Villains xReader One-Shots

Apologies (fem!Reader)

Giran crossed his arms and looked down at the display case. Gems and jewelry glimmered in the lights mounted along the top of the golden border. A sickening mixture of sample perfumes scented the air so strongly he could almost taste the chemicals, leaving Giran with a strong desire to rescue his senses with a cigarette. Soft melodies that reminded him of elevator music accompanied the scents. Women filled the store, making a lone man like him seem out of place.

He yawned as he mulled over his choices. Necklace or bracelet? Gold or silver chain? Earrings, perhaps? What color jewels should adorn them?

A low groan crawled out from his throat. Maybe I should get another motel room for the night and do this tomorrow?

He pulled out his phone and skimmed through the calendar. No, can't. Seven appointments tomorrow, no time. I'll end up avoiding her for another day or two at this rate. Once again, he found himself at square one.

A little voice caught his attention. "Hello there, sir. Do you need assistance?"

A short girl with terracotta skin stood behind him. She recoiled a bit when Giran turned around to face her, nervousness littered her face. She wore the same white button-up with black slacks uniform that the woman behind the register and three other employees were wearing. Her fingers anxiously played with the tips of her wavy, deep blue, almost ocean-like hair.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I suppose I could use a second opinion." He pointed to the display case and tapped on the glass. A low, hollow sound echoed a bit from the inside. He vaguely described the situation he found himself in, explaining that he needed to buy a gift, but he wasn't sure what to get.

The girl appeared to be listening intently to his plight. "Oh, I see, a gift for your wife?" she asked. Her tiny voice was almost no louder than the music playing. Giran fought the urge to lean forward to help him hear her.

"Ah, no, no." He flashed his bare left hand, free from anything that could be mistaken as a wedding band. "I'm not married." She continued smiling with the same, fake customer service smile everyone in retail gives. Hell, he'd even whip out that smile form time to time.

Giran looked her up and down for a second. "Actually, she's about your age, I think," he added. Giran was more unsure how old the young-looking girl in front of him even was. This day in age, facial creams and makeup does wonders. Some are also lucky enough to have a quirk that keeps their appearance younger much longer.

"Ah, so your daughter is in her twenties?" she asked. Giran mentally groaned. Yes, there was an age gap between him and y/n, and there were three common presumptions onlookers speculated whenever they saw the two together in public; mistaking y/n as his daughter was the most upsetting one.

"No, no wife, no kids. She's a lady friend, I suppose," he replied. Her smile faded for a quick second. Giran could tell his correction threw her off. He couldn't help but grin at her sudden change in body language.

She cleared her throat. He noticed she anxiously tensed up as she stepped up to the glass display and looked down at it. The young girl occasionally glanced at him in secret through his reflection. Giran had no doubts that he made her nervous. He quickly deduced that someone, a supervisor perhaps, made her customer service him. Admittedly, he was hovering over the expensive jewelry for a bit too long. He probably seemed suspicious.

"Do you mind if I ask what your budget is?" Giran smirked, trying his best to keep his composure and stop himself from laughing. His baby deserved the best, and he couldn't put a number on that.