Everybody Sells Cocaine || Cricky [COMPLETED]

Everybody Sells Cocaine || Cricky [COMPLETED]

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WpMetadataReadErwachseneninhaltAbgeschlossene Geschichte Do., Aug. 6, 201530m
Why did Chris have to be so incredibly beautiful? Why did Ricky have to be so openly vulnerable? ~ I mean, Chris wasn't mine and would never be mine. That's why I was so upset. I would NEVER be held in his loving embrace while we cuddled in a bunk or hotel bed on tour. NEVER. I angrily wiped at my eyes. Why did I have to fall for him? I mean, he was my BEST FRIEND. Not my lover. My BAND MATE. Not my lover. ~ *WARNING: This story WILL contain sexual boy x boy content and POSSIBLE triggering events.* You have been warned. ~ --- COMPLETED ---
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(Completed) Falling in love was easy; keeping it wasn't. We started off as friends. Slowly we realised we liked each other. Then a kiss. Which turned into date, and another date until; 'So you're my boyfriend, and I'm yours.' If only it could've stayed that easy, it didn't; Coming out, Telling parents, First time, Judgment, Separation. 'It was impossible not to love Red. I just watched him as he excitedly and passionately talked about his favourite things, and couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of joy. I just admired the way his smile brightened when he saw something pretty, or the way he scratched the back of his head when he was slightly nervous but wanted to be casual, or the way he was just so amazing at making me feel happy. His whole being just caused me to lose myself in my love for him. It had taken me so long to ever feel this strongly about someone, but Red did it so effortlessly. He was the one person that had taken down all my walls, the one person that I could feel truly me with. It just made me so grateful to be sitting across the table with such an amazing person, who didn't even know how beautiful he looked.' So much stuff happens in the story but please give it a read, it's not just a typical cliche romance. Smut occasionally and I guess serious themes such as homophobia and bullying.

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