Spamton x Reader One-Shots!

BIG SHOT! Big...Regret

[Notes: Okay so this one was requested by a very lovely friend of mine~ She gave me the main plot for this one so thank you bestie 💙 you know who you are :)

Also I feel like this is extreme weak sauce in terms of actually writing something believable...like I just want the happy ending after crushing the emotions, you know? So...yeah oops the ending isn't my best ^^'

You know how Spamton used to be a big shot? Well...what happens if you become a big shot?]

[TW! TW! Be careful, this story contains:

Mentions/Descriptions of Abandonment
Negative Self Talk
Mentions of Self-Hatred

Please Read with Caution! Stay safe!]

You and Spamton had been living together for a while now. It certainly wasn't perfect at first- you'd barely had enough money to feed the two of you, and sometimes you would end up working overtime just to make sure you could pay the rent, but it was good. Spamton was good. You honestly adored him, and having him around made things less quiet and more exciting. It was always worth the grueling hours of work to come home and snuggle up with him on the couch, mumbling about you day and thanking him for keeping things clean and tidy while you were gone.

One day, however, something changed. You got a promotion at your job for working so diligently, and this wasn't just one step up. It seemed like, out of nowhere, the company you worked for really needed someone to manage their imports and trade deals, and most importantly, sales. You admittedly didn't think you were a great marketer or salesperson, but for over double your current pay? You'd take it.

Spamton was equally as pleased and excited, at first. He was happy that you were doing so well at your job, and glad to see you in such good spirits! Plus, who didn't like more money? As long as you were happy and healthy, and as long as you still had at least a little time for him once you got home, he was absolutely thrilled for you.

Everything seemed to go smoothly. You were taking calls, organizing intake, making sure everything was running smoothly. Your hours would sometimes go a little over, but it was nothing you couldn't handle. In fact, you actually found yourself enjoying taking more time with some of the clients. You built up the relationship between your company and their partners, and honestly? It gave you a little thrill when you could sweet-talk a big shot into making a deal.

It was so thrilling, in fact, that you started doing a little extra for the company. You took some calls once you got home. Nothing too excessive, just one or two to see if you could talk some sales reps into helping you out. One or two became four or five, though. Then it became something that you would do until Spamton practically had to drag you into bed. You were exhausted, your sleep schedule was shit, you didn't eat much either. There wasn't any time for that! You had sales to pitch, deals to make! You needed the money.

Spamton, however, didn't see the positives anymore. He hated seeing you so tired and miserable once you finally settled down to sleep. Every time he tried to talk to you after work, you'd pick up the phone and mouth, "not right now", or gesture him away with a flick of the wrist. You didn't have time to talk with him, or watch movies, or even just look at him without brushing him off or pushing him aside. With every day you pushed him aside, the feeling of loneliness and abandonment grew worse for him. It was worse than being in the dump. It hurt more than any of the times he'd get pushed around by the people in the alley. It hurt so, so much.

You didn't want him around anymore and he knew it.

So, he decided to take the only thing he truly considered to be his own aside from his clothes, and leave. Clearly, you wouldn't be bothered. Clearly, you didn't care anyone. To you he was nothing more than a pest, someone getting in the way of your success. There were nights were you apologized, where you looked at him for a brief moment with sorrow in your eyes, but it still didn't stop you. It didn't stop you.