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
tags: @amelialovesrafe @alyisdead @illumoria @blissfulbutterfliess @sydneysslove @sc04 @matthewswifeyy @meetmeintheemeraldpool @icversvoid @honeyinthesummer @dolli333 @lolabunnyworldss @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @rafessbaby @rafesbabygirlx