New Hire (Glamrock Freddy x Reader)

New Hire

When you were a kid, Freddy's was the place to go for your birthday. When the pizzeria was constructed in your town, anyone who was anyone would beg and beg their parents to celebrate there. It was definitely the talk of the town for kids, and you chattered about it constantly to your soon worn out parents. There was just something so fascinating with the place, even despite the subpar food and slightly grimy interior. It probably had something to do with the animatronics, the main attractions of the place - they were something of a marvel, so lively and interactive, made to roam even though their outer coverings of fur could get pretty dirty as kids pawed at them. Everyone had a favourite, and young you was proud to be a 'Freddy Fanatic' or whatever the made up rhyme-name was. He was definitely your childhood crush, the first one, actually.

You and your friends would gather in the playground during recess, fawning over your faves and reciting the bands songs or bits. It was fun.

The place didn't last long, however. You only learned about the reason behind it shutting down when you were old enough to look it up yourself; old enough to get curious. As it turns out, that wasn't the first time a location had closed due to children disappearing. The franchise seemed to attract trouble like a magnet - you were honestly surprised the company hadn't gone under completely. Something to do with their investment into the electronic industry as a whole, or something. Fazbear Entertainment Inc. was a subsidiary of a much larger conglomerate and thus would sink but not go under.

Even despite the many failures of the Freddy franchise the company just wouldn't stop trying to rebrand and reinvent the animatronics, apparently determined to carve out a place in the children's entertainment industry no matter how infamous the name Freddy Fazbear became.

And after quite a while, it seemed like the infamy was laid to rest, replaced with genuine success.

Somehow the company had gained the interest of enough sponsors and locked down a few contracts for an absolutely extravagant reincarnation of the past pizzerias, an ambitious project called the Pizzaplex that was essentially a Freddy themed mall, with multiple levels and many, many attractions. The advertising seemed to intend on underlining the point that it was a place for everyone, the whole family and people who just wanted to have a good time. Though based on the theme of the interior and the animatronic designs, to you it looked like a cheap nostalgia grab for the 80s and whomever remembered the characters from their childhood.

But honestly? It worked.

The place was a huge success. A 'Make way Disney' sort of success. And as more neon-lined ads popped up in your daily life, it tugged at your heartstrings just a tad. Even if the place resembled a casino enough that you felt a little uncomfortable (no windows...) you still had a well inside you full of love for the franchise that defined a good chunk of your childhood. Hell, if you dug around in the boxes in your mom's house, you bet you could find your old Freddy plush. And the new face of Freddy that you've glimpsed in the ads well, it hit that soft spot in your heart (an embarrassing soft spot that tended to remind you of the times you kissed your plush on the nose, imagining cuddling with him and... yeah... moving on...)

Anyway, for you things weren't going so hot as of late. The art's degree you were pursuing just wasn't as fun as you thought it would be, and your current job was falling through on its promises for better benefits and a meager raise for your three years of loyalty. Both were dragging you down.

Yeah, it was time for a change. So, when you saw a sign for the Pizzaplex explicitly mentioning a desperate need for new hires, you printed off a fresh resume and saddled up in your clunker of a car, making your way down the long exit off the highway.

Pulling into the underground parking was honestly a little scary. The security booths between each parking ticket dispenser was manned by... a robot. They all looked the same - smooth white faces with two black eyes, three-fingered hands, and a little black security cap thrown overtop. They couldn't emote, just stared you down as you unbuckled yourself and leaned wayyy over to press the button that then dispensed your ticket. You pocketed it while trying your best to avoid that yard-long stare.