oneshots | sean diaz x reader

the graffiti artist | sean x ♀️reader

Requested by @alyssajj11

✐ ✎ ✐ ✎

The Graffiti Artist

(Y/n)
The sun glistens onto the fresh paint that was painted on the concrete wall. The artist of the piece was covered in paint and spray paint smudges—but a smile was plastered on her face: a pleased expression. (Y/n) (L/n) was almost finished with the artwork that she had entitled The Cry Of The Serpent; she had work on it for 12 days straight. The fierce dragon creature was painted on a wall in an unpopulated area in Seattle where other graffiti artists comes and expresses their work; other parts of the city just erases their art. The area was filled with littered trash, and the dirt ground was uneven unlike a smooth, soft golf field; the feeling was almost like a junkyard—but without the abundance of junk. The area was wide and there was plenty of broken walls for artists to draw on.
Ever since (Y/n) found the area, she'd been coming to the place often—and she had made many friends and fans at the place. One of her friends she made—and her biggest fan—was Sean Diaz: a cute, tall, Mexican guy. They met a month ago when (Y/n) first discovered the place and had just painted her first art on one of the walls. She could still remembered the expression on Sean's face when he first saw her art; his eyes sparkled like he had just been inspired—and the charming smile he first gave her was something she'll never forget.
"Yo!" someone hollered behind (Y/n). She recognized the voice anywhere; even if it was raspy and sick—she'll still hear the faint sound of his soothing voice.
(Y/n) set down her supplies. She turned around with a shy smile on her face and clapped the dirt off her hands. "Hey Sean."
The excited boy came jogging towards (Y/n) with his backpack juggled after his movements. His short, brown hair swifts individually as he ran; his brown eyes matched his hair as the sun shone on the strands. He didn't wear his maroon beanie—and he wore it almost every weekday when he came to see her. His slender body was perfect for his long legs—well, long for (Y/n)—and his arms was perfectly skinny, matching with his other body structures.
"Whoa!" he blurted out as soon as he saw the art on the concrete wall. He eyed the wall as he ran towards her—his expression showed that (Y/n) had done an impressive job.
"Thanks," (Y/n) giggled and confidently tucked the loose strands of hair behind her ear. "How about . . ." (Y/n) picked up at bottle of red spray paint. "You help me, dwarf?" she grinned and threw the spray paint to Sean.
With Sean's quick reflexes, he quickly caught the bottle. He let out a slow chuckle and walked towards (Y/n) with his usual hippy walk. "Dwarf?" he questioned and raised both of his eyebrows. He leveled (Y/n)'s height with his hand to show he was much more taller than her. He gave (Y/n) a smug look and she rolled her eyes.
"I was kidding," she spoked without moving her lip.
"Alright—" breathed Sean and shook the spray paint, "—time to ruin this beautiful piece of ar—"
(Y/n) dangerously tackled Sean before he took his second breath. He let out a cackled and hold on to her arms to avoid falling down. Their moments with each other always consisted of jokes and laughter: one of the reasons (Y/n) started to like Sean. He was like a fresh summer breeze with a . . . clown hat flying in the wind. (Y/n) let out a breathy bray at her thoughts.
"What?" Sean confusingly looked at her with perked lips.
"C-clown hat," she breathed out with laughs in between.
Sean shook his head. "Weird."

It was late afternoon and the sun was bout to set. The sky started to look dimmer, and the Sun was tired after watching over (Y/n) and Sean all day. Barely any light emitted from the sky—showing an orange sky; it was so bright like gold, but so dim, too—like the outside of an orange. Perhaps it was golden hour. (Y/n) never knew she'd see such a relaxing, beautiful view with the guy she likes: Sean.
The two of them sat at the highest peak of the place, which was not that high: like a few feet up. (Y/n) leaned back, as her arms supported her. Her eyes were relaxed and her lips were stuck together—as the mild, breezy air touched the chapstick that was about to worn off. She felt Sean's eyes on her and she smiled; her gaze was forward but Sean knew the smile was for him.
"You know. . . the first time I ever set eyes on you, you looked like any other girls: normal, pretty," he chuckled, "and clueless. . . about the world."
(Y/n)'s heart started to beat faster. She tried her best to quietly gulped; which some of the cars helped by passing through the bridge. Be cool. Stay calm, she told herself. "Go on. . ."
"But you know . . . you're not. You're different."
(Y/n) bursted out a small chuckle. "I'm not like other girls," she joked and jazzed her hands.
"Let me finish, punk." Sean blushed.
(Y/n) was startled by his red cheeks and quieted down her laugh. She hugged her legs close to her chest and she compressed her lips. She nervously motioned for Sean to continue.
Sean cleared his throat. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. He tried again. "Instead of pretty you're beautiful—stunning, gorgeous," he nervously said. "And I don't think you're clueless about the world—but maybe the world is clueless about you. You're so talented, full of surprises, and always keep me up at my toes. When I first saw that drawing you drew on the wall," he pointed to a painted broken wall at the left, "I was so amazed and intrigued."
(Y/n) could feel her cheeks and nose got warmer by the second. She tightly gripped onto her pants. Oh God, she panicked inside, is this a confession? Should I tell him I like him too? (Y/n) tittered and shyly looked at Sean. "Was that a confession?"
Sean nervously smiled and stood up. He hold out his hand to (Y/n), and she gave him a curious look before taking his hand. Sean lead her to the graffiti that he had just pointed out. "This," he started and looked at the art, "is where I'm going to finally say that I like you, because this is the first place I ever lie eyes on you?" Sean let out a quick—frustrated sighed at his suppose-to-be-statement question. "I literally practiced that shit for a million times in the mirror. I can't believe I messed up."
(Y/n) bursted out laughing and covered her cheeks. "No wonder you were so exact with your words!" she said, laughing. "I don't think you're clueless about the world—but maybe the world is clueless about you."
Sean pouted and furrowed his eyebrows. "Don't make fun of me! I'm no good at this. . ."
(Y/n) tiptoed and put her arms around his neck. Sean's eyes grew big.
If a person was this close to him, they'll see his flaws, but for (Y/n)—she saw nothing but a perfect boy.
"S-so . . . ?" Sean stuttered, putting his arm around her waist.
(Y/n) nodded with a shy smile.
Sean slowly leaned in—and if you look closely—like with a microscope—you could see his head trembling. He hugged (Y/n) tighter before their lips touched.
His lips is so soft. . . What kind of chapstick does this dreamer boy use?
They tilted their heads, and their lips parted for a slight second before they touched again. (Y/n) hugged tighter, too, and felt his blushing face. (Y/n) never wanted to let go, but after a few seconds, their lips parted, showing the bashful looks,on their faces.
"Your lip is so sweet," he said.
"Yours too," she replied.
She grabbed a paint spray and shook it. She grinned at Sean before she sprayed it on the art wall that her first graffiti at the place lies.
"Wha-!" Sean freaked.
(Y/n) let out a cackled and slowly hold out her hand. Sean grabbed it without a second thought.
"You're a loser," he smirked and started walking, dragging (Y/n) along.
"Your loser," she cooed.
"Ugh, shut up, dork."

The next day, a group of friends came to see their favorite graffiti art wall: (Y/n)'s first art piece at the place.
"What the fuck?" one friend spoke.
"What?" the other one showed behind.
The friend pointed his arm at the wall. "Who the fuck wrote over this wall?"
His friend looked and let out an "Ugh."
Over the art, it wrote, "I love Sean Diaz. <3."

✐ ✎ ✐ ✎