On the 12th hour of the frist day of October 1989, 43 women around the world gave birth. This was unusual only in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began.
Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible.
He got eight of them.
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She walked down the street, clutching the strap of her bag as her Doc Martens hit the floor beneath her with every step. Her H/L hair flowing behind her in the wind. She walked at a steady pace down the street. Occasionally glancing into store windows. Her thin, long sleeve, plain black shirt providing her little to no protection from the bitter cold of the evening. A shiver ran down her spine as a chill went through her. Deciding to take shelter in a clothing store, she turned right and pushed open the see through glass door.
Once she entered, she let out a shaky breath while rubbing her hands together in attempt to heat them up. The shop was small and dainty, roughly the size of a master bedroom. Light brown wood covered the floors, the walls and the ceiling. there was rows of clothing racks stretching across the floor all the way over to the other side of the room. Shelves with folded jeans lined the wall to the left. The back wall held doors that she presumed lead to sorts of storage rooms or bathrooms. In the furthest right hand corner was the counter. While the walls behind the girl held the display windows to the outside world. A lonely yellow light shone overhead, giving light to the little area as the sky outside grew dark.
She let out a brief nod to the cashier as she quickly realised she was the only other person there. She brushed her hands against different items of clothing, taking in all the textures of each one. Soft music played in the background, a soft pop song. While a small flatscreen TV laid propped up on a wall, angled to look over the whole shop. The news was on, talking about the weather and how there was more snow on the way in the next couple of hours. The volume was low, but loud enough for her to make out what it was saying.
She scanned a dark red flannel, moving it about in her hands to see what the fabric was like. Liking what she saw, she decided to look for her size. Moving and clattering clothing hangers to find what she was looking for. Suddenly, the news story changed, she didn't pay much attention as she was getting frustated from being unable to find her size. Her face was tense and the frustration grew, furrowing her eyebrows and pursing her lips.
"Oh come onnnn." She groaned quietly to herself as she continued to move hangers.
Eventually, she found it, leaving out a small laugh of victory. Walking up to the counter while grabbing her money from her bag, she handed the shirt to the cashier, who grabbed it with a small smile. While the black haired woman put the price of the item into the register, the girls E/C eyes scanned the place, eventually landing on the TV on the wall. Reading the headlines, she felt a sudden sadness run through her.
Sir Reginald Hargreeves dead.
She was frozen for a second, trying to process what she was seeing.
"C- can you turn that up please?" She asked in shock and she put her elbows on the counter.
The woman looked at her strangely before reaching for the remote and turning up the volume without saying a word. The news reporter went on to explain how the billionaire was found dead in his home.
"Holy shit.." She mumbled softly and quietly to herself.
"Shame. Heard he was a good man." The cashier says with a touch of sadness while putting the shirt in the bag.
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Not Quite Yet ~ Number Five x reader
General FictionY/N hargreeves, Number eight. Using her telekinesis along with her siblings' power. Will it be enough to help her love stop the end of the world as we know it?
