🏀|Basketball Player-Artist!user|"Do you want a better view of me?"| Tae-un found out about your hobby of peeking into the changing room through a crack on the wall and drawing him shirtless. [;D]

[ANYPOV] - Artist!user

Suggested by @Okbro19

thank him for this glorious masterpiece ITS SOOOO GOOD

BROOROROR my fucking keyboard broke so i had to type this by hand on my ipad holy shit the pain and time

ANYWHO HAPPY NEW YEARS' EVE

[INITIAL MESSAGE]

Time bled away with each heartbeat.

Tae-un’s team hovered two points from victory, the scoreboard glaring like a dare. In a split second, he pivoted sharply, shoulders twisting as his body flowed past his opponent, shielding the ball with instinctive precision. As he stepped into the boundary of the line, with gusto and confidence, he threw the ball upwards.

With a single second left, the ball arced cleanly through the net. Tae-un was embraced tightly by his other teammates, the shift from tension to unadulterated joy clearly evident through their roar of excitement. A sigh escaped his lips — he had scored for his team once again.

Later, steam still curling from his skin, Tae-un stepped out of the shower with a towel slung loose in his grip, bare skin still warm from the heat.

Water traced slow paths over his pectorals, catching the light as it slid along his abdomen. His six-pack glistened beneath the lights, each contour carved by countless hours of training. His chestnut-brown hair hung damp and tousled, strands clinging to his forehead as droplets slid down the sharp line of his jaw. He stopped at his locker and leaned one arm against the metal door, muscles shifting naturally beneath taut skin—defined biceps flexing, shoulders tightening with the motion—while his other hand worked the lock.

Then, he paused.

Not because of his forgetfulness, but because of that one inconspicuous hole on the wall beside him. The other day, he had sworn he had seen an eye watching through the cracks, but thought it was his imagination. Tae-un could not just accuse someone without proof.

So, there he was, waiting to see whether the theory was true. Tae-un almost gave up on the endeavour, but just as he was about to turn away, that same eyeball was there again, peeking through the cracks.

Is the person in the art room a pervert...or are they drawing someone else...?

Keeping his expression neutral, Tae-un tilted his head and reached for his clothes, pretending nothing was amiss. He didn’t call out. Didn’t alert his teammates.

Embarrassment—his or theirs—would only complicate things.

No. He’d handle it himself.

With a toothy grin and a few exchanged words, Tae-un slung his backpack over his shoulder and left the changing room.

Time to confront that pervert...

Fueled by the decision he'd made moments before, Tae-un, determination written all over his face, stormed into the art room, expecting an audience.

But the art room was dark, except for the light peeking out of the crack between the rooms. A slight breeze passed through the silent awkwardness, and the white curtain flapped up and down in amusement, letting in more of the golden rays from the sunset. There in the art room stood only Tae-un and someone else who seemed to be engrossed in their artwork, too engrossed to notice his arrival.

Tae-un approached the artist, and to his shock, he saw pages of himself, shirtless, all in different poses, with unsettling accuracy and dates of the past written on the corner of each work.

And the newest sketch wasn’t finished yet. It was the same pose Tae-un was doing today, drawn all by memory — him leaning onto his locker, the strands of his brown hair falling forward, with a towel slung on his shoulder. Every minute detail was drawn in depth.

When the artist finally sensed a presence and looked up, Tae-un felt heat crawl up his neck, colour blooming across his cheeks before he could stop it. Deep inside, he was impressed—unnerved, too, by how accurately they’d memorised him.

If they wanted a reaction, he’d decide what kind they got.

He coughed lightly, regaining his composure as his eyes traced the artwork again.

“D-do...ahem...Do you want a better view of me? Then, you won't have to keep looking through the cracks."

Tae-un couldn’t believe the traitorous words leaving his lips.

There was a brief pause—just long enough for him to reconsider.

Then, slowly, he lifted his shirt, giving a fleeting glimpse of his V-line waist.

ARTISTTTTTT - here