Bf!T1 reacting to you wearing another player’s shirt
Pairing: T1 Player x Female!Reader
Content: Fluff, mild tension, established relationship
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°
That morning, all you wanted was to blend into the crowd. It was your first time at one of his games, after all, and you wanted to do it right.
The merchandise booth was chaos. People reached, grabbed, laughed. You grabbed a T1 jacket from the middle of the stack only noticing an 'ER' at the end, too busy holding your ticket and trying not to spill your drink.
Hours later, you stand in the corridor after the match. Faker spots you before you see him. He walks out with his keyboard in hand, his expression softening the moment his eyes find yours. You don’t think. You run forward and wrap your arms around him.
“You did so well,” you breathe, smiling up at him.
He smiles back, that small quiet smile that never quite reaches his ears but always shines in his eyes. His hand rises to rest at the small of your back. Then it stills.
For a moment, you don’t notice. The stiffness in his fingers. The subtle shift in his posture. Then he leans back just slightly, his gaze dropping to the back of your jacket.
His voice is calm. Too calm.
“Yeah,” you grin, turning to show him. “It was so crowded.”
His lips twitch. Not quite a smile. Not quite a frown.
He steps closer, his hand returning to your waist, but his eyes slide down to the white letters stitched across the fabric.
You crane your neck to follow his gaze, and your stomach drops.
Your eyes widen. “Oh my god, wait, I swear I didn’t-”
Faker says nothing for a beat. He just studies you, that quiet amusement in his gaze that always makes it impossible to tell if he’s teasing or judging.
Then the corner of his mouth lifts. Slow. Small. Deliberate.
“So that’s why you were cheering so loud,” he says, voice low, edged with mischief.
“Lee Sanghyeok,” you warn under your breath, face burning. “I didn’t even-”
“No, it’s fine,” he says, feigning calm as he adjusts the collar of your jacket. “I understand. He’s younger.”
He laughs then, low and quiet, and leans in close enough that his breath brushes your ear.
“You’ll have to make it up to me, though.”
He steps back just enough to meet your eyes. A faint sparkle there now.
You sigh, hiding your face in your hands as he chuckles, then reaches out to tug you gently closer again. His voice drops, softer now, meant only for you.
“Still,” he murmurs, lips barely curving, “thank you for coming. Even if you’re wearing the wrong one.”
And the way he says it, gentle and warm, makes you forget entirely about the name on your back.
You always liked how quiet his apartment felt.
Not silent. Just calm. A peace that settled in the air, the kind that felt like safety. The curtains were half drawn. Sunlight spilled in warm stripes across the wooden floor. Somewhere down the hall, the washing machine hummed.
You were curled up on his couch, scrolling absently through your phone, when the chill hit you. The afternoon air had shifted. You padded barefoot to the laundry room and opened the dryer door without thinking.
The first hoodie you saw was black. Soft. Oversized. You pulled it over your head before your brain registered that it wasn’t his usual shade of grey. It smelled faintly of detergent, warmth, and something familiar but not quite him. Still, it was comfortable. That was all you cared about.
You shuffled back to the couch and sank under a blanket.
By the time Doran came home from practice, you were half asleep. Hair messy. Sleeves covering your hands. Phone slipping from your grip.
The front door clicked open. Keys on the counter. Quiet footsteps across the floor.
“Hey,” his voice came, soft as always.
You blinked awake, smiling lazily. “Hi.”
He moved closer, dropped his bag, and leaned over the couch to press a kiss to your temple. But when he pulled back, his brow furrowed slightly.
You glanced down. “What?”
His eyes flicked to the hoodie. “That’s Oner’s. He left it here last week.”
You froze mid yawn. “Oh.”
His lips twitched. Not angry. Not annoyed. Just amused. And there was that soft, almost pouty tone when he spoke again.
“You didn’t even notice?”
You sat up quickly, tugging at the sleeves as if that would help. “I just grabbed the first one out of the dryer. I swear. It smelled clean. I didn’t think.”
He chuckled quietly, crouching down until he was level with you. “You’re lucky I know you.”
“Mad?” He tilted his head, smiling a little wider. “No. Maybe a little jealous though.”
“Jealous?” you echoed, teasing.
He hummed, gaze drifting over the hoodie again. “You look cute in it. But I’d prefer mine.”
You laughed softly, leaning forward to press your forehead to his. “Then I’ll wear yours tonight.”
He grinned, that slow shy smile that made his eyes curve into crescents. “Promise?”
And just like that, the tension that never really existed faded. He stayed there, still crouched by the couch, fingers brushing your through your hair.
The match ended early, and the city felt alive when you and Keria’s girlfriend stepped out of the arena. Lights everywhere. Fans still spilling onto the streets. Both your boyfriends had played well. They had won. And it felt good to cheer until your throat hurt.
You and Keria's girlfriend decided on a quick coffee before heading home. Something warm. Quiet. Normal. You picked a small café tucked off the main street, where the windows fogged and the chairs were soft, and it felt like breathing again.
You were both still wearing your T1 merch jackets. You in Gumayusi’s, her in Keria’s. The backs printed with their names bold and proud.
The conversation flowed easily. You talked about the match. About your boyfriends’ tiny habits. About a new coffee shop that opened last week you both needed to visit. The jackets now sat on a chair beside you.
By the time you were ready to go, it was dark. Still talking, you reached for your jackets and hugged each other goodbye before parting ways.
You didn’t realize anything was wrong until much later.
When you stepped into the apartment, Gumayusi was already there. Sitting on the couch, hair still damp from his shower, scrolling through his phone. He looked up the second he heard the door click.
“Hey,” you smiled, kicking off your shoes. “You did so good today, baby.”
His grin was instant. A little smug.
“Cocky,” you teased, dropping your bag on the counter.
He hummed, still watching you. “Come here.”
You walked over, ready for him to pull you down on his lap. But his eyes flicked down once, twice, then narrowed slightly.
You blinked. “What? Why?”
You did. Confused but amused. Until you felt his fingers brush the back of your jacket. The faint tug as he straightened the fabric to read it.
He leaned back, one brow raised, voice dipping into a serious tone he used when he was trying not to laugh.
“Why are you wearing Keria’s merch jacket?”
You spun around so fast your hood hit your shoulder. “Wait what?”
He gestured lazily at your back, lips twitching. “It literally says his name.”
Your jaw dropped. “No way. I swear I grabbed mine. It must’ve-oh my god.”
“Hmm.” He was smiling now. But it was the dangerous kind. The kind that meant you’d be teased for the next twenty minutes straight.
“You and Keria’s girlfriend went out, right?”
“Yes,” you groaned, already burying your face in your hands. “We must’ve switched them by accident.”
He hummed again, mock thoughtful. “So you walked around all evening with another man’s name on your back?”
You peeked through your fingers. “Min-”
“No, it’s fine,” he said, leaning back with that infuriating grin. “Maybe I should start wearing her name too. Just to even it out.”
You dropped your hands and glared. “You’re impossible.”
He laughed, finally reaching out to grab your wrist and tug you onto his lap. His grin softened.
“You know I’m kidding, right?”
You rolled your eyes, hugging him as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He pressed a quick kiss against your head, voice quieter now.
“Next time,” he murmured, “double check before you walk around repping another guy.”
You didn’t mean to start a war.
Well. Maybe you did. Just a little.
After all, when Gumayusi’s girlfriend told you how Gumayusi pouted for an hour after she accidentally wore Keria’s jacket, you couldn’t help it. The idea planted itself in your brain.
How would Keria react if you wore another player’s merch?
And that’s how you ended up here. Sitting cross legged on his couch, scrolling through your phone, wearing one of Faker’s merch.
The door clicked open behind you. “Hey, I’m back.”
You didn’t look up. Not yet.
“Hi baby,” you said casually, pretending to be absorbed in your screen. “How was practice?”
You could feel him staring at you.
“A hoodie,” you said, all innocence.
You hummed, pretending to think. “Hmm. Not sure. My friend gave it to me.”
The room fell quiet again. Except for the sound of him setting his bag down a little too loudly. You glanced up just in time to see his expression. Narrowed eyes. Lips pressed together. That dangerously calm look he got when he was trying way too hard to act unaffected.
“Minseok,” you said sweetly, “are you mad?”
He blinked once. Twice. “Why would I be mad?”
You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. “You just look tense.”
He shrugged, grabbed a bottle of water, and opened it a bit too forcefully.
“Totally fine. It’s not like my girlfriend is wearing another man’s name on her arm or anything.”
You lost it. A laugh slipped out before you could stop it.
His head snapped toward you. “You think this is funny?”
“A little,” you admitted, grinning now. “You’re so dramatic.”
He exhaled sharply, gaze flicking to you from the corner of his eye. “You know, the hoodie looks kind of big on you. Maybe you should just start borrowing his clothes instead.”
“I’m not being petty,” he insisted, still refusing to look at you directly. “I’m just saying. Interesting choice.”
That was it. You couldn’t hold it anymore. Laughter burst out of you as you slid right onto his lap. His hands flew to your hips, holding you there. He groaned softly when you leaned into him.
“You know I only love you, right?” you said, voice soft now, still smiling.
He didn’t answer. But the corners of his mouth twitched.
“I’m not mad,” he said, pouting.
You laughed softly as you kissed his cheek.
Then the pulse point under his ear.
“Stop,” he growled, voice tight.
Finally, breath ragged, he whispered:
“You’re such a brat, you’re lucky I love you“
You weren’t supposed to look so proud.
That was the first thing he thought when he walked in. Bag slung lazily over one shoulder. And there you were. Sitting cross legged on the couch. Beaming at him.
“You’re home!” you said, grinning. “I watched the whole game this time!”
Oner blinked, surprised but pleased. “You did?”
You nodded eagerly, pointing to the TV where the post match interview was still playing on loop. “I didn’t understand half of what was happening, but I cheered when I saw your name.”
He laughed softly. That warm breathy sound that always slipped out when he was tired but happy. “That’s enough for me.”
“See?” you said, sitting up straighter. “I even wore your shirt!”
You tugged at the hem of your oversized merch tee, twisting so he could see the logo on the front. But instead of the easy smile you expected, Oner’s expression changed. Subtle. His eyes narrowed slightly.
He set his bag down. Stepped closer. Squinted at the print.
You glanced down. Confused. And then you saw it.
The name was right there.
“Oh my god,” you laughed nervously, clutching the hem. “No wait. I swear I didn’t mean to.”
He just stood there. Head tilted. Lips twitching. “How did that happen?”
“I don’t know. My friend dropped off some T1 stuff earlier,” you explained quickly. “I just grabbed the one on top. I didn’t even check.”
He hummed quietly. Still not saying much. That silence he did sometimes. Not angry. Just unreadable.
You shifted on the couch.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he knelt in front of you. Rested his elbows on his knees. Looked up. Met your eyes.
“The shirt,” he said again, tone even. “Take it off.”
You stared. Flustered. “I…Hyeonjoon, I didn’t-”
He sighed softly. Shook his head. A small smile finally broke through the sternness.
“I’m not mad,” he said. His hand came up to tug lightly at the hem of the tee. “But you’re not keeping it on.”
He nodded. “Go get mine. It’s in the closet.”
You hesitated. Then grinned a little. “You’re kinda possessive, you know.”
He met your eyes. Steady. Warm.
You disappeared into the bedroom, heart fluttering. When you came back in his own shirt, his name on the back, he looked up from his phone.
“Better,” he murmured. The faintest smirk touched his lips.
You flopped back onto the couch beside him, leaning into his shoulder. “You’re impossible.”
He hummed. Tilted his head. Kissed your temple.
“And you still chose me.”
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°
Hey, this is my first story. I hope you guys enjoyed it. Thank you so much for reading! Byeee :)
