#crisscolfer fic

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

I'm looking for a story I read years ago, where Kurt and Chris switch places (or it might have been Blaine/Darren). Hoping you can help :)

I believe you're looking for this one. ~Lynne

Worlds Apart by  surnaturelle

After a car accident, Darren and Blaine swap bodies. Will they be able to go back ? How will Kurt and Chris react ? Set before Funeral/during the shooting of Funeral, based on speculations at the time.

[alittledizzy]

What’s your favourite fic you’ve ever written for any fandom?

oh that would require me remembering more than about three fics i've written at any given time so i think it's definitely impossible to answer. but here's a handful of ones that come to mine

trip and stumble (crisscolfer) bc it will always be the most popular fic i have ever or will ever write

another crisscolfer fic i wrote where chris was agoraphobic

the phil is a furry fic that @ckk-ta bought from me in a charity auction in 2016 with both of us absolutely not knowing eight years later we'd be married

in the half light, obviously. that one might actually be a legitimate fave. i wish i didn't feel so tapped out when it comes to writing additional stories in the universe.

one way ticket just because holy shit i wrote a long fic for the first time in a decade

also all of the stargate fic i wrote because honestly i just remember writing for that fandom being so fucking fun. but especially the cam/vala kansas series.

oh and i wrote one little mosque on the prairie fic i'm proud of. i think i wrote more than one but there's one i just remember very fondly. it was not a ship (though i'm all about amaar and rayyan) but it was just a nice little explore of their world through fatima's eyes.

[vaperarmand]

okay but which rpf pairing was your gateway into getting invested in rpf itself i would love to know

okay so idk if you have seen this post of mine but it came as the result of me thinking through my long history of rpf behavior in my mind which i will walk you through now. because it definitely came in stages.

like in middle school i dabbled in larry (though i was never really big in 1D fandom spaces) and for SURE read crisscolfer although i couldn't tell you what/where because i feel like all the glee fanfic was sourced from places other than ao3 and i've lost track of all of that now.

in high school i was a big carrie fisher/harrison ford #believer although i never read fanfic for them. so when the tell all memoir the princess diarist came out in 2016 this was huge for me. this is maybe ultimately to blame for my continued rpf engagement because that high was like nothing else. their relationship is also just awesome for rpf purposes because it catches all the major categories: it was toxic, it was an ill-advised fling, there was infidelity involved, both parties were terrible communicators. it was the 70s. anyway.

in college i got majorly invested in gillovny which is also a treasure trove of rpf. made a gillovny timeline for my roommates powerpoint night. etc. i think it truly was my beloved shennant though that fully made me realize that this was a pattern and it's with them that i've like. read/written fic And gotten into the community. it also helps that at the same time shennant macbeth chaos was happening 2 of my closest friends got into a revived bandom rpf thing and a new hockey rpf thing respectively which made me be like oh yeah rpf is just part of my life now. my personality even.

[shame-is-a-wasted-emotion]

Day 3 song prompt: Rita Coolidge's "We're All Alone".

Seashore Sight Is An Art

Blaine is a part time artist by shore. He sees many people everyday but that day was his lucky day, when he gets to meet a handsome boy. Fate had planned something else. Maybe a sea of water to engulf humans.

High school!Klaine

More angst than the last fic. Comments and kudos are appreciated

If you missed other 2 days fic

See you soon with the 4th one ;)

[sillyname30]

Haha I love that you were somehow blissfully unaware of real people fanfiction until now. I tried to read one out of curiosity (back in the early days when people were mostly just shipping them for fun but still knew it wasn't real) but I had to close it after a few paragraphs.

A bunch of cc facts definitely originated from fanfiction. One of the most annoying ones because it's SO widespread (including among non-shippers) is that "people fall in love with a person, not a gender" quote. Darren never actually said this, but there's a post with 100k+ notes attributing it to him because of a fanfic, so lots of people still genuinely believe he said it, and it's part of the reason why they have this false impression of him that he supposedly used to play coy or be vague about his sexuality, even though in reality he was very clear from the very start.

The "people fall in love with a person, not a gender" quote pops up on tumblr every few weeks. I always thought it doesn't make sense, because Darren said he is straight right from the beginning.

I was surprised that someone asked for a CrissColfer fan fic now. I thought there are only a few tinhatters left and there aren't any new. I mean, why would someone become a CrissColfer shipper now? Because we never see Chris und Darren together? (This is one of their arguments).

[thelandofccstories]

Those Damn Pants on [AO3] Fandom: Glee RPF Rating: Explicit Words: 12,598 Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Chris Colfer/Darren Criss

Summary: Darren sits dumbfounded in the auditorium after Chris puts Hugh Jackman to shame singing "Not the Boy Next Door." Now, there's only one thing on his mind and it's confusing... Those damn pants.

[hopelesslydevotedshipping]

Something I always wanted to do

Fandom: Chris Colfer/Darren Criss, RPF

Rating: T

Word count: ~3100 words

Summary: Fun and games on a road trip.

A/N: Why this fic? Because sometimes I need joy and love and sunshine. I create what I need. That’s why… Also can I just say how much I’ve missed writing for this pairing? All the crazy flirty banter that always comes with this pairing is just fun to imagine into existence.

—

The campus is dead silent. It’s one of those few weeks towards end of summer, between the end of previous semester and the beginning of next, when there isn’t anyone there. They wouldn’t be here either if it weren’t for the road trip taking them right past Darren’s alma mater — or not really right past it, but close enough for Chris to indulge him.

It isn’t much of a detour, even if it was unplanned. It won’t be much of time wasted either for what Darren promised to be the abso-fucking-lutely tastiest pancakes in the whole wide world, something which Chris is slightly dubious about, considering that this is the first time he heard of them. Chris loves pancakes though, and he loves Darren even more than he loves pancakes. So it isn’t much of a sacrifice to indulge him.

(Chris strongly suspects that Darren knows exactly what strings to pull to get him to agree. He also suspects that Darren has more than just pancakes in his mind — at least if the flash of mischievous glint in Darren’s eyes is anything to go by.)

While the pancakes don’t quite live up to the hype, as expected, the company more than makes up for it. There is something utterly adorable with Darren reliving his college years, the bounty of stories, each more ridiculous than the last, each recounted with a blazing bright smile. It really, really isn’t much of a sacrifice at all, to be right here with him.

Chris smiles through all of it, through every single word. He can’t hide how much he loves this man, he doesn't even try. He knows Darren sees it too. He knows it from the way that Darren’s eyes grow darker upon looking at him, the way that Darren’s hand seek to hold his over the diner table, the way that Darren’s lips curve into a twisty smile. Chris doesn’t mind any of it.

By the time that they are done with their pancakes, Darren seems to be done with his nostalgia trip too — or so Chris thought. 

They step out of the diner. Darren takes Chris’ hand, lacing their fingers together between them and looks up into Chris’ eyes again.

”Come. There is something I always wanted to do.”

It started out as a joke months ago when they began planning their trip. They’ve said it dozens of times since, enough for it to have become what this trip is all about, doing things that they always wanted to do, things that they’ve never done before.

They’ve done a lot of things — together and separately — which is why there is a lot of qualifiers and specifics involved. They had been to a road trip before, but never outside California. They had been to plenty of hotels before, but never splurged on a seriously expensive suite only to sleep in the car the following night. They had been to skinny dipping, but never in broad day light in a small lake in middle of nowhere.

(The skinny dipping obviously being Darren's idea.)

It may have started out as a joke, but it has grown into much more. It's almost like a game of dare — just for the two of them. This is why there is only one answer that Chris can give.

”Okay.”

They walk in companionable silence side-by-side — hand-in-hand — through the campus. Perhaps Chris is too distracted by the way that the light breeze ruffles Darren’s curls or the way that the brightness of the sun makes his eyes crinkle. Perhaps it has been too long since the last time Chris has been there with Darren, because it takes him a while until he realizes where they are headed. When he does, he breathes out a laugh.

“The library? You want to go to the library? Because I'm seriously beginning to question your education, if you've never been to the library.”

"No, I don't just want to go to the library," Darren responds, his lips twisting into a cheeky smile, “I want to make out at the library.”

Chris gives Darren a look, but it doesn’t stop Darren. Of course, it doesn’t. He just keeps walking, tugging Chris along.

”You’re really serious about this?”

“Fuck yeah,” Darren says, glancing at Chris over his shoulder.

Chris knows he is playing a losing game by questioning this. He knows he can’t decline what Darren is offering, especially not when Darren keeps looking at him like he does, smiling like he does, especially when he is offering a hot make-out session in the very near future. Still, he keeps playing, keeps challenging Darren, because it’s a part of the thrill.

"Are you honestly telling me that you’ve never made out in the library — in all your years here?” Chris asks, looking straight at Darren with a single eyebrow raised, as they arrive to the steps of the building.

Darren laughs upon Chris’ words, his eyes squinting adorably, and rushes ahead to hold the door open. Throwing a wink at Chris, he replies, “No, I did, but I missed an aisle.”

Chris almost hates how smooth Darren can be. He would hate him if he didn’t love him so much.

He steps past Darren into the building, taking it all in. He has been plenty of times on the campus with Darren, he has even walked by the library a few times, but he has never been inside.

The library is  — as all libraries are — quiet. He thinks he can hear someone stacking books somewhere in the maze of bookshelves, but he can’t see a single soul. He can only see rows upon rows of bookshelves, flooded in the light beaming through the large windows.

His eyes still roaming around the main hall, Chris feels Darren coming to stand beside him. He feels a hand come to rest on his lower back, like a silent reminder of where they left off, of why they are here.

He can’t help himself. He turns towards Darren, leans in closer and says with his voice low and hushed, barely a breath against Darren’s ear, “You missed an aisle? It better be a good one, because I don’t just make out in any aisle.”

“Oh, I think your going to like it,” Darren replies in kind.

Darren pulls back enough to take a quick look around the library, before taking Chris’ hand again. He begins to lead them through the maze, zigzagging between the rows with clear determination.

He really does have a specific place in mind for this make-out session. 

Chris wants to laugh at the thought, but before he can, Darren rounds a corner and comes to an abrupt halt. With a quick tug of the hand, he pushes Chris against the bookshelf, crowding him in. His lips are on Chris' before Chris can say a single thing. 

They have kissed countless times. They have kissed good morning and goodnight. They have kissed goodbye and welcome back. They have kissed please forgive me and I love you so, so much. They have kissed short, chaste in greeting and congratulation. They have kissed long, slow, luxuriating in the feel of simmering heat. They have kissed raw, dirty, rushed in the need of each other. They have kissed with countless meanings and manners.

It is why Chris' breath catches at his throat with the way that Darren is kissing him now. They have kissed enough times for Chris to know when Darren means business. And he does now, as made evident by the nip of the teeth on Chris' lower lip.

"Shit," Chris breathes against Darren's lips between kisses, "You're really serious about this?"

Chris doesn't even know why he is asking, but to be fair, his mind is never at its sharpest when Darren's lips are on him. It's challenging enough to even form words and sentences, when he's kissing Chris like he is kissing him.

Maybe it has something to do with the unexpectedness of this that he does ask. Maybe. Maybe it doesn't matter at all, especially if Darren keeps kissing him just like that.

Darren huffs a laugh against Chris' lips and says, “I’m always serious about make-outs.”

And Darren really, really is serious about this make-out session.

Chris feels an arm slip around his waist, pressing him against Darren a little more insistently. He feels the other hand steady his hip. He feels lips trail from his lips down to his neck. He feels so much.

Darren is sucking on his pulse point, and it's all going so fast that Chris is struggling to keep up. He is struggling to act, to think. He is struggling to breathe with how fast it is going.

"We're going to get caught," Chris says, trying  —  hopelessly? desperately!  —  to cool things down.

His voice sounds weak, breathless even to his own ears. It is weak — as weak as his resistance.

Despite his words words, he doesn’t push Darren away. He can't because the way Darren is working his neck is really working for him. It really, really is. It is making him warm, hot all over.

(Damn Darren and his unfair skills in turning Chris' into a needy mess in seconds, not minutes! Damn the years of practice he has had in doing exactly that!)

Darren pulls away, only enough to say, "Controlled danger, babe. You said you like it."

And then, the lips are on Chris' neck again. The hand on his lower back slips down to his ass. The sharp edges of the shelves are digging into his back in most uncomfortable way, but Chris doesn't care, not with how Darren grinds against him, how he keeps grinding too. He doesn't care about much at all when Darren is doing exactly what he is doing to him.

Chris is so wholly lost in the moment that he doesn't notice it, until he does, the clack, clack, clack of high heels tapping against stone floors. Steps somewhere not too far from them. 

"No, we're really going to get caught."

Chris’ words are only a whisper, as he pushes Darren away with the hand on his shoulder and turns towards the sound. Darren relents, pulling away, but only a little. His hips remain against Chris’, and his hand slides to the waist.

They stay silent and still. They stay close together.

They aren't getting caught though, not right now at least. The footsteps come near, maybe an aisle or a couple away from them, before they stop, turn and go away.

Chris is still looking towards the sound of the retreating footsteps, when he feels the soft, warm hand come to cradle his jaw. He turns to look at Darren, finding him staring straight at him, his eyes dark, his lips parted and so very close.

"You're the most gorgeous man I have ever seen."

And Darren says it with such conviction that it steals Chris' breath away  —  or whatever is left of it. He doesn't give him time to catch it before diving in for another kiss, as deep and demanding as before, if not more.

Chris responds to him immediately, almost instinctively, as he always does, as they always do with each other. 

With a gentle nudge of his thumb on Darren’s shoulder, he urges the arm to wrap around him, sliding his own around Darren too. He shifts his hips, his legs so that he is closer, when Darren shifts closer too. He tilts his chin down and allows Darren to press into the kiss with all the insistence and eagerness that he carries now.

He moves, and Darren move too – in this dance of the push and pull in how they kiss when they can truly kiss.

It's so easy for Chris to get lost to it, to be kissed by Darren, to be held by him. It's easy for Darren too, it seems, because they are both so into it that they don't even hear the steps until they are close, too close. Chris — only slightly panicked — pushes Darren off him, who stumbles back more than a little stunned. He looks to the side, catching only a glimpse of the girl walking by their aisle.

Chris turns back to look at Darren who is still looking away, still breathing hard. When he turns to Chris again, they share a look that turns into a breathless laughter.

His heart is still hammering in his chest with the rush of joy and thrill, even as their laughter simmers down. He looks into Darren's eyes a little longer, before he reaches for him. His hand slide down the bare forearm, down to intertwine his fingers with Darren's. His voice is soft, fond, as he says, "We really have to stop before we really, really get caught."

Chris really means it, despite the softness, despite the twinge of amusement seeping into his words. He has to mean it, because if they keep this up, they will most definitely get caught — probably with his pants around his ankles — quite literally — at least if Chris left it to Darren. He couldn’t hate Darren for it even if they did. But, he can stop him though before they get that far.

"Fine," Darren replies with a mock pout, looking away.

Chris tilts his head, his eyes still on Darren, always on him, and he squeezes the hand in his. He can see the corners of Darren's mouth quirk up. A smile almost imperceptible, but there.

"Come on, Prince Charming," Chris says lightly, nudging Darren's hand, “lead the way back to our chariot, before you make me completely swoon.”

Darren glances at him with a smile blooming on his lips before he moves.

As they leave, Chris looks behind him to where they had made out, and he finally notices that they were in an aisle of encyclopedias. It makes him want to laugh all over again.

Only Darren would make out with him against a bookshelf filled with encyclopedias. Only Darren would understand his love for encyclopedias, for learning and searching and discovering. Only he would know that to Chris, it really is the best aisle in the library - well, perhaps after young adult book aisle.

Chris turns back to Darren with a smile playing on his lips, with all this love blooming in his heart, as they walk through the empty library in silence. They are almost at the door when Darren finally speaks up. Even before the words, Chris sees the mischievous glint is back in his bright hazel eyes again.

“And now we can do another thing I’ve never done before,” Darren says, as he opens the door for Chris.

“Oh yeah, what?” Chris asks, slipping his hand away from Darren’s, as he steps out.

“Make out in the car."

Chris laughs. He turns to look at Darren, who has stepped beside him. Darren is smiling too, not even trying to hide it, not trying to hide how amazingly happy he is right in this very moment with Chris.

When Darren moves, Chris hurries to follow after him, easily falling into step beside him.

“Now I know that is most definitely not true. We've made out in a car before, you've made out in a car before,” Chris says, smiling and shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all, and takes Darren’s hand in his again, “It didn’t even take a week until we christened your car, because someone insisted.”

It really didn't. Darren was most persistent in christening the car, and Chris was never very good at resisting Darren when he is being persistent like that.

(Chris is pretty sure that it’s the story of their relationship, it’s why they are here now – together, happy, in love and married. Darren has always been pretty persistent when it comes to Chris, right from the beginning. Chris has always been weak to it.)  

“Aah, fond memories,” Darren says and pauses for a dramatic moment of a mock distant dreamy look in his eyes, before he turns back to Chris, "And yes, we have made out in a car, but not a rental car."

Chris stops and Darren keeps walking for a bit, until he realizes and stops too, looking back at Chris.

“No, just no. We are not making out in the rental.”

Darren glances over his shoulder at Chris with the same cheeky smile on his face that Chris has seen glimpses of all day, but he doesn't say anything – quite maddeningly. He just keeps walking, and Chris follows after him.

Darren really is most persistent, and Chris really is most helpless with Darren when he is most persistent.

It is why only a minute or two later Chris finds himself pressed against their rental car with Darren’s lips on his lips and his hands sliding down his sides – right there at the roadside parking where anyone could see. Chris doesn’t care much though. Darren doesn’t care even that much, even if he should. Probably both of them should.

It’s just kissing, except it isn’t exactly short or chaste… really not chaste at all if it’s up to Darren, it seems.

When Chris is just beginning to relax into it, to allow himself to be kissed right here and now like this, Darren pulls back a little, just enough to rub his lips over Chris’, a touch so light that it’s a tease, a torturous tease. But before Chris can chase after another kiss, Darren slips his hands into the back pockets of Chris’ jeans, grabbing a handful and laughing against the lips, as Chris squeaks at the unexpected move.

Sobering up, Chris quickly pulls away from the kiss. It feels like his cheeks are burning up, like everything in him is aflame, as he looks at Darren. He has to think straight though, even if he never can around Darren.

“Just keep your hands,” Chris says – breathless – finally pushing Darren away, although he can’t help it but slink his eyes down and up when he continues “— and everything else — to yourself until we get to our hotel room.”

“You’re boring." Darren says with an overly dramatic sigh and pulls away, even if he only barely manages to keep a straight face to match it.

A dare – is everything always a dare between them? Not that Chris minds the game, when it means playing it with Darren.

Chris raises an eyebrow and says, “Say that once again, and I’ll show you exactly how wrong you are when we get there.”

When Darren smiles that cheeky smile of his, Chris knows exactly what he will say next before he even says it.

[drosophilase]

fic: All Things Considered

written for @somethingdarrencrissish for the @crisscolfergiftexchange Valentine’s Day 2018!  It’s still Feb 14th somewhere, right?? Thanks for being so understanding Stacey, happy V day!

1884 words.  Darren tries to go all-out for his first date with Chris, but the universe has other plans. Rated T.

Read on AO3!

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

do you have an alternate link for "morphine as truth serum"? the one posted on your page doesn't work :(

The complete verse is on AO3. ~Jen

Morphine as Truth Serum verse by @lovetheblazer

When Darren needs help at 3 AM, there's only one person he wants to call: Chris. And thanks to some potent painkillers, he may just end up divulging a little too much about his growing crush on his best friend and co-worker.

Here is the [PDF] as well.

[alittledizzy]

What's the fic that you're proudest of writing? Where you can look back and just be like Fuck Yeah, I made that!

trip and stumble from crisscolfer fandom, because even though the writing isn't the best it definitely changed what fandom was for me

in the half light for dan and phil

[controlofwhatido]

Chris being slightly horrified when Darren comes home from ACS filming without all of his blood splatter makeup totally washed off.

Darren is beyond exhausted. His body isn’t used to long days of filming anymore – how quickly twelve, fifteen hour days catch up to him. He feels old. He is old, according to his boyfriend. 

Today had be rough. He’s been really enjoying this role – it’s been the most challenging one yet, but the murder scenes aren’t easy on him. Mentally or physically. He’s lucky Chris has been home recently, because all he wants to do when he gets home at night is curl up in bed and have Chris help him remember who Darren is. 

The stairs in their house seem like an insurmountable feat but that’s where their bed is and that’s where Chris is, so he trudges up them once he double checks that he closed the garage door. It’s dark – Chris had sent a text over an hour ago saying he was falling asleep, but for Darren to wake him when he got in – but he’s been living in this house long enough to navigate his way to the bedroom by feel with no problem. 

What he wants to do is just collapse into bed and fall asleep immediately but all he did before he left the studio was a perfunctory wipe down to remove the caked-on fake blood. He’s sure he smells pretty fucking rank, too. Before he can tiptoe his way over to the master bathroom, Chris’s bedside light turns on and Chris is leaning up on his elbow, squinting at Darren. 

“Hey, welcome home. How was – oh my god, are you okay?” Chris hops out of bed, only wearing his tight little boxer briefs, and is over beside Darren in a shot, hands cupping Darren’s face. “You’re bleeding, what happened?” 

Before Chris can work himself into a panic, Darren pulls Chris’s arms down and presses a quick kiss to Chris’s lips. “Relax, it’s fake. They changed their minds at the last minute this afternoon and wanted to shoot one of the murders. This is just…” he trails off, gesturing at his face. “I was covered in it. I feel fucking disgusting.” 

“Don’t scare me like that,” Chris says, kissing the corner of Darren’s mouth while he wraps his arms around Darren’s shoulders. “God, you look like you’d been in an accident or a fight or…” 

Darren pulls Chris closer by the waist, body suddenly aware that his boyfriend is just about naked but fuck, he really is too tired for sex. He is getting old. “I would hope you know by now that if anything like that were to happen to me, you’d be the first one I’d call. I just need to take a quick shower and then sleep for maybe five days straight.” 

Chris makes an affirmative noise but doesn’t let go of Darren yet. “You do smell pretty bad and I just washed the sheets.” 

“Hey!” Darren say, leaning back just enough to give Chris an affronted look. “You’re supposed to love me no matter what – stinky or smelling like roses.” 

“As long as you don’t scare me like that again. I was half asleep and then saw blood on your face – my brain went into overdrive,” Chris says, brushing his thumb against Darren’s cheek where Darren assumes there is still fake blood smeared. “Now, go. You look like you’re going to fall asleep standing up.” 

Darren nods and steps away, giving a longing look to their bed before heading toward the bathroom. “Wait up for me?” 

“As long as you scrub that blood off, of course,” Chris says, already getting back underneath the covers. “And… Darren?” 

Darren turns back to look at Chris once he’s flicked the bathroom light on. “Yes?” 

“You’re the first one I’d call, too” Chris says with a slight smile before turning off his bedside lamp. 

[scatter-the-stars]

Duck You

Just something short and cute.  Based on this post.

603 words

In hindsight, he should have known the slippers were a terrible fucking idea.  That Darren would choose to wear them at the worst time possible.  Which, turns out, is in the middle of the night while they are out making a late night run to the store.  When he first saw them, though, they were something he thought Darren would find amusing like he did.  But now they are monstrosities he wants to throw in the first fire he sees.

“Go away!”  Chris quietly hisses in a playful tone as he walks faster away from Darren and his quacking duck slippers.

Darren laughs and walks faster to catch up to his boyfriend.  Each step has a quack coming from the duck slippers.  “Come on.  Don’t run away from me.”

Quack!

Quack!

Quack!

Quack!

Chris looks around to see if there is anyone to witness his mortification at being followed by a guy with quacking duck slippers.  Luckily, it seems there are not that many other people who are awake late at night like them.

“I don’t know you,” Chris whispers loud enough for Darren to hear, a hint of laughter and amusement to his voice.

“Yes you do.”

Quack!

Quack!

Quack!

Chris turns red when a guy who looks to be in his early twenties stops at hearing the quacking and gives them both a strange look.  “I’m not with him.”  He gestures to Darren, who stands a few steps behind him.

Quack!

Quack!

Quack!

Quack!

The quacks are followed by a Yes, he is. as Darren steps closer to Chris.

Chris doesn’t have to look to know Darren is currently wearing a huge grin.

The guy eyes them awkwardly and walks off without a word.  Chris in no way blames him for wanting to get away as fast as possible.

“I am regretting buying you those fucking slippers so much right now,” Chris softly huffs as he starts to walk away from Darren again.

Quack!

Quack!

Quack!

“Stop running like I’m trying to kill you,” Darren complains in a small voice.

“You are killing me,” Chris says over his shoulder, loud enough for Darren to hear.  “I’m dying of embarrassment right now.”

Quack!

Quack!

“I think you’ll live,” Darren replies with a short chuckle as his slippers quack with each step he takes.

“I’m throwing those hideous things in the trash the moment we get home.”

Darren loudly, and dramatically, gasps behind him.  “You will not!”

Chris turns to face his boyfriend, who still somehow manages to look cute with bright yellow, fluffy duck slippers on his feet.  “Fine.  I’ll give them to Brian and Cooper and they can destroy them for me.”

“No.  Not my duckies!”  Darren acts hurt and places a hand to his chest.

He tries not to, but Chris finds himself laughing at Darren’s overdramatic reply and name he uses for his slippers.  “You’re crazy,” he teases.

Quack!

Quack!

Quack!

The few quacks ring out loud in the suddenly quiet store when the song playing through the speakers ends.

“And you’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”  Darren grabs Chris’ chin between his thumb and forefinger and brushes a kiss over his lips.

Chris softly groans when the kiss is interrupted by a few quacks.  “I hate you,” he murmurs against Darren’s lips, a smile tugging at his lips.

Darren smiles.  “No, you don’t.”

“No.  But I no longer know you for the remainder of this trip.”  Chris turns around and walks away from Darren once again.

Quack!

Quack!

Quack!

He doesn’t fight the smile that breaks out on his face when he hears as his boyfriend follows after him.

[sillyname30]

I was looking on tumblr if someone I don't follow posted something about Darren and I saw someone asked about a CrissColfer fic.

I wasn't aware these excist. That is gross, even if you believe in CrissColfer. A fic about real-life people? That is crossing some serious boundaries.

Is that where the CrissColfer "facts" come from?

[crisscolfergiftexchange]

Welcome to the Crisscolfer Holiday Gift Exchange 2017!

Let’s bring a little fun back to fandom and get everyone’s creative juices flowing just in time for the holidays.

As the title of the activity suggests, a gift exchange is sort of like a secret santa but for fic and art. You sign up to write a fic or create artwork based on another participant’s prompts and you in turn will receive fic or artwork based on prompts you’ll submit.

Easy peasy lemon squeezy!

Now the rules and schedules:

Sign-ups are currently open and you can sign up until November 15. EXTENDED UNTIL NOVEMBER 17.

Ideally by November 20 you should receive an email as to whom you’ll be gifting your work, their prompts and any likes or dislikes they may have.

For fic minimum word count is 3,000 words but feel free to exceed just as long as you’re sure you can finish the fic in a month Because schedule for posting your fic is on December 20th.

From what I can see most exchange blogs prefer posting the work on the exchange blog itself but honestly I don’t have the time to do that and I’d rather the authors/artists see all the nice notes on their own posts so post the fic and/or art on your own blogs and I’ll reblog them on this blog afterward.

When you post your fic please follow this header format:

Title:

Author:

Gifted to @giftee (obviously replace this with your giftee’s username) as part of the @crisscolfergiftexchange 2017

Summary:

Ratings/Warnings:

Let’s make this fun and make sure NOT TO TELL ANYONE who your giftee is until the day of posting.

However you should feel free to send anonymous asks to your giftee because receiving anonymous asks that are nice is always lovely.

That’s it! Keeping this simple because we don’t have a lot of time so let the fun begin!

If you have any questions feel free to message me @djchika or at this blog.

[thelandofccstories]

Planet Earth has plummeted into the worst case of the “oblivious idiots trope” it has ever known. Can two Level 6 Destiny Angels get through to Darren and Chris before time runs out? What if all those signs, patterns, and serendipitous synchronicities their fans see aren’t for the fans at all?

You can read it on AO3 [here].

[hopelesslydevotedshipping]

Holding on, holding close

Fandom: Chris Colfer/Darren Criss, RPF

Rating: T

Word count: ~900

Summary: This is the other side of the coin from Standing still, breathing deep. Nothing really happens in this either.

A/N: There’s a bit of Damage. There’s a bit of Midnight radio. There’s a bit of angst. Fine, maybe, there’s more than a bit of angst.

Warnings: This is in first person view too.

��

I stand out here, looking at the sky as if it holds the answers to the mysteries of life. It doesn’t. Still, I stand here many nights, asking how I got here and how I get away. On some nights, on the worst nights, I ask if I will get away.

The story of how I got here isn’t simple. I don’t know where or when it really began. I don’t know if it even matters. I just know that he is a part of my story, as I am a part of his. At some place and time, our lives, just like our stories, became entwined — or entangled, because it was never neat. It was messy, but beautiful.

The story of how I get away is even more complicated. Maybe too complicated — or maybe not. Maybe I make it more complicated than it is. Maybe it’s just painful, too painful.

I am not the only one asking questions though. I am not the only one seeking answers.

There have been moments — most ordinary moments — where I could feel his eyes on me. And when I turned to look at him, I found him staring at me as if I have the answers to the mysteries of his life. He was looking at me as if he was waiting for me to say what to do and where to go. There were moments when I did. There were moments when I thought that I had the answers, when I thought what I would say could change things, when I really thought -…

And then, life taught me a lesson — or a few. Or I stopped to listen to what life tried to teach me all along. Or I just accepted what I already knew when the scattered pieces in my mind fell into place and I could see.

I could see everything.

I remember standing there with my hands on his cheeks and my eyes on his eyes. And I could see it; nothing is simple, clear or uncomplicated, especially inside his mind where things that are good and real and honest blur with things that are not, where the reality is twisted into something that is never really real, because real would be too much. I could see that nothing is simple to him, with him.

And a hundred times since that moment, I wanted him to see the answer to the question he has asked a thousand times. I wanted him to see that this is the damage, that the damage is him, the damage is me too. I wanted him to see a lot of things.

It took me a while — longer than it should’ve — to accept that even if I had the answers, I’m not the answer. He is — to his questions and mine.

Still, I stand here, staring at the sky. And I ask and ask again, how I got here and how I get away. And with our lives entangled in a way that can never be untangled, I have clarity he doesn’t. He is my answer, like he is my question. He is my escape, like he is my reason for needing the escape.

I stand here. And I wait and breathe and feel.

I wait until the first blush of light blue and soft purple color the sky. It is then that I find what I’m looking for, a peace within myself, an acceptance that life is as it is for now, for as long as it is. It is then that I find the strength of will and something else born at the crossroads of courage, humility and despair that allows me to walk away from the questions.

Or maybe I just grow too tired when the night turns to morning. When the exhaustion wipes the mind clean, all the thoughts are laid to rest. And only one thing remains, him.

I return to the dark bedroom. I slip between the sheets that have grown cold. And I lay down, staring at the ceiling, listening to the silence.

And then, a faint ruffle of the sheets. A gentle sway of the bed. First a hand on my chest, fingers curling to my shirt just over my heart. Then the rest of him, his head heavy on my shoulder, his body warm against my side.

I close my eyes. I have to — at the feel of him so near.

It seems like something so small, so insignificant, and yet it knocks the air out of my lungs. It hits me so hard, because it isn’t restricted I can’t, I shouldn’t, I don’t know how. Here where doors are locked, curtains drawn, eyes closed, he turns to me, he comes close when there is nothing stopping him.

There is nothing stopping me either.

I wrap my arms around him. I pull him closer. I hold him tighter — here because I can do it here.

And I wish he could see this. I wish he could see how simple it is in this moment, when I am holding onto him and he is holding onto me too. This is where it is simple, clear and uncomplicated. This is love as it is now, for as long as it is.

Here at least in this fragile moment, I am his, he is mine — completely. Here is where I want to be.