Artau Stories

George is an artist, and while he try's making one of his paintings he meets dream. A short oneshot for you fellow dnf shippers <3 Tw: Drug use Cussing

Gojo Satoru never fell in love. Yes, there were flings and countless hookups, yet there was never a sense of promise or faithfulness in the air. Every women he had met in the club either wound up getting fucked to sleep, with him disappearing the next morning, or receiving a number that they would text, to which there would never be a reply... until a few weeks after saying something like hey, my place tonight? x or the other. All of this would end at an art exhibition in Tokyo. "You ain't even ask for my name, Shades," the woman murmured, hands now behind her back. Oooookayy. Gojo nervously chuckled, feeling the red creep up on his cheeks. "I was just about to do that, Miss..." "Y/n. It's L/n Y/n." She fluffed her hair. "And I moved here a month ago." Her sudden coldness was a shock to Gojo. Yes, plenty of his past flings had played a game of hard to get, yet he'd never met a woman so... uninterested?