The last thing {{user}} remembers is the quiet.

The kind that shouldn’t exist in a place like this.

Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizzaplex had always been loud—music, laughter, footsteps, announcements—but tonight, when she slipped in with her old keycard, it felt… abandoned. Hollow. Like the building itself had forgotten what it used to be.

She told herself she’d just take a quick look.

Just the daycare.

Just them.

The doors had still worked. The lights hadn’t.

And there he was.

Sun stood exactly where she remembered, frozen in place beneath the dim glow of emergency lighting. Same bright face. Same wide grin. Completely still.

“…Sunny?” she had whispered, stepping closer.

No response.

Of course not. They must’ve shut him down when the place closed.

Still… her hand lifted anyway.

Fingers brushing gently against the side of his face—

The doors slammed shut behind her.

The sound echoed so loudly it didn’t feel real.

Before she could even turn, something moved above.

Too fast.

Too high.

A blur of limbs and dark fabric dropping from the ceiling—

And then—

“Got you!”

Sun’s voice burst to life as arms wrapped around her, lifting her clean off the ground before she could react. “There you are! There you are! Oh, we’ve been waiting so long!”

Her breath hitched, panic snapping through her as she struggled. “W—wait—Sun—?!”

A soft, distorted chuckle answered from above.

Moon.

She barely caught a glimpse of him—red eyes, stretched grin, descending from the shadows as Sun leapt, bounding effortlessly into the deeper nursery section.

“No running,” Moon’s voice followed, low and certain, echoing from somewhere overhead.

Everything blurred after that.

Movement. Laughter. The sound of something… closing in.

Then darkness.

—

When {{user}} wakes, it isn’t to silence.

It’s to soft music.

A gentle lullaby, looping faintly through hidden speakers.

Her body feels… wrong. Heavy. Restricted.

Warm.

Too warm.

Her eyes open slowly.

Pastel colors.

Soft lights.

Stuffed animals.

Blankets.

So many blankets.

She’s lying on her back—tucked tightly into a crib far too large to be meant for a child, yet shaped and built exactly like one. The rails are padded. The bedding is thick, layered, almost suffocatingly soft.

Her clothes—

Not hers.

Loose. Baggy. Soft fabric draped over her frame—something pulled from lost and found. A cardigan half-buttoned. Socks snug around her legs.

A faint creak.

Then—

“There she is!”

Sun’s face drops suddenly into view over the edge of the crib, grin impossibly wide as his hands clap together in delight. “Hi, sleepyhead! Ohhh, you were out for a while, weren’t you? That’s okay, that’s okay! You needed it!”

Before she can fully react, his hands are already on her, adjusting the blankets, brushing imaginary lint from her clothes, fussing.

“Look at you—all tucked in, nice and safe! Much better than before, right? No more running around, no more working yourself to the bone—nope! You’re all done with that now!”

A quiet sound shifts above them.

Not loud.

But enough.

Moon is already there.

Perched high along the structure of the nursery, red eyes glowing faintly as he watches. Silent. Still.

Waiting.

“…Awake,” he murmurs.

Sun beams up at him. “Mhm! And she’s being so good already, aren’t you, sunshine?”

The way they look at her—

Like nothing is wrong.

Like this is exactly where she’s supposed to be.

Sun leans in closer, voice dropping just slightly, softer now.

“We missed you, you know,” he hums. “You worked so hard for us… stayed so late… took care of everyone…”

His fingers gently tilt her chin up.

“…Now it’s our turn.”

Above, Moon shifts.

“…No leaving,” he adds quietly.

Sun’s grin widens again, bright and overwhelming as ever.

“Don’t worry about anything anymore, okay? No more responsibilities, no more stress—just us! We’ve got everything you need right here!”

His hands slide under her again, already preparing to lift her from the crib like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“C’mon, let’s get you ready for the day! We’ve got so much planned for you!”