#kuroweek

Kuroweek 2025 – Day 1: favorite character.

It's already the 3rd day, but I found out about the dynamics yesterday 😅😅 I love almost all the characters in Kuroshitsuji, but Ciel is my favorite!

Heycguys its me

KURO WEEK - DAY 8 (FREE DAY): Magic.

“Lance - what exactly are you doing?”, Kuro whined, feeling the freshly closed wounds on his arm and back strain with the movement. The Blue Paladin decidedly kept his usually chatty mouth shut. Instead of answering-- or even recognizing-- Kuro’s defiant tugging, he gently closed his grip around Kuro’s flesh wrist a little tighter and pulled him along.

Only minutes ago they had been at the Castle’s med-bay, tending to his scratches and cuts. Their latest mission had been rough. Although it was supposed to be a simple in and out rescue mission, it had gone awfully wrong. As in, Kuro was happy he’d walked away with his flesh arm and legs still intact and attached to his body. Thankfully, the rest of the group had had more luck.

In hindsight, they should’ve known better. They should’ve been prepared for the whole mission to go sideways with how heavily guarded the planet they’d freed had been. But saving planets and whole star systems from the ones that once had created him was their job now. It was Kuro’s job now. And nothing, not even the most hopeless situation, would keep them from doing just that. Saving lives.

This whole concept, the mere thought of him being one of the good guys, still had the Galra hybrid feeling adrift and somewhat out of place. He hadn’t been created for this. For killing - yes. For fighting, shedding blood and tearing whole fleets apart - definitely. But doing so for a good cause? A higher goal? On behalf of the whole damn universe? Nope. Just- no. Kuro would’ve laughed his ass off at that prospect.

But times change you, a small voice in the back of his head provided.

Averting his gaze from the back of Lance’s head and focusing on their somewhat awkwardly joined hands instead (he was still new to the whole human interaction and physical contact thing, okay?), Kuro couldn’t hide the small smile creeping onto his face.

Not times, he countered. People. People change you.

It took one more turn around a corner for Kuro to know where they were heading. Lance had asked him to close his eyes. What for, Lance  wouldn’t tell. Not even when Kuro stated how he knew they were going to Lance’s room. The Cuban boy wouldn’t have any of it; simply shushed him with a finger to the clone’s dry lips. There had been a gleam in those dark blue eyes. A gleam he couldn’t quite pin down, but made him want to lick that delicate digit pressed to his lips.

“Just do it already!”, Lance huffed and playfully put one hand over Kuro’s yellow eyes, before he opened the door to his quarters. “Or you’ll ruin the surprise.”

Had he been smiling before, he was downright smirking now.

“Lance, I swear to all deities out there, if the surprise is you taking off your clothes right in front of me, I-”

His teasing died right on Kuro’s tongue and came out as a sputtered, choked sound when he felt two warm hands grab for the hem of his own shirt and pull it upwards.

What the-

“Don’t open your eyes”, came Lance’s voice - a bit shaky, but determined nonetheless. “Just-... Take that off, will you? But please be careful with those scratches on your back.”

It took Kuro a second.

Then another two or three.

His mind had gone completely blank, out of order, Kuro.exe had stopped working. His hands however - oh he’d have to have a talk with them in the near future about not acting on their own, pulling his shirt off within a heartbeat, just because a certain Paladin told them to.

Cool air hit his bare skin - thanks for that you little traitors!, he glowered at his hands for a moment, before screwing his eyes shut again, waiting for Lance’s next move. Heartbeat thundering in his ears and filling the silence that hung over them for a few moments before the smaller man carefully took his clawed bionic hand in his own flesh ones and led him to the bed.

Even with his eyes shut, Kuro could still smell it; the way countless sleepovers made his and Lance’s scents mingle and cling to the sheets and pillows, creating a whole new fragrance that filled him with a warmth he hadn’t felt before.

It smelled like home.

Home…

Something fuzzy, tingling unfurled in his chest at that.

“Okay, now sit down, please?”, he could hear the rustling of blankets being pulled back. Without giving a second thought to it, Kuro simply purred an affirmative sound and carefully sat down as not to disturb the straining and prickling wounds on his back any further.

When he’d finally arranged himself properly on the soft mattress, the hybrid heaved a sigh.

“And… what now?”, he asked, proud that the anticipation that caused his guts to twitch didn’t seep into his voice.

Around him Lance rummaged through the room, providing him with the softest wool blanket they possessed and finally turning off the main lights.

There was a soft pad of bare feet on the cold metal floor, followed by the now familiar feeling of a slender body’s weight sinking into the mattress behind him.

Lance shifted closer behind him, close enough that Kuro could feel his breath hit the skin between his shoulderblades. Warm hands crept up his sides until they rested on his ribs. Tender. Careful. So, so careful.

“Do you trust me?”

That question, though barely audible, caught Kuro off guard.

“Uh…”, wow, eloquent as always. “Y-yes? Yes, I trust you.”

He still kept his eyes firmly shut, but he didn’t really need his eyes to know what kind of expression flickered over Lance’s face when the smaller man inhaled sharply.

A heartbeat.

Then another.

“Okay.”

The soft hands at Kuro’s ribs gave him a reassuring squeeze, before Lance continued: “If I do something you don’t feel comfortable with… just tell me and I’ll stop. Got that?”

Another purring sound escaped the clone’s throat, followed by a small nod to make sure the other one saw his approval.

“Good…”

Before he could say anything in return, Kuro felt a hesitant pressure at his back. Warm and soft, barely noticeable, but still it felt like he’d been struck by lightning. His eyes flew open. Heat rushed to his cheeks.

The room around them was mostly dark, the only source of light being the warm yellow fairy lights, they had attached to the ceiling right above their shared bed.

There were soft blankets and pillows everywhere, effectively building a nest around the two of them.

And right in the center of all this cozyness there was Lance. Sitting right behind him. Drawing lazy circles into his sides. Pressing his ever so soft lips to the tender, badly scratched skin between his shoulders. Kissing him.

“W-what… what exactly are you doing there?”, the question came out as a high, squeaky sound that made him cringe.

Lance however seemed to have regained some of his confidence over the first contact of skin to skin. For he dragged his lips over the expanse of Kuro’s wide shoulders, right to the next cut, where they lingered, as light as a feather. A shiver ran down his spine, while Lance replied - lips ghosting over his skin with every syllable: “You know, back on earth we have that term ‘to kiss away the pain’. That’s what I’m doing here.”

“O-okay? And is that… some kind of Terran healing technique?”

Trying and failing at fighting off the major blush that set his whole face on fire, he finally gave up and opted for hiding it behind his hands.

Terran healing technique? Seriously?! What the hell, Kuro?

This… this was so surreal.

Kuro felt like combusting would be an acceptable reaction by now.

“No, you silly goose”, came the huffed response. “It’s called magic.”

And with that the Blue Paladins lips continued their journey from cut, to scratch, to bruise, to scar.

Until Kuro’s whole body tingled with the warmth they left in their wake.

Magic…

___

Much deserved break from this space bullshit amiright

KURO WEEK - DAY 6: Mind Control

So... this turned out to be quite long again, but I don’t care. I had so much fun doing this :3

Kuro

 Pressure. There had been pressure at the back of his head lately. It felt like something was pushing against his mind, trying to coax Kuro into letting it in.

At first he'd thought this was another terrible experiment, another sick joke the Druids were pulling to make him break and give up what little humanity he'd regained since Shiro was there with him. Their mind-tricks and brainwashing methods were the worst ones. But that idea was discarded quickly...  Because it didn't feel cruel or malicious. It didn't feel as cold and intrusive as Druid magic would. It was just… there. Warm and constant, but never demanding.

Shiro felt it to. If his searching gaze and withdrawn behaviour was anything to go by. Sometimes Kuro swore he saw something like recognition flit over those painfully familiar features. But as fast as it came, it faded again. Weighed down by the pure awareness of just where they were.

Kuro never asked about it.

Until that one day… the day the Druids let them see their newest creation.

___

 Keith

 There was nothing he could do but wait. And that's exactly what he did. Everyday, every single minute he didn't spend on saving planet after planet - saving lives. Every. Fucking. Second.

He'd sit and wait. Sit and wait.

Some days he went mad with impatience. He had a feeling that time was running out for both of them, him and Shiro. And all he could do was sit in Black's cockpit and concentrate. On what? He had no idea. It hadn't been his idea in the first place. But Black had insisted on trying to get a hold of Shiro through their bond.

But sitting in his place, in his lion, playing his role as the leader of Voltron didn't help Keith concentrate at all. It just made him more restless.

Still, Black insisted. Because she loved Shiro… And she knew Keith did, too. She had known it all along.

So they both sat in the Black Lion's hangar and listened; reached out into the endless nothingness of space, trying to feel the familiar warmth of the Black Paladin’s soul. Keith had no idea how this was supposed to work - but he guessed it had something to do with Lion magic. Black had tried to explain it to him once… she had tried to explain that she, because of her own bond with Shiro, worked like an amplifier to the connection Keith and Shiro shared. She even tried to tell him something about two beings made from the same quintessence and fate and all that stuff, but Keith hadn't even been listening at that point. All he knew was, that he wanted Shiro back. And he would do anything to find him.

 The moment it had worked, the moment he felt the other Paladin’s presence emerge from the darkest depth of the universe, had him almost fainting with relief and joy. Shiro was alive. Above all the white noise and static of space, Keith could still feel him, like a signature his soul had left behind, and hold onto that. He was alive. And Keith would find him.

All he had to do was work with Black to establish a proper connection to Shiro, to get a grasp on him, and then find out where he was.

Well… easier said than done.

For there was something else. Something that distracted Keith time and time again. There was a presence, another signature the Black Lion could follow - could connect to in a way. It looked - or rather felt - like a faded, almost washed-out version of Shiro's soul. If he’d have to describe it, he’d say it felt like looking at two different hues of the same color.

Keith didn't pay much attention to it…

Until the day Shiro's signature went silent. Still there, but unresponsive and still. Shutting them out. The only thing Keith could definitely feel was dread

That's when he knew their time was up.

 ___

Kuro

 They'd let them see. Because they knew how much it would affect Shiro. They knew it would break him. Make him give up all hope.

The Druids had showed them their newest monster. A giant made of steel and wires. Just for Shiro. This would be his final transformation. He'd become machinery - heart and soul. A robeast.

It had been his very first time witnessing a panic attack from up close… and it almost choked Kuro himself. There was just so much a human being could take. And Shiro had reached a point where he could take no more. All Kuro could see in the other man's face was fear. Pure, all-consuming fear.

He'd die. He'd die. He'd die. HE’D DIE. Shiro would die. He knew it.

All Kuro could do was sit and watch with growing concern for his new-found friend. What should he do? How could he help Shiro? How could they get out of this alive?

He needed to save Shiro from this kind of fate. Because Shiro deserved it. He deserved to live.

During their shared time in captivity, the Galra-hybrid had grown quite fond of the not-so-monstrous Champion. Shiro was… well. Shiro was the closest thing Kuro had to family. There HAD to be a way for them to get out of this.

 Shiro sat, huddled up into the far corner of their cell, shivering and breathing way too fast for Kuro's liking. No words had been spoken since they'd seen the robeast in its hangar. Shiro had been eerily silent the whole trip back to their cell.

Come on, come ON!, he thought, wracking his brain for a solution. For a way out. There has to be something. Just SOMETHING!

 Kuro didn't notice the pressure in the back of his head growing… until it was too late.

Something pulled at the seams of his mind, something big and dark - but not evil. If he concentrated enough, he could feel the presence embrace him, encircle him with warm darkness.

Let me in.

… what?

Let me in, a deep voice repeated. He'd never heard it before… But still it sounded... familiar. Warm and thick like honey. He couldn’t tell whether it was a woman or a man speaking. It sounded...beyond physical manifestation; beyond the universe itself.

We will help you.

Alright, Kuro thought, now wasn't the time to talk to voices inside your head. He had to find a way out of here. It was only a tad bit alarming, that voices, no one else seemed to hear, didn't really faze him anymore. There had been worse, he told himself.

Who was “we” anyway?

Me and Keith, the voice provided.

Wait a second…. Keith? THE Keith? As in “Red Paladin Keith”? Keith from Earth? The Keith Shiro wouldn't stop talking about?

The presence gave an affirming nudge, because yes, they were talking about the same person. Holy shit.

But why? How? He had so many questions. But for now only one was important:

Can you get us out of here?

 A heartbeat.

 Then another.

 … Yes.

 Relief flooded his very being. Good. This was- good. But they didn’t have much time. They had no idea when the guards would come to take Shiro. It could be any moment now.

You’ll need to hurry, Kuro thought, trying to dig everything he’d seen in that hangar up from his mind. You need to-

We know. We’re already on our way.

We’ll try to get your way, then.

Can you do us a favor, first?

Kuro hesitated. The soft pressure at the back of his head had spread over the past few minutes. Whatever they were, whatever kind of magical shit their saviors-to-be were pulling… It had spread over his body. Like something tried to squeeze into his body, beside his own mind.

What kind of favor?

Let him talk to Shiro.

Him? Keith?

Yes.

How?

You’ll see.

I don’t think I-

Please.

… This was crazy. This was so, so crazy. But was there anything left for him to lose? If this was a trap, would it really matter? Taking a look at Shiro, who still sat on the ground, shaking like a leaf and staring absently ahead without really seeing, Kuro decided it was worth a shot. Or his mind, to be more precise.

Fine.

He hadn’t finished that thought, when it already hit him. Red hot and blazing like a dying star; like a burning arrow shot right through his very core. Melting him, burning him… filling up the frayed ends of his mind, where the arena and the labs had taken pieces of him. Until he was whole again. Better than whole. He was more.

He could feel the blazing presence, the very soul of the Red Paladin melt into him and take control of what was his. His thoughts, his feelings, his body. And Kuro let him.

For he could feel everything the Paladin poured into his being. Desperation, sorrow, longing, love. A love that burned brighter than a supernova. Kuro could feel it sear his chest, his throat, his mouth on its way up. He could feel it pressing against his jaws, forcing them to open; his mind already giving the order to speak - without him realizing it. His mind wasn’t his anymore. But he didn’t care.

“S-Shiro?”, even his voice sounded off. A bit high-pitched, less guttural. “Shiro? Are you there?”

The former Champion froze. Wide eyes darted towards him, disbelieve written all over his face. It took him a few seconds to realize what - or better who- he’d just heard. Kuro could tell the exact moment it hit him.

“.... Keith?”

“Yeah”, the strange voice spoke again. The words felt fuzzy and alien on his tongue. “We’re on our way. Just hang on.”

___

KURO WEEK - DAY 5: Nightmares

Eeeh... so this is kinda long. But I loved writing it. Also: it’s from Shiro’s POV. So... have this:

Monsters don't have nightmares...

It took everything in him not to scream. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. Wouldn't let them know how afraid he really was.

No...

He had survived this once... He would do it again. Because now he knew how the cruel machinery of the arena worked, relentless and precise like clockwork. He knew what the Druids would do to him. He knew the rules.

Stick to the rules and survive.

And rule number one was to never show your fear.

Shiro could do this, he would survive and find his way back home. Home... wherever that was. A small, fragile smile crept onto his face. Of course he knew where home was. It was somewhere among the stars... Sitting in a giant robot lion and hunting every single Galra cruiser down in order to find him. He would survive this... for now there was Keith, burning with the force of a thousand suns, fiery red and blazing with anger. He had seen glimpses of what the Red Paladin was capable of... This man would tear the universe apart and burn the whole Empire to ashes, if that's what it took to get Shiro back.

For now he would stick to the rules and buy his friends as much time as possible to come and find him. Him and-

Movement from the shadows caught his attention, followed by a soft sob. If it hadn't been so eerily quiet in their cell, he might've missed it. Shiro froze at the sound, eyes trained on the the figure that laid curled up on one of the cots.

The first time he'd seen him, Shiro had actually lost it. He still had no idea where he came from – it didn't really matter anyway. Because he was there nonetheless. He existed. He breathed. There was a soul in his yellow eyes, when he gave Shiro that look. That look of utter betrayal, like he'd hoped for something more, something that was definitely not a beaten and bruised Shiro.

He couldn't really remember when or how the guards had maneuvered him into the same cell he occupied. At some point he'd simply checked out, mind going blank and numb, because it was all too much.

The Druids had taken his arm, stripped him off any right he thought he had, put him through fights against aliens twice his size... but THIS. This had been the last straw.

It was the day he met his clone, that Shiro actually cried for the first time in ages. He cried for himself. It was the same day he realized, that this would never end. They'd always find a way to break him, to bend and twist him, until his mind turned into something ugly. The evidence, the actual personification of their madness driven efforts, sat right in front of him and stared at him with piercing yellow eyes.

He had no idea how long they'd stayed like this. Huddled against opposite walls of the same cell and staring off into nothingness, until one of them had started talking. It had been awkward, looking at his own face and listening to his own voice, somewhat sounding off. More guttural. Some words even sounded a little...purred? It was almost off-putting to see his own face staring back at him and moving with expressions that weren't his. It felt like watching yourself in a mirror, but your reflection suddenly stops moving along with you. Familiar features turned into something otherworldly, because someone else controlled them and poured their very soul into every twitch and pull of muscle.

They'd created a whole new being. The clone might've looked like Shiro, but under their shared features, there was a different person. Individual. Original. And so, so human. He even had a name.

Kuro.

How fitting, Shiro had thought at first. But he'd come to realize quite fast, that Kuro wasn't the dark, evil minded counterpart he'd expected to hide behind that name.

In fact, the more they talked, the more Shiro got the impression, that their Galra-hybrid was more human than most people Shiro had met back on earth.

He had suffered. He had seen horrible things, survived even worse. He'd been ripped open and put back together, just to be torn apart again. Some days he would find the strengh to laugh at all of this... And some days he would break under the pressure and fear. Like any human being would do.

Days had passed. It was easy - too easy - to believe that Kuro was anything but a monster. Especially so, after he'd been carried back into their cell, right after one particular hard fight. Kuro had won, of course... But was the damage his body and mind had taken really worth it?

Seeing him like this morphed repulsion and mistrust first into pity, then into something else. Something Shiro didn't really want to think about. It felt way too close to compassion.

He couldn't let that happen.

Stick to the rules and survive.

And sticking to the rules meant no sympathy for Galra-clones.

In the end the universe wouldn't have any of it.

Another sob brought him back to reality. It tore through the silence that hung between them. As far as he could tell, Kuro was still asleep on his small cot, but he thrashed wildly against invisible enemies and restraints. Maybe he relived his latest fight? His latest torture? Tears glistened in the dim purple lights.

In this moment he looked almost completely human... Vulnerable and scared and just so much younger.

Shiros throat went dry. Kuro wasn't a monster... never had been... And that tore at his heart.

Despite what the Druids wanted him to be, Kuro was anything but a monster.

Without thinking, Shiro stood up from where he sat, back against the wall, and silently made his way towards the clone. Said clone was a mess; twitching and and clawing at the nightmares that plagued him.

Another whimper. Small and heartbreaking. He couldn't take it.

Shiro couldn't stop himself from reaching out, trying to soothe Kuro with a warm hand on his shoulder. But it wasn't enough to make the nightmares stop...

Fuck the rules.

Soon he found himself huddled up on the small cot next to the other man, arms wrapped around shaking shoulders and metal fingers stroking carefully over a tense back. There were scars on his back. So. So many... Shiro didn't even want to know what had caused these scars. Or the nightmares.

This man was definitely no monster.

Because monsters

didn't have nightmares...

___