off enough of these to know their limits.”
“That's nice,” Ezreal wheezes, unsure if he wants that mental image to stick or not.
“Kayn might need help gettin' his bra on though – these clasps are a bitch, Phel always gets mine.”
Ezreal skips over the 'always' in that statement for his own sanity, unwilling to consider what those two get up to in their spare time across the hall where groans and screams and other terrifying sounds often leak through the walls. Unfortunately, he trips headfirst into the thought of Kayn in the bralette, which he had been doing a great job of ignoring right up until now.
“Here, this one should be his.” Sett shoves a bundle of fabric into his chest before patting him on the shoulder. “Good luck.”
Ezreal isn't sure why he needs it, but he's glad for it anyway as he heads toward the stairs in a daze.
Kayn is sulking on his bed when he pushes the door open without knocking.
“Is it something stupid?” he grumbles, lifting his head enough to look at Ezreal, who is stuck in his doorway – paralyzed by the thought of the scraps in his hands on Kayn's body.
He shakes his head and lifts one piece in each hand, eyes wide.
Kayn sits up with a wicked grin. “Lingerie?”
And you know what – it is, isn't it?
“Looks like it,” Ezreal laughs just a bit too high as he shuffles forward and shoves it into Kayn's hands. “Have fun with that!”
Kayn catches his wrist before he can flee, all sly teasing in the stroke of his thumb across his pulse. “Aren't you gonna help me put it on?”
Needless to say, it fits very well. As tight a fit as the candy cane that Santa's not-so-little helper gives him, leaving them both bitten and bruised across necks and chests and thighs.
At least Yone only said that Ezreal should be clean and presentable...
And he is, of course. He's a perfect saint in his turtleneck sweater, handing out lovely gift wrapped packages to the adoring masses. It can't be his fault if Kayn's gift wrapped package was handled roughly during delivery from the North Pole, he's always very careful opening up his gifts, after all... and he definitely plans on saving this particular wrapping for reuse.