Chapter Text
Look, Froste didn't intend to stay up so late reading fan-fiction.
When Julian read that fanfic just a few days ago, Froste was genuinely caught off guard by it. C'mon, "Daddy Classy"? In what world would he call Classy that? Never mind the fact he would never be as smooth with flirting as that fanfic version of him was.
So, if he found the fanfic weird, why the fuck was he reading another one? Excellent question—one that Froste has already asked himself multiple times throughout the night.
The best explanation he had was that it was a rabbit hole. One fic led to ship edits which led to thirst traps and it all spiraled into Froste signing up for a fanfic website. It said it might take a week or two to create his account, not that he was bothered by it.
Froste would be lying if he said he didn't find the ship content entertaining. Most of it was just fans joking, fueled by old clips of him kissing Classy, and vice versa.
Honestly, he applauds his past self—who, at the time, had no idea the butterflies in his stomach were being caused by feelings towards his best friend.
It might’ve been the reason he found himself enjoying the fics about him and Classy. He basically got his impossible fantasies handed to him on a silver platter by fans.
Maybe they had caught on, since the amount of fics had increased since they posted that video reading one.
They even got a official ship name. Frostify. Which, if he's being honest, they kinda cooked with. It rolls off the tongue, and fits them, as odd that is to say.
Anyway, the fact of the matter was, Froste never intended to be up in the middle of the night reading very explicit fan-fiction of him and Classy. At the same time, he wasn’t sure why he didn’t just close his laptop and go to sleep.
Maybe it was the fact that almost all of it didn't actually feel like them. The ideas were interesting, but the fictional version of him would always do the complete opposite of what he would've actually done in the same situation.
Key highlight, Froste is not nearly as smooth and flirty as people write him to be.
The solution to this? Yet another good question. He took it to social media this time, for a professional answer. On a hastily made reddit account, he posted without really thinking about it. Incredibly stupid, he knows. Did he care? Also no.
After clicking post he promptly passed out—with his glasses on, which was an uncomfortable surprise to wake up to. The metal was digging into his skin, and the glass had been smudged so bad that his eyesight was as bad as it is without them.
His phone pinged, but he really didn’t want to get up. Then it pinged again. Froste merely groaned in response. A third and fourth ping happened in succession, causing him to blindly try and grab his phone from his nightstand.
The amount of notifications was dangerously high. What the actual fuck.
He opened reddit tiredly. Froste had only expected a few responses to his shit post of "what the fuck do you do when people write fan-fiction of you but they mischaracterize you so badly it makes you cringe." Instead, he received over one thousand.
r/AO3
u/coldclass1337
How do I fix
hi I've had fan-fictions written about me and my friends but they're really out of character. I don’t mind them writing about us, but how do I get them to stop mischaracterizing me?
↑ 21.7k ↓
@yogHURTfics · 7h
I'm crying 😭😭 are you a youtuber or something??
@softsweetlily · 8h
I'm sorry… what did I just read..?
@angelletter · 8h
I had to read it twice to make sure I wasn't tripping
@nimblebunny0 · 5h
top 10 posts I thought I would never see on this subreddit
@nightyknight21 · 6h
Excuse me?
@livelaughsmut · 5h
OP,,,, for a friend, who are you… i might need to tell them to private their fics
@nonoelle04 · 4h
SCARIEST thing to read on here 💔
@outseasocto88 · 6h
LMAO WHO'S YOUTUBER IS THIS
They were all various forms of people being confused and finding it funny. Maybe consulting the internet wasn't the best idea Froste has had in his life.
One specific comment stood out though, gaining ten thousand upvotes. He read it once, then again—by the third time, he was seriously debating whether or not to listen to them.
@coldfrostcrush · 8h
write it yourself then
Such a simple answer, but was Froste really about to do that? Write fan-fiction about himself? He has a job. He gets paid a good amount of money to talk in front of a camera and make jokes.
He wouldn't gain anything from it. It was stupid that it bothered him from the beginning.
Yet, despite it all, Froste found himself opening a google document.
He could just do something short, get them in the right direction. They're going to write either way, so all he was doing was making them minimally better. That's what he told himself at least.
Multiple hours later, he got a call. Taking his eyes off the screen, he internally panicked when he saw who the caller was. Classy.
He answered the phone, trying to keep his voice even and steady. "Hey."
"Where the hell are you?"
"Huh? What are on about?" Froste replied through his confusion.
"Uh, hello? Did you hit your head? We have a recording session today," Classy shot back, sounding more amused than anything.
"Fuck. When?" he muttered as he got up from his bed and went to ruffle inside his closet for clean clothes.
"In like five minutes! Literally all of us have been waiting for you."
Shit. He moved his curtains aside to look outside. It was morning—he had slept for eight hours, written for three.
"You couldn't give me a call a little earlier?"
Froste heard Classy sigh through the speaker. "We did. But you didn't answer. What are you doing that's so important anyway?"
"Nothing. I just lost track of time," he answered but both of them knew it was a lie. Luckily, Classy didn't dwell on it.
"Then get your ass here."
"Give me twenty," he said, shrugging on a bland rock t-shirt and some jeans.
"TWENTY?! Are you fucking kidding me Erind—" Froste hung up.
Classy, annoying as ever, called again. He put his phone on silent and tried to get ready as fast as possible. The commute to the studio took fifteen—when he's lucky—so he had five minutes to sprint out of his apartment to the train. Just barely possible.
He grabbed a protein snack from his cabinet before sprinting out the door, barely remembering to lock it. Froste momentarily regretted not exercising more, he was panting like hell by the time he got into the bus and his legs hurt immensely. Deny would laugh in his face if he admitted it though.
By the time Froste reached the studio, the group seemed to already have started with setting everything up. The cameras were up, and the lighting was in place. George was talking to Julian, while Deny was in a conversation with two interns. Classy spotted him first, from the couch.
"Look who's here," he said, loud enough to catch everyone's attention.
"Haha," Froste laughed dryly. "Like you're never late to a shoot."
"Yeah but I expect it from George," Classy shot back, ignoring George's protests. "You're like never late, ever."
"Well there's always a first time, isn't there?"
Julian spoke up after that, "That better not be indicating that this will become a habit, I already got our boss on my ass because you were late by a few minutes."
"Shit. Sorry," he apologized immediately. Froste felt guilty that his bad time judgement was punishing Julian instead of him. There wasn't anything to do about it now though.
"It's fine," he replied. "First time's free. If it happens again you're paying me ten dollars."
"Yessir," Froste nodded, taking his usual seat next to Classy. Who gave him a playful hit on the arm.
"Don't hang up on me," he instructed, and Froste could barely keep his composure. He felt his face get warmer as he nodded.
"Good boy," Classy rewarded him. He felt like dying of embarrassment. Froste shoved him, trying to hide his face from the other's view.
"Fuck off," he muttered. His friend merely laughed in response.
Eventually, Deny and George sat down as well. The shoot went like normal. He even found himself forgetting about the open google document on his laptop at home.