Foxy x ReaderChapter 1: The (not so) perfect job.

I'm truly sorry if you don't like the opening chapter. Please notify me if you find any typos of any kind.

It all started on a cool summer day, and you were chilling on the front porch of your one-story. You were 16, still in high-school, and looking for a job. Your parents had taken your brother, (insert random male name) to Freddy Fazbears Pizzeria. "Freddy Fazbears Pizzeria. Where you can have your frontal lobe picked off after the robots busted your eardrums singing," you murmured. You smiled. You were there that day that Mike got his frontal lobe bit off:

You were listening to Foxy's show: he was demonstrating how to hold a sword, and he gave everyone a small smile when they walked in, but when he saw you, he smiled the biggest. "How ye lassies/lads bin doin?" "Good, Caiptan Foxy!" We would all yell out his name, enthralled by the idea of Foxy being on-stage performing, and there was a chance we could be one of his "mates" for the day. You even remember what you were wearing. Ripped jeans, a t-shirt that was to small and acted as more of a v-neck, and worn-out, dirty sneakers. Hand-me downs from your older sister. She died in a car accident a few years later. He was just performing, when suddenly his pupils enlarged, his voice tuned to a growl, and he set his angry eyes on one of your schoolmates: Mike Schmidt.

"You about done spacing out there?" Asked Peter from behind you. "What the- I swear, Peter you could sneak up on a mockingbird and still catch it by SUPRISE. "Well, I have good news about the job thing." "What? Where?" You 2 had been best friends since the bite of 87', you guys had met a few hours before the attack. Lately, you 2 have been trying to find jobs where you could work together, and still get paid decently. "The place where we met. You would be a waitress, and I would be the night guard," said Peter a bit nervously, because whenever he brought up the subject of the once beloved pizzeria, you threw around knifes and axes. "Let's do it."