#Cho Sangwoo

[pretty-boydyke]

$23.45

[loudmouthnobody]

some sangihun drawings I made ranging from younger, teenage, to present day gihun and sangwoo

[imaredshirt]

Gihun wakes up in the afterlife and he's standing in a little pub back home, a comfortably familiar place in Ssangmun-don, and the light is soft and the world is warm, and he looks across crowded floor to see Sangwoo sitting at a table they'd both sat at so often when they were younger, before SNU, before years parted them and life wore them down, waiting for him with a bottle of soju, two shot glasses, and a smile

[sniper-gihun-xix]

Thinking about how Gihun absolutely wanted Sangwoo to end the game with him and come out of it alive together, but how Sangwoo was already suicidal and dealing with depression and so when he realized he had put up all this fight against his very own hyung, the man he cherished during his childhood, the reality that the world is truly fucked up had finally settled in and that drove him to complete his own suicide.

“Im sorry hyung” was not because he fought Gihun or tried to kill him, Sangwoo knew Gihun would have forgiven him, but he also knew that if he took Gihun’s hand he would have had to live with that fact for the rest of his life and he’d be even more alone than he was before. And he was sorry that he had to make Gihun bear witness to the loss of his childhood friend, because he knows how much Gihun loves him.

Gihun was probably one of the only people that reached out to him while he was going through his depression and on the run. What would you do if you were forced to kill the only person who supported you during your darkest moments? Youd feel so much guilt and shame it would eat you alive. And thats why Sangwoo stabbed himself. It fucking hurts me man ugh

[boywithantlersao3]

I'm just going to gaslight myself to think that Gi-hun had woke up in the afterlife with Sang-woo holding him and telling him that he can stop fighting now that the island is gone now. They can spend the rest of their existence with their friends who died alongside them and have that dinner they planned to have after the games with three extra guests from season 1.

[trashgyrl]

the fact that before traumatizing gihun further, both sangwoo and inho said "im sorry" to him

[ultra-modern-bitch]

They reminded each other of their past loves.

[nottatastellata]

[izzyfishie]

HAPPY DEATHAVERSARY CHO SANGWOO!

12-04-1975* -- 06-30-2020

((*=my bday hc for him))

may you have the best sex in the afterlife with your boyfriend <3333

[avriiiianaa]

We all know Sangwoo died in the rain, but I’ve never realized how much that must have affected Gi-hun’s mental health. Rainy days are often paired with mourning in media. Rain doesn’t just pop up in shows, they’re purposefully put there to get you in that somber mood. I can’t even imagine the gut feeling of having to kill your childhood best friend, but to also do it in the rain? Fate was already written and Gi-hun could do nothing about it.

[vampyrcannibal]

season 1 au lets play games with mama and papa

[kunikida47]

Gi-hun: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!

Sangwoo: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD

Gi-hun: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING ALI WITH ME

Sae-byeok, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

[sniper-gihun-xix]

Im rewatching s1 ep1 rn (in dub bc i dont have the capacity to keep up with sub rn) and i just wanna yap about rlgl when Sangwoo says in that sweet, soft, tender voice to Gihun;

“Hey, Gihun, don’t look back, just listen.”

AND THAT SHIT MAKES ME WANT TO CRY BC HOW MANY TIMES HAS HE HAD TO TALK TO GIHUN LIKE THAT FOR HIM TO JUST NATURALLY BE THAT CALMING TO HIM???????

HAS HE COACHED GIHUN THAT CALMLY THROUGH OTHER THINGS BEFORE??? PANIC ATTACKS?????? FIRST AID????? HOMEWORK????????

HOW OFTEN DID GIHUN USED TO PANIC FOR SANGWOO TO JUST NATURALLY KNOW HOW TO GET HIM CALM????????

“Dont look back, just listen” is going to ring in my ears like a fucking sickness for the rest of my LIFE now

[gihussysupremacy]

I CANT BREATHEEEE

WHAT IS THISSSSS

It's true tho. And I love him for it.

[fr3akshow-d4rlin]

Universal x reader

Warnings: none, just lazy writing?

Sorry for being away for so long..?

He doesn’t smile when you meet him.

Actually, he doesn’t even look at you—just mutters something gruff as he brushes past, shouldering through the crowd like he’s fighting it. You’re standing in front of the community center bulletin board, taping up flyers for a neighborhood food drive, when he stops beside you.

“That won’t do anything,” he says.

You glance at him. He’s got tired eyes, a scar near his jawline, and an expression like he’s permanently disappointed in everything.

“Excuse me?”

He nods at your flyer. “People only show up when there’s something in it for them. You’ll see. No one wants to help for free.”

You blink at him, stunned, but something about his bitterness isn’t cruel—it’s just worn out. Like someone who gave up hope a long time ago and hasn’t found a reason to pick it back up since.

“Well,” you say brightly, “maybe they just need a reason. Sometimes people surprise you.”

He scoffs. “Not in this world.”

But he doesn’t walk away.

He stands there while you finish putting up the flyer. Watches as you smile and wave at a passing kid. And then, oddly, asks when the food drive is.

---

You don’t expect him to show up.

But he does.

Quietly, on the day of the event, dressed like he doesn't belong—dark clothes, hands shoved in his pockets, staying near the edges like he’s allergic to being noticed. You watch him help an old woman carry a box of canned goods anyway. When you thank him, he just shrugs.

You learn his name in pieces.

You learn he fixes things—motorcycles, old radios, anything broken. You learn he doesn’t like crowds, small talk, or people who smile too much.

So naturally, you keep smiling at him.

You run into him more often after that. He always insists it’s coincidence, but you catch the way his eyes search the room for you when he walks in. The way his shoulders ease when you say his name.

He challenges everything you say—about people, about hope, about kindness—but over time, the sharpness in his voice softens.

“I don’t get you,” he says once, when you bring him coffee just because it’s cold and he looked like he needed it. “Why do you bother?”

You grin, handing him the cup. “Because I like making people’s days a little better.”

“But what do you get out of it?”

“Seeing them smile,” you say simply.

He stares at you like he can’t tell if you’re lying or just deluded. But the next time, he brings you coffee.

Without a word.

One night, he finally lets something slip.

You're sitting on a bench under a streetlamp after helping out at the shelter. You’re swinging your feet a little; he’s hunched beside you, elbows on his knees.

“People don’t stay,” he says suddenly. “They take what they want and leave. That’s how the world works.”

You don’t rush to argue. You just rest your head on his shoulder and say quietly, “I’m not going anywhere.”

It takes a moment. But then you feel him breathe out—like he’s been holding that air for years.

---

He doesn’t call what’s growing between you “love.” Not for a long time.

But you see it in the little things: the way he saves the last piece of your favorite chocolate, even though he pretends not to like sweets. The way he starts fixing things at the shelter without being asked. The way his walls are still there—but now there’s a door, and it’s cracked open just for you.

You don’t fix him.

You just remind him the world isn't all broken.

And slowly—slowly—he starts to believe it.

Because he believes in you

Weeks pass.

You keep showing up—sometimes with purpose, sometimes with snacks, sometimes just to exist in the same space as him. He still grumbles every time you call his name with that bright, sing-song tone of yours, but now? There’s a small smile hidden in it. You’ve learned to look for it—not in his mouth, but in his eyes.

He’s all edges, but you’ve found the corners where he softens.

The first time he lets you into his apartment, he says, “Don’t touch anything,” and you immediately pick up the weird little ceramic turtle on the shelf.

“Seriously?” he deadpans.

You grin. “It’s cute. Did you make it?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

He doesn’t answer.

But he doesn’t take it away from you, either.

---

There are questions you want to ask, but don’t. Not yet.

Like why he flinched when the shelter coordinator raised his voice. Why he keeps his fridge almost empty. Why he won’t ever let you walk him home—only the other way around.

Instead, you ask smaller things.

“What’s your favorite movie?”

“Don’t have one.”

“Come on, everyone has one.”

“…‘The Iron Giant.’”

You light up. “That’s such a good choice!”

He shrugs. “Didn’t say it was a choice. Just… stuck with me.”

You don’t press. But later that night, you show up at his place with two cups of instant noodles and a blanket, and you say, “Let’s watch it.”

He protests, of course. Grumbles about how you’re always barging in and that you’re too damn cheerful and why are you always cold and stealing his hoodies.

But you notice he lets you stay until the credits roll.

And after the movie ends, you find his hand inching toward yours, like it’s accidental.

It isn’t.

---

He doesn’t say much, but when he does, it matters.

“You make things feel different,” he murmurs one evening, when it’s late and neither of you want to go home. “Lighter.”

You blink, stunned

“That’s… good different, right?”

He glances at you. "You know it is."

Your heart does a stupid little skip.

---

Then one night, everything almost changes.

You’ve had a bad day. Nothing catastrophic—just one of those days where the world feels too heavy, and you don’t know why you’re crying in the stairwell.

He finds you like that. Silent. Curled in on yourself.

You expect him to say something blunt. Or leave. Or panic.

He doesn’t.

He sits down beside you without a word.

Doesn’t ask what’s wrong. Doesn’t try to fix it.

He just puts his hand on your knee, firm and steady, and says, “I’ve got you.”

You lean into him like he’s gravity and you’re so tired of floating.

He lets you.

And for once, his guard is all the way down. There’s no sarcasm, no eye-rolling, no careful half-smile.

Just him. Real. Raw.

“I don’t trust people,” he says. “But I’m starting to trust you.”

You turn to him, wide-eyed. You want to say something, something soft and big and terrifying like me too.

But he’s already looking away.

So instead, you reach for his hand again. No words.

He doesn’t let go.

[boywithantlersao3]

Gi-hun gets reunited with Sang-woo in the afterlife 🕊🕊🕊

Gi-hun: Sang-woo, I can't believe it's you 🥺🥹🥹

Sang-woo: "Deadass stare"

Gi-hun:

Gi-hun: Sang-w....

Sang-woo: Hyung, who was that man that's been eye fucking you these past few days

Gi-hun:

Gi-hun: Wtf? I just died...

Sang-woo: So you got plenty of time to explain yourself

Gi-hun:

Sang-woo:

Gi-hun: * sighs in twink* I should have just won and become an male wife then put up with this