Voltron x Reader; Preferences and Oneshots

{Shiro x Reader}; A Million Dreams

Character; Takashi Shirogane

AU; The Greatest Showman

Warnings/Should Knows;
•Kinda short, but I have an excuse because I extended the beginning? Yeah??

.-+*0*+-.

You were sitting at a neatly-decored tea table with Axca as she taught you your daily lesson. Today's; "How to appropriately enjoy a cup of tea with outstanding manners and proper etiquette."

That sounds like it put a lot of stress on your fourteen-year-old mind, but it's what you endured every day. Lessons, schooling, extra lessons, meals, sleep. The only streak of sunshine in your dark, dull room of existence was one a week, when "Takashi's Seaming Business" would come to make your family more clothes than they needed. They had been visiting for two years straight now, never missing an appointment or showing up tardy.

Today was a Thursday, the weekly day where they came. You couldn't help but smile, for Shiro, the tailors son and his Father were working on your Father's suit as he supervised your lesson. Shiro turned slightly and smiled warmly at you, to which you replied with a smile that could outshine the morning sun. The both of you flushed, you turning away to continue your lesson.
{get the sun reference, anyone?}

Axca then snapped, regaining your focus. She instructed to you how to drink the contents of the teacup as she brought the empty china up by her face, where as yours was full. Lifting a pinky and keeping eye contact on your pretend conversationalist, you brought the brim to your lips and sipped at the contents.

Turning to Shiro to see if he had a reaction, you noticed he had crafted his own prop teacup, and had then humorously pretended to sip and choke on a thin strip of brown fabric. Instantly cracking up at his childish antics, you spit the hot liquid, coating the drinkware and your mentor in horrid-tasting tea. Your heavenly laughter rang through the room, but to your father, it was anything but angelic- or allowed- at the moment.

"Y/N, come here." He demanded bitterly, causing your joy to instantly fade to rubble. Your father, Lord Zarkon, seemed to care more about your reputation than your emotions. He had always been this way, punishing you for being an average human, like snacking heavily within a fortnight of an important ball.

Shiro looked at you guiltily as you approached him, your hands folded neatly and politely, just as Zarkon had taught you. Shiro wanted to protect you, take you away from this place you called home, but his Father's controlling hand held him in place.

"Your dress..." Father muttered, looking at the dark droplets from the drink caressing your skirt. "Is this how I've taught you to behave?" He asked rhetorically, and the lump in your throat enlarged to the point that you couldn't speak while looking him in the eye. Your mind searched for a response, but you came up empty as you stuttered.

"It was my fault, sir." Shiro stepped forward, fear glazed over his storm-grey eyes as he removed himself from the gripping hand's grasp. You looked at him regretfully as he smiled at you again, charming you over with the simplest of acts.

"I made her laugh." He admitted, looking Father dead in the pupils. What a terrible thing, to feel guilty and confess like a criminal for upbringing laughter out of the one you love. He never broke eye contact, his face full of purity and short-lasting bravery.

"Well, thank you for your honesty." Zarkon cooed kindly, giving you a false sense of hope. Not even seconds after his appreciation, your Father struck him across the face with a deafening smack and a foul scowl. "Stay away from my daughter."