#ytop

“Come on, Lynch.” Ronan could feel the words moving underneath his fingers. “It’s not like we haven’t tested the waters before. It was good, right? I think...we could be really fucking good.” Too good. Ronan could imagine it all too well—he had, in fact, imagined it too many times. Adam’s lips were bare inches away from Ronan’s, now, Ronan’s fingers still digging into his neck. He asked quietly, “Are you wishing I was Kavinsky instead?” Ronan barely had time to breathe out a no before Adam swallowed the word.

read the rest of chapter six

read the rest of chapter seven

Bryde: Ah, summertime. The sun is high, the trees are blossoming, a gentle breeze carries the soft scent of saltwater through the air…and instead of enjoying all that, you’re inside watching television.

Well, you’ve asked for it. A new crop of try-hards are vying for a fresh chance at love, lust, and fifty thousand in cash…or maybe just that sweet, sweet advertising deal once they’ve inevitably been dumped for the latest bombshell with an eight-pack. Because isn’t that the way it always goes in this corporate capitalist hellscape we live in? We used to be able to see the stars when we told stories around the campfire.

But I digress. It’s 2025 and we’re shaking things up. Don’t worry, you’ll still get the same inane drama you’ve come to expect, but this summer we’ve got a few surprises in store too. That’s right, you asked and we answered: we aren’t limiting our couples to girl-boy pairings. This year, any islander can choose to couple up with any other islander, no matter the gender.

Things are about to get messy.

Welcome…to Love Island!

Adam’s heart thumped furiously. He wasn’t sure he enjoyed being put in the spotlight like this. Or was his heart beating because it knew what was coming? If so, it had developed that bit of muscle memory frighteningly quickly. Unlike Adam, Ronan didn’t hesitate for a second. He crossed the stage in three long strides, his absurdly large hands grabbed Adam around the waist, and suddenly they were kissing again.

Kavinsky held the bundle up again just out of reach, taunting him. “Wearing bracelets is pretty gay, man.” Ronan, instead of going for the bracelets, grabbed Kavinsky’s wrist and propelled him backward. Plastic vines curled around Kavinsky’s body as his arm hit the wall above his head. “Damn,” Ronan said calmly. He could feel the pulse of Kavinsky’s rapid heartbeat in his wrist as his chest rose and fell under the thin layer of his gaping tank. “Wouldn’t want to give that impression, now, would I?”