#and bojan is trying not to laugh behind him

[khihi]

i really want to know how bojan's gonna get jere back after he taught him that voi vittu means good morning...

[ana-chronista]

If you're still doing the requests: 11 Bojere

(Because pining and confessions just are 👌)

Thanks for the prompt, anon - I agree!

Bojan’s head is still spinning so much with adrenaline that coming off stage is a complete blur of colour and noise, of people congratulating them and clapping his back, of the cheers of the crowd somewhere behind them. When Jere’s hand finds his amidst the chaos it feels like an anchor to reality, and he finds himself clinging on tightly. This is fine, just like his hand on Jere’s neck in that photo was fine, and constantly bumping and jostling each other throughout interviews was fine, and even the quick hug he’d hurried to give Jere on the sidelines during Vse Kar Vem was fine, because there are precious few opportunities to actually see Jere in real life and shouldn’t he make the most of it? Anything goes, no matter how much the others will tease him for it later. He barely registers that Jere is leading him away between the trailers and tents until he realises that it’s suddenly a lot quieter and it’s just them. The huge grin he’d been sporting has softened into a wide smile, and the blinding euphoria of the performance is settling into a quieter type of joy. There’s sadness too, tinging the edges as his world narrows back down to Jere – with the set done, there’s so little between them and their flight home. When Jere brings them to a standstill in a secluded corner, the noise of the crowd now a distant roar, he’s straight-faced enough that Bojan’s heart leaps into his throat. “Why you come hug me on stage, Bojan?” Bojan blinks, unable to speak for a moment. Jere’s hardly one to lecture anyone on professionalism on stage, but he doesn’t think that’s what this is about. “I... we’ve hugged on stage before.” And the rest. Jure had even made a point of sneaking a photo of Jere riding Bojan in the piggy train at his Tavastia gig into the PowerPoint slides for one of their meetings last year. Žare had put him under strict instructions to never do it again, which Jure had taken as a challenge to include any photo of them except that one. The one of Jere pretending to lick Bojan on stage had promptly gotten all of the passwords changed with strict instructions not to give them to Jure.

But Jere is shaking his head, stepping up closer into his space, and Bojan knows that he knows this time was different. A casual arm around each other, laughing and singing into each other’s faces, bouncing off of each other like two rubber balls ping ponging through a tube: that was performance, no matter how much they both enjoyed it. He couldn’t even describe what had happened this time beyond knowing that Jere was there on the sidelines, watching him sing, and he needed to hold him, however briefly, just to feel him there, real and solid. Because, after tonight, it’s back to texts and video calls and trying desperately to find a few days that might line up in their schedules for a gig or two. It’s back to checking his phone first thing in the morning and last thing at night and trying to ignore the strange emptiness gnawing away inside. It’s back to an hour’s time difference and two thousand kilometres’ distance adding a sting to every smile and keeping his mind whirring in the early hours when he can’t sleep. Jere is searching his face with a sad seriousness that he’s seen on screen before. It always makes him want to reach through the phone and draw him in, hold him tight until he relaxes and laughs again, feel the rise and fall of his chest against his own. It makes his heart burn and his throat ache with the need to keep him close in a way that just isn’t possible day to day. The silence stretches on and on. Bojan just about realises he’ll have to be the one to break it – with something, anything – when Jere gets there first with something like a sigh. “Bojan... always I try to find right time, but never enough time, yes?” He squeezes Bojan’s hand tightly, just for a second. “So if not now, then maybe never.” And then, before Bojan can register him moving forward, Jere’s other palm lands on his jaw, pulling him in until their lips meet. The kiss barely lasts a second before he’s pulling back, looking at Bojan wide-eyed but almost challenging. It’s all Bojan can do to gape at him, stunned. “Now is when you say something, Bojan.” Jere says with a determined cheerfulness. “You are great kisser, Jere or we do this again or you are like brother or never come to Slovenia – ” Through his own amazement, Bojan realises that Jere will rattle on and on like a runaway train, tying himself in knots unless he’s cut off. With his own brain struggling to remember how words work, the only option is to reel him back in for another go, deeper and firmer and long enough that his lungs are burning when they break apart. Neither of them pull back far enough, but even at this too-close hazy angle, he can see Jere’s eyes are wide, pupils blown, and there’s a smile spreading across his mouth that Bojan has to taste. “The second one,” he says between smaller, faster kisses. “The second one sounds good. I’ve got a whole year’s worth of this to catch up on.” It's not everything that he wants to say. It’s not all of the feelings bubbling up inside him in half-formed words and fragmented sentences, but it’ll do until he can piece those together enough for a conversation. They’ll have to move on eventually, back to the hotel and then, for Bojan, all too soon, back to the airport. Right now, though, there’s nothing but the warmth of Jere’s mouth, the taste of cigarettes on his lips, and the beat of finally, finally, finally through his own head.

[jokeroutsubs]

[ENG SUB] Bojan Cvjetićanin for the podcast To je moja muska ('This is my music')

To je moja muska ('This is my music') is a podcast of the Val202 radio programme in which each guest provides the song selection, explaining their choices during the interview. The original interview was published on 1.07.2022 and can be found at this link.

Transcript and translation by drumbeat, proofread by a member of JokerOutSubs and X klamstrakur, subtitles by drumbeat.

The audio version of this interview is also available with Italian, French and Serbian subtitles. Translated respectively by @varianestoroff, X Yoda_Bor and IG marija_rocen.

Transcript below the cut 👇

To je moja muska. ('This is my music'.)

Host: Bojan Cvjetićanin, welcome to 'This is my music'! The show where the guests choose the music that has defined a particular time in their lives, or that they just like, or that is linked to an event in their lives. Can I try to guess what you've chosen? Usually my guests tell me upfront, but you didn't.

Bojan: You can try.

Videosex? As locals?¹ I just gave you an idea, didn't I, you'll change it. Then Elvis Costello and ABBA.

Bojan: ABBA is spot on.

Okay.

Bojan: ABBA is spot on.

To je moja muska.

How much has your taste in music changed over the years? Were you, I don't know, rebellious, did you belong to a subculture?

Bojan: It hasn't really, honestly, it hasn't changed, I've just been adding new artists to the repertoire, so to speak. But my taste hasn't changed.

Did you have any posters in your room?

Bojan: I had posters, and in fact I still have them, in my old room, all over the room, from Green Day.

How often do you go back to the old music, let's say very old music, and how much do you stay up to date with the contemporary and which one inspires you more?

Bojan: Now I don't know what you mean by old, but let's say 60's, 70's, okay. Yeah, I really like listening to music from that era. I would say it inspires me quite a lot, and if it doesn't, it's an influence for sure. Otherwise, I also really like new music, especially Slovenian. So my Slovenian selection will be very contemporary.

Tell me, what is your local selection?

Bojan: My local selection is 'Angeli' by MRFY.

Why?

Bojan: Because it's a song that I really like to put on at times when I'm not thinking about it, and then it pops into my head, like, 'Ah!' Spur of the moment, let's go! A great song.

Is there any rivalry between you?

Bojan: Absolutely. There's major rivalry between MRFY and Joker Out, which makes sense, because we're peers. But this is one healthy rivalry. I don't think either of us hates the other, except Štras² hates me, and I hate him back. (laughs) But no, I think we have a very healthy relationship.

To je moja muska.

You're not just a singer, you've got a few acting roles and event hostings under your belt. I've heard in one of your interviews, you said that you compared yourself to Val Fürst³ and realised that maybe you are not as talented, but still. How interested are you still in other artistic areas?

Bojan: I am very excited by and interested in acting. I know and understand that I am not a world class actor, but I feel that for these roles I've been cast in, I'm suitable and that I am good at what I do. At this point I feel that I don't want to stand on a theatre stage or go to AGRFT⁴ first and study for it. That is what I meant by Val Fürst being superior. Somehow I felt that Val really had it, that certain X factor, as far as acting is concerned. But yes, I am interested in acting.

Okay. Hosting?

Bojan: I like hosting. I found EMA incredibly stressful, incredibly enlightening, but I wouldn't do it again.⁵

What makes a frontman of a band, in your opinion? What are those traits, qualities?

Bojan: Yeah, a frontman just has to be very willing to share all of himself with everybody, that on stage he leaves nothing behind.

For example, Damiano David, Måneskin, who you also portrayed with Maja Keuc in the song 'Zitti e buoni'⁶, said that he learned this interaction with the audience on the street, where people don't show up to your concert, but you have to win their attention. How did you master it?

Bojan: I worked on graduation trips, as MC, so that was my job, to get the 500 graduates who were all very different, motivated to hang out, to have fun, to dance, to do all those sports activities or whatever. So I actually met a lot of different types of people and interacted with them and those things have just come in very handy for me now.

Second track?

Bojan: Track two I would say, because it was the first one that came into my head when you said that to me, 'The Winner Takes It All' by ABBA.

Any particular story behind it? Since when, I mean, when did you hear ABBA for the first time? Why do you still like it? How come it doesn't get on your nerves?

Bojan: ABBA is one of those artists, where whenever I'm listening to them, I feel really good. Usually in the morning, if I'm making eggs for breakfast, I put ABBA on and the day is better. So there aren't many, there's really no specific reason, but ABBA is a really feel-good band for me plus 'Mamma Mia' the movie, right. I don't know, people can hate, but if you watch it, and you don't feel good, there I really don't know what's wrong with you.

To je moja muska.

Let's talk a little bit about success, being recognisable, fame, do you feel it? Of course you do. Can you go somewhere without being recognised?

Bojan: Yes, I can go places where I'm not recognised, like EXIT.⁷ And even today, they…

At home, I mean.

Bojan: No, it's not ultra extreme though, but it's extreme enough, that it actually happens very rarely, that I go out and I don't take pictures or sign autographs or something.

Yeah, I was surprised at the 50th anniversary of Val 202⁸, that especially older ladies wanted to take a picture with you.

Bojan: Thank you for busting that myth, right, that only young girls listen to us. Because slightly older girls like to listen to us too, and the male companions as well.

One last thing, the third track.

Bojan: 'I Bet You Look Good on the Dance Floor' by Arctic Monkeys. Because I hope can transfer this song, or rather the energy of this song onto the stage today.

To je moja muska.

Notes:

¹Videosex were a Yugoslav synth-pop band formed in Ljubljana in 1982. The band was one of the most important groups in the Yugoslav synth-pop scene.

²Gregor Strasbergar, aka Štras, is a Slovenian musician, singer, guitarist and author for the Slovenian band MRFY, formed in 2013.

³Val Fürst is a Slovenian actor and musician who went to high school together with Bojan. Bojan talks about him in his interview.

⁴The AGRFT is the Academy of Theatre, Radio, Film and Television in Ljubljana.

⁵Evrovizijska Melodija (EMA) is the selection programme for Slovenia's representative in the Eurovision Song Contest. Bojan hosted its 26th edition, held from 5 to 19 February 2022.

⁶During the EMA 2022 final, Bojan and special guest Maja Keuc paid tribute to the reigning ESC champions, Maneskin, by performing their winning song, 'Zitti e Buoni'. The video can be found here.

⁷This interview was recorded before Joker Out performed for the first time at EXIT, a festival held annually in Novi Sad, Serbia.

⁸On June 16, 2022, radio station Val 202 celebrated its 50th anniversary by broadcasting 'Dan 202', a concert of Slovenian folk music live from Križanke, in which Bojan Cvjetićanin also participated. The concert is available in full here.

[lunafoster]

Intrusive thoughts

AN: yes, another one. Again, I’m really sorry but I hope you guys enjoy.

AN2: I really should be studying for my finals but I keep procrastinating. Somebody send help, please.

Warnings: none, honestly, just fluff. I’m gonna say maybe bad English, I’m trying.

Words: 1500+

Bojan Cvjetićanin x fem!reader

BOJAN’S GIRLFRIEND LETTING HER INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS WIN (mostly about Bojan) FOR 3 MINUTES AND 12 SECONDS STRAIGHT

*first clip*

The singer was sitting down in front of the camera next to Kris, talking while filming one of their vlogs, when the girl appeared, sitting down by his side.

He was wearing a sleeveless shirt, as it was warm and he didn’t want to be sweating. You could see the girl staring at his arms, though; it looked like she had just woke up from a nap. Bojan kept talking.

“Ang.” She bit his shoulder.

He didn’t even react, just kept having his conversation with Kris. The latter looked at her and then at his bandmate, mouth agape in shock.

“What is going on?”

*second clip*

Bojan and his girlfriend were being interviewed for the fans, as they wanted to know how their relationship started and how it was going since then.

“Who takes more time to get ready?”

“It’s him! He does!” She said, pointing at him and smirking.

“That’s not- alright maybe it is true,” he gave in, nodding his head and awkwardly smiling, “but it’s mostly because my hair takes a lot of time to be tamed, honestly.”

As if it had a mind of its own, a strand of his hair fell on his face, but he kept making excuses as to why he was the one who spent more time in the bathroom when they had to go out.

The girl kept staring at it, exchanging looks between the camera, the interviewer and her boyfriend. She continued being laser focused on the lock of hair that was slightly covering his left eye.

With one last glance at the camera and the interviewer, she extender her arm and carefully removed the piece of hair, pulling it to a better position so it wouldn’t be on his face.

He looked at her. “Thank you, love.”

She smiled and mused his hair up, laughing loudly. He sighed with a ‘done’ look on his face.

*third clip*

The Joker Out guys were talking during an interview, having sweets to munch on in between questions and topics.

In that moment, Jure was holding part of a KitKat in his hand, talking passionately about ‘Demoni’ and how they had come up with the idea of the music video.

The girl was watching them behind the camera, having a good time making faces at the boys during serious moments so they would crack a smile when they shouldn’t.

However, right in that moment, she was craving chocolate really badly. And that’s when she noticed the KitKat in Jure’s hand.

She quietly approached them, went into view for the camera just behind the boys and snatched the chocolate out of the blond’s hand.

“Aha!” She shouted with an evil laugh, munching on the KitKat and leaving the frame.

Everyone just looked at each other for a few seconds and bursted out laughing. All except for Jure, who tried keeping a pout on his lips while fake sobbing.

“My KitKat!”

*fourth clip*

“This is another video in the series of ‘baking with Jan’! Where I get stressed and he looks like he’s high!”

“What?!”

“What? It rhymes.”

*fifth clip*

Nace was explaining a story about them in the beach, playing with a giant yoga ball.

“So I tried to take it back to the sand but the ball was just too big…” everyone was chuckling, remembering how he had been chasing the ball around in the water.

“That’s what she said,” she whispered while giggling.

“Hey!” Nace pushed her shoulder away from him, “Stop it!”

*sixth clip*

The camera was angled so you could see both the girl, preparing the oven, and Jan, mixing the cookie dough on a bowl.

“Make sure it’s well mixed,” she told him, getting up from her crouched position.

“I know what I’m doing,” he replied, glancing at her briefly.

Jan went to grab the cookie cutters when he deemed it was well mixed enough, making the mistake of leaving the dough alone.

She instantly scooped some of it onto her finger and spread it on his face right when he turned around.

The video cuts and the camera focuses again on the two throwing the mixture at each other, the bowl now empty and cookie dough all over them.

The video cuts again and it comes back to her licking dough from her hand, taking from her face and eating it happily.

“You are disgusting,” Jan let’s out with a breathy laugh, distaste in his face.

“You are definitely not!” She goes towards him with grabby hands, “let me lick it off you, too!”

“No!” He moves away, going off camera.

*seventh clip*

Kris was in the background of Nace and Jure talking in front of the camera in one of their vlogs, mindlessly strumming his guitar.

Bojan and his girlfriend appeared from the right, moving towards the younger with the idea of sitting next to him.

They sat down but you could see the girl watching as Kris played with a fond look in her face and a soft smile.

She took Kris’ hand and, after making sure he left his guitar so it wouldn’t fall, dragged him towards the camera.

“Everyone this is my son,” she stated, making the guys look at her weirdly and Bojan laugh loudly, “if anything happened to him I would kill everyone and then myself.”

“What are you on?” Jan suddenly spoke up from somewhere in the room, not visible to the camera.

“He’s a child, just look at him.” She grabs his face with both hands and smushes his cheeks together, Kris chuckling and trying to pull away, unsuccessfully. “Isn’t he just so cute? I wanna put him in my pocket but he’s really tall and I can’t,” she added with a devastated look, pressing her hand to her chest and feigning being hurt.

“You got yourself a special one, man,” Nace said towards Bojan, who was still laughing obnoxiously.

He stood up and went towards his girlfriend and Kris, putting his arm around his shoulder and leaning on the taller boy.

“I will go for the adoption papers,” he said with a serious face, turning to her and breaking into a smile.

“They’re both coo-coo,” Jure says to the camera, making circle shapes with his finger near his head.

*eighth clip*

Bojan is talking to the camera while in the behind-the-scenes of their latest music video, wearing a big coat, making it clear that it’s really cold outside.

His girlfriend walks into view, with another huge coat, a woolly hat and gloves.

She suddenly squishes him really close to her in a hug, making it possible to hear the air leaving his lungs.

“What is going on?” He asks, strained and confused at the sudden affection, forgetting about the camera.

“You just look so squishable it’s unfair!” She answers, hugging him even tighter if possible.

*ninth clip*

Bojan and Jan are near the swimming pool, but fully clothed, talking about their next tour to his phone, as the comments can be seen going up from the bottom left of the screen.

“Can you get me a glass of water?” Bojan asks his girlfriend, not wanting to stop his conversation with Jan.

She leaves the frame of the camera and the conversation goes on, slowing to a stop when she comes back staring at Bojan.

“What?”

He goes to take the glass from her but she’s faster, moving it over his head and pouring its contents all over him, making him open his mouth in shock.

“I’m sorry,” she giggles, covering her own mouth with her hand.

He stands up and Jan takes his phone, pointing the camera towards them, sensing that something funny is going to happen.

He’s right, of course, Bojan picks her up by her waist and throws himself (with her) in the swimming pool, effectively drenching them both.

“Bojan!” She shouts, both of them laughing loudly and Jan’s chuckling being heard from behind the camera.

*tenth clip*

They’re in the van while Bojan and his girlfriend are answering questions from fans in an Instagram live.

“What do you guys call each other?” She reads, immediately following it up with, “I call him daddy.”

“No, she does not,” he shakes his head profusely, moving towards the camera.

“I would call him daddy if he let me,” she corrects herself, getting closer to the camera to read the comments.

“Stop,” he laughs as he gently pushes her smirking head away.

“Someone said it’s a good nickname!”

“That was me,” says Jure, moving so he can be seen on the screen.

She pouts and looks at Bojan.

“What do I usually call you?”

“I call her love, sweetheart; and she…,” he trails off and turns to her, “I don’t know, what do you like calling me?”

“I know!” She exclaims happily, “waffles, cupcake, pie, pumpkin,… yes.” She nods to herself.

“That’s definitely not it,” he retorts, raising an eyebrow at her, “why are all of them high-calorie foods, anyway?”

“What? Do you want me to call you my little celery stick or something?”

Somebody laughs in the background at that.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t sugarplum,” she smirks again, watching as he’s trying to stop himself from laughing.

“You’re right, I don’t honey bun.”

All of them burst into a loud, chaotic laugh.

*end of the video*

[anxious-witch]

holiday prompt you say? well well well, totally not based on my experiences

aheeem heeem

good ol’ jance (everyone’s favorite)

one of them offering a hot beverage, the other declining the offer. first one constantly being like “are you sure? you look cold”

I know I keep combining these, but some just fit so well! And I don't want to writing anything too short or repeat myself so! I hope this is fine, since I included both

Jan was having a bad day. His insomnia kicked in last night, which meant he didn't get much sleep. With Jere being over and Bojan's apartment for the holidays, the two of them kept constantly dragging the rest of them somewhere.

Because God forbid Jere didn't get the full experience with all of them around.

So here Jan was, after barely a few hours of sleep, standing by the ice rink. Freezing.

“Janči,” Nace said gently, “are you sure you don't want something to drink? Maybe mulled wine? Or hot chocolate?”

Jan set his jaw.

“No.”

Nace pursed his lips, giving him a worried once over. Jan knew he wasn't happy about how he dressed for the weather. He wore only a leather coat and a scarf that Nace wrapped around his neck at the last moment.

He wasn't that cold though. It was just sleep deprivation.

“You look cold.”

“I'm not.”

Nace sighed.

“Janči. Com'on.”

Jan crossed his arms over his chest.

“I'm tired, not cold.”

Nace reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. Jan felt an overwhelming fondness wash over him, despite his annoyance.

“I am just trying to help.”

Jan grabbed his wrist when he tried to pull his hand back and kissed his palm. Nace's cheeks colored slightly.

“I know. Sorry, I am just tired.”

“Coffee might help?”

Jan snorted at his weak attempt.

“No. Unless you are offering to whisk me away from these idiots,” Jan quickly glanced at the ice rink, “I think I'll pass.”

Nace chewed on his lip and glanced at the ice rink. Bojan, Jere, Kris and Jure were there, Nace and Jan didn't join them due to Nace pulling a muscle in the gym recently. Jan didn't want to leave him alone and frankly, he felt like he'd be completely uncoordinated anyway.

Nace got up from their table and Jan curiously watched him as he got to the rink and waved their friends over. He saw him talk to Kris-Bojan and Jure were currently being chased by Jere across the rink-and then quickly come back.

“What was that about?”

“We are leaving. You are clearly tired and I did pull a muscle so…how about we just drive around and look at the lights? And then go home and watch a movie or something.”

Jan smiled warmly.

“I would like that.”

So they did. Nace drove, not trusting him not to get drowsy behind the wheel with the little sleep he got, and simply drove around.

Jan felt slightly like a cat, looking at all the bright lights and Christmas decorations of the houses. Nace drove slowly, so he could steal glances as well, but also the streets seemed to be mostly empty. Like that lull of the day where everyone was just content to stay where they were.

“Maybe we should buy the rooftop Santa for next year,” Nace mused, looking at one of the houses.

Jan laughed.

“And put it where? We live in an apartment!”

Nace shrugged, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

“Maybe in a living room. Igor would love him.”

Jan rolled his eyes.

“Yeah. Would love tearing it apart.”

It was Nace who laughed this time. They continued driving and commenting on the decorations, either approving or disapproving of the choice.

After a while, they both got tired and Nace began driving them home. Jan looked at him as they passed all the colorful lights and decorations once more, suddenly struck by how lucky he was. How thankful he was for Nace.

For the fact that they got to spend the holidays together.

“Nace?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, you know that, right?”

Nace carefully parked the car before turning to him and taking his hands in his.

“Of course I know. I love you too. Is everything okay?”

Jan nodded.

“Yeah-yeah I just. Maybe I don't say it enough. But I really do. Thank you for this. Everything, actually.”

Nace kissed him. Jan was almost started by it, not expecting it. He kissed him back, melting into the kiss. Then Nace gently pulled away.

“You don't have to thank me for that. And I know you love me, you just express it in different ways and that's okay. Although I won't complain if you say it more often, either.”

Jan snorted.

“Alright then. I love you.”

Then he kissed him again. He could say many more things. He could tell him that he loved him and he loved spending time with him every day. That he couldn't wait to spend every holiday and special occasion with him, along with all the ordinary days and love him throughout all of them.

Jan might still tell him another day. For now, he'd be content kissing him and accepting the fact that despite all of it, he likely knew all that already.

[sparkles-oflight]

Traces of kisses behind closed doors

Welcome to another fanfic of mine! I know you can read these separately, but I would actually recommend reading Kamila for some references you might miss if you don't.

Synopsis: Moments before Damon uploaded chapters 3 and 4, Bojan and Kris, and Nace and Jan talk about things that only happen behind closed doors.

This is like Hurt/comfort I think? Honestly, I'm not good at tagging things.

Disclaimer: Please think of these as characters and not the actual people. I don’t encourage anyone to send this to any of the actual JO members nor do I encourage people to force any type of relationship between anyone.

Sensible themes implied: Homophobia

Sitting in the bed that now belongs to him and his lover, Kris scrolled on his phone. Posting pictures, reading comments, seeing people freaking out through stories - in general, just trying to keep up with the flow of information and hype.

He felt two arms around his waist and a soft kiss on his arm.

- Reading comments? - Bojan asked as he tried to glance over his phone screen.

- Yes. - he smiled.

- You are insane. That would just trigger my anxiety.

- Well, I'm not you. - he smiled as he turned to him - I'm not a small flower that can break easily or be simply blown in the wind.

- Oh, feeling poetic, are we? I see.

- Maybe.

Kris kissed him, and, with his hand, he inclined Bojan's chin making the smaller one sit. Bojan savored that soft buttery kiss, yet he couldn't help but smile.

- What? - Kris asked while the other one laughed - What?

- I like seeing you like this. - his fingers started tapping Kris' hands, then arms, inspecting each centimeter of his limbs - I'm glad you enjoyed taking those pictures with Damon. And I'm even more glad you felt free to express yourself... Ever since-

- I know. - Kris took one of Bojan's hands and held it - Hey...do you know what Damon told me, Bojči?

Every time Kris called Bojan by his nickname it made his heart skip a beat. Sure, it's just a nickname that everyone calls him by, but coming from Kris' mouth makes it sound so different and relaxing...Bojan wanted to beg Kris to sing his name to his ear every single night because.... he loves Kris' voice when he's affectionate... God, he needed to stop himself from thinking about it for too long.

- Bojan? You good? You are drooling.

Bojan put his hand in his mouth only to realize he wasn't drooling.

- HAHA, I'm just fucking with you! - he laughed - In all seriousness, Damon told me you were the luckiest man in the world.

- Yet he decided to upload your pictures before mine. - he pouted, turned his head to the side, and crossed his arms.

- Oh? Are you jealous I'm his one muse?

- Maybe. - Kris turned his chin to him softly and kissed him again as Bojan relaxed his body - Or maybe...not. - he talked as Kris kissed him over and over again.

Bojan's mouth found its way to Kris' shoulder and then hand.

- I love your skin.

- Just my skin?

- And your company. And your kisses. – Kris’ hand ran through Bojan's chest - And your hair, and your voice, your eyes, and your beauty... On the inside and outside.

- I only believe I'm beautiful because of you...

- And I'm here to remind you of it every day.

Kris' eyes lit. How he had wished he were with Bojan since day one, but he would no longer waste any time separated from his soulmate... Not ever.

While kissing behind those closed doors, two other boys were in the living room relaxing - or trying to. Nace sat down as he scrolled through social media and Jan laid on the sofa with his legs on top of Nace's thighs and simply looked at the ceiling. His nail polish had practically vanished from his nails, and he was now completely far away from our reality, lost in thought.

Suddenly, he was awake by the touch of Nace, who had put his phone away, on his legs.

- What are you worried about? - Nace asked.

- Damon's pictures.

They had both talked about it before. Even if they were comfortable with each other - more than with anyone else in the world - even if their friends supported them and their relationship...What about the rest?

- Nace...We are from the Balkans. - Jan suddenly blurted it out.

Nace traced his legs with his fingers.

- Everyone around us seems to be okay with our relationship...but what if they aren't? And what about the band? - he began spiraling - What if these photos we post destroy the band's image? What are people going to say when we get back home?

- And you want people who don't love you for who you are near you? - he asked but got no response.

Nace kissed Jan's exposed ankles and then used his hands to help the younger sit on his lap and look into his eyes.

- Jan...I need you to know you are not alone in this.

- I know. - Jan rested his forehead against Nace's - I'm just so tired.

- I know.

Nace knew Jan was tired mentally, he always was. Nace knows why but wouldn't dare to share it with the world. That's the one thing he just wouldn't, not even Damon would get that out of him. That was their secret.

- What if... - Jan grabbed Nace's ears and hair - What if someone tries to hurt you?

- Jan... Have you seen how I look? Most people would run away thinking I would beat them.

- Nace, but everyone knows you don't even hurt a single fly because you love animals so fucking much-

Nace shut him up with a kiss. Then Jan took control of it, making Nace incline more and more on the sofa. Nace placed his hand underneath Jan's shirt to feel his skin. Nace's warm hands filled up Jan's soul, and, when they would stop kissing each other from time to time, they would let some moans escape their lips.

- Better? - Nace asked.

- So much better.

- It's normal to have fears but guess what: I'll be for you anytime. Just like you are for me.

- Thanks. - Jan didn't dare to look at Nace in the eyes.

If he did, he would cry over his big brown eyes. How could he protect this man so important to him? That was his only wish.

But he also thought, that maybe, and just maybe, “being behind closed doors of a closet was bett-“

- Don't you dare think that. - Nace read him like a book.

- Of course not. - he finally looked at him and smiled - I was never going to let those thoughts win.

♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩

Don't ask me what are Kris and Jan's secrets because it happened behind closed doors :)

Polaroid Photos Universe | Recommended next: Ginger shots - lazy day

[c28hunter]

Silly goofy fanfic inspired by this video sent to me by @da-proti-toku-grem

Summary: Kris gets an invitation to the "Kaj pa Ester?" premiere no thoughts, just crack

Kris got just one message. “Come outside”. Sent by Bojan. This couldn’t have meant anything good.

Kris was staying at his family home, since Bojan was sick again and didn’t want to infect Kris with anything that he caught. It wasn’t surprising that he needed Kris’ attention especially when his brain was being fried with temperature. But that message surprised him, by how direct, even commendatory, it seemed.

Well, his parents and sister weren’t home, only Max, who was playing some games upstairs in his room. If Bojan decided to do something very inappropriate no one would’ve seen that. At least none of Kris’ family members.

He went downstairs and opened the front door.

The first thing he saw was Jure standing in the yard with a little drum under his arm. When he saw Kris peeking out of the house he started drumming in a steady peace, like an entry march. The next thing Kris saw was Bojan, wearing a red cape and a paper crown, “riding” a broomstick with a horse mask poorly attached to it, Jan “sitting” behind him and Nace making hooves sounds by slamming together two empty pots.

Kris was surprised, to say the least.

They stopped a few meters in front of Kris’ door. Nace pretended to take Jan off the horse, and Bojan smoothly jumped off the broomstick. Jan made a few steps forward and unrolled a big scroll of paper.

“Sir Bojan Cvjetićanin” started Jan, with a sublime tone” first born son of mister Cvjetićanin, slayer of lyrics, fearless hunter of ghosts, greatest food orderer” here Bojan shoot him an angry stare” professional pool investigator, master of sociology, tamer of a beast called Ignac Jordan, defeater of the teletubbies, acrobat, the absorber of Guinness, greatest poet of our times, master of acting fortunately invites you, mister Kris Guśtin to a royal gala to watch the first ever screening of his masterpiece in acting “Kaj pa Ester?” tomorrow evening. What is your response sir?”

Bojan looked way too proud of himself, Jan seemed to be at the edge of laughing, Jure had his silly smile plastered onto his face and only Nace’s expression seemed to have any sympathy for Kris.

He blinked a few times, trying to understand what was going on. Was he impressed? Sure. Was it funny? As hell. Was he going to agree?

“Yes”

“Oh marvelous!” said Bojan as he jumped back onto the “horse”. 

Jan came up to Kris and handed him the scroll, which was actually saying just “Screening with me :3?”. Then he went back to Bojan and Nace “placed” him and Jure on the broomstick and they proceeded to leave Kirs’ property, accompanied by the sound of two pots clicking.

Kris stood like that for a few minutes, still flabbergasted by the entire event, before he closed the door. He turned around to go to his room, when he saw Max that somehow materialized behind him.

“What?” Kris asked.

“Your friends are weird.”

Kris rolled his eyes and proceeded to go back upstairs. 

“I have everything recorded!” yelled Max.

“Oh, you did not-!”

Krisko: Can I deny the offer?

Bojć: No

Krisko: -_- fine

[marswasnothere]

Pretty in Pink : an unfinished draft that’s been left sitting in my docs for way too long

All the lead up to smut without anything happening, very abrupt ending, Bojan in the Pink Tavastia Collar tm, and the start of some good ole fashioned puppy bojan without getting to the good stuff

“Woo, home time!”

“I’m sooo tired du– hey, shuffle up– thanks, okay, cool… auhhhh… yeah, home time.”

“Vou, big yawn. You go sleep?”

“When we’re back at your flat, yeah.”

“Aww.”

“…what?”

“You miss out on surprise, Bojči.”

“…what do you mean?”

“Here. Look.”

“…”

“…”

“Is that one of the coll–”

“Shhh. Mikke front seat.”

“Okay, okay… just. Hhh– what the fuck.”

“You look cute in. I want to see my puppy again.”

“… holy shit.”

“You do not like?”

“No– no, I lov– it’s good, I love it. I’m wide awake now.”

“Phew, okei.”

“…I jus– h-how’d you get it?”

“Stole from Matti. Will return. Don’t stain it.”

“Jeeesus, Jere…”

— — — — —

The moment after Jere waves the car away, shuts the door, and kicks off his shoes, Bojan has him pinned against the wall. His eyes dart between Jere’s soft yet chapped lips and his icy eyes, staring right back with innocence, as if he hasn't basically been teasing Bojan the entire car ride.

When Jere showed him the collar, that little strip of pink dotted with black spikes sitting in his hand, Bojan’s mind raced back a few hours. He knew he was going to join Jere on stage for Cha Cha Cha for both shows, and half joked, half suggested that he wear the dancer’s bright pink costumes. Matti took that suggestion in stride and passed him his outfit to try it on, maybe recording something while they’re at it. Bojan could only slip the collar on and pull it tight around his neck before he decided that was enough, and sat patiently for Matti to pass him the costume from behind his phone instead.

Just a short, fun video. That was all.

Until Jere walked in and called Bojan “my pretty puppy.”

All he could do was sit as Jere tousled his hair and baby-talked to him in Finnish, pretending like it was absolutely not turning him on in the slightest. Bojan decided to test his luck when Jere gave him a command to speak, and he barked.

Now why, in all things holy on this very Earth, did his spine tingle with arousal all the way from his non-existent dog ears to his dick?

He tried to laugh the feeling off, and thankfully Jere joined him. Bojan prayed that his jeans weren’t tented when he passed the costume back to Matti, and hesitated when he reached up to unclip the collar.

“Here, I got.”

Jere’s fingertips brushed his neck. Bojan’s breath hitched. The tightness of the collar around his neck was gone, and for some reason, Bojan missed it.

“There we go, puppy.”

He could blame any pink on his cheeks from drinking. Easy.

What wasn’t easy was trying to stay calm when getting on all fours, letting Jere ride him with his hand so dangerously close to his neck, accidentally revealing his O-face to hundreds of people twice in one night, and then having to sit next to him in a silent car ride, knowing he’s going to get his brains fucked out and be barking like a dog for Jere–

He …huh. Okay then.

“You still sleepy?”

Bojan, back in the moment, lets out a weak chuckle.

“No. Nope. You kept me awake. Hand on my thigh and all that.” He tugs Jere’s puffer jacket off his shoulders. “I always fall asleep in cars, plus it’s, like, one in the morning. It’s crazy how a little bit of your attention makes me stay up.”

Jere smiles as he watches him talk. He slides the jacket off and hangs it up, then returns his hands to cup Bojan’s cheeks. They’re warm, flushed from cold air and close proximity.

“We celebrate now. To Bojan here in Finland,” in between giving a quick kiss to his lips, he whispers, “here with me.”

Bojan lets his eyes drift shut as they sink into a longer kiss. His hands trail up underneath Jere’s shirt, pulling him closer as he parts their lips with his tongue. Jere nudges forwards and their teeth clack together, but all Bojan feels is his adorable smile pressed into his lips that he’s going to feel imprinted on them, long after he returns to Slovenia.

He wants to revel in the warmth of Jere’s mouth, taste the slick wetness of their tongues together for the rest of his life. Bojan keeps his hands on Jere’s hips, gently squeezing his love handles.

“And to successful concert,” Jere adds, though it sounds a little more like “suck-ess-fool” to the Slovene's ears.

“Mmm, yeah.” Keeping his eyes shut, Bojan trails kisses up from Jere's lips to his cheek, then nibbles at his earlobe. In turn, Jere lets out sweet sighs of pleasure, his head resting on Bojan’s shoulder.

“I’m so glad we’re alone now,” he whispers into Jere’s ear.

“I get to see puppy all for myself,” Jere responds, breath hot against his neck

Bojan stills.

There’s that stupid little tingle again. It happened in the car, it happened in Tavastia, it happened in Liverpool when Jere called him his dog in that steak restaurant, and, fuck, it’s happened so many more times when Bojan fantasised about Jere all alone in his bedroom.

“Bojči? You ok–”

“Do you still have the collar?”

Bojan refuses to give him a chance to worry if anything is wrong.

It takes a second for Jere to verify the situation, and he grins, reaching over to his jacket. He dips his hand into the pocket and backs up against the wall, separating their embrace, much to Bojan’s dismay. It’s momentary sadness, as when he pulls the collar out, that little irresistible strip of pink fabric, Bojan swears he might collapse from how weak his knees become.

Jere dangles the collar from pinched fingertips, practically eye-fucking Bojan right where he’s standing.

“You want to wear again?"

“Obviously,” Bojan whispers, conscious of the heat in his cheeks and how embarrassing he must look.

Jere flashes a smile. When his fingertips brush against his neck, Bojan feels like he’s going to explode. There's no delicate way to put it. Jere knows his weakness and Bojan knows he’s going to use it to his advantage. The collar is soft against his skin, wrapping around his neck just like Jere’s hands from the past times they experimented together — explored each other's bodies, as one might say.

The ends of the collar click together, and an overwhelming heat rushes through Bojan’s body. He can’t help but shudder when Jere cradles the back of his head. Something about being locked in, being his puppy, being owned.

Bojan never considered himself to be a kinky guy, but he might have a few things to discuss with Jere in the morning after, including a trip to whatever weird Finnish sex shop they can find.

“How it feel?”

“…weird,” Bojan answers. Jere’s smile drops so he finishes his response. “Good weird. It’s good, just different, and I– I like it. Yeah… I like it. What do you think?”

Bojan puffs his chest out with his question, making Jere giggle behind his hand.

“You make very cute puppy, Bojan,” he says, “but I like you better on floor, where dog belong, yes?”

Jesus fucking Christ, if he doesn’t fuck me right here, right now, this trip was all for nothing.

His face gives away his thoughts. Jere laughs again, his hand moving up to stroke Bojan’s hair. Bojan relaxes at his touch. He glances to the side when Jere gently holds his greying strands in between his soft fingers, wishing he wouldn’t have a constant reminder of his stress poking out from his hairline.

“Am I going fast? Too much for you?” Jere asks.

“No– no, keep going, I like it when you talk and… talk about what you want me to do.”

Jere hums.

Bojan stares at his lips, plush, soft, a little chapped from the cold. He has no doubt Jere’s staring at his own too.

“On floor. Like on stage, you crawl. You crawl for me, like walking dog. You can do, yes?”

It practically rips the oxygen out of Bojan’s lungs with how easy and casually he can say that. Their eyes meet, Bojan staring at him, with parted lips and upturned eyebrows. He nods, awkwardly lowering himself while he holds onto Jere’s arms for balance.

“There you go,” Jere coos as his knees hit the floor.

He doesn’t seem to care about how hard Bojan holds onto his forearms, or how his ankles click, or how he groans at the aches radiating through his post-gig body. Every little thing that Bojan thinks about seems to fly right past his mind. How can Jere not see how embarrassing he looks? How pathetic, and desperate, and awkward, and–

“Good boy, Bojan. Good puppy.”

“Woof.”

Bojan barks.

He feels that goddamned tingle up his spine again.

AAAAAAND THATS ALL I GOT UP TO :DDD

[frikatilhi]

it’s sadly nothing too specific, but maybe it can still be a source of inspiration. I’ve been thinking a lot about Jere in that luchadora mask and Bojan training with that MMA champion. I’m sure they’d /enjoy/ play fighting (or maybe training together) a lot a lot…

Oh my god. Okay, confession time: Bojan’s instastories about training with that MMA champ did numbers on me, and I accidentally wrote a Bojan/omc pwp that I’m now just sitting with and wondering if it fits in another story or not or if it’s just doomed.

Anyway, here’s an answer to your prompt! Jere and Bojan sparring. I know nothing of sports, if you can't tell. 😂

Jere wasn’t sure if this was a good idea. But Bojan had asked so enthusiastically (“There’s even a Finnish sauna there! We can go afterwards and you can make fun of how wrong it is!”). Usually Jere was always up to trying anything new, and he had been working out a lot himself lately, if mostly only with weights, so he thought why not? Martial arts? Could be fun?

Now, looking around at the gym, he was having serious second thoughts. He wasn’t insecure about his looks, and he couldn’t care less what these dudes - ripped, sculptural, giant dudes - thought of him and his short legs and soft belly. But something about this place got to him, a little. Maybe it was the way some of these guys were looking at him, like they were sizing him up. Or maybe it was the way Bojan was fist-bumping everyone, laughing, excited, clearly in his element. 

Because Bojan wasn’t always like that. Jere had seen him at some of his low moments, and watching this Bojan, so giddy and carefree, felt awesome and bittersweet at the same time. He wanted to think he had something to do with it - he’d been like this at least since Finland, Jere thinks - but on the other hand, there could be a million reasons. Anything and everything could be behind Bojan’s new mood - making new music, touring, big stadium concert, meeting new people, maybe finding a new sport? Which, admittedly, to Jere seemed less like a sport and more like a form of foreplay, but hey, if Bojan liked it, who was he to judge?

Then again, maybe that’s exactly why Bojan liked it, and the thought sent an unpleasant jolt through him. He couldn’t deny that the sight of Bojan rolling around with some… thigh-master of a human, it woke something in him, something he maybe wasn’t super proud of.

“You ready?” asked Bojan, jogging towards him.

“Sure.” Jere followed him to the mat.

“Have you done martial arts before? Boxing or kickboxing?” asked Bojan.

Jere jumped on his feet a little to warm up. “Only cardio, with bag.”

“Ok good, so you know some basic techniques?” Bojan was also bouncing, moving his weight from one side to another.

“Sure, some, yeah.”

Bojan beamed. “Ok, so let’s do this!”

They started with simple one-for-one exchanges. Staying within punching range, taking turns. Slips, fakes, returns off of a block. They kept it light and easy, laughing as they went. Bojan showed him a few sequences that they then repeated until the movements were smooth. Jere found that he was enjoying himself, despite not being in his comfort zone. His hockey days might be far behind him, but the quick movements and core control required to stay in control seemed to come natural to him. 

After a while they moved into takedowns. Bojan had been working hard on learning them, so he was enthusiastic about showing off his skills. This required more contact, and soon Jere found himself pinned down, locked in between Bojan’s legs. Relaxing himself, admitting defeat, he started to get up, but Bojan pushed back, his thighs keeping Jere in place. 

“Say it,” Bojan said, laughing.

Jere huffed out a laugh, as well. “You want me to say it?”

“Yes, I think I do.” Bojan squeezed his legs a little harder. The sensation was… not bad, and it took Jere by surprise. He wanted to laugh it off, make a joke, but suddenly couldn’t think of anything to say. Nothing light-hearted enough came to mind, instead, his breath caught in his throat and he felt–

Shit. Shit shit shit.

“Okay, you win,” he breathed out quickly. Bojan stopped laughing. He let him go and stood up. He reached to pull Jere up, and Jere took his hand.

“You okay?” asked Bojan, looking at him closely.

“Yes yes, of course,” Jere said, trying to laugh it off. “Again?”

Bojan smiled. “Your turn to try!”

Maybe it was time he talked to Bojan, Jere thought. About… things. Maybe it would be better than accidentally getting hard while working out with him. Wouldn’t be any less awkward though, maybe. 

But that would be later. Now, he was ready to take Bojan down.

[ana-chronista]

Putting that birthday sash to good use

Well. You can probably tell where this is going.

And because it's me, this turned out longer than expected...

Later, he thinks, he’ll probably decide that he should have seen it coming, but he’s so preoccupied in those first few minutes offstage that it was impossible. There’s the usual post-show adrenaline, the rush of congratulations all round, the laughter as they insist he keeps the birthday girl sash from the audience on, and then Mikke is herding him through the door and telling him they’ll see him in a bit. It makes him forget even the most simple of facts: the sky is blue, grass is green, and Bojan Cvjetićanin is a little shit. "Hey, Jere." He freezes, not even registering Mikke banging the door shut behind him, because right there, lounging on the couch in front of him with possibly the world’s smuggest smile, is Bojan himself. “What – but – you – you – you – ” He’s only felt his brain short-circuit like this a few times before in his life, but most of those seem to be both recent and Bojan-related. Spotting a gorgeous Slovenian man watching him wide-eyed and smiling brightly from across the room in Madrid had obviously done something to his sanity to send him down this path. If possible, Bojan’s smile widens. “I get that you’re obsessed with me but you don’t need to keep talking about me – ” “You tell me you are in Sisilia!” Jere manages finally, pointing accusingly at him. Bojan raises both hands almost in surrender. “I was! Up until…” He gets to his feet, pulling his phone from his back pocket to check the time. “Like two hours ago when I landed in Scotland.” And then he opens his arms, and Jere can’t think of anything more than flinging himself towards him and trying to kiss him senseless. Somewhere down the corridor he can hear laughter and loud music starting up, but right here it’s just the two of them wrapped around each other, and one month may be nothing compared with the three they had to get through over the summer, but it’s still too damn long. By the time they break apart, they’re both breathless. “Why you are here?” he asks, voice barely a murmur and forehead still pressed against Bojan’s. “I heard you’re having a birthday. Although – ” Bojan leans back, grinning again as he runs his fingers down the slippery material of the sash. “It looks like you started celebrating already.” Jere laughs. “Yes, yes, audience give me.” He pulls back further and slips his left arm out of it, intending to take it off to show it properly to him, but Bojan stops him while it’s still looped around his neck. “No, I think you should keep it on. It’s quite useful.” A hundred thoughts flit through Jere’s brain at lightning speed, each dirtier than the last, but he just raises an eyebrow. “Oh really? For what?” “Like for this.” Bojan says, suddenly twisting a hand into both sides of the sash and pulling. Jere can’t do anything but follow, his mouth meeting Bojan’s in the middle. This time, the kiss is slower, less frantic, less hurried. Bojan’s mouth is warm and familiar, tasting faintly of the cigarette he’s obviously has outside earlier before trying to cover it up with chewing gum. Jere moans as Bojan’s tongue finds his, and he nips lightly at his lower lip. They’re always up against the clock somehow, so moments like this need to be savoured even more. He slides his arms up around Bojan’s back, tracing his fingers along his spine in the way he knows makes him shiver. If they could melt into each other, they would have done so by now.

But romance and seriousness are for those moments when they’re cocooned away from the world together, huddled close enough that there’s no room for secrets between them, not for an untidy dressing room with the afterparty starting up nearby. So what actually comes out of Jere’s mouth when they finally separate is “You can’t tell me what to do, it’s my birthday.” If there was ever a need for a definitive recording of a long suffering sigh, Bojan would definitely be in the running. “Fine, I’ll have to make you instead.” He pulls the sash over Jere’s head and grabs his right hand, looping the silky material over it before doing the same with his left.Within seconds, his wrists are tied securely enough for the material to rub lightly against his skin, but not so tightly he couldn’t wriggle out of it if he wanted to. A thrill runs through him, heart thumping against his ribs, and suddenly his head is full of another night: a scarf binding his wrists together, his mattress dipping in the dark as Bojan moves closer, the hot rush of “you remember what to say to stop – any time – ” against his ear, the way his back had arched nearly clear off the bed later as he came. (And if it was only fair that Bojan got a turn later that night, and if they’d then got a bit distracted by the sheer elation of being back together at last, well. At least they’d made it out of Jere’s apartment just barely on time the next morning, even if Bojan seemed to have left half the contents of his suitcase behind.) But he’s not about to give Bojan the satisfaction of hearing all that, even if he knows that he knows, so instead he offers his best Kӓӓrijӓ stage smile and knows he’s been successful when he spots him biting his lip ever so slightly. “And what now, Bojan?” he asks, flexing his palms open wide as if surrendering. Bojan shrugs, feigning casualness with what Jere thinks is pretty limited success. “Well, there’s a perfectly good couch there going to waste.” he says, turning them around and walking Jere back so he can push him down onto it. “I’d say we start there.” Jere sits down heavily, plastering on a mock-thoughtful expression as he looks up at the other man. “I don’t know... you come here with no present – ” “Hey, surely my presence is present enough!” Bojan protests, kneeling in front of Jere, elbows resting on his knees so he can lean forward. “I come here and surprise you – ” “ – you turn up with empty hands – ” “ – I planned the whole thing without ever letting on, you never suspected – ” “ – probably really forget it is my birthday – ” This time Bojan leans forward, cupping Jere’s face and breaking him off with a kiss, hard and fast. “Alright, enough.” he says as they break apart, voice low. His pupils are wide as his eyes search Jere’s, and Jere is pretty sure his match right now. “I doubt we’ve got all that long before someone comes to find us, so how about we make the most of having a door that shuts between us and everyone else, hm?” As much as that sounds exactly like what Jere wants to be doing right now, and as much as he wants to rush out yes please, right now, he can’t resist getting one more quip in. “But did you think Mr. Worldwide not need any presents? Even Sweden give me mixer.” All of a sudden, Bojan’s hands are digging in hard to Jere’s hips and he’s dragging him forward on the couch. “I said enough. Honestly, I’m starting to think I should be using that sash as a gag instead. And of course, Jere can’t help but allow himself another Kӓӓrijӓ grin. “I like to see you try, Jokerman.”

[jokeroutsubs]

[ENG translation] Joker Out singer opens up about kissing on set and other details of the new film

Interview with Bojan Cvjetićanin and Katja Predan. Original article was written by Sonja Javornik for Novice Svet24, published on 6.1.2024. English translation by @varianestoroff, proof read by TWT klámstrákur.

The new Slovenian film 'Kaj pa Ester?' is targeted primarily at teenage audiences, but Tosja Flaker Bercet's fun, relaxed film will also appeal to older audiences. And it looks like the film will be a hit not only in Slovenia, but also abroad, as fans of Joker Out from all over Europe are waiting for the film to come to their cinemas - the male protagonist is played by the much-loved Bojan Cvjetićanin.

Bojan Cvjetićanin and Katja Predan are the leading actors of the new teen movie 'Kaj pa Ester?' (Photo by Šimen Zupančič)

In 2021, after a long search for the main character, the director invited Bojan Cvjetićanin, the lead singer of a band that was on the verge of success at the time, to audition. Today, Bojan would not have had time to record due to concerts in Europe and other projects (their new album and concert film 'Live From Arena Stožice' is available on www.jokeroutband.com), but back then, it was not a problem for him, so we can admire him in the film alongside the excellent Katja Predan and other young co-stars.

The film is about Ester, who is not pleased when she discovers that her ex-boyfriend, who wants to rebuild their romance, has enrolled at the same high school. Kaj (played by Bojan) tries to show his love for her with romantic gestures, but his moves impress his classmates more than Ester. Ester finds herself in a difficult situation, as her classmates are mean to her because they think she should give Kaj a second chance, but instead she agrees with a friend to act like a lesbian couple... The Ljubljana premiere of the film took place at Cinemaplexx and the whole crew came to see it. Before that, we had the exclusive opportunity to talk to the two main actors. Bojan was five minutes late, but given his frenetic schedule and mild cold, we didn't blame him. Over tea, he and Katja were happy to look back on the filming and joked around, jumping into each other and generally getting on well.

Katja, you are 24 years old and finishing your third year of film directing studies at AGRFT¹.

I'm still one exam away...

So you prefer to be behind the camera than in front of it?

Actually, it was good in front of the camera too. (smiles)

How did you get this role?

That's a good story! I was waiting for a friend who was half an hour late for a drink. But I was sitting at another table, with a friend from high school, when Tosja joined us. He introduced himself, and I told him I knew him. He told me they needed another actress because they were filming something and offered me to come and try it out. I wasn't interested at first, but then I thought that it must be a short film and it wasn't that big of a commitment. When I arrived, I found out that I was auditioning for the main role!

Do you have previous acting experience?

I was in a theatre group, I acted in a play, and then I started directing. That was in the first year of high school. In college I acted in our rehearsals when we were filming, but now I hope to get another chance.

In the interview, Bojan and Katja also revealed - he had his first crush in kindergarten, she had her first boyfriend in high school. (Photo by Šimen Zupančič)

What kind of projects do you want to do as a director?

The ones where people talk a lot (laughs). I'm interested in love themes and situations where nothing special happens and the relationship gets boring.

What was it like working with Bojan?

We've worked together very little because we split up in the film, so we're not a couple anymore. We had two rehearsals together and they were very nice. But we did hang out a little bit.

Can we even project ourselves into the film? The plot itself is absurd, because you want to break up with Bojan - the Bojan who is currently the idol of young girls in this country and in Europe!

Tosja, please write what happened before that! (laughs) Surely Ester had a good reason to leave him.

Have you been dumped by a girlfriend in real life?

Bojan: Absolutely! I wouldn't say I was dumped because I didn't have many girlfriends. But I have been rejected...

So could this happen to you?

Yes, especially when I was as old as Kaj.

How did you land in the film as an actor?

I've always been interested in playing, but due to time constraints, I can't commit to it much, even if I wanted to. When I was invited to audition, I had a free summer. I'm a fan of the series 'V dvoje', one of the writers of is our director Tosja, and the creator was Luka Marčetič, who then also worked on the film, and there are a few other crew members as well. It was an honour to be able to work with them because they created my favourite series.

They don't hide that it was a lot of fun on the set: "We had as much fun as we could. It was relaxing." Photo by Šimon Zupančič

In the film, you are exactly as you were in real life - they haven't even changed your hairstyle. How so?

I have a lot of contracts that say I can't change it. (laughs) No, it's a joke! Tosja was pleased with my appearance. The film is interesting because the 15-year-olds are played by 20-year-olds and older.

How much time do you have now that you are a European music star?

To be honest, very little. Three days ago I returned from the last tour of the year. I have a cold, of course, so it would be very convenient if I had a couple of days to lie down, but I have the whole premiere day today and tomorrow, a concert on Saturday, and on Sunday we go back to the studio for a week. Then we've got a few more gigs, then we're moving to London for two months, and then we've got a one-month tour. Then we'll probably go to Germany for a month to record the album, and then we'll have another tour soon...

We won't see you much.

Exactly, because there's too much of me everywhere now. (smiles)

How was it on set?

Bojan: It was great for me because I knew the whole team from before.

How did you and Ester* meet? (*T/N: They probably meant Katja)

Bojan: Through mutual friends, maybe even through Mila...

Katja: Haven't we known each other since primary school? Or from the audition for Vičstock?

Bojan: Yes, indeed! Katja was one of the organisers of Vičstock at Vič high school, and I was in one of the bands that wanted to play at the festival. And we did play at Vičstock. We actually know each other from ninth grade - like our characters in the film.

The stars of the new Slovenian teen movie shared with us some interesting facts from the filming of it. (Photo by Šimen Zupančič)

What are you willing to do for love, Bojan? Because your character is very committed in the film to get Ester back.

I have a little wish to find love again, for which I would be willing to do such a big thing. It seems to me that I have not felt that since primary school or the beginning of high school.

Was your first love fatal? Like Kaj's?

Katja: Yes!

Bojan: In my opinion, yes.

And how did your first love end?

Bojan: Ask me if I have a girlfriend.

Do you have one?

Bojan: No. (laughs) I told you that I have been rejected in the past. But I had my first love in kindergarten.

Katja: I remember my first boyfriend from high school. We, of course, had to hide our relationship from everyone, in case we broke up afterwards and embarrassed ourselves. That way nobody knew we were in love and nobody asked anything when it was over.

Have you ever hidden your love?

Bojan: No, I'm like an open book.

Did you have fun during the filming or were you focused the whole time?

Bojan: We had as much fun as we could. It was relaxing.

Katja: I just remember that Diana and I used to rehearse scenes and kiss all the time, thinking that that would keep us in the role...

Film director Tosja Flaker Berce with the cast of 'Kaj pa Ester?': Katja Predan, Bojan Cvjetićanin, Mila Peršin, Suzana Krevh, Veronika Železnik, and Diana Kolenc. (Photo by Mediaspeed)

Have you also been kissing a lot?

Bojan: All the time, but only when the camera was on (laughs).

What did you think of the script?

Katja: For me, the biggest question was why they went their separate ways in the first place, but looking back, I understand Ester more and more.

Bojan: (playing offended) What are you trying to say?

Katja: (laughs) Yeah, he was probably too fixated on her.

What are the differences between you and your characters?

Bojan: The biggest difference is that as a young boy, I was not a loner like Kaj over the years. Kaj wanted to spend time with Ester more than anything, and I see the key problem with their relationship as the fact that it started to suffocate Ester. Ester, in my opinion, wanted to get away from this one-to-one, one-person, all-day contact. Of course, we're young in the film and you have doubts about your first real romantic relationship, but it started to suffocate Ester...

Katja: ...that there is nothing else.

Bojan: Anyway - Ester is not cool, neither is Kaj. She sits at home and plays 'Krofki'² ('Doughnuts').

What do you do in your free time now?

Katja: I like to read and I'm quite similar to Ester in terms of my nerdiness.

Bojan: I like reading too. If I have time during the day to do something, I like to relax as actively as possible, ride a horse or go-kart, fish... In short, something to get the energy out of me. I'm not good at fishing at all, but it calms me down a lot.

Do you like being so busy, travelling so much?

I wouldn't say I have a big problem with the workload. But it is very tiring to travel a lot. Some of the tours have been designed so that we travel by tour bus, which means that I can sleep in a bed in the bus all night between locations and at least be rested the next day.

But is it good quality sleep?

For me, it is the best in the world and I am thinking about how to recreate this rocking coffin at home. Very small and tight, but the best. But if the connections on the tour are by plane, like we had now, for example, when we flew ten times in seven days, it means you only get about four hours sleep a day. And that exhausts you.

What about packing each time?

I've already got it all worked out! Now I don't even take things out of suitcases, I take the shirt from the top and put the dirty things in a bag somewhere at the bottom. I have two big suitcases at home to change.

¹The Academy of Theatre, Radio, Film and Television (Akademija za Gledališče, Radio, Film in Televizijo) is the only higher education institution in Slovenia that trains at university level for professions in theatre, film, radio and television.

²The game 'Krofki' is a made up videogame, played by characters in the movie.

[saucyjothoughts]

Bojan taking your virginity PLEASE🫶🫶🫶

I got a bit carried away with this one. Sweet Anonyboo, please enjoy a cosy Friday night cuddelefuck with your older brother's friend.

(nsfw under the cut)

A knock at your door. Almost silent, just enough for you and only you to hear. You're too nervous to answer out loud but he lets himself in, slipping through the door into your room and closing it softly behind him.

He was one of your big brother's friends. You always had a little crush on him growing up, the bright smile and how his body broadened with the years and how he was always so interesting and talented, so sweet to you, always on your team when your brother would let you join in their video games.

You kissed him once. Or rather, he kissed you. It was the stroke of the new year and just a friendly thing, just tradition. Still, you thought of his lips against yours and the brush of his facial hair and the smell of his skin over and over.

You don't think your brother ever suspected anything. Even when you squealed at a scary movie and Bojan laughed at you but took you under his arm for the rest of the film, your brother was in the room but gave you nothing but the slightest side eye. That was only the first time, you and Bojan somehow always ending up sitting next to each other for movie nights from then on, even under a blanket together in the winters. On one occasion it was only the three of you and when your brother excused himself to the bathroom, Bojan squeezed you tight. After subtly stroking your arm under the privacy of the blanket all night, he finally dared to speak aloud when you were alone.

"This is nice," he told you. And yes, yes it was. His company was comfortable, his arms strong. His kiss on the top of your head sending warm shivers through your bones.

But then you didn't see him for a while. You were busy with your studies and he was busy with the success he was gaining with his music and with your brother moving out, there was little excuse to see him any more.

Until one of your friends forced you to agree to hosting a modest get-together. You didn't really feel like socialising, having just been through a messy break up with someone you thought could have been special to you, someone you thought you could have... given yourself to. But you had been wrong.

You didn't have much warning that Bojan would be there, didn't know he was even back home from his traveling, but you weren't unhappy to see him. Your friend had brought a guy she thought you'd like ("you should get straight back on he horse!" was her advice) but she had been spectacularly wrong and Bojan had noted your discomfort from across the room and rescued you from the guy's weird conversation, helping you escape to the kitchen. You'd both grown up so much, and had so much catching up to do. Of course, the topic of your recent unhappiness was unavoidable.

"I thought I'd found someone who was actually going to be good to me," you opened up to him. "I thought I'd finally be able to be physical with someone."

"You've never...?"

"I've never."

It's not like you were waiting for marriage. You just wanted it to be with someone who actually gave a shit about you.

An unexpected tension hung in the air. Both you and Bojan stood close with your mouths hovered open as though you each might have asked a question, but neither did.

"You could have anyone you want, you know. You're hot enough." You scoffed at his compliment but he pressed on. "I mean it. I used to crush on you pretty hard."

Surely he didn't really mean it. Surely he was just trying to be nice.

But that wasn't the end of the conversation. You found him again later, near the end of the night when your head was fuzzy with tiredness.

"I don't know why it feels like such a big deal," you told him.

"It's only a big deal if you want it to be."

"Does it hurt? The first time."

"Not if you do it right."

He was sipping on something you were pretty sure was only a coke and you couldn't help but look at his lips, his hands, thinking about who they touched, thinking about him knowing how to use them.

"Have you never even wanted to explore? Someone you trust, no pressure?"

"I've never done it."

"But have you wanted to?"

Your answer never came. Before you could give it, stumbling over your thoughts to find your truth, you were interrupted - someone calling him away for a smoke.

"Can I come to your room later?" He kept his voice low. You nodded, and he disappeared for a cigarette.

Now, he's stood in your room. The house is quiet - some of your friends crashing on the couches downstairs - and you're alone together. Your brother's best friend who you always crushed on, who had always been good to you. You've thought about this so many times in your most secret hours of exploring yourself, but now it's real. You're in your pyjamas, clean and soft and moisturised, and as he steps towards you realise how rough his skin is, his clothes smelling of tobacco smoke. He's going to kiss you. But his approach seems in slow motion as he moves into your personal space and rests a hand on the small of your back to keep you close. The back of his fingers lift your chin and then he's kissing you. It's just like you remembered, soft lips and warmth and closeness. Except this time he's taller, older and he's kissing you because he wants you. This time, it's deep. His tongue is slow and cautious, his arms strong just like they were all of those movie nights and suddenly you know there is no one else you'd rather give yourself to, no one else you want to wait for. Your skin is tingling with anticipation, every breath electric and your very bones ready for this, for him.

You take him to you bed and lay each other down. You're the first to venture your hands beneath his clothes and he removes his shirt for you to feel the skin of his body, muscular and warm.

Your hand on his butt over his trousers, then over his hip.

"Can I?" You whisper.

"Yes."

Your hand trails over the front of his trousers, over the bulge that has been growing there. He's waiting patiently, letting you set the pace, but his eagerness is undeniable. The naughtiness of it, a dirty secret, he shouldn't think about his friend's little sister like this but he does. And now your little virgin cunt is almost close enough to taste and he's intoxicated by every little sound you make, every touch, his cock throbbing for you.

His breathing changes as you run your hand along his length through the material, his hips twitching at the feeling. It's enough to make your starving clit tingle.

"Will you touch me?"

In the low light of your bedside lamp, he nods. He begins carefully, a big hand along your arm and on your waist and very gently over the plump of your breasts. He's saying lovely things to you in that honeysweet voice and moves his touch over the curve of your hip and along your inner thigh and everywhere he can reach before finally venturing to peel your pyjamas away. He asks permission to remove his own pants and suddenly you're naked together under your covers.

His deep kiss gains strength as he presses his body against yours and you can feel his erection pushing against your belly in vivid clarity. It should be scary but it's not because it's only Bojan - cute, kind, slightly sweaty Bojan - and you know he'll take care of you, every instinct in your body telling you to lie back and relax and welcome his attention.

His kiss is on your neck and he pulls back to watch your expression just as his hand slips between your legs and... Oh, god. His fingers are between you lips, spreading your wetness all over you. You didn't even realise how wet you were, your body reacting of it's own accord and now he's rubbing your clit and it feels strange and wonderful and he's grinning at you and you realise it's because you're whining uncontrollably, your cheeks red and your core clenching and your hips bucking. He's getting off on giving you pleasure and you're helpless under his touch.

"Can I use my fingers inside you?"

Yes. Please, please yes.

It feels strange. The physical sensation of having a part of his body in your special place, but also the exhilaration of knowing you will never be the same again. He uses a second finger and it's uncomfortable for a moment, but he goes slowly and distracts you by kissing so sweetly at your nipples.

"Do you want me to make you come?"

You've never had an orgasm in front of anyone else before. You don't know if you'll be able to let go enough to finish, or if he'll be able to touch you like you touch yourself. But more than anything, you want to try.

"Like this? Or do you want more?"

His fingers or his cock - that's what he's really asking. More. You want more. It seems to be the answer he was hoping for.

He settles himself between your legs and you lift your knees to give him space and you spend a few moments there, just bathing in each other's heat, breathing in each other's smell, becoming accustomed to each other's closeness. His cock is rubbing against your sex and his weight is heavy over you, biceps flexed as he holds himself up, fluffy hair falling over his face as he leans over you.

He asks you if you're ready. You trust him completely.

He uses one hand to help line up the tip of his cock with the entrance to your pussy and pushes. Only the tip at first. No pleasure, no pain, just pressure. His hips move strong and slow, pushing a tiny bit deeper with each steady thrust and how much he's filling you up becomes overwhelming and you're whining again and he's telling you how beautiful you feel around his cock and you realise that you are - right now, this very second - losing your virginity and joining a lovers' tradition as old as time.

You're beginning to love it. The powerlessness of being underneath him, at his mercy, trusting him to take care of you as your whole world becomes his masculine grunts and the smell of sweat and sex and the feeling of his cock pushing at your insides, violating the most sacred part of your body with his affection, his lust. You want him to go harder, to stop worrying about being gentle with you and you pull at his hips to show your want, to ask him to fuck you like he means it.

He takes the hint. Hand gripping your hair, he hooks one arm under your knee to pull your leg higher, changing the angle of your hips to let him push deeper and pressing his skin against your clit with every roll of his hips.

As it turns out, you can let go enough to finish with him inside you. Your orgasm creeps up on you, giving you almost no warning and flooding like panic through your body. It's like nothing you've ever felt before, to have your pussy clench around the solid intrusion of Bojan's cock as he continues to fuck you through your high, your whole body tremoring with sensitivity, and a new feeling gushing from you - the euphoria of intimacy.

He's grinning again, kissing at the side of your face as you cling desperately to the sheets, his back, his hair, anything to stop you from falling off the edge of the world. Eventually, he lifts himself away, slipping out of you and putting his hand to himself and jerk cum all up your belly as he buries the moans of his release into your shoulder.

You let him stay for a while, though you both know he'll need to get dressed and go back to crashing on the couch if you want to avoid anyone suspecting what you've done together tonight. But for now, he holds you in his arms just like he's done for years. You're grown up now, and naked and sweaty and covered in each other's combined lust. But his kiss on the top of your head still sends warm shivers through your bones.

[ivanshatov]

happy birthday freak

wc: 1.5k

i feel like i need to start writing again and i also feel more comfortable posting my work here but? i thought this way a good leeway into that or whatever anyways all my ocs are freaks and i will shove them at you!

You make your own birthday cake.

At least, that’s the rule in this household. When he tried to do it last year, though, he burned his hand in the oven, and his parents reprimanded him for not wearing his gloves and being foolish enough to touch the tin. We’ve told you, Cvetko, hundreds of times— Don’t touch the stove. It’s your own fault.

His parents are in Belgrade, now, and most of his siblings are off in various bits of Europe. It’s April for certain. Buds are forming on the trees, the grass is getting somewhat greener, yet the air is still bitingly thick with cold and wind howls around the house each night. And now, seemingly forever stunted in growth since he turned 8, Cvetko now comes on his 10th birthday with some indifference.

Arina is downstairs when he toddles down in his oversized nightshirt, a hand-me-down from Aleksandar. “Happy birthday,” she says blankly as he peeks over the countertop at her. “Mama will be mad at you if you use the oven this time. Don’t try. Anya got you some candy, it’s on the table.”

Cvetko swiveled to the small bag that waited for him. “Where is Anya?” he asked, his voice small.

Arina gave a shrug. “I need to go.” She ruffled his hair, hurrying to the door but not before she boomed her sibling’s name. “Luka, watch your brother.” She shouted, the door slamming behind her. An affirmative groan resounded from upstairs.

For a moment, Cvetko waited at the bottom of the stairs, wringing his hands and wondering if Luka’s footsteps would foretell his coming. Nothing could be heard, however, and Cvetko toddled back into the dining room.

Anya’s thoughtful gift of sweets and chocolate was wrapped nicely in a bag, done up with a ribbon and a note.

Happy birthday, flower.

Followed by,

In Zagreb. I had to get away. No worry, I will bring you a gift!

Anya

It’s a nice gesture. He appreciates it. He pops a candy into his mouth and thinks.

Stacked up on the counter are Luka’s application papers. It’s for Vienna, London, New York— Neuroscience programs. He’s a bright kid, bound to do amazing things, just like his brothers before him. Cvetko sifts through them, careful not to upset the precise order, for his workbook. Or rather, Arseny’s workbook, but he erased all the answers and markings left on the questions and gave it to Cvetko with a smile. There are still some faint markings and eraser shreds peppered through the equations and word problems, but he uses it nonetheless, letting his eyes slip out of focus in order to block out the correct answers still present in faint pencil.

He likes this. He sits at the counter, his legs dangling high above the tiled floors, flipping through the old workbook for something he’s yet to tackle. His parents noticed this, too, and were quick to hand him crossword puzzles, sudoku, complicated packets of math, and already began to enroll him in a series of Bees and programs for the young mathematician. Some of it still eludes him. He’s never brought home a prize, either, and always clams up on stage or when being judged. The answer is on the tip of his tongue, though he’ll never say it. It never comes out. Of course, Papa’s never quite happy about that. “When Luka was your age, he got first place.” Or, “We ought to practice much more, hm?”

And think of the devil, a pair of heavy footsteps plodded down the old stairs with a yawn. Luka appeared in the door, his eyes darkened with exhaustion and a Gameboy dangling off his fingers. “What are you up to?” he asks without so much as a greeting, shuffling up behind Cvetko. “Math?” Cvetko can’t quite tell if the rank is simply morning breath or the penentrating smell of alcohol, but he scrunches up his face and forces an unbothered look.

“Math,” he affirms, crossing his legs and nodding.

Luka replies with a scoff and snatches the book out of his hands, replacing it with the old Gameboy. “It’s your birthday. April 1st. How old are you now, ten?” He sounded unsure of even that as he peeked up from the math problems at Cvetko, who was fiddling with the old device. “Don’t do this bullshit, go have fun. Go run around in the yard, or something. Go.”

“That’s a bad word,” Cvetko commented, and Luka slapped down the workbook.

“How old is this?” he snapped, ignoring his little brother’s comments and skimming to the front pages of the book. “Arseny gave you this? No wonder. Here, I will go into town and get you a real workbook. Consider it a birthday gift.” 
Cvetko nodded, and with a start, Luka got to his feet. “Mind putting on the stove for me? I need tea,” Luka said, stretching his arms over his head with a yawn.

Cvetko set down the little device and toddled over to the stove. His head barely reached above the knobs, yet he ran his hands across them and thought patiently, recalling the pattern of lighting the stove. The second knob on the left, that’s it. It has to be. Luka’s back is turned, standing over the garbage as he tears out the yellowing pages of the old workbook. He’s so busy ripping them from the spine, dozens at a time, that he doesn’t realize what’s happening until his brother cries out in pain.

“Oh, fuck me!” The ribbed workbook is dropped as Luka dashes to his brother’s side, hurriedly shutting off the stove and ripping a whimpering Cvetko’s hand from the iron kettle. He sits his brother on his lap, observing his reddening palm with a sigh. “Fucking hell, Cvetko.”

His bottom lip in a pout, Cvetko whimpered as Luka gently traced his fingers over his injured hand, and yelped when Luka dragged him to the sink and stuck his little brother’s hand in the stream of cold water. “There,” Luka said, crouching down and wiping away the tears on Cvetko’s face with his sleeve. “You’re all better.”

Luka rose, stepping over the workbook. “You really ought to not play with fire anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” Cvetko murmured, nursing his trembling left hand.

“Don’t apologize to me, you’re the one getting injured.”

They’re silent for a moment before Cvetko appeared besides his brother, three heads shorter and not even reaching his shoulder. “Are you going away?” he asked.

“What are you talking about?” Luka incredulously looked back to his little brother. It’s only now he first realizes how similar they look. Cvetko has the same round face, those same freckles. Sure, Bojan and Arseny almost have the exact same appearance as Luka, the only difference in their ages and hair, yet Luka can’t help seeing himself in that tiny brother of his. Cvetko, expressionless, gestured to the behemoth of papers on the table.

A smile tickled Luka’s mouth and he forced a bitter laugh. “I’m not going far,” he said, pausing as he placed a firm hand on Cvetko’s shoulder. “I’m going to Amsterdam. I’ll see Alex there.”

Cvetko looked away with another pout.

“Oh, don’t be like that. You have Arina and Anya, and Dmitrije’s family lives an hour away. And Mama and Papa are right here.”

Without saying much of anything else, Cvetko wrapped his stick-thin brother in a squeeze. Luka, startled for a moment, ruffled his brother’s hair and grinned. “We’re all right here, kiddo.”

***

It had been a hard two months, and he had almost forgotten about his own birthday. After all, his whole life, it’d been a nonoccurrence. No celebration, no wonder, only a gift of some sweets or novels.

That’s why it came as a surprise to him, when sifting through a stack of official papers and getting lost in the jargon and formalities, Cvetko was surprised to stumble upon Agim, standing like a spectre in his office, holding a small box in his hand.

Cvetko, startled, bumped into the doorway and gathered his papers with a laugh. “Blin! You scared the crap out of me!”

Agim grinned and gestured to the coffee table. “I tried to get Komnena and Laszlo to come, but...”

Cvetko shrugged. “It’s fine, I appreciate the thought anyway. They’re busy.”

They sat opposite, Cvetko undoing the string on the rice paper box that unraveled into a tiny pastry. Agim fished a lighter from his pocket, bringing it to a light and holding it out. In the lens of his glasses, the flame lapped back and forth. “Hope this is an alright alternative to a candle.”

The heat of the small flame drew Cvetko closer, and he found himself mesmerized by the dollop of orange light.

Don’t touch the stove.

A faint smile crossed Cvetko’s face, and he tilted his head, the light pockmarking the darkness that cloaked the whole room.

“Perfectly alright,” he replied, sampling the pastry with his finger. “Thank you for the gift.”

His long and prominent face illuminated by the flame, Agim grinned. “Happy birthday.”

[anxious-witch]

sorry I don't have enough imagination to come up with a prompt or something, but I'd love to see something with poly!JO :3 (maybe the guys taking care of Nace somehow idk)

Anon, sorry for the wait, this turned out much longer than I initially planned, but here it is. I hope you like it!

TW for vomitting and general sickness descriptions

Nace woke up with a blinding headache, which was never a good way to wake up. Even when all his boyfriends were still there to cuddle him. So he snoozed his alarm and decided he could skip his morning workout this once. It was unlikely he's be very productive with a headache anyway.

Bojan mumbled something in his dream and snuggled closer. Nace smiled and drifted off again.

Second time he woke up, it was by Kris' gently shaking.

"Nacko, wake up. You slept in, we gotta-"

But didn't hear the rest of his sentence, because he was hit by a sudden wave of nausea. He jumped out of the bed and ran towards the bathroom, leaving a bewildered Kris behind. 

He made it to the bathroom just in time to throw up in the toilet. It was disgusting and his head was spinning so bad, it was a miracle he managed to run to here in the first place.

"Fuck," he heard Kris curse from the doorway, "I'll go wake the others."

Nace tried to shake his head. It had to still be early if only Kris was awake. He could handle it.

"Let them sleep." he said, immediately winching at how hoarse his voice sounded.

"Don't be ridiculous. You are sick. They'd all want to help."

Kris left before Nace could protest again. Which was probably for the best, considering the fact that he managed to throw up again. He knew how easily Kris got grossed out over these things.

So he waited, willing for his stomach to calm down and stop cramping so bad. Or for his head to stop spinning.

He must have nodded off again, because he jolted when a cold hand gently touched his forehead.

"Shhh, it's just me Nacko. Relax."

Jan's voice was deeper than usual, likely due to him just waking up. But he wasn't usually cold. If anything among the five of them, it was Jan and Jure who always ran hot.

"You are burning up, love."

"Great."

Jan chuckled at his deadpan tone. He grabbed his phone and quickly typed something out.

"Alright, Bojan will go run to the pharmacy to get you something for the temperature. Let's get you cleaned up a bit, yeah? And put some more clothes on you. You are shivering."

Nace was too tired to protest. He doubted he could stand for long enough on his own to do it himself. And God knew Jan was too stubborn to fight, especially when he was worried as he was now.

So Nace let him help him brush his teeth and put on a shirt and sweatpants. It immediately made him feel a bit more human.

"Where are Kris and Jure?"

"Making breakfast, I believe. Kris is also googling which tea is best for a stomach bug. But I digress."

Nace tried not to laugh.

"So you just wanted to give Bojan a reason to not be in the kitchen with them?"

Jan shrugged, unapologetic.

"I prefer him not burning down the apartment while trying to help. Or Kris strangling him before he could. One crisis at the time."

This time, Nace did laugh. He leaned on the sink to not fall down as he doubled over while laughing.

"We both know Bojan wouldn't mind other option."

Then they were both laughing and for a moment Nace felt completely fine. And the the world started spinning again, and his legs became very unstable.

"Shit, shit, shit. Kris!"

Jan's arms were wrapped around him and he gently lowered him to the floor, instead of Nace plummeting as he would if he were alone.

"Can't I fucking leave for five minutes?!"

Then there wasn't one, but two pair of arms pulling him up. Black spots slowly stopped dancing in his vision and he looked up to a very worried faces of his boyfriends.

"This is karma for making fun of Bojan's choking kink, isn't it?"

Jan chuckled and Kris rolled his eyes. Still. Nace could see their relief.

"How about we get you back to bed? Which was the plan, that Jan seems to have forgotten," Kris said, shooting Jan a glare.

"He started making fun of Bojan. Would you have interrupted him?"

Kris pursed his lips and wordlessly offered for Nace to lean on him on his right side, while Jan took his left. Nace felt a bit ridiculous.

"I can probably make it to bed on my own, you know?"

"Right. Let's not risk that, yeah? Kris will kill me if you crack your head on the floor."

"He is absolutely right on that one."

Nace sighed, but leaned on them. They slowly made their way back to the bedroom and helped him climb on the bed. Kris retrieved a bucket, in case Nace got sick again before saying he'd go check on Jure's progress with breakfast.

Nace didn't have the heart to tell him that eating was probably the last thing he wanted to do right now. Jan snuggled next to him when Kris left.

The front doors opened with a loud bang that rattled Nace to the bone.

"I got socially acceptable drugs!" Bojan yelled from the hallway.

Jan sighed. Nace chuckled. There went a bit of peace they had. Bojan came strolling in the bedroom with a bag with...whatever pills he bought. Nace didn't really care as long as it would make him feel better.

Bojan dropped the bag on the bedside drawer and leaned over the bed to check Nace's forehead. He immediately winced in sympathy.

"Let me get you some water to take that pill."

He practically ran to get it, coming back in record time. He held out a pill and a glass of water for Nace to drink from and kissed his cheek when he did.

"Don't do that. You'll get sick too," Nace mumbled, trying not to blush.

"And Jan won't by cuddling you?"

Nace blinked. Right, That was true.

"You are right. Jan, you shouldn't be this close, either."

Jan only grumbled and snuggled closer. Nace had a feeling he was already half asleep again. It was way too early to be awake by his standards. He didn't think of a different solution before Kris and Jure arrived with breakfast and tea.

"Jure made some toast and hard boiled eggs. It says it's least likely to make you sick. And some mint tea, to take your medicine with."

Then Kris took in Bojan holding the packaging and glass of water. His eyes narrowed.

"Tell me you didn't just give him medicine on an empty stomach."

Bojan looked at him sheepishly.

"Um. May have. Done that."

Kris opened his mouth to retort, but Jure pushed past him. He put the plate on the bedside drawer before leaning in to kiss Nace's forehead.

"How are you Nace?"

Nace smiled, his gaze taking all four of them in. All awake-more or less-and helping in any way they could to make him feel better.

"I am better now."

Despite all their bickering and the fact that he was sick, he knew they'd take care of him. And really, how could he be anything but better in those circumstances?

"Much better when you are all here, now."

[sparkles-oflight]

Bele Sanje

Hello everyone, it's BoKris time.

This is actually a re-write of part of a fanfic I wrote a while back and deleted.

Thanks @anxious-witch for the much-needed proofreading!

Synopsis: My take on Martin leaving the band (highly inaccurate)

Disclaimer: Please think of these as characters and not the actual people. I don’t encourage anyone to send this to any of the actual JO members nor do I encourage people to force any type of relationship between anyone.

Sensible subjects: you read the title didn't you? Weed and pain :D

It was an unusual meeting... The band was planning to rest for a couple of days, but Martin wanted to talk to everyone, so Bojan sat down next to Jure and listened.

- I decided to leave the band. – he announced.

Bojan looked at him in disbelief.

In a year and a half, he lost not one, but two members of the band, and this time it was his best friend.

- No, you are not… - Bojan said as Jure squeezed his hand.

- I’ve been trying to think about my future. All of you have already finished your degrees and I don’t have a plan B. I don’t think I can do music and study at the same time.

- Yes, you can!

- Bojan-! – Jure tried to snap him out of it.

- Shut up! – but he yelled back at him before turning to Martin again - You can! We all did! Martin, you are so smart and organized, you can do it! Music is your passion!

- What if it isn’t, Bojan? – he put on a gloomy face.

- What do you mean?

- What if music isn’t my passion? What if I followed you without knowing what I actually wanted?

“So…it’s my fault”, he thought.

- Martin…

- Bojan, please. Understand what I’m telling you.

- I understand, I just can’t accept it.

- Will you force me to stay and do something that I don’t feel fulfilled in doing?

- I…

His throat was killing him. He felt a lump. This was his best friend since they were children... How can he just leave?

 – No. – Bojan forced it out of his throat.

Martin hugged him tightly for a while.

They talked every day of their lives since they were kids... He was his best friend, he lived with him. Martin wasn’t going to leave Bojan, but, even so, he felt so hurt as if he had been betrayed. There were tears running down his face like a cascade.

- I love you. – Bojan told him when Martin grabbed his head to look into his eyes.

- Bojan, we live in the same house. I’m not going anywhere. – he joked.

- Oh, yeah, I forgot. You are my dear wife.

- I thought I was your wife! – Kris complained.

- You are my mistress.

- You are cheating on me? – Martin gasped.

They shared a laugh as Bojan wiped his face.

- Thank you, everyone, for having me around all of these years and I’m not going anywhere! I’ll stick around and make sure Bojan’s ego doesn’t take over the band.

- Hey! – and Martin kissed the small singer on the hair.

They all decided to go home, but, Kris, oddly, fell asleep on the couch, so Bojan also chose to stay behind. There was no way he would go home with Martin before having some time for himself, and, for that, he used Kris as an excuse to stay behind.

- Sleepy Beauty truly looks like a princess when he hugs the pillow. - Bojan commented.

He sat down and looked through his bag. He looked for some of “the good stuff”- as his dorky ass likes to call weed - to smoke.

Kris woke up to the smell eventually and crawled to him.

- What are you doing here? – he asked.

- I have the keys today. I was waiting for you to go home.

- Why didn’t you go home with Martin and leave the keys here?

- I didn’t feel like going with Martin. Want some? – he offered.

- Reminds me of the scent of Amsterdam. – and Kris accepted his offer, sitting next to him.

They met each other’s gaze. They looked for a while before pressing their heads against each other, reducing the gap between their noses.

Eventually, they smiled.

“This shit is kicking in.”

- Umazane Misli? – Kris asked him.

- More like… Ne pozna – “she doesn’t know” - Smeha, ki mu solza ne sledi – “the laughter that isn’t followed by a tear”.

They closed the gap between their noses completely and quoted their song.

- Dneva, ki je lažji od noči – “A day easier than night” - Njen utrip se redko umiri Nima mej – “Her heartbeat doesn’t calm down often”.

- Ne ve še kam beži, a gre naprej – “She doesn’t know where to run, but she runs forward” - Spet v loop ujeta prej al slej – “Sooner or later she’ll be caught in a loop again.” - Če je nesreča orel je ona Prometej – “If misfortune is an eagle, she is Prometheus”.

- That’s a genial line. I wonder who wrote it. – Bojan smiled.

- I wouldn’t call the writer a genius, I actually don’t get along with him.

- Me neither.

Bojan just needed someone close to him right now.

- Are you crying? – Kris asked Bojan, laughing with his red cheeks and small eyes.

- No. – the other laughed too, barely being able to make out what was going on.

His mind was out - totally out of there. He was trying to escape from reality, but the tears kept falling down, and then a pain bigger than he had ever felt seized his chest.

- Kris! – Bojan hugged him tight as he felt his heart speeding up and he grabbed tightly onto his shirt.

He was hyperventilating. It had never been this strong before. He felt like he was dying, deprived of oxygen.

- Bojan – Kris caressed his cheek. – Look at me. Calm down.

- Kris, I’m alone. Again. Martin left!

- Martin didn’t leave you. Martin just isn’t in the band anymore.

- The band is important to me!

- And he knows that.

- Then why do I feel betrayed!?

Kris slowly lifted Bojan’s chin and tucked his hair behind his ear.

- Because Martin is your best friend. Because… - he looked up to think – you always followed Martin. Because Martin was always there. And now…you don’t know what is like to not have Martin around all the time.

- I know…

- But, Bojan... You’ll be fine. You already annoy me all the time without having to ask Martin for permission! – he laughed.

Bojan took a deep breath and followed Kris’ calm breath until he slowly started to calm down.

- Thank you, Krisko. – he said once he regained the strength to talk.

- Any time. - Kris hugged – Also, can I put my “stoned” playlist on?

Bojan nodded and stupidly laughed at him.

Bojan liked Kris because Kris validated his feelings. Sure, he can be a bit of ass some days, but he’s the one whose shoulder he’ll cry on when he needs it the most.

And yet couldn’t help but feel guilty. The day Martin officially announced his departure online, he saw him talking with Kris. They were both smoking outside, and Bojan was going to join them…but he overheard something...

- How did he take it in? – Martin asked Kris.

- How do you expect? – Kris acted coldly towards Martin - Badly, but I calmed him down.

- I see. – he breathed out the smoke out of his lungs – And you?

- I’m not the one who’s important right now.

- Kris, how are you doing?

Kris wiped his nose.

- I’m fine.

- You are crying.

- It’s the cold, man. – he avoided looking at Martin.

- Kris.

- I’m sorry, okay!? – he lashed out at Martin – I’m sorry that I can’t be weak right now!

Bojan saw emotions in Kris’ expression he thought he would never see towards Martin: anger and pain.

- It’s not your fault! – he continued – First it was the pandemic, then Matic and now you! Things are changing! We are growing up and I…I don’t know whether we should give up on these childish dreams. Is music really what we want!?

He threw the cigarette wet from the tears on the floor. Martin hugged him strongly as strong sobs and snot came from Kris.

- I don’t know what I want to do! – Kris exclaimed – I should have my shit figured out by now…!

After that, Kris was empty for the next couple of days… His cries resonate in Bojan’s head to this day… He sounded so scared back then...

But moving forward was the only way.

♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩♫♩

Afternote: I'm emotionally drained from today, I don't have anything funny to write.

But...I might write about this event from another perspective :)

Polaroid Photos Universe | Recommended next: Bele Sanje - in another Room

[chroniclesofawkwardness]

Enter the Dragana

I.

The title is a homage to the 1973 film Enter the Dragon starring Bruce Lee. I don’t know if what follows will have anything to do with the movie, but Enter the Dragana sounded cool.

Meeting roommates can be exciting, nerve-wracking, or a host of other adjectives that describe the tension between humans. My first encounter with Dragana was very brief. We hadn’t said much more than “hi” to one another before she left on vacation to Greece for a week. My little head thought she was an attractive woman, but all I knew for sure was that one of the four small rooms in the Crazy House now had a new tenant to help Raymond and Vesna pay for their son’s private school tuition and the washing machine none of the tenants could use. 

In the summer of 2008, I took a bus from Novi Sad to visit my sister-in-law, who was attending the Trieste Joyce School in Trieste, Italy. I’d paid Raymond’s mother a portion of my month’s rent before I left and promised to pay the rest upon my return to Novi Sad. She seemed cool with it. Raymond, however, was not. All hell broke loose when I returned from Italy. Raymond felt I was late on my rent. I don’t know if this meant he and Vesna couldn’t pay their son’s tuition on time, but I knew I had to change my living arrangements before somebody got hurt because there was no banister for the stairs that led up to our rooms, or someone found out that we four roommates were living in the Crazy House without any formal rental agreement. 

“You and I should get our own place,” Dragana told me one day. I’d heard from more that one novosađanin that people from Vrbas were crazy, but I wouldn’t know the full extent of Dragana’s pantyless, partying ways until I agreed to share an apartment with her to escape the Crazy House.

The apartment was modern for Novi Sad standards. It had a decent-size living room and kitchen, along with an upstairs you could get to using a staircase where each step as designed for alternating feet. The lone bathroom was at the top of stairs, to the left was a large bedroom and closet. 

Dragana was already in party mode the first night we spent together at our new place. Dragana had already taken the bedroom upstairs, so I laid claim to the pullout sofa bed in the living room. I soon noticed an odd reddish glow coming from the kitchen. I discovered that Dragana had used red nail polish to paint the kitchen light fixtures red. I worried that her artistic endeavor could be a fire hazard. All she cared about was whether or not the music was loud enough. I couldn’t fall asleep later that night because Dragana and her guy friends didn’t seem to be able to stop talking for more than ten seconds. As I lay on my back plotting my revenge on the sofa bed, one of them came downstairs. He must have detected that I was pissed off by the lateness of the hour and the unending noise. 

“I sorry brother,” was all he said. I wanted to tell him that he couldn’t just stick brate on the end of a sentence and expect that we’d be instant homies,

Dragana had a seemingly endless stream of male friends. I think Bojan’s father owned a construction company, which would explain why Bojan would always leave some money for Dragana either before or after a night out. Srđa would pull up porn sites on Dragana’s laptop and die laughing as she’d squirm uncomfortably. Boško had beaten up his girlfriend and spent three years in prison for involuntary manslaughter after shooting the wrong guy while working as a nightclub bouncer. Dragana said he regretted not bringing me a gift. She never said what the gift could have been, but I didn’t think Boško was the type of guy I should accept gifts from. 

For all of Dragana’s male friends, the guys she loved were the soccer players. 

Mladen played soccer for one of Belgrade’s two major sports clubs, Partizan (Partisan). I don’t know how he met Dragana, but I do remember that damn ham sandwich. Once, as I was tossing and turning on the sofa bed trying to fall asleep at around 4 AM, the room flooded with light from the hallway, Dragana and (this time) Mladen were home. I decided sleeping was pointless and I’d just get out of bed. As happy drunk Mladen stumbled toward me with the sandwich, he yelled something at me I’ll never forget:

“NOOOO SLEEEEP MYYY FRIEEEEND!!!”

“Shit,” I thought. This is going to be a long night. I was hungry, so I accepted the sandwich without knowing where it had been. As I ate, Mladen and Dragana swayed and sauntered up the stairs as best they could. Soon after, I could hear music playing in the bedroom, but more prominent were the unmistakable sounds of human copulation. Wide awake, I lay flat on my back with my eyes open. I could only take it all in. I don’t remember how long their session lasted. The next thing do I remember is Mladen leaving our apartment at about 8 AM. I never saw him again. Dragana’s belief that she was special in his eyes was misguided after all. 

When she came downstairs later, I confronted her about the previous night’s soundtrack:

“I heard you and Mladen fucking last night. I don’t care if you do that, but if Mladen is going to be in town, could you let me know so I can crash somewhere else?”

“But… I had the music on!”

“I know… I heard that too.”

I slept upstairs after that. 

II.

At that time, there was what I considered a trashy British TV show running on Serbian TV called Footballers’ Wives; the day Dragana showed up at our door with a Maltese puppy, I thought we might get our own spinoff, Footballers’ Dogs. 

Leno the Maltese belonged to another soccer player, Diarra, from Senegal. I think he was under contract with Belgrade’s other major club, Crvena zvezda (Red Star) His relationship with Dragana wasn’t sexual that I know of, but somehow they made an arrangement for Dragana to look after Leno while Diarra was playing in Turkey. 

We were only supposed to have Leno for a week, but he stayed with us for nearly a month. Dragana would complain that she’d take him out for hours but he wouldn’t relieve himself. Once, as soon as they hit our apartment door, Leno ran expertly up the stairs (much more deftly than Dragana’s own thoroughly confused Shar-Pei) and shit in the corner of the shower cabin in the bathroom. I don’t know if the little guy was waiting for the privacy of being behind a curtain, but he looked up at me afterward with a sense of accomplishment, as if to say, “Look what I did!”

I already knew Dragana could be gone for hours, days, and sometimes weeks at a time. As long as she paid her share of the rent, I didn’t mind. I thought sleeping upstairs would mean I’d see her even less. Sadly, any hopes I had that a change in sleeping arrangements would bring me a measure of peace were quickly dashed. 

Many people Dragana’s age were students at the University of Novi Sad. Dragana, on the other hand, had openly bragged to me not long after we moved into the apartment that although she was technically a student, her parents paid off her professors to give her credit for attending class. I never once saw her with a textbook of any kind. She thought of herself as a model and tried to get me to vote for her in the Ms. Serbia on Facebook contest in or around July 2008. She came in second place. Her performance must have been a boon to her confidence because her modeling aspirations led to two of the most bizarre incidents of our time together. 

On one occasion, she called me the night before she knew The Man in the Cowboy Hat and I would be passing by Štark Arena (formerly Belgrade Arena) to ask if I could bring her the hair extensions she sometimes wore. I don’t know if she had a photoshoot scheduled, or what. Picture me with an old-school Nokia in one hand rummaging through a woman’s closet with the other:

“Which one? Blonde or brunette?”

“The brown one!”

“Can’t I just bring whatever looks like hair and let you sort it out?”

Click.

Another time, she’d been to a club opening and hadn’t come home that night. The only phone in the apartment was downstairs. It rang five times, stopped for a few seconds, and then rang several times again. I ignored the ringing at first because I thought it was just Dragana’s grandma being persistent. But, by the time the pattern had repeated itself for what felt like twenty minutes, I was in panic mode. 

My brother was serving in the U.S. Army and had been deployed to Iraq. As the ringing kept on, I began thinking the only person who would call so many times was someone from the U.S. Embassy in Belgrade who’d somehow gotten my number and was calling to tell me my brother had been killed. 

When I finally answered the phone, I was boiling mad and sick to my stomach:

“Is Dragana there?”

 I’ve never been so angry at another human being. I yelled something like this at him in English:

Listen, you stupid motherfucker. Do you have any idea what it’s like to think your only brother is dead and you’re about to get the worst news of your life? If you EVER call here again, I will find you, and I will fucking kill you. Understand?

He was calling because Dragana was late for a photoshoot. 

After that, the phone didn’t ring for the rest of the day.

III.

The last incident I’ll never forget occurred when Dragana and a group of friends came to our apartment to remember a friend of theirs who’d been killed in an accident. Dragana was inconsolable that night and repeatedly mentioned taking drinks for her friend’s soul. I never got the person’s name, nor do I know exactly what happened to him or her. I was upset about all the noise she and her friends were making, but at the same time, I’ d never seen Dragana so emotional, so human. She never mentioned her friend or what happened that night around me again. I suppose some things shouldn’t have to be rehashed. 

Dragana was practically living in Belgrade by the time I moved out of the apartment. It was a miracle she paid her portion of the rent for as long as she did. My life was never quite the same after Dragana entered it, which is not a bad thing. I appreciate the experience. Wherever she is today, I hope she has consistently found whatever hair extensions she’s needed. She reminded me that no matter how different we think we are from another person, we all share in a common humanity, with a seemingly infinite capacity to frustrate and fascinate one another. 

Choose your roommates, partners, and puppies carefully.