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[aurguries]

if i do what you tell me, will you love me?

pairing: heimdall x reader author's note: i always thought it would be interesting to write a little something with the concept of childhood sweethearts in terms of heimdall's character, especially since he has a hard time trusting people. but with someone he's known since he was a kid? he's a bit putty in her hands heh.

Your arrival is abrupt and abrasive all at once, involving an irritating combination of the door to his room being thrown open, and you striding in soon after, cheeks flushed, tone impatient. 

"We need to talk."

He remains unfazed, fingers leisurely flipping to the next page of the book he had been in the midst of reading before you barged in, feet still kicked up on his desk, all while you continue to seethe for reasons yet to be made known to him.

"And what seems to be the problem now?" he drawls out.

"Well, you wouldn't know unless you stop reading and look at me," comes your sour response as the door shuts behind you with a loud thud. 

Heimdall sets the book away with a sigh, lowers his feet back down to the ground, violet gaze now trailing after you as you march across the room to plant yourself on his bed with a loud huff. 

He eyes you with a tinge of amusement. "Or you could always just tell me. You can still ... speak, can't you?"

Your gaze flickers to his, tone cutting. "And you can still read minds, can't you? 

His mouth lifts into a smirk. 

"Now that you've kicked up such a fuss, that would be too easy — me poking around in that pretty, little head of yours while you sit there doing absolutely nothing. You know, I think I'd rather hear it from you, dearest. Go on then, form the words."

Heimdall watches as your eyes narrow into slits. 

"I'm not in the mood for whatever this is."

He hums and reaches for his book. 

"Well, neither am I. Come back some other time, then. Goodbye."

A moment creeps by.

Heimdall slides his gaze over to you. 

You remain seated, as he knew you would, arms crossed, lips pursed, still glowering at him. 

The sight of you like this, in so petulant a mood, brings him back lifetimes — to a different room, a narrower bed, and a smaller, sullener version of you sitting on top of it, pouting away, arms crossed, your little feet dangling above the ground. 

In some ways, you are still that same girl, and this is still that same dance.

"Shut the door on your way out, will you?" he mentions tauntingly. "Or, dare I ask, have you actually decided to stay?"

You relent with a roll of your eyes. "You're so difficult sometimes."

"Likewise, sulky."

As soon as the words leave him, he sees your lips curl into a strange, little smile, ire seemingly forgotten. His brows crease, your eyes gleam. By the time he's decided to delve into the depths of your somewhat depraved mind, it's too late.

"You know, I much prefer what you called me earlier," you sigh, tone coy and teasing. "Were you intending on trying something new or did it just ... slip out?" 

You suddenly seem far more exasperating than usual. 

"I have no idea what you're going on about."

"Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Please stop feeding your delusions."

"Make me." You smirk. "Dearest."

Annoyance seeps into his tone. "Do you actually have a problem you'd like to discuss or are you just here to waste my time?"

"You tell me," you say almost cheerfully, tone light, seemingly back in high spirits. "So, still want me to tell you what's bothering me, or would you rather just read my mind?"

"Or I could just throw you out."

You make a face at this suggestion. 

"I suppose you ... could. For now, at least. But given how we are soon to live together, I suggest you think of more creative ways to be mean to me. Can't exactly throw me out when we share a room, can you?"

You level your gaze at him challengingly. 

"Or is that the best you can do?"

Heimdall feigns a laugh. "You really still believe that?" 

This gives you pause. 

"Believe what?"

"That we are, soon to live together, as you so eloquently put it." He mock frowns. "You do seem rather ... unsure."

You huff. "So, you do know what's bothering me."

He scoffs, voice deadpan as he laments, "Your thoughts have been stuck on the same thing for weeks, haunting me at every waking moment. Only an idiot wouldn't know what's bothering you."

"And it's only just gotten worse," you tell him now, tone insistent. "Look into my eyes, tell me I'm not overreacting."

Heimdall stands, pretends to mull over your request before relenting with a sigh, making his way over to you. 

"Alright then. Now don't look away, hold it right there — let me concentrate — oh, I see — now that's interesting. You're very clearly ... overreacting."

You glare up at him. 

"This isn't funny. They're here, with her, in the All-Father's court. Why else except to try and wed their only daughter to the scion of the Aesir."

The corners of his mouth twitch. "My, my, I wasn't aware you held me in such high regard."

You lift your chin. "It is a mere fact. Nothing more."

"And so, so, eager to make me yours."

A rosy hue descends on your cheeks as you scoff. "That's not the point. Aren't you the least bit worried you might actually have to call her your wife instead?"

"Not in the slightest," he answers breezily with a dismissive wave of his hand. "The All-Father would never let me be bound to someone of such ... standing. I am, after all, his son, and as you so conveniently mentioned, the scion of the Aesir. So, as you can see, sulky, all that worrying of yours is really for naught."

And so are his words, it seems, because the look on your face hasn't changed. Except now — now you turn away, arms crossed, childishly refusing to look at him. 

Heimdall releases an exaggerated sigh, feels the bed dip as he takes a seat next to you.

"But, I suppose if it makes you feel any better, I did only agree to marry you, didn't I?"

The corners of your mouth begin to lift. 

"And?"

His brows crease. "And?"

You smirk. 

"Tell me how much you love me. Tell me you'd rather die than continue to live lifetimes without me. Tell me I'm who you love most."

He snorts. "What?"

You turn, gaze locking with his, eyes glittering deviously. 

"You want to make me feel better, don't you, dearest?" you purr, tone sickly-sweet. "So, read my mind and tell me what I want to hear."

What you want to hear. 

What do you want to hear? 

It isn't always an easy thing, sifting through the recesses of your mind. 

Your thoughts, they often greet him how a lover would — how you would — coyly leading him astray, teasing him, toying with him. Tugging, pulling, bending him towards your will, sometimes even tainting whatever it is in him that claims to be all-seeing, all-knowing. 

He sees you reach for him, feels you reach for him. 

"Won't you do it? For me?" you murmur as you gaze up at him through half-lidded eyes, body pressed close, grip tightening around the fabric of his tunic, effectively creasing it. 

"Won't you tell me you've loved me since forever?"

He feels your breath on his heated skin with every persistent plea, and foolishly allows his senses to give in to you, be overcome by you, thoughts and all, lulling him to do as you please. 

Heimdall hums, fingers tracing your spine. "And if I let you have your way, if I do what you tell me?"

He sees your lips curl into that strange, little smile once more as you lean in to place them at his ear, your voice a hushed whisper, and your words, all that he's yearned to hear. 

In some ways, he is still that same boy who sat across that smaller, sullener version of you, his own little feet dangling above the ground, longing to make you smile.

In some ways, this is still that same dance. 

[aurguries]

I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO WRITE ABOUT ODIN! I'm loving the storyline and plot! Could you please elaborate on OP and Odin relationship before and after their divorce

oof literally same!! that’s why i decided to take matters into my own hands 🫣 and ahhh thank you!! i’m so happy you liked it hehe 💖 hmm i guess you could say they never officially divorced for starters?? he just banished her from asgard as punishment for her treachery and married freya later on, but he never really forgot about her and her gift of prophecy. basically, she’s still very much of use to him, and despite everything that happened, there is still some fondness and affection there. what i can really say about their relationship is that it’s really screwed up lol 🥲 i mean, she essentially only still “needs” him because she’s being punished with isolation and he makes sure that he’s the only company she has. then there’s always that thought of keeping their son safe 😭 so yeah, it’s not … good

[aurguries]

to be all-seeing

pairing: odin x reader author's note: odin and heimdall were both such standouts for me in the new game and i just had to write something involving them both and what better way to tie them together than write about heimdall's mother? i've taken some creative liberties here, and this is just my take on how stuff might have gone down. i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!! warnings: gaslighting, dubious consent, manipulation, emotional/psychological abuse, just all-fucker being an all around prick

Why here of all places?

With everything that’s happening — the looming threat of Ragnarök, that pesky Greek god and the boy by his side, the mask and its stubbornly hidden secrets, his vengeful ex, the impending doom of his death — perhaps he might have been thinking of simpler times.

Perhaps he might have been thinking of you.

And of course, that gift of yours.

It’s been some time since his last visit, since he last had either Huginn or Muninn keep an eye on you. Easier to pretend you never existed, though at times, a fool’s errand. You did, after all, spend several lifetimes with him. Then there’s your kid together, a walking reminder of your former union.

Sometimes, Odin wishes things could have been different, but here you are. And here he is.

You catch sight of him first.

Or maybe you saw him coming.

"What are you doing here?"

Fimbulwinter has taken its toll on Midgard, and it looks just as bleak and miserable as he remembers it to be from his last visit with Thor. With that, you — you make a most lovely sight in this dump.

Maybe it was cruel of him to bind you to a place such as this, among lesser people and where monsters lurked in every corner. Then again, he’s reminded that, just like his Frigg, you are here by your own fault.

It’s not that you mean nothing to him, you just … well, you just needed to be taught a lesson, that’s all.

Clearly, you still don’t see it that way.

"Come to gloat?" you inquire bitterly, standing in the doorway of the modest cottage you now regard as home.

If only you hadn’t been so goddamn stubborn, you could have been so very far away from … all this. Still living comfortably in the lodge he built, with servants to cater to your every whim, and the unforgiving winter nothing but a frigid tale to be told to you in passing gossip by members of his court. But you’ve always insisted upon your own way, upon your own … principles.

And so, you’ve brought this on yourself.

"You tell me," is all he says.

And yet, a challenge. You recognise it too. He looks at you, watches your gaze narrow. When you finally speak, your tone is as frosty as the snow that surrounds you both.

"I don’t do that anymore."

Odin merely shrugs. "Pity. Real gift you had."

This seems to irritate you further.

"What are you here for this time? Why now?" comes your impatient demand. And yet, he detects an undercurrent of hurt. It’s been … too long perhaps, since his last visit. You might have thought he’d forgotten about you.

A beat passes. He sees realisation dawn, anger fade. You start to smile, an almost gleeful edge to your voice as you guess, "Oh, this is about that prophecy, isn’t it? You don’t know what else to do. Or perhaps it is about that mask of yours. You always did spend so much time pouring over it."

"Maybe I’m here for you," he muses.

"You’re here for my gift," you correct sharply, displeasure returning. "I don’t need it to tell me that."

With that, you turn on your heel without another word.

Soon he’s trailing after you, shutting the door behind him, feeling the last gust of cold air disappear. A watchful eye takes to surveying the room, scanning for signs of anyone else other than you. The fact that he even has to look sours his mood just a little. Admittedly, he has been a little lax with your punishment lately.

"I see you’ve been decorating," he observes, taking a seat at a table you’ve set up in the centre of the room. Odin looks to you, tone light. "You got anything to drink?"

"Just tell me what you want this time."

You remain standing, ever watchful, ever cautious, seeming so very far away from him. Not impossible to reach though. He always has a way of getting to you, somehow. You’ve missed him, despite how vehemently you might deny it.

Still, you’ve changed, haven’t you? Even more so than when he last saw you. Midgard’s influence, no doubt. It never does you any good. You don’t seem to need him as much anymore. Perhaps you never did.

He’s not sure he likes the thought of that.

"No how have you been?”

An uncomfortable silence hangs in the air.

You stare at him wordlessly.

He relents with a sigh.

"I’m sorry, that’s not fair. Expecting you to welcome me back. You’re angry at me for not visiting, I get that."

Odin gazes at you intently.

"Unless … this isn’t about that at all, and you’re still angry about what happened." He shrugs. "Yeah sure, I may have … overreacted, but that doesn’t change the fact that I did what I thought was best. For you."

Something flickers in your expression.

The words come quietly.

"You always say that."

"And I mean it every time."

"I wish I could believe you."

"You can," he coaxes tenderly.

"Can I?"

He inches closer towards you, voice low and reassuring. "Don’t you know I’ll always be here for you? That I’ll always care for you? Didn’t I promise you that?”

"You promised me many things."

"And I intend on keeping those promises," he murmurs. "All you gotta do, is trust me."

He reaches out to you, but you immediately draw back, voice tense.

"Just — get on with whatever it is you’re here for this time."

He leans back, unfazed by this … contempt you make a show of. After all, you did this the last time too, and the other visits that came before. Even so, he’s still here, isn’t he?

"Alright, if that’s what you want."

A moment passes and you take a seat, unable to look at him.

It’s almost … satisfying. Knowing that even after all this time, his words still have the capacity to affect you. And why should they not?

You must still love him.

Didn’t he give you everything?

Who would you be without him? Where would you be? Who else would have brought you back to Asgard if not him? He raised you to be a queen. And just like the wife who came after you, you stupidly threw it all away. And for what?

You chose to be nothing.

At the end of it all, perhaps you do deserve to live in this wasteland. It’s the only way you’ll learn to behave. To learn your place. And once you do, it’ll be just like old times. You by his side, and your gift at his disposal. The All-Father and his little prophetess.

"You want to know why I’m here," he begins.

"I assume it’s about the prophecy."

"Yeah, something along the lines of that." He pauses, gives you a look. "You remember that … god, the one you told me was headed to Jötunheim."

"What about him?"

"You remember his son as well? There’s something the boy might be able to help me with."

You stiffen, expression hardening.

"I want nothing to do with this if it means harming a child."

"No one’s talking about killing the kid," he retorts with a snort, rolling his eyes. "You’re being dramatic."

"Am I?" you wonder coolly.

"Look, all I want is for him to help me with my mask. With enough time, he just might be able to piece it together."

"And so you want me to tell you if this will happen, if it will play out how you want it to."

"And here I thought you had abandoned your gift."

"I did. You’ve only had me do this many times, but this time I won’t. I mean it."

"Do you now?" he wonders, gaze flickering to yours.

"I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want you to hurt anyone."

"Why would I hurt anybody?" He chuckles. "I’m not always the bad guy, you know. I did save you now, didn’t I? All those years ago."

"Save?"

"Ran away, didn’t you? Then made to survive with your gift when things went to shit." His words are mocking, condescending. "The Aesir who was so very far away from home. At least that’s how I remember it. In the end, you practically begged me to take you back to Asgard. Prayed to me, pleaded with me."

"If only I was shown what entailed," you mutter. "What it showed me instead, it … misled me."

He sighs. "Still, I envy you for it."

Coldness sets in. "You’ve always envied what I think is cursed."

Odin leans back in his seat. "Nonsense. It’s a gift."

"Only when it’s useful to you."

"I suppose, but whatever benefits Asgard benefits our son, no?" he muses. "That boy of ours, he really is something. Everything we hoped he’d be. You’d want the best for him, wouldn’t you?"

The words hit you hard. Almost immediately, you shoot up from your seat, seething, "How dare you mention him? I haven’t seen him since he was a child. You took him from me."

"You abandoned him."

"I was forced to. By you," you grit out.

"And whose fault is that?" he wonders coldly.

All the colour has drained from your face, and just like that, it feels as though it was only yesterday you left home in such a state — ashen-faced, chin quivering, trying your hardest not to cry when you were asked if you’d be back. The confusion written all over his little face was probably enough to shatter your heart.

You’ve always loved that boy too much for your own good. It’s made you weak if anything. And it would have made him weak. It’s better this way, you and him apart. Besides, the man that your son is now, the man that Odin raised him to be — useful, reliable, loyal — you’d be pleased with how he’s turn out.

Odin moves to take your hands in his. When you don’t pull away, he starts in a honeyed voice, "We all make mistakes. What’s important is that you’re making up for yours. And for that, I’ll always be very proud."

He rises from his seat, a hand moving to cup your cheek. He watches you start to crack, because in your isolation, despite all the hate and anger you may feel for him, he is still all you have.

"It’s been hard on you, hasn’t it?" he murmurs sympathetically, thumb brushing across your cheek. "Being here all alone. Away from our son, from me. From family. I know I haven’t been dropping by as often as you’d like. And for that, I’m truly sorry. Truth is, I’ve been busy, but that’s no excuse, is it?"

His fingers move to grasp your chin, tilting it upwards so that you can meet his gaze. Something in your expression falters.

"I should’ve made time for you," he tells you softly. "Forgive me?"

He pulls away, gazes down at you intently.

A moment goes by.

Then finally, a crack.

"The boy," comes your reluctant response. "The boy will come to Asgard. I’ve seen it."

Eagerness grips him. There you are. There it is.

"And?"

"He’s come because of his father. He’s been … driven away."

He detects a hint of disgust in your voice, though he gets the sense that it isn’t for him, or Loki.

After all, it is your whispers that often end in suffering, don’t they?

He is bound to betray you. 

That Dwarf will rebel against you. 

When she leaves, you will have her wings.

Most of the time, all he has to do is tell you that it is for the good of Asgard, for the good of your son, and you carry on without hesitation.

His response now is as ravenous as it was then.

"The mask. Tell me about the mask."

Your brows crease. "The pieces … they come together. And the boy, he seems to be the key."

A thrill runs through him.

He takes and takes. Whatever you have to offer.

"And Ragnarök?"

You hesitate.

"You know I can’t see that far."

Irritation flares.

"Fimbulwinter is already here," he insists impatiently. "Ragnarök is close."

"I’ve told you everything I know," is all you say.

Odin seizes you by the arms then, fingers digging harshly into your skin. "This is really, really important. And I need you to think carefully. Ragnarök. Anything … you can tell me about that?"

He sighs at the lack of a response.

"Might be hard for me to come visit if I’m dead. You’d miss me, wouldn’t you?"

You glare up at him, voice taut.

"I can’t tell you what I don’t know."

Odin watches you closely.

"What about your son? Our son? You want to keep him safe, don’t you?"

Your gaze softens ever so slightly, but you don’t budge.

"I really don’t know."

A moment passes.

He loosens his hold on you, fingers moving to brush your hair back.

"Well …" he finally murmurs. "I had to ask."

Odin gazes at you fondly, tone now affectionate.

"Even so, I always knew you wouldn’t let me down." He chuckles. "My little prophetess. I nearly forgot how good of a team we were. How … talented you were."

His hand slides down to rest on your throat, and the lightness vanishes. He regards you with a dark gaze, eye tracing your skin.

Then, after a while, his words come quietly.

"I’ve always loved you. You know that, right?"

He steps closer, fingers curling around your neck.

"Even after all that treachery. Even after you turned your back on me."

"You didn’t give me a choice."

"No, you just chose to betray me."

"I didn’t want to."

"But you did. You should be dead, you know. Or worse."

"And yet, you still need me, don’t you?" you challenge, neck still in his grasp.

He could kill you. Should kill you. Is it true, that he still needs you? A son blessed with your gift of foresight was all he wanted at the beginning, really. But after bearing him that child, you’ve still somehow managed to prove yourself useful. How many times have your insight proved valuable? That you’ve dealt with a problem that hasn’t even begun?

But more importantly, you’ve grown on him, haven’t you?

"You had your son kill most, if not all the Giants," you continue accusingly. "And you strangled that Giantess because you didn’t like what she saw. Now they’re all gone. Because of you. And so, now — now you keep me alive despite the treason I’ve committed because I’m the only one left with the gift of prophecy you so desperately covet. That’s unless you prefer to seek out the Norns, but we both know how much you despise them."

Your hand slides up his arm, gripping his wrist.

"If you truly wish me dead, then do it. Murder me. Murder me like you murdered your dear friend Gróa."

He chuckles lightly.

"You’re overreacting. What makes you think I want you dead? You should be, but you’re still here, aren’t you?"

"So you want my gratitude?"

"I want to know if you still care," he murmurs, gaze intent. "Do you truly hate me? As much as you claim you do?"

He sees you hesitate.

Then.

"I should. After you sent me here, after you made me leave my son." A trembling pause. "But I don’t." You can barely even look at him. "I can’t." Your voice wavers. "No matter what you do."

"I’m a difficult man," he says, fingers releasing their grasp on your throat, grazing upwards to cup the side of your face. "I admit that."

"You’re a god."

"And is that so bad?" Odin wonders, thumb caressing your lips.

Worse, you whisper as he leans in to have you. You let him.

You always do.

•••

"You’ve been to see my mother," Heimdall will later say. Carefully, for it is a sensitive subject he is about to broach. Callously, so that the All-Father does not know that a part of him still cares. 

It’s pathetic. Truly. 

"I have," comes his father’s response.

Heimdall waits. And waits. But the All-Father never elaborates, never looks up from his book. 

"I’m surprised she made it all the way to Fimbulwinter. She always did have a rather … weak disposition," he drawls, voice dripping with contempt. 

But he doesn’t hate her. Not really. He remembers her delicate laugh, her smiling eyes. That gaze of pure adoration whenever she looked at him, as though he was who she loved most. No one ever looks at him that way anymore. 

She would still. He knows this. 

"You’d think she’d have perished by now," Heimdall muses with a dramatic sigh, fingers distractedly grazing across a scroll as he lingers near the table where his father’s seated at, nose still burrowed in his book.

"So you want her dead?" the All-Father suddenly asks, gaze flickering to him.

Heimdall hesitates, scoffs.

"She betrayed us. She betrayed you."

"Sure, sure," the All-Father murmurs. The book slams shut. His father’s full attention is now on him. Heimdall wished for it just seconds earlier, will long for it always, but now that he has it, it isn’t a very pleasant feeling. It never is. 

"So, do you?"

His brow creases. "All-Father?"

"Want her dead."

Heimdall freezes. 

His father is still staring at him, waiting. Waiting for an answer. He wants to know. He always does. Somewhere behind him, Huginn screeches. 

Then, reluctantly, almost disgustedly, he forces himself to respond. 

"No."

A moment passes.

The All-Father hums, reaches for his book, attention shifting away from him, and it’s almost as if the moment never happened.

Heimdall tries not to look too relieved. 

"That’ll be all."

His arm flies up to his chest, back already instinctively bent in a bow. 

"All-Father."

He’s met with only silence. Always only silence. 

And when he leaves, it’s as if he was never there at all.

[aurguries]

it’s my birthday

ahhh happy birthday anon!! 🎂💗💗💗😊

[aurguries]

your "affair with sangwoo" headcanon absolutely WRECKED me omg i can't stop thinking about it, are you thinking about writing a pt. 2?? your writing is so good, i think it's one of the best among all squid game writers 🤧💓

hi there anon!! ahhh it means so much to hear you say that pls 😭💗 i’m so so happy you enjoyed it!! and as for a part two, i’m satisfied (cue jun-ho’s voice hehe) with the ending of part one at the moment but at the same time, i’m not completely shutting off the possibility of part two either because truth be told, i can’t stop thinking about it as well 😂 anyway, thanks so much for reaching out, anon 🥺 have a wonderful day 💖🥰

[aurguries]

i’m not crazy i swear i’m literally just so APPALLED. you are amazing i adore u

ILY PLS 😭💗

[aurguries]

NO CUZ I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY. SIT THE HELL DOWN. HOW DARE YOU. HOW DARE YOU MAKE ME FEEL SO MUCH. YOU !2!2! YOU HAVE RUINED ME. YOUR ERITINH IS SO BRILLIANT AND AMAZING AND IM GOING TO DIE THINKING ABT THAT SANGWOO FIC

FHSJSK IM SORRYYY

[aurguries]

OHHHHH MYYYYY GODDDDDDDDD THE SANG-WOO COMES HOME HCS KILLED ME IN THE BEST WAY WOW, LIKE THEY ARE A PLOT IN AND OF ITSELF OF HOW'D HE HANDLE THAT GRIEF AND REMORSE FOR WHAT HAPPENED IN THE GAME WITH AN S/O. YOU'RE AMAZING!! 💟💟(´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`)

HI HI 🥺 TRUTH BE TOLD, THEY KILLED ME TOO HSSJSK. i’ve been wanting to explore how it would be like for sang-woo to win the game and come back with the knowledge that he killed all those people, even his childhood friend, to get this far. AND THEN I WANTED TO SEE HOW IT WOULD BE LIKE FOR HIM TO ATTEMPT TO BUILD A LIFE WITH AN S/O AT THE SAME TIME THESE THOUGHTS ARE RUNNING THROUGH HIS MIND. so tadaa!! AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SENDING ME THIS SWEET MESSAGE 💖❤️💖❤️ i’ve been having a bit of a rough time with uni so to have all this love pouring in means so much to me 🥺

[aurguries]

Your Sang-woo headcanons are so fucking good like they make me feel so... happy and ‘oh that’s sweet’ but the endings are so dreadful— is that the right word? THE ENDINGS JUST HURT OKAY??? IT HITS DIFFERENT AND I WANT YOU TO KNOW YOU’RE SO TALENTED TBH bc it’s so hard for me to like angst like that but like I said your stuff just hits diff. Hope you have had a good day babes!! <3333

HELLO THERE. OKAY JUST HEAR ME OUT, i love angst, so that’s why i usually can’t help but make all those dreadful endings after moments that make you go awww 😭 then again, they fit perfectly with the events of the show 🥲 BUT TO HEAR THAT ITS HARD FOR YOU TO LIKE ANGST AND HAVE YOU SAY THAT MY STUFF HITS DIFF?? 🥺 IT MEANS THE WORLD TO ME. thank you so much!! you’re honestly so sweet for reaching out like this and i hope you have a good day yourself, anon 💗💗💗

[aurguries]

The Sangwoo fic where he goes back to his lover after the game is amazing 😭 i absolutely love it

Oh my god hello!! Thank you so so much 😭 I’m so happy to hear you loved it 💕💖💕💖

[aurguries]

headcanons — cho sang-woo returning to you after the game

pairing: cho sang-woo x reader author’s note: so, here we are yet again, with another batch of sang-woo headcanons. the joke’s on me for thinking i could get through the series without latching onto a dilf. too late now. he can push me off a glass bridge anytime. anyway, here’s an au of sang-woo returning to his lover after having won the game because we’re all whores here and that’s that. warning: age gap

To see your face light up when you lay eyes on him is immediately enough to justify just about everything that happened.

In fact, it all makes sense the moment he holds you in his arms again. To see you smile as you look at him the way you always do, and to finally be able to make things up to you.

After all, everyone has always told you to stay away from him. Your parents never liked the idea of you seeing someone so much older, while your friends accused him of acting as though he was above them and everyone else. And yet, you’ve stuck by his side this entire time, even through all his faults.

It would never have been fair to leave you behind.

The money solves all of his problems, just as he thought it would. The police are easily handled, and his case is quickly swept under the rug. He manages to settle everything that he owes, and his mother gets to keep her shop. As for you, he buys a place just for the two of you and convinces you to move in with him.

And yet, despite his newfound financial freedom and the life he’s starting to build with you, he can’t help but feel as though he’s still haunted in some way.

While he would have done it all over again if given the chance, it doesn’t mean he enjoyed it. In fact, he can hardly bear the thought of you ever finding out the things he did in order to win.

Sang-woo finds himself waking up most nights in a cold sweat. It’s almost as if he’s back there, where even sleeping is an act that can get you killed.

One night, he feels your arms slide around him from behind as you press yourself close to him, drowsily asking if everything’s okay.

How can he even begin to answer that? He sees it now. The way things would go if he were to answer you honestly. The look of disgust on your face as you demand he stay away from you. The packed suitcases and the missed calls.

Yet, there’s also a part of him that’s desperate to make you understand that he did it all for the both of you, if only for you to tell him that everything is in fact okay, when it’s so clearly not.

But instead of doing any of that, he pushes you back down on the bed, and makes the both of you forget that things were ever wrong for a moment.

On other days, Sang-woo would look at you and think of the girl whose throat he so ruthlessly slit. In some ways, you remind him of her. There’s a sort naivete to the both of you, despite how much you and her might pretend otherwise. After all, he only remembers all too well the brave front she put up, and the way it eventually crumbled.

You could have been her if things were different.

He could have killed you.

What’s worse is that he even sees in you glimpses of the man he knew nearly all his life, the one he stuck a knife in.

You seem to view the world through the same rose-tinted glasses he did, and even on your toughest days, nothing has ever stopped you from offering a smile to those who need it or to be kind for just a moment.

And Sang-woo can’t help but be reminded of him, the person who used to take him to school when he was young, whom he used to play with till late into the day until his own mother called him back for supper, and who always seemed to light up each time there was an opportunity to brag about him having graduated from a prestigious university.

He used to feel annoyed by it, but now, Sang-woo thinks he was just proud of him, like how an older brother would have been proud.

And look what he did to him.

You would have gotten along so well together. Sang-woo can picture it now, the way Gi-hun would have made it a point to tell you the most embarrassing stories about him. You would have laughed at his expense, and yet, he can’t help but feel as though it would have been one of his happiest memories, if it can even be called that.

After all, it’s never going to happen.

And on his wedding day, he thinks of the wife and child who are still waiting for their husband and father to come home.

Sang-woo stands across from you at the altar, sees you peek at him as you offer him a bashful smile, and he can’t help but feel as though he doesn’t deserve to be happy.

He’s here, about to start a family of his own, when he so cruelly broke up someone else’s.

You would never have married him if you knew.

But you don’t. And so, you wear his ring by the end of the ceremony instead of running. He watches you beam as you let his mother fuss over you, and he begins to allow himself to think of the life that awaits the both of you.

While Sang-woo does eventually bury these people deep within himself, sometimes, you’d get that look in your eyes, the one that makes it seem as though you know exactly what he did.

Then it’s gone, like it was never there at all, and he thinks he just imagined it.

[aurguries]

headcanons — having an affair with cho sang-woo

pairing: cho sang-woo x reader author’s note: just hear me out, having sang-woo comfort you while you’re stuck in an unhappy marriage as a trophy wife? i needed to write this. honestly, he shouldn’t even be looking so goddamn fine in the first place while doing such horrible acts. but you know what? he can betray me all he wants djhdskla warnings: age gap, cheating

The both of you come from vastly different backgrounds.

His mother is a market vendor who sells fish and you’re the daughter of an extremely wealthy businessman.

The odds of crossing each other’s path were slim, and yet, the two of you meet for the first time when he’s introduced to you by your husband, a new client of his who is eager to show off his beautiful, young wife, whom he managed to secure through an arrangement of sorts.

From it, your father benefits while you’re forced to give up on the idea of marrying someone you love. What’s worse is that you can hardly stand your husband, who seems to have only married you for your looks and name. In fact, he prefers you to be seen and not heard.

You didn’t even want to go to the dinner with him tonight, but he insisted on dragging you along. After all, what would people think?

Right off the bat, Sang-woo sizes up the situation pretty quickly.

To him, it’s obvious you despise your husband, and that you’re stuck in nothing but a loveless marriage.

A part of him feels sorry for you, but he doesn’t dwell on it, thinking he’s hardly ever going to see you after tonight. After all, your husband is his client, not you, and so it only makes sense that the person he’s going to be mostly interacting with is him.

A month passes, and Sang-woo nearly forgets about you. That is until you show up at his office with some documents in your hand. The ones your husband was supposed to deliver to him.

Apparently, he couldn’t make it today, so you stepped in to help.

Sang-woo thinks it’s a bit odd that you troubled yourself to come all the way down here when you could have easily ordered someone else to do it. He also thinks it’s strange that you’re suddenly so helpful when it comes to matters concerning your husband.

Before he can ponder more on it, you flash a captivating smile at him as you hand over the documents, and invite him to lunch.

Needless to say, he’s quite taken aback by your sudden invitation, finding himself in a bit of an awkward spot. Having lunch with a client’s wife is nothing if not unprofessional. Especially when the client himself is not present at said lunch. And yet, if he were to decline, it might upset you, and he may come across as rude.

His thoughts get interrupted the moment he hears you laugh, and it’s almost as if you’re able to tell what he’s thinking, somehow finding it amusing.

You tell him not to worry, that you only need to discuss with him an important matter concerning the business he has with your husband as a client, and that it would be better to do it over lunch.

With this assurance, he accepts, albeit cautiously.

At the start of the lunch, he’s mostly polite and professional, if not a bit cold and distant. His responses are detached and impersonal when you try and make talk with him. But you don’t seem to notice.

You tell him things with such enthusiasm that it’s almost as if you’ve been keeping them locked up for ages and that you’re finally just allowing yourself the joy of sharing.

Over the course of several dishes, you start to chip away at him and he begins to let himself relax just a little, offering you a small, real smile every now and then.

It’s enough to make you light up, and he wonders if you’ve actually forgotten who you’re talking to. He has a professional relationship with your husband, so it’s not exactly proper for you to be conversing with him like this.

The thought’s enough to remind him why he’s here having lunch with you in the first place. You have something important to tell him, a fact he seems to have forgotten while spending all this time in your presence.

He immediately wastes no time in asking you about it, and it prompts you to reveal that you’re going to be handling all your husband’s transactions with him from now on, given how busy your husband’s schedule has gotten as of late.

Of course, Sang-woo is surprised by this, and immediately voices his concern, but when he hears that your husband has already agreed to it, it incites in him a bunch of mixed feelings.

He never liked your husband, but at the same time, he prefers meeting him over seeing you more often. From this lunch alone, he knows he should be more careful when it comes to you. You’ve proven yourself to be quite disarming, and he has already let his guard down a little. It makes him wonder if things might get out of hand, but for the most part, he’s confident that he won’t allow such a thing to happen.

And for the first few months, he’s actually right about himself.

You go out to lunch every now and then, and sometimes even dinner, but it always ends on a professional note.

He grows to enjoy your company, but makes sure to never overstep any boundaries.

That is until he finds you in tears at his doorstep one night.

He doesn’t even have to ask. He can tell that it has something to do with your husband, but before he can say anything, you look at him a certain way, and immediately, he knows. He knows why you’re here.

He’s not stupid, he’s figured out by now that you didn’t just come to his office that day to deliver some useless documents, nor did you ever care about your husband’s supposedly busy schedule.

Before he can change his mind, he immediately tugs your face upwards and lowers his own to meet your lips in an almost hungry kiss as the both of you stumble into the confines of his apartment.

And eventually, his bed.

Needless to say, things did get out of hand.

He shouldn’t be sleeping with his client’s wife, especially not when you’re someone so much younger than him, but somehow, he can’t bring himself to stop.

On weekdays, he often finds himself lighting cigarettes in cheap motel rooms with your bare form lazing by his side. And on weekends, you’re back in his bed, where he makes up for your husband’s failures.

In the aftermath, you’d tell him of your hopes and dreams with an almost childlike innocence that makes him remember just how sheltered you actually are in comparison to him.

All he’s ever known is hardship, and the thought of you ever having to go through that makes him want to pull you into his arms and tell you that no matter what happens, he’ll always be there for you, even if your husband won’t be.

Over time, he eventually allows himself to open up to you. He tells you of his childhood back in the small neighbourhood he grew up in, of his mother and the small shop she runs.

But the stories you seem to enjoy most are the ones about the games he used to play with the kids from around there.

Sang-woo was surprised to find out you didn’t know most of them, and the ones you did know, you had more or less forgotten, since you weren’t allowed to play them very often.

So he tries his best to describe them to you, and each time he attempts to do so, you always listen with rapt attention, elbows balanced on a pillow with your face cupped in your hands as you focus on him.

Whenever you look at him that way, there’s always a tug at his heart that makes him think of how much he actually cares for you, and that he might even love you.

It’s a fact that becomes especially obvious the longer you’re together.

Sang-woo’s not fooling himself. While you would probably leave your husband if he asked you to, he can’t bring himself to ask such a thing of you with the knowledge that he can never give you a life as comfortable as the one you’re living now, the one your husband is currently paying for. It’s also one you’ve likely been living since you were a child, given your father’s immense wealth, and to suddenly impose on you a life such as his own, it would be nothing but cruel.

So instead, he does the craziest thing he’s ever done so far and everything immediately goes wrong.

He shows up at your house one afternoon when your husband’s not in.

Seeing the colour drain from your face as he tells you what he did makes him feel like such a failure.

He was supposed to take care of you. And now he’s going to leave you alone with a man who doesn’t seem to realise just how lucky he is to be married to you.

What’s worse is that you immediately offer to pack a suitcase. You put on a brave front and tell him that you’re willing to leave with him right now and that no matter what, as long as you have each other, somehow, things will be alright.

You’re so naive.

It makes him so angry.

He wants to yell at you, try and knock some sense into you, because you must realise, the harsh truth is that he’s nothing but a penniless fugitive now, and that you of all people won’t be able to even comprehend just how difficult life would be if you were to flee with him.

But he doesn’t do that.

Instead, he takes you in his arms and tells you that he’ll be back. He holds you close to him, feels you cling on to the lapels of his crumpled suit as you start to cry.

Eventually though, it ends with him walking out your front door, and you left waiting for a man who will never show up.

[aurguries]

You're going to be sorry someday.

[aurguries]

HEYYYY srry if im imposing idrk if i could just leave a niote without requesting but im SOOOOOOOOOOO glad ur back i LOVE ur writing<3

hello!! ahh of course you can and you’re not imposing in any way at all ❤️ also, it literally makes me so happy to hear that hhh!! 💕💕💕 THANK YOU SO MUCH LOVELY 🥺

[aurguries]

seriously love your fics so much detail and feeling in your writing

you're making me blush, anon!! thank you so much <3 you're so sweet hhhh

[aurguries]

am in love with your nathan fics. literally best thing to read during class HHDJSJDJ im waiting for that update 😭💔

ahhh hello lovely!! thank you so much!! i'm so sorry that this reply came so late, i just logged in after a longggg time but this literally made my day, ily!! also the update is much slower this time hhh but i hope that inspiration will strike when the new life is strange remastered drops hehe <3

[aurguries]

PLEASEEEE can u do part three for ur nathan fic im losing my mind

hahahahaha working on it! 🌚