Hiii, omg I love your fics so much and your writing is just chief's kiss, but maybe you could write something tragic?... hehe
Can you please pleasd write a fic about Ryul and the reader, they love each other so much but they have to break up in a most heart wrenching way? Please don't involve cheating, manipulation or any of some sort just the universe telling them they can't be together
THANK YOU IN ADVANCEEEEE
I’m sorry if this sucks and it’s super short I also just got broken up with and I’m sobbing..
We have to let go.
► Pairing | Ryul x Fem!reader
► Synopsis | You and Ryul share a deep, effortless love that slowly falls apart as his idol career takes over. In the end, despite still loving each other, he lets you go—because he no longer has the freedom to choose you.
► Word count | 1.3k
► Warnings | establish relationship, angst, not pr.
Loving Ryul had never felt fragile.
It didn’t feel like something that could break, or fade, or slip through your fingers if you held on too loosely. It felt permanent—like breathing, like gravity, like something the universe itself had decided was meant to exist.
Until one day, it wasn’t.
And the worst part was… it didn’t shatter all at once.
It unraveled quietly.
You and Ryul had been together for so long that people just expected you to be. You were never the couple that made things complicated. There were no dramatic fights, no long silences filled with tension—just soft laughter, shared glances, and a kind of understanding that didn’t need words.
You clicked in a way that felt almost unfair to everyone else.
Late-night calls that stretched until neither of you could keep your eyes open. Studying together, except no actual studying ever got done because you’d get distracted play fighting over something stupid or laughing too hard. The same inside jokes repeated so often they stopped making sense to anyone else.
You knew his habits. He knew yours.
He’d tap his fingers when he was thinking. You’d hum without realizing it. He liked sitting on the left side of everything. You always stole his hoodies and never gave them back.
Being with him wasn’t something you had to try at.
It was just… natural.
Like you were built to fit into each other’s lives.
So when he told you he wanted to become an idol, you didn’t hesitate.
You supported him immediately.
You were there through everything—the long training hours, the exhaustion, the doubt that sometimes crept into his voice late at night when he thought he wasn’t good enough.
You reminded him that he was.
Every time.
And even when things got harder—when calls became shorter, when messages took longer to reply—you told yourself it was okay. This was his dream. Of course it would take time. Of course it would take effort.
You could handle a little distance.
Because it was Ryul.
Because it was you and him.
But then he debuted.
And everything changed in a way you couldn’t quite explain.
It wasn’t sudden. Not in a way you could point to and say this was the moment things broke. It was slower than that. Quieter.
He became busier. Schedules filled every second of his day. Interviews, practices, performances—his life became something the world could see, something everyone wanted a piece of.
And somehow… you started feeling like there was less space for you in it.
At first, it was small things.
When you brought up the future—your future—he’d laugh it off, change the subject, kiss your forehead like that would make the conversation disappear.
Sometimes he’d joke about breaking up.
“Imagine if we just—ended things one day,” he’d say with a small, forced smile.
And you’d laugh, because… what else were you supposed to do?
But then he’d quickly follow it with, “I’m joking. That’ll never happen.”
Ryul didn’t joke like that.
Not about something like this.
…Right?
The calls became less frequent.
The texts shorter.
“I’m busy right now.”
“I’ll call you later.”
“I’m really tired.”
And you understood. You always understood.
But understanding didn’t make it hurt any less.
The only thing that stayed the same was the rooftop.
Your rooftop.
The place he took you to the first time he told you he liked you. The place where everything felt untouched by the rest of the world. No cameras, no expectations—just the two of you and the city stretched out beneath your feet.
Whenever things got too much, he’d take you there.
Like he was trying to hold onto something that was slipping away.
You’d sit side by side, your head resting on his shoulder, watching the lights flicker across the skyline. The same view, every time.
And yet… it never felt old.
Because it was yours.
That night felt different.
You noticed it the moment you saw him.
He smiled when he saw you—but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Still, you didn’t say anything.
You never wanted to be the one to make things harder.
So you sat together like always, shoulders touching, silence wrapping around you in a way that used to feel comforting.
Now it just felt… heavy.
Like something unspoken was sitting between you.
When it got late, you finally stood up, brushing your hands against your clothes.
“I should go,” you said softly.
You waited for him to nod, to walk you down like he always did.
But instead—
His hand wrapped around yours.
Tight.
Like if he let go, you’d disappear.
“Stay with me a little longer.”
His voice broke.
Just slightly.
But enough.
Enough to make your chest tighten, enough to make your stomach drop, enough to make every quiet fear you’d been pushing away come rushing back all at once.
You turned to look at him.
And for a second… you didn’t recognize the expression on his face.
Ryul looked at you like he was memorizing you.
Like he was trying to hold onto every detail—your eyes, your voice, the way your hand felt in his—like it was something he was about to lose.
Like it was something he didn’t already have.
“I don’t want to forget this,” he whispered.
Your heart stopped.
“…Forget what?”
He didn’t answer right away.
His grip on your hand tightened just a little more before loosening—like he was fighting himself.
“I don’t think I can do this anymore.”
The words were quiet.
Gentle.
And somehow that made them hurt even more.
You stared at him, waiting for him to laugh, to say it was another one of his jokes.
He didn’t.
“I tried,” he continued, his voice trembling now. “I really did. I thought… I thought I could balance everything. That I could keep you in my life the way you deserve.”
Your throat felt tight.
“Ryul—”
“But I can’t.”
The way he said it—it wasn’t careless. It wasn’t easy.
It sounded like it was tearing him apart.
“They’re watching everything I do now. Every step, every word… I don’t get to choose things the way I used to anymore.”
His eyes met yours, and they were full of something you’d never seen before.
Helplessness.
“If I keep holding onto you… it’s going to hurt you more in the end.”
A tear slipped down before you could stop it.
“I don’t care about that,” you said, your voice breaking. “We can figure it out. We always do.”
You reached for him, but he hesitated.
That hesitation—
It hurt more than anything he’d said.
“I care,” he whispered.
And that was the problem.
Silence fell again.
But this time, it wasn’t comfortable.
It was suffocating.
“I love you.”
The words left your lips without thinking, desperate, like if you said them enough times it would fix something.
It always had before.
Ryul’s expression crumpled.
“I know,” he said quietly. “That’s why I have to let you go.”
The city lights blurred as your vision filled with tears.
“This isn’t what I want,” he continued, his voice barely holding together. “If it was up to me—if things were different—I would stay. I would choose you. Every time.”
He let out a shaky breath.
“But I don’t get to choose anymore.”
His hand slowly slipped out of yours.
And he didn’t grab it again.
You stood there for a moment, frozen, waiting for him to take it back. Waiting for him to say he made a mistake.
He didn’t move.
So you nodded.
Because what else could you do?
You couldn’t force him to stay.
You couldn’t fight something neither of you had control over.
“…Okay.”
It was the smallest word you’d ever said.
And the hardest.
You turned and started walking away.
Each step felt wrong. Heavy. Like your body knew this wasn’t how things were supposed to end.
You thought he might call your name.
Just once.
He always did.
But this time—
He didn’t.
And somehow, that silence hurt more than anything else.
—Taglist: @yourarabkogal @rickyshensgirlfriend
Comment or send a request in inbox to join taglist
cw: suggestive, implied smut, horny af reader. hella references to love island and others. self doubt. miscommunication. mild angst.
Welcome back to Temptation Villa! Last episode, America was introduced to a new bombshell, Y/N, who just entered a couple with fan favorite islander Clark. The couple is quicker growing fond of one another, but issues still arise. Tune into tonight’s episode of Temptation Villa!
The Fijian sun crept into the tall bedroom windows. One by one, both couples and singles stirred in their beds. As for you, you felt a reverently soft touch against your temple, “Good morning…” Clark drawled beside you, idly trancing your ribs. You smiled into a kiss before leaving the sweet warmth of the bed, allowing the cold air to envelope.
In quick succession was a journey to the vanity room, where one by one the other girls joined. They practically flooded you with questions, words flying from every angle so fast you barely had time to learn their names.
“How was the kiss?”
“Where’d you get that dress?”
“Have you and Clark done anything yet?”
You answered with the same rapid fire cadence the questions had been asked.
“A-fucking-mazing.”
“Honestly, I think I thrifted it.”
“No, I wish.”
That last one in particular hit close to home, a dull pang in your chest. A mere few hours earlier, you had laid atop of Clark, shamelessly grinding your hips downward as you marked up his neck. You’d been laboring away the last half hour, under the darkness of the sheets. Nipping at his skin, teasing with your tongue, silently begging him to flip you over and have at it. But instead…
“Baby,” Clark’s hand ran through your hair, gently pulling you away from his neck.
“Mhm?” You hummed eagerly, buzzing with excitement. Surely, this was it, right?
Nothing could have prepared you for “We should stop. It’s getting late.”
In the awkward, heavy silence, you got off of him, rolled over, and fell unceremoniously asleep with your tail between your legs.
It was now broad daylight, but of course, you couldn’t help but wonder, “Was Clark physical with Aisha?” You asked aloud to the room, brushing out your hair. You figured it was better to ask while the guys were still away.
Sydney, laser focused on curling her blonde hair, sighed, “I mean…I guess so.”
“You guess so?” Isabel retorted with a dry laugh, “Honey, they fucked on day two.”
As the room erupted to a burst of laughter, meanwhile something inside of you sank. The words twisted like a knife, all too powerful and stabbing of a pain to ignore. Was it a ‘you’ problem? You began to consider it when-
“Hey, I thought I’d bring you breakfast.” There he was. Clark. Drizzled in a warm syrupy sunlight, with those diamond eyes that dared you to get lost. You took the plate from him, honing your gaze to the beautifully arranged orange slices and avocado toast, with the peel wrapped around the edge like a ribbon. How did hands, so large and all encompassing, manage to work so delicately? “Oh my god, that’s so sweet of you.”
He gave a dorky shrug, “My pleasure.”
Leo entered, english accent crisp as ever, “My pleasure?” He laughed, making his way to Sydney as he passed Clark, “Hey loser!”
“You’re a loser,” Clark spoke in response, eyes trained on you as he placed a light kiss to your shoulder. He rose, just barely stopping by your ear to murmur, “Want to go for a chat?”
You stood up, smoothing out your hair and grabbing your plate. “Of course.”
The two of you made your way across the villa. Beneath the sun, Clark was a god with shoulders dusted in sunburn and freckles. You silently longed to write your name along his spine, to mark him ‘yours’.
As it turns out, your fixation with ownership was distracting you from his actual words.
“…and that’s why I feel like to really understand Anakin as a character you need to…” Clark trailed off, eyes finding their way back to you. “Sorry, I lost ya there,” He chuckled sheepishly, “You probably think I’m such a nerd.”
“No,” You spoke a beat too soon, shedding a light on your desperation. The last thing you needed was him thinking you were uninterested, especially considering his reluctance to do anything more than kiss the previous night. “What were you talking about?”
He laughed, “Nothing, just…Star Wars.” Clark said with a lopsided grin.
You paused, a smile blooming beneath the surface, “No shit! I love Star Wars.”
His eyes lit up, juvenilely joyful, “Wait, like actually? What’s your favorite?” The question was uttered with the tone of a friendly challenge.
“Revenge of the Sith! I mean what it did for Anakin’s character totally can recontextualize the whole original trilogy…” Your voice faded as you found his gaze, soft and reverent. Clark was looking at you like you’d hung the fucking sun. “What?” You teased, running your nails down the length of this arm.
He caught your hand and redirected it to his chest, “I dunno,” The sun swallowed him whole, basking him in its glow like a halo. He parted his lips to speak again when…
“I GOT A TEXT!” Charlie’s voice declared from half way across the villa, “All islanders please meet by the fire pit for an urgent announcement!” He recited.
Clark gave a dramatic sigh before reaching his arms out to you, “Well then…C’mere.”
You chuckled, “Huh?”
“Lemme carry you. We’ll go quicker and-“
He cut himself off, hoisting you by your thighs onto his torso and making a break for it. You let out a noise somewhere between a gasp and a laugh, your legs and arms wrapping around him instinctively, “Clark!”
“What?” He teased with a shit-eating grin.
You tucked your head under his chin, taking in the scent of him, all salt air and sweetness.
“Wow, what a man,” Isabel whooped as you neared the fire pit with the other islanders. Clark set you down softly, “You okay?”
“Never been better,” The words melted into his mouth as you pressed a kiss to his lips.
Clark took a seat on the lounger, legs parting as he leaned back. His blue trunks left little to the imagination under the glow of broad sunlight and oh my God you wanted to make home in his lap.
Before you could decide whether straddling Clark in public after knowing him for twelve hours was trashy, Temptation Villa host Jacob Baker was back. “Hello again, islanders!”
He recited the words like memorized lines. It was all a performance. “I have a very special treat for you all today. Specifically, for two of you.”
The group bristled, holding in a collective breath.
“America voted for their favorite couple to send on a date…” The air grew thicker with anticipation.
“And by a last minute landslide…Y/N and Clark!”
—————————————
It was beautiful. A beach picnic with the peachy canopy of a fijian sunset. The birds were whistling a sappy serenade, and the air tasted like lovesick poetry. “Clark…” You prepositioned, studying him as he slathered a croissant in cinnamon butter and strawberry jam. You pushed back his adorable damp curls, leaning in. He cut you off with a bite of croissant, “Try this.”
It was lovely. Really. Warm and sweet, melting on your tongue. “Mmm, Clark that’s great!” You mumbled into another bite.
He smiled coyly, “I’m glad you like it. Um…when I was a kid, Ma would always make me a piece of toast with cinnamon sugar and strawberry jam on it when I was sad and it’s not exactly the same or anything but…”
You chuckled, “Ma?”
“My mom,” Clark laughed, “Sorry, my farmboy roots are showing.” His eyes trailed you with an unmistakable want as he beckoned you closer, “C’mere.”
You didn’t need to be asked twice. You were on him. Legs straddling that toned torso, finally away from the watchful eyes of the others. It was an angry clash of lips. When you slipped your tongue past his, you tasted desperation. So it began. You made your way south; violet marks blossomed along his neck in your wake. Clark hesitated before slipping his hands lower to find your ass, “This okay?” He whispered breathlessly.
“I dunno…” You teased against his skin, slowly trancing your fingers down before palming him gently through his trunks, “Is this okay?”
The switch flipped. He released a sharp inhale, throwing his head back. You thought it was going great. It should have been going great. Then…you felt it. That warm soft hand, pushing you away.
Clark was pushing you away.
“Hun…we can’t.” His eyes were soft and his voice was softer.
Something inside of you clicked. Sometimes messy and rude and gross. Something you’d been so desperately trying to keep hidden. “Clark!” The words spilled out, hot and angry, before you could stop them. “You fucked Aisha on day 2! Day 2! And now that its me…” Your voice was shaky, anger giving way to tears, “now that its me you don’t want to do anything and-“
“I reget what I did with Aisha!” Clark sliced down your words with his own, voice rising. Wind fresh off the ocean sent a chill through the both of you as he took a steadying breath. “I regret it, and I don’t want to make that same mistake because I can’t mess up things with you.”
A heavy silence fell over the beach as you stared into that kind face and all you could say was, “I’m sorry.”
Clark pulled you into his chest, smoothing your skin, “It’s okay, pretty girl.” He whispered into your hair. He looked down at you with those dimples and yet again you melted, fading into him like a second skin.
At the end of the day, it truly was okay. You were curled up with Clark by the seaside, staring into those ocean eyes as the sun set in the west. In the vast expanse of your mind, one thought remained.
You could stay like this forever.
author’s note: and what if my mental image of jacob baker is corny collins from 2007 movie musical hairspray in a slutty crochet polo? then what?
