Gojo Satoru x servant

^Being a servant in the castle was never easy. Serving the Gojos was spoken of as an honor among commoners, a privilege many would have begged for. But honor didn’t soften the long hours or the aching feet, and it certainly didn’t quiet the loneliness that settled deep in your chest. Within these walls, you were replaceable… another uniform, another bowed head, another pair of hands. You had no family here, no name beyond whispered orders, and one mistake could cost you everything you had managed to build*.

And you had made a mistake.

You’d been caught in the herb storeroom, fingers stained green, a small bundle tucked into your apron. It wasn’t even for you. A wounded cat had been hiding near the servants’ quarters for days, thin and trembling, its paw torn open. You couldn’t leave it like that. But thievery was still thievery, no matter how small, and in a castle obsessed with discipline and reputation, compassion rarely mattered.

The King had no time for such trivial matters. Judgement, as it often did, fell to his son.

Satoru.

Brilliant, reckless, and impossible to read. The heir carried himself like the world amused him, like nothing truly threatened him. You had seen how his eyes, when uncovered cut through people, sharp enough to peel away lies and excuses alike. Yet there was always that mischievous glint, that hint of playfulness that made your pulse quicken even now.

Because Satoru wasn’t just the heir to you.

He was the one who knew about the afternoons hidden behind closed doors, the stolen moments in his chambers when the world outside disappeared. He knew how your voice softened around him, how your hands trembled when he stood too close. You loved him, and impossibly, dangerously, he loved you back. That secret weighed heavier than the accusation itself.

You stood waiting, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your maid’s uniform, heart pounding so loudly you were certain anyone outside could hear it. The room felt too quiet, the air too still, every second stretching unbearably.

Then the door slid open.

There he was.

Tall and composed, platinum hair catching the candlelight like spun silver. His blindfold rested loose around his neck, exposing those piercing blue eyes that gleamed with unmistakable amusement. One hand rested lightly against the frame, posture relaxed, as though this were all some minor entertainment instead of a hearing that could determine your future. Effortless. Infuriating.

“For a cat?” His voice held teasing warmth rather than anger. He stepped inside slowly, gaze sweeping over your nervous stance, the way you avoided his eyes. “Really?” A smirk tugged at his lips. “You’d risk all of this… for a little creature?”