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William T. Spears x Reader: 01 Test

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Literature Text

Synopsis: ______ is a human-turned-Shinigami. Between learning how to collect souls, properly swing a death scythe, and finding out exactly what happened to her on that fateful day, she finds herself transfixed on making a certain man smile.
Warning(s): Slight language, slight violence.




“Good. You’re early.” He said without looking up. “Are you ready to begin?”

“Yeah.” She replied simply, trying to hide the fact that she was out of breath. In truth, being early was the last thing ______ intended that morning. She’d woken up in a panic believing that she was an hour late, only to look at the clock in utter disbelief when she walked into the Shinigami Dispatch Society lobby. So either her clock was defected, or she was just an idiot.

William T. Spears set his pen down, rising from his seat and walking over to her, scrutinizing her appearance. She held her breath, straightening her posture in the prolonged silence. Then, he reached out his hand towards her décolletage.

"You didn’t knot your tie properly." He said, loosening it in a single tug. She frowned, feeling like a child with the way he was fixing her appearance. She tried to look dignified despite the blush that was creeping onto her face. “Like this.”

‘How long have I been doing this wrong?’ She inwardly sighed. He walked her through the Windsor knot once, but to her dismay, tugged it loose again and gestured for her to prove that she had been listening. It took two attempts for her to achieve a tie that earned the ‘good enough’ glance from him. He then wordlessly took the trainee glasses that were balanced on top of her head and fixed it to the bridge of her nose. From the past couple of months of her periodic internship, William was long tired of scolding her for not wearing her glasses. He said it made her stand out, but given the circumstances, ______ knew it would be quite the feat to stand out more than she already did. Being the only female recruit was difficult, but compared to the other whispers that could be spreading, she was thankful it was the only thing others knew about her.

William took a clipboard from his desk, deciding to begin. “As you have already been informed, your final exam is to screen and collect a soul in the field alongside a partner. However, it seems that your partner filed a complaint that being paired with you would hamper his chances of success. Consequently, I will oversee your exam.”

______ frowned, remembering the seemingly laid-back guy. He had been nothing but cooperative when they were partnered. How cowardly. “I hope he fails.”

“Statistically speaking, you are likely going to as well.” William said, "After all, over ninety-percent of recruits either drop out or fail."

"Thanks for the moral support."

"I genuinely want you to pass, ______. The London Division is severely understaffed." He pushed back his glasses, a signal that it was time to get to work. "Follow me.”

'Severely understaffed...' she considered as she followed him out. The day she'd gotten a tour of the building, it seemed unlikely that the Shinigami Dispatch Society could possibly be short on people given the mass of individuals zipping in and out of offices. However, she quickly learned that there was not only a shortage of people for the SDS, but an even worse shortage of volunteers for positions in the field. Even though there was a certain callousness and aversion when it came to the subject of humans, few Shinigami had the stomach to reap the souls of the dying.

But as a Shinigami herself, why was ______ bothered by this? Because she, too, was affected by this negativity. It was secret known only a select few including William, the rest believing her to be from merely from another branch: She wasn’t born a Shinigami. She became one.

“Joseph Mutton, born on the 25th of January, 1880. Scheduled to burn to death at 10:00 PM, the 18th of February, 1889.” William read out loud when they reached their destination. He closed the book. “How distasteful.”

“It is.” ______ gritted her teeth. The implications couldn’t possibly be any more blatant. The higher-ups were doubting her conviction by giving her such a specific case. She felt her grip on her standard-issue sickle tighten, her overseer picking up on the shift.

“Unnecessary emotions will only prove an obstacle in your exam.” William warned.

She cracked a smile at his concern, locking her eyes on the young boy meant to be her target. “Maybe I’ll change your mind about that someday.”

With this, she dashed ahead of him.

‘It's just like that night.’ William mused, remembering when he’d first come across the character that was ______ _______.

Just Under One Year Ago
William T. Spears was growing weary of overtime. As of late, he found himself making up work originally intended for a certain new recruit and today was no exception. He heaved a sigh as he flipped open the to-die list, scanning for his last case of the day. Locking in on the file of a young man, he read out loud. “Steven  ________, born on the __th of ____, 1870. Scheduled to burn to death tonight, the 14th of March, 1889.”

He waited on the rooftop, noting that there was still some time before the collection. It had been awhile since he’d been out in the field, and even longer since he actually observed a target before their last moments. Not that it was a particularly pleasant way to spend an evening. When William peered into the second-story window, he saw the target was sitting at the foot of a bed, laughing at something his company had said. Upon further inspection, William saw that it was a girl with the same hair and the same smile. The two were siblings, perhaps even twins judging by their striking similarities. However, there was one remarkable difference: the girl was bedridden, likely reliant on her brother’s care. William shifted his glance to the street below, searching for the source of the tragedy to come. Then he spotted it: a young child toying with an oil lamp on the street. There was no brilliance or grandeur scheme to it. It would be a mere accident, a pointless and meaningless death. He adjusted his glasses, the scene already set. Now for the story to unfold.

The child tripped, the lamp flying from his grasp. It crashed at the foot of the residence, the fire sputtering to life. The child was the only one to notice this happening, but didn’t shout for help or attempt to smother the flame while it was still manageable. He only scrambled to his feet and fled, too cowardly to face his mistake and too stupid to understand the weight of what he had done. Here in the outskirts, the homes were built with flimsy wooden framework and surrounded by tall grass. It would be a matter of time before the home was incinerated.

The panic begun. The neighbors noticed the fire and began to shout for water, men rushing to the scene with buckets of water. Unfortunately, these actions were nothing more than friendly gestures. By now the flames completely engulfed the house, eliminating any hope of escape for its residents. The time fast approaching, William flinched in a sudden realization. It was something that should’ve been exceedingly obvious to him from the beginning: if the young man was to die here, how could his sister, a dependent, possibly survive? Without further delay, William entered through the open window, shielding his face from the impact of heat on the way in. Inside, the heat was just barely tolerable, but no danger to him. It was then that he saw it, a sight unlike anything he’d ever seen in his long life.

Steven ________ had died as planned. His body had been reduced to nearly nothing, his last breath predictably spent in efforts save his sister, who lay beside him. However, she was still very much alive, shuddering as she clung to the husk of her sibling. It was, in short, impossible. By now she should have been in the same state, or at least died from inhaling the smoke. Sensing his presence, she looked up and for the first time in countless years, William T. Spears was stunned.

She had eyes that mirrored his own.

“Are you God?” she asked with a somewhat weak smile.

“If you are referring to the omnipotent and omnibenevolent entity that litters your religious texts, no I am not. I am a Shinigami.”

Present
Joseph Mutton was playing with a toy horse on his bed, oblivious to the fact that two Shinigami were perched a short distance away and observing his movements, morbid spectators that already knew the ending of his story. In the room adjacent was Mr. Mutton, drinking his life away with a cigar hanging out of his mouth. How twisted that he would be the one to survive.

Will-- I mean... Mr. Spears?” ______ spoke suddenly after a long while of watching the boy.

“What is it?” He asked.

She paused, trying to narrow down the questions buzzing in her head. “Who was your partner? What was your exam like?"

“My partner was Grell Sutcliffe, and my exam was not an experience I am particularly fond of.” He said conclusively. She frowned, a little disappointed at the lack of detail.

"Sutcliffe?" She thought back. "Isn't that Ronald's Senpai? I don't think I've met him yet."

"He's been suspended as of late for violating protocol." He said. "Consider yourself fortunate you haven't yet crossed paths."

The air went quiet.

“... and you can call me William.” With this, William adjusted his glasses.

She was surprised by this. ‘Is he… is he being nice?’ His expression was as emotionless as ever, chartreuse eyes unwavering. Come to think of it, even though she had scarcely seen him in the short year since they'd met, she had never seen him smile. Or at least shift from his perpetual cold stare. While she still didn't fully understand what they were, she was certain all Shinigami were capable of feeling vivid emotions. Was he bored, or was he just an extremely dignified man?

"You should be watching your target, ______."

______ flinched, swiftly correcting herself. She didn't realize that she had been staring so hard. Before embarrassment could flood her cheeks again, she looked into the house, seeing that it had already begun. Mr. Mutton was fast asleep with his bottle still in hand, the lit cigar fallen from his mouth and caught on the wool rug. Within moments the fire roared, and he startled awake. In a drunken stupor, he called out, but it was nowhere near coherent enough. Upstairs, the child was fast asleep with his toy clutched to his chest. His narcissistic father was now stumbling outside, shouting for help.

______'s heart felt as if it were burning down with the house. The second story ignited, it about time for her to evaluate the soul. She reached out a shaking palm for the clipboard and William handed it over without a word. Her next movements were robotic. It wasn't until she stood over the motionless Joseph Mutton that she felt her willpower return.

She didn't become a recruit so she could quiver in fear at the sight of tragedy. She became one because she believed it was what she was meant to do. If some force beyond her understanding had declared her a Shinigami, then she was going to take it upon herself to collect souls like one. With newfound confidence, she sunk the death scythe into the child's abdomen, the cinematic record pouring out of him. It had been a short life indeed for Joseph Mutton; all he ever cherished was a few fuzzy memories of his late mother. There was nothing earth-shattering about the child.

William appeared beside her. "Any remarks?"

"None." She said. "Is that all there is to it?"

"Generally, humans put on much more of a fight. However, because this one was so young, he wasn't as resistant." William said. He reached into his jacket pocket, handing her his special pen. She flipped it over and pressed the stark red "COMPLETED" seal over the picture, returning the stamp to William. He nodded. "Alright, let's return before--"

She threw her arms around his shoulders, unable to contain her excitement. "I passed!"

He flinched at the sudden physical contact, immediately attempting to pry her off. "That's still to be decided by the higher-ups."

"There’s no way I failed!" She let go, gasping upon seeing his face. "William... A-are you blushing?!"

"It's the heat." He adjusted his glasses again, turning away. "As I was saying, let's return before the structure collapses."

She stifled a laugh as they took their leave. "You liar."
Expect more chapters very soon! I've still got lots of ideas and lots of explanations! 
And okay. I know most insert stories are in second-person... but I just prefer third-person. sorry

Next Chapter: William T. Spears x Reader: 02 First Day
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AuraLady's avatar
**snickers** busted!