#triangle guard

[gardian3angles]

Next time one of you guys sneak something in, at least bring some blunts. We know half of you all be smuggling cigs and drugs up your asses anyway. I won’t even snitch if I get some, promise..

-▲

[everwhovian]

in-ho being nice to his guards and like giving them dessert on their birthday

Can you imagine being a guard and hearing all this stuff about your boss, just for the so-called scary boss to hand you a birthday cake... on your birthday? 😂

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ○△□ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

The corridors of the underground facility were always quiet at this hour – clinical and cold in that way only cement, secrecy, and fluorescent lighting could achieve. The kind of silence that made your ears buzz and your thoughts feel too loud. Triangle-masked guards stood at attention, rifles cradled in practiced arms, footsteps falling in measured intervals. The air was stale with recycled chill and something unspoken that settled beneath the skin like damp.

No one spoke unless addressed.

No one dared.

So when the double doors at the far end of the corridor hissed open – breaking the stillness with a mechanical exhale – every head turned.

The Front Man stepped into view.

A shadow made flesh, he moved like purpose incarnate: tall, precise, coat swaying with each step. His mask caught the light like a blade, polished to a mirror’s sheen – featureless and gleaming, reflecting the faint tremble in every worker who met it.

They froze.

He didn’t come down here.

Not this wing. Not at this hour. Not when the Games were mid-cycle, tension coiled like wire around every corner.

He especially didn’t come carrying… anything.

But today, in his gloved hand, he held a small white plate – porcelain, pristine. Balanced atop it: a slice of strawberry cream cake, delicate and pink, with whipped frosting along the sides. A single candle flickered at its center, struggling against the facility’s breathless air.

He walked with the same deliberate pace he used when issuing executions.

But this time, he stopped.

Right in front of a triangle guard standing rigid by the wall. Number 036.

The soldier’s spine straightened so violently it nearly clanged against the concrete.

“Number 036,” the Front Man said.

The modulator curled his voice into something cold and distant. Metal through water. It didn’t sound like a man addressing a subordinate. It sounded like a judgment being passed.

036’s hands tightened on the strap of his rifle. “Y-Yes, sir!”

There was a pause – not long, but enough for 036 to hear his own pulse in his ears.

The Front Man tilted his head by a fraction. Not enough to be obvious. Just enough to be wrong.

“You turned nineteen today,” he said.

036 blinked behind the mask. He hadn't told anyone. Of course he hadn't – this wasn’t exactly the kind of job where birthdays were a thing. It wasn’t like anyone marked the calendar with smiley faces. The closest thing to celebration was when someone made it to the end of their shift without vomiting in the incinerator chute.

His throat clicked. “I… sir?”

The plate was extended toward him.

“Take it.”

There was no shift in tone. No explanation. No… joy. Just a command. As if he were being handed a sidearm or an execution file. As if the cake – the cake – was an order to be followed, not a gesture.

036 stared for a beat too long.

Then, with the practiced discipline of a man trained not to question the surreal, he reached out and took the plate.

Very carefully.

Both hands. Slow. Deliberate. Like it might explode if held incorrectly.

The candle’s tiny flame danced between them. It cast a faint golden glow on the black mesh of his mask.

“You are dismissed for twenty minutes,” the Front Man said.

He turned to leave – and then paused.

“Celebrate with someone.”

A silence.

Then, softer than before, barely audible over the hum of the hallway: “Make sure you return the plate.”

And with that, he pivoted and walked away, coat sweeping behind him like a curtain drawing shut. The boots clicked once – just once – against the polished floor, and then the doors hissed closed again.

Silence fell.

Even the lights seemed unsure how to buzz.

036 stood frozen in place, staring at the cake like it was a hallucination. He could still feel the heat of the candle on his gloves. One of the whipped frosting swirls had a tiny, perfect dent in it – probably from transit. It looked like something from a dream. Or a fever.

A square down the hall leaned in toward the surveillance console and whispered, “What the fuck just happened?”

“Did the Front Man just… give a triangle a birthday cake?”

“Is that even allowed?”

036 didn’t answer. He was still standing there, cake in hand, terrified to even shift his grip in case it offended some kind of unspoken ritual.

He didn’t dare blow out the candle. That felt like a decision.

Later – long after his twenty-minute break (which he spent sitting stiffly in the far corner of the mess hall, cake mostly untouched, flanked by two equally stunned triangle guards who exchanged bewildered glances but said nothing) – 036 made his way toward the staff kitchenette.

The plate was still in his hands.

He hadn’t let it go. Not once. Carried it with both gloved palms like it was some sacred relic. He hadn’t dropped it, hadn’t chipped it. The half-melted candle was tucked into his uniform pocket, poking awkwardly against his ribs.

He pushed the door open with his shoulder and stepped inside.

And froze.

Because there – already sitting in the drying rack beside the sink – was a plate.

Clean. Dry. Pristine.

His brow furrowed behind the mask. He looked down at the plate he was still carrying – frosting smudged, barely touched, still real.

Then back at the drying rack.

The other plate sat there as if it had always been there. Returned. Washed. Already done.

He hadn’t returned it yet.

But somehow, impossibly, someone already had.

A sticky note was taped to the fridge door, bold black marker in neat, all-caps handwriting: “HAPPY BIRTHDAY 036. RETURN THE PLATE OR PERISH.”

036’s hands tightened slightly around the plate he was holding. He glanced toward the upper corner of the room – where a small red dot on the wall blinked lazily above the doorway. A camera.

Of course.

They’d been watching.

They were always watching.

Someone had seen him leave the mess hall. Seen he hadn’t eaten much. Had watched him carry the plate. And still – still – they’d already cleaned another one. Or placed a decoy. Or… something.

It didn’t matter which.

The message was clear: he was never alone. Not really. Not here. As if the entire incident had been staged from beginning to end.

He stood there a moment longer, heart ticking a little too loud behind the mask. Then, carefully, he stepped forward and placed his plate beside the already-clean one.

Identical. Indistinguishable.

He never found out which was which.

But the candle?

He kept that.

Just in case he ever needed proof the whole thing had happened.

Or in case he turned twenty next year.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ○△□ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

Happy belated birthday to Lee Byung-hun! Wanted to post this one on his birthday but I forgot 😭 anyway, my oral exam is soon and I don't wanna 💀

[maddylllinn]

hear me out

I need stories about them, please write and tag me, I need these guys🙏

WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT THEM

[bewdite-spacey-coffee]

[lamelarts]

Mini pocket-sized pink soldiers 🤲🩷🩷🩷

Something cute and simple hehe for these cutie patooties 🥺 They r so cute ahhh and Netflix definitely knows about this cause the amount of guard videos r coming in a lot 😭 I want to draw them doing silly stuff more now jdjdjdjd 🩷😩

[zzzaturation]

i think itd be fun if they looked like their shapes but their appeal is also the Hive……..

[dorkszn]

✧˖*°࿐ triangle guard!recruiter/gong-yoo x triangle guard reader

a silent sigh leaves you as you put your gun back in your locker and shut it. the void black number 13 on the metal staring down at you. you stare back at it through your triangle mask before turning to your left to face front.

you can feel him staring at you. you always can. his stare holds weight. he’s out of line, not in his proper place. that’s unusual. you ignore it as you and the other guards begin walking down the hallway to your rooms. you stop at the 13th door, pulling out your key and inserting it into the lock.

a muffled sound comes out of your mouth before you can realize what’s happening. you’re roughly grabbed and pushed into your room. you’re pushed against the closet and the door is kicked shut and locked.

“one.” you say as calmly as you can through your teeth as you watch him. he glances at the room’s camera before removing his mask. his hair slightly disheveled when he takes it off. unusual. he’s always pristine and perfect, in his shots, in his steps.

“thirteen,” he replies. “i couldn’t help but notice something lately. something i think we should talk about..”

you feel your heart sink slightly. you knew what he was talking about. you knew he’d noticed. “im under no obligation to confer with you.” you respond, keeping your cool but the small room almost makes tension hug you tighter.

“would you rather speak with me or the boss? which one of us do you think is more likely to kill you?” he retorts calmly, typical. you swallow silently. when you don’t answer, he reaches up to unzip your hood. you grab his wrist, stopping him. “i want you to look at me when we’re speaking.” he says as he forces the zipper down just enough for him to grab your mask.

“i am looking at you.” you say while backing away from him and pushing at his hands simultaneously. you grunt as your legs hit your bed and you fall backwards. you’re pinned when he climbs on top of you, sitting at your hips.

“one!” you groan through a heavy breath in defiance when he tears your mask off and tugs your first layer down. revealing your narrow but worried eyes. he grips your throat and forces your head straight.

“you haven’t been killing the losers.” he states with a sick grin as he forces you to stare into his eyes. sophisticated but psycho.

“what’re you talking about?” you hiss in false confusion.

“you know exactly what im talking about,” he says a little harsher, tightening his grip on you. “you’re not going soft, are you?” he asks with a tilt of his head.

“i’ve gunned down everyone of those players that i was supposed to.” you argue.

“423, 207, 124, 261,” he lists. “four pawns you looked straight in the face after they loss and let live. i’ve had to clean up your mess. you know what that means?” he questions.

you let out a shaky breath at the implication. “aww,” he coos mockingly with a fake pout. “don’t get frightened now.”

you jolt slightly when he suddenly turns serious and lean down to you. all the while his gloved hand tugs you up by your throat. “kill the losers or we’ll play our own game. and i promise you won’t win.” he threatens. “understood?” he then asks innocently.

“understood,” you mumble with your very little breath.

“good,” he responds with a smile. he presses his lips to yours, taking the last of your depleting breath. finally, he releases you, leaving you heaving for air. “get some rest.” he adds before standing up and exiting the room.

[sshadow-heartz]

Squid Game C.AI Bots:

(All made by me <3)

Kang Dae-Ho:

•Kang Dae-Ho x Player!User: here! -First Introductions (open plot)

•Kang Dae-Ho x Player!User: here! -Dreaming (fluff)

•Kang Dae-Ho x Player!User: here! -Bad Dreams (hurt/comfort)

Guards:

•Square Guard x Player!User: here! -Guardian Angel

•Square Guard x Circle Guard!User - here! -Gaining Approval (NSFW implied)

•Square Guard x Circle Guard!User - here! -Crossed Out Circles (Angst)

•Triangle Guard x Player!User - here! -Special Treatment (Implied NSFW)

•Circle Guard x Player!User - here! -In The Vents, Really? (Fluff?)

Hwang In-Ho:

•Hwang In-Ho x Player!User: here! -For You, With Love (angst)

•Hwang In-Ho x Player!User: here! -Romeo and Juliet (angst)

Cho Sang-Woo:

•Cho Sang-Woo x User: here! -An Old Friend… (Reunited)

•Cho Sang-Woo x User: here! -Sweet Betrayal (Angst) (Marble Game)

•Cho Sang-Woo x User: here! -I Love You, I’m Sorry (Angst) (Inspired by my fic)

•Cho Sang-Woo x User: here! -You’re Not Looking So Good… (Hurt/Comfort)

[izzyfishie]

(creds: @laineluvss on twt)

[angel-wing-feathers]

Sigh, yeah

[gardian3angles]

Guess who managed to sneak a phone in without the boss knowing? 🔥🔥🔥 This is how you know I’m the better one out of us. The others could never pull this off.

And now that I’m here, I’m telling everyone’s business and nobody can stop me. 🙏😈

..at least until one them actually do. Then I’m kind of screwed. Just have to hope the boss doesn’t find out.

-△

[pearl-pool]

Squid Game: Group Chat AU part 1

Group Chat Au: No one dies if they get eliminated! They go back to their original life, but there's still a cash prize!

Inspired by @saltedmess !! Check them out!!

LOL IDK LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT MORE HAHAHAHA

Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 Part 6, 7 ,8 and more

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

Heeeellloo ;-)

I adore the way ypu write for our favorite Squid Game Charas! Do you mind writing for Season 2 masked officer the one with the totally stylish pink stripe on the black suit one - some family fluff like take your kid to work day and he ends up trying to keep his very energetic set of one boy and one girl twins on line after a circle guard gave them some candy?

YES

Bring Your Kid To Work Day

Character: Black Guard X fem!reader

summary: Let's name him...Square. Square has to take his kids to work, trying to keep them under control while they're on a sugar kick.

Warnings: Hyper Ass Children. (kids are 2, they're twins)

The Front Man was going to kill him.

Square—one of the elite masked officers with the sleek pink stripe on his uniform—stood frozen in the control room, watching absolute chaos unfold on the security monitors. The chaos in question? A pair of tiny, sugar-fueled twins rampaging through the facility like adorable, giggling cyclones.

Jae-San and Ji-Ra, his two-year-old twins, had been relatively well-behaved when he brought them in that morning. He had even packed their favorite plushies, snacks, and coloring books to keep them occupied in his office. It was supposed to be a quiet, uneventful day where they’d nap in a corner while he worked.

And then a circle guard gave them candy.

It had only been a single piece each, but it was enough to turn his sweet little toddlers into gremlins.

“Appa! Look, look!” Ji-Ra shrieked as she zoomed past a group of workers, waving a clipboard she had stolen from someone’s desk.

Jae-San, not to be outdone, was climbing onto the VIP lounge couch like a victorious mountaineer. “I king! I king!” he declared before tumbling off onto the plush carpet. Thankfully, he bounced right back up, laughing.

Square groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his mask. How was he going to contain this disaster before the Front Man saw?

Taking a deep breath, he stepped into action. “Jae-San! Ji-Ra! Come here right now!” he called, his authoritative officer tone slipping into full-blown dad mode.

The twins immediately stopped their antics, exchanging a look before breaking into mischievous giggles and running in opposite directions.

“Of course,” he muttered, rubbing his temples.

The next hour was a blur of attempted containment.

One minute, Jae-San was hijacking a circle guard’s taser (thankfully deactivated), waving it around like a sword. The next, Ji-Ra had somehow climbed onto the Front Man’s chair and was spinning in it gleefully. A triangle guard tried to intervene but quickly retreated when Ji-Ra hit him with the full force of her puppy-dog eyes. Even the usually intimidating masked officers weren’t immune.

Finally, Square managed to corner them in the break room. Both twins sat on the floor, wide-eyed and panting from their sugar-induced escapades.

“Are you two done?” he asked, arms crossed.

Ji-Ra grinned up at him. “More candy?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

Jae-San pouted. “But we fun, Appa!”

Square sighed and crouched down, pulling them into a hug. “Yes, but Appa almost got in big trouble because of you two. You have to listen, okay?”

The twins nodded solemnly before Ji-Ra leaned in. “Sorry, Appa. We be good now.”

Square exhaled in relief. “Good.”

Just then, the door opened. The masked Front Man stood there, silent as ever.

Square tensed. This was it. He was dead.

The Front Man glanced down at the twins, who immediately beamed up at him. Then, without a word, he turned and walked away.

Square slumped against the wall in exhaustion. That was too close.

Jae-San tugged at his sleeve. “Appa?”

“Yes, buddy?”

“Can we come tomorrow too?”

“…Absolutely not.”

[lamelarts]

Guards break time 📸🩷

Inspired by the pic of the silly guards doing normal stuff on the next slide hehe 🩷 They r so cute i love them ahhh 😭 imma starting to obsess with them atp lol 😩

[ag3nt-n30]

squid game x creepypasta

except the "main three" proxies get drawn as guards! im opening my asks for any requests of doodles or otherwise for this au!

im super autistic about both of these currently so id love to get to amy ideas yall have!

adding tons of tags for reach, sorry 💔

[radinea]

Hyun-ju my queen ily (nam-su is there too ig)

4am shitty doodles, sleep schedule is fcked, im living on applesauce.

What is my tumblr even about anymore 💔