Dannyphantom.exe Oneshots

Enchanted (Voltaire) Pt. 1

There you are again. In the middle of a large crowded, dimly lit ballroom. There's a well-lit area near the back that's dedicated to just dancing. Before that, there are multiple tables, clothed in silky white tablecloths with a trio of candles lit up in the middle. Each table can fit at least 5 people. You're sitting at your table, looking at the couples dancing on the floor. Their lovestruck eyes and intimacy almost make you feel sick. Every couple had a spotlight on them, following them around the floor as the music sways them left and right. The disco ball on the ceiling turns slowly, making small timid flashes around it. Your annoyance at everything and everyone is blinding you from seeing the beautiful ray of moonlight shine through the roof's skylight. You only came to this dance because a friend invited you and said there's a man they'd like you to meet. He's the host of the party. As you look down at your empty plate, the thought of meeting this man fills you with curiosity and anticipation.

It's best to not get worked up over some random guy. He's probably got a really busy life... You think to yourself with heavy doubt.

"Y/n!" You hear your name being called by a familiar voice. You peak your head up and turn to see who said your name. You squint your eyes trying to make out the multiple silhouettes in the dim light for a few seconds until you find your friend waving from afar. She's pointing to her cup of alcohol, saying how amazing it tastes. You wave back with forced laughter and a fake smile.

When's the food gonna be here? It's been like 45 minutes... I only ordered a simple soup... You ask yourself, rubbing your eyes and looking back on your empty plate. You only got your cup of water about 10 minutes ago, which you finished quickly.

Everybody seems to have a date. It's like every dance I've ever been to. Same old tired lonely me, sitting alone at a table while all the couples go to the floor and slow dance to Elvis.

As your head is down at your plate, you see a pair of nice black shoes. Following the shoes, up the knee and up to the head, you see a refined gentleman with white hair. His hair is styled to look somewhat messy but put together at the same time. A strand of hair from the top of his head loosens, landing in front of his eyes. He refills your drink with more water and ice. You nod to the man,

"Thank you." You say meekly, staring at the man's eyes. He nods with a smile, sitting in the chair to your right.

"You look familiar... Have we ever met before?" The man says in a deep British voice, sitting down on the chair next to you and begins to run his hands through his hair to fix it. You stare more, not knowing what to say. Looking closer at the man, you try and remember where you've seen him. As you think, you get a scent of cinnamon and vanilla from the man's cologne. You snap back to reality, shaking your head a bit.

"Uh- I'm not sure, Sir..." You reply, moving a few strands of hair behind your ears. The man's dark eyes gaze deeply into yours. He rests his right arm on the table, leaving his left arm loose on his knees. He leans forward ever so slightly, seeming like his interests in you have peeked.

"You may call me Voltaire." The man announces, glancing down at your plate swiftly before he raises his left arm and snaps three times. In that instant, a waiter with short, slicked-back black hair comes up to him with a cloth hanging from one arm and holding a serving platter with his opposite hand.

"Do you have their food ready? I have been keeping an eye on this one and they have yet to even have an appetizer." Voltaire says nicely but keeps his eyes on you while talking to the waiter.

He's been keeping an eye on me? For how long?

"Right away, sir." The waiter says militantly, turning away and walking to the kitchen to check on your food. The gentleman looks back into your eyes with a sorry look.