#guard!rafe

Squid Games AU

guard!rafe x player!reader

Lucky Number Seven

She was sitting at the edge of the subway platform, head low, bag clutched to her side like it still had something worth protecting. Another rejection letter sat unread on her phone. Another overdraft. Another week without rent.

People passed by in blurred silence.

Until someone stopped in front of her.

“Excuse me.”

She looked up.

The man in the suit was clean-cut, smiling, briefcase in hand. His eyes were kind in a way that felt practiced.

“You seem like someone who could use a second chance.”

She didn’t answer.

He opened the case and pulled out two colored tiles.

“Would you like to play a game?” he asked. “If you win, I’ll pay you 100,000 won. If you lose, you owe me nothing.”

She stared at him.

Then at the red and blue squares.

“…What’s the catch?”

He smiled wider. “No catch. Just reflexes.”

She played.

She lost.

He slapped her across the face, hard and fast, before she even registered the sting. She recoiled, shocked—but when he held out the tile again, she took it.

She lost again.

Another slap.

By the time she won, her cheek was pulsing and her knuckles ached from how tight she was gripping the tile. He handed her a wad of crisp bills.

Then, quietly, he passed her a beige card.

“If you want to keep playing,” he said, “call the number. A car will pick you up. No questions. No risks. Just the opportunity to change your life.”

She didn’t call that night.

She waited two days.

Then dialed.

She woke up in the tracksuit.

Green. Zipped halfway. A small white patch over the left side of her chest read simply:

007

No mirrors. No windows. Just the cold air of the massive dormitory, filled with over 400 beds and strangers in matching clothes.

People whispered around her, confused and wary. Some were angry. Others panicked. She didn’t say much. Just watched. Learned.

Her bag was gone. So was her phone. Everything personal—stripped away.

And then the doors opened.

Six guards stepped in.

Bright red uniforms. Black mesh masks. Shapes on their faces—circles, triangles, squares. Perfectly straight posture. No voices.

But she felt it. One of them stared too long.

Not all of them moved like machines.

One—slightly taller, with broad shoulders and restless hands—paused just a second too long when passing her bunk. His rifle was slung low, not lazily but carelessly, like he didn’t need it to be threatening. Like he knew how to hurt without it.

Their eyes met for a breath. Her pulse jumped.

He looked away first.

The main platform lit up, and a distorted voice echoed from speakers above.

“Welcome, players. You have all been brought here because you are living on the brink—debt, failure, desperation.”

No one moved.

“You will be given a chance to change your life. To win a large sum of money. But this opportunity comes with rules. If you wish to participate, you will do so under strict observation. There will be six rounds. If you complete all six, you go home rich. If you fail…”

Silence.

The speaker buzzed.

“…You will be eliminated.”

A low hum filled the room.

The doors shut again.

And though none of the guards spoke, she could still feel his eyes through the black mesh.

Watching her.

Just her.

dividers: @/dollywons

Squid Game AU

guard!rafe x player!reader

Eyes in the Walls

The doors opened without warning.

A siren blared overhead, sharp and mechanical, cutting through the cold dorm like a blade. Players stirred—some jolting up, others already awake, too tense to sleep. The lights snapped on. The guards entered in perfect formation, masks blank and red uniforms pristine.

Player 007 sat up quickly.

The same one from last night was back.

The tall one.

She recognized the way he moved. Calm. Heavy steps, but deliberate. He didn’t scan the room like the others. He knew exactly where to look.

And he looked straight at her.

He didn’t blink. Just stood in the doorway, rifle slung over his shoulder, head tilted half a degree too far. Watching.

She didn’t let her gaze linger.

A square-masked guard stepped forward onto the central platform. His voice came through a static-heavy speaker embedded in his chest.

“All players, form a single-file line. You will now be escorted to the first game.”

No one moved at first.

Then someone stood. Then another. The line formed slowly—awkward, hesitant, like lambs to slaughter.

She got in line. Somewhere near the middle.

The guards began to march them through metal corridors painted like a dream—sunset walls, cartoon clouds, pastel stairs. Everything felt too cheerful, too staged. It made the air feel heavier.

She didn’t speak. She barely breathed. Just listened to the sound of sneakers squeaking against linoleum and the quiet, rhythmic tapping of rifle butts against guards’ sides.

When they entered the field, a few players gasped.

It looked like a giant playground. Fake grass. Blue sky. A tree with no leaves. And ahead, at the far end of the arena—an enormous doll with wide glassy eyes, standing by a painted tree.

Someone near her whispered, “What the hell is this?”

Then came the announcement:

“The game is Red Light, Green Light.”

The players murmured.

“You must cross the finish line within five minutes. When the doll says ‘Green Light,’ you may move forward. When she says ‘Red Light,’ you must stop immediately. If you are caught moving, you will be eliminated.”

Eliminated.

Some people laughed nervously. A few exchanged glances.

007 said nothing.

She didn’t miss the detail in the wording. Not “disqualified.” Not “removed.”

Eliminated.

The walls locked behind them with a hiss. The guards lined the sidelines. Rifles raised.

She found him again.

Her guard. The tall one. Still staring.

Still watching her.

The mechanical whirr of the doll powered up. Its head swiveled slowly to face forward. Music played—a childlike, robotic voice humming a tune.

“Green light.”

People started walking. Laughing. Jogging.

“Red light.”

The doll’s head spun. Its eyes blinked.

Silence.

Then a shot rang out.

A man dropped.

Gasps. Then more shots. A scream. Another fall.

Chaos broke.

People turned to run, but the bullets didn’t stop. The sensors picked up movement. Anyone who twitched, flinched, or stumbled—shot instantly.

Blood sprayed the fake grass.

007 didn’t move.

Not an inch.

She felt something warm splatter against her arm. Someone next to her had collapsed. But she stared straight ahead. Face blank. Heart slamming against her ribs.

She waited.

“Green light.”

She walked.

Three steps.

“Red light.”

She stopped.

The doll’s eyes scanned.

Nothing.

Another shot in the distance. More screaming.

“Green light.”

She moved again. Precise. Silent. The players around her were thinning out. Some cried. Some crawled. One dropped to his knees and begged the sky.

She kept going.

Her foot hit the halfway mark.

“Red light.”

She froze.

And felt it again.

Eyes on her.

Her body knew before her brain did.

She turned her head—just enough.

There he was.

Standing guard on the right edge of the field. The tall one. The only one not scanning the whole crowd. His rifle wasn’t raised.

It was lowered.

He was staring directly at her.

Even now.

Even now.

“Green light.”

She took her last steps.

She crossed the line.

Breath caught in her throat, chest tight, legs trembling—but she didn’t fall.

“Red light.”

The timer hit zero.

Silence.

The doll shut down. Its head drooped. The walls began to shift open again.

She didn’t look at the bodies.

She didn’t look at the other players who didn’t make it.

She looked at him.

And he was still watching her.

dividers: @/saradika-graphics @/anitalenia

Squid Game AU

guard!rafe x player!reader

Bound by Survival

They didn’t tell them what was coming next, just herded them down the neon hallway in two tight lines. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Pastel clouds and cartoon suns decorated the walls as they marched. The cheer was hollow.

Player 007 stayed quiet—eyes forward, sleeves pulled low. The moment they entered the massive arena, the truth hit her: this was bigger, meaner than before.

The room was vast, five lanes marked on its floor. Cameras hovered above. At the far end, a blinking scoreboard. Along the sides—behind tinted glass—the guards stood motionless, rifles silent.

She felt his gaze before she saw it. Guard Rafe, at the same spot he always chose—dead center of the right wall. He watched her, but his eyes then flicked to her soon‑to‑be teammates: 212, 016, 079, 054. All linked to her now, by fate and rope.

“Six‑Legged Pentathlon.” The voice boomed through speakers.

“Five players per team. Five races, each requiring a different child’s game. Legs to be bound together—one inner leg to the next player’s. You must complete all five events and cross the finish line before time runs out. Two slowest teams each event — eliminated.” 

Five of them stared. 212, tall and scar‑faced, met her eyes. 016—thin, twitchy—shook slightly. 079—quiet thinker—nodded. 054—the girl with the sharp voice—just looked at her. No smiles. No greetings.

She took a knee and fastened the cuffs around her right ankle. Everyone followed: left‑to‑right, binding them into a five‑person chain.

Event 1: Ddakji

A sheet of paper doubled down. Flip it onto another’s. They moved in sync: pass the ddakji back, flick forward. 007 noticed how 212 flicked with quiet precision. When they flipped twice cleanly, they sprinted the ten meters and crossed first. Other teams struggled—one got shot after missing the third flip.

Event 2: Flying Stone

Each player had one throw. Miss? The whole team retrieved stones. 016 went first—wild, missed. 007 tied her shoe and whispered, “Find the target, measure your throw.” 016 calmed. By the fifth throw, they knocked down the stone and moved on. Another team dragged rocks for too long—guns cracked. They survived, but trailing.

Event 3: Gong‑gi

Single‑player relay: throw small stones, catch increasing numbers. 079’s hands shook. She watched his technique. “Eyes up,” she whispered. He caught four‑stone, then five‑stone flawlessly. They moved on.

Event 4: Spinning Top

Single attempt: wind string, launch top spinning. 054 stepped up, exact spin. Her top danced in place long enough. Cheers from the team, cut short by gunshots as another girl failed. They advanced.

Event 5: Jegi

Keep the footbag in the air ten times. They lined up. 212 controlled the rhythm, 007 whispered counts. They hit ten, then broke into a run for the finish.

They sprinted as one—five bodies bound, breathing together. They crossed — third overall. They collapsed into the grass, lungs burning, hearts racing.

The scoreboard blinked. Fifteen survivors.

Of the ten teams, only five remained. The rest—gone.

They unlatched their legs. No high fives. No cheers. Just the dull thrum of survival.

212 exhaled: “You kept us alive.”

She didn’t respond.

Survival had no room for relief.

Behind glass, Guard Rafe didn’t flinch.

He studied her.

He studied them.

He recognized the echo of leadership, born of necessity.

One day, she’d have to choose whom she’d betray.

Tonight, she just needed them alive.

dividers: @/saradika-graphics

guard!rafe x player!reader

Chapter One: Lucky Number Seven

Chapter Two: Eyes in the Walls

Chapter Three: Bound by Survival