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Published:
2025-04-16
Updated:
2025-04-30
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2,705
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2/?
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AzureTime Requests (Open)

Summary:

I just want to write something about Azuretime.

Request PLEASE!!!

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter 1: Request Page

Chapter Text

I'm not going to make you read a long and boring thing about what I will and won't write.

So in short.

- I will write smut if I'm feeling up to it.
-No weird or gross kinks!
-I prefer Angst and Fluff, but it's what you guys want.
-I am allowed say no to anything I don't want to write.
-And all the other illegal and creepy things that some people ask for... will be deleted! 👍

Ask away!!!

 

Queue:

-To be a survivor (By: Ventisfriendlycecilia)

-HOW DARE THEE AZUREWRATH!!! (By: Th3rapest_V)

-Nightshade crowns (By: anon(guest))

-I'm Sorry... I'm sorry...(freakyuser(guest))

-Wings that glow as bright as you (By: whatputhere(guest))

-A missing killer in the land of Spawn (By: sekaicat_sb)

-A team from Spawn (By: ASTROO_novalite)

 

Currently working on:

-To be a survivor (By: Ventisfriendlycecilia)

Chapter 2: To Be a Survivor (1)

Summary:

Requested by: Ventisfriendlycecilia

Prompt: Bro would it be ok if I requested Where Azure due to some shenanigans probably from the specter is turned into a survivor a mix between before and after ritual look. While it’s awkward Two Time is the only survivor with free time to show Azure around. And it’s just Azure asking stupid questions like “I won’t be stabbed randomly on Tuesday right?” To which two time says “no”. The other survivors are around and seem to have some type of trust that Azure is still not part of,like Elliot could nod his head to Chance and he’d understand as to where Azure would had to be explicitly stated.

Notes:

I decided to split the chapter into two because it felt too long for a first chapter.

I still need to go through the other half still, but it should be out soonish.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

A thick, white mist clung to everything, swallowing Azure whole. He couldn't even make out the tips of his own boots in the swirling opacity. A gnawing disorientation settled in his gut, a bewildering jumble of moments that refused to line up. Yesterday bled into weeks ago, and today felt like a forgotten memory. Who was he? A killer? Two Time's partner? Did he even believe in the legends of The Spawn? His thoughts felt like shattered glass, sharp edges scraping against each other.

The world seemed to tilt and spin, even though he couldn't see it through the relentless fog. Each step was a blind venture into the white void, offering no hint of direction, no change in the monotonous sameness. Was it hours that passed? Or mere minutes stretched into an eternity? Days, perhaps? Time had become a meaningless blur.

Beneath his feet, the ground felt strangely soft yet firm, like walking on a cloud that held its shape. The air was thick and still, breathable yet somehow suffocating, pressing in on him from all sides.

Then, after an immeasurable stretch of walking, the ground gave way. One moment there was solid footing, the next, nothing but empty air. His foot plunged downwards, and with a sickening lurch, he followed. The soft ground vanished, replaced by a dizzying drop.

The mist, which had been a silent shroud, now felt like a barrage of tiny, cold bullets against his skin as he plummeted. Strangely, there was no pain, only a dull numbness as the chaotic fragments of his mind began to click back into place.

With each passing second of his fall, memories surged, sharp and vivid, replaying his life in a frantic rush.

Ah, Time. His partner. How beautiful they were, with a kindness that shone even in the darkest corners. Loyal to a fault, and sometimes, heartbreakingly naive.

Then the cultists. Their voices, like venomous whispers, poisoning Time's ears with their twisted words about a god Azure had never understood, a god they both had been raised to believe in.

And Time… Time had listened. Had clung to their lies, their insidious manipulations.

They had killed Azure for those vipers. The memory was a raw wound, a burning ember of anger and a cold knot of fear.

Yet, beneath it all, a strange absence of true hatred. It felt like a foreign emotion, forced upon him, a heavy weight he didn't choose to carry.

His thoughts spiraled downwards, mirroring his physical descent.

Then, slowly, subtly, the oppressive mist began to thin. The cold, unseen droplets lessened, and through the dissipating whiteness, a vast, starless night sky began to emerge. It was a deep, endless black, devoid of the familiar comfort of constellations, a stark and unsettling canvas above his head.

The fall ended abruptly with a deafening crack that echoed in the strange, open space. Yet, Azure felt nothing at first. He lay there, limbs splayed, as a dull ache pulsed through his back and the base of his skull.

Then, as if a switch had been flipped, the numbness dissolved, replaced by a searing pain that clawed through every nerve ending. His head throbbed with a violent rhythm, and a high-pitched ringing filled his ears. He shifted his head slightly, and a wave of warmth spread across the back of it, quickly followed by a sticky wetness.

Muffled shouts reached him through the fog of pain. As his awareness sharpened, blurry figures began to converge. A figure of red and yellow knelt beside him, their hands gently cradling the back of his head. The tender touch sent fresh jolts of agony through him, making his vision swim.

But even through the haze of pain and the distorted shapes of the people around him, one silhouette remained clear, unwavering. A face he would recognize anywhere, a face that pierced through the chaos like a shard of ice. A face that sent a tremor of conflicting emotions through his broken body – a painful flutter of his heart mixed with a surge of bitter anger and profound betrayal.

His gaze remained locked on that frozen figure, unblinking, even as the edges of his vision began to darken. He saw the shock etched on their face, a look of utter horror, a deep well of guilt, and a crushing weight of despair that seemed to surprise even the others who rushed to his side. The last thing he saw before the darkness claimed him was that single, unforgettable face.

—

Azure's eyes fluttered open to a world of soft comfort. He lay on something plush, and a gentle warmth radiated around him, accompanied by the faint, comforting crackle of a nearby fire. A dull ache throbbed through his limbs, a lingering reminder of his fall.

A hushed murmur of voices drifted through the air, close but indistinct. He caught snippets – hushed tones that were clearly about him, and another, more curious thread of conversation that mentioned something called "continental giants." Whatever the fuck those things were.

An odd sensation drew his attention to the top of his head. It felt strangely bulky, encased in something rough. He reached a tentative hand upwards, his fingers brushing against the coarse texture of thick gauze.

Instinctively, he began to tug at the edges, a silent question in his movement. But before he could unravel even a thread, a hand gently stopped him, covering his own. He hadn't even registered the shift in the room, the way the hushed chatter had fallen silent the moment he moved.

"I wouldn't do that," a voice murmured beside him, a blend of worry and a hint of amusement. "You hit your head pretty badly in that fall… truth be told, I'm surprised you're in one piece. You literally dropped out of the sky." The voice huffed.

They shifted slightly, a gentle hand sliding carefully beneath his head, offering support. "Do you think you can sit up?" they asked, their tone soft and patient.

Azure remained still, his body heavy and unresponsive. Why should he trust this voice, this unseen person? His mind was still clouded with suspicion. He offered no acknowledgment, no movement.

The person beside him sighed softly. "Look," they continued, their voice still gentle but with a touch more insistence, "if you can sit up, even a little, I can take a proper look at your head. See how it's healing. If it's doing well, then maybe… just maybe… we can take these bandages off.”

Azure hesitated for a long moment before he let out a tired sigh, the kind that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside his chest. Reluctantly, he gave a small nod. The person beside him smiled softly, almost relieved, and moved with slow care as they helped him sit up. His muscles protested the movement, aching and stiff, but he allowed it.

Once he was upright, the person shifted around behind him, fingers working carefully at the thick layers of bandages wrapped around his head. They moved his messy hair aside, fingertips light against his scalp, as they peeled back the gauze to get a better look.

"Alright," the voice said after a quiet pause. "Good news. We heal a little faster when we’re not in a round, so it’s looking better than I expected. I think it’s safe to take these off, but…" He heard the soft sigh as the person leaned closer. "You should still be careful. Take it easy for a while."

The bandages unwound quickly now, loose strips falling away one after another. The pressure around his head eased as the last of the gauze dropped to the floor with a soft rustle. Azure blinked against the dim, flickering light in the room, his head feeling strangely lighter.

He turned his head to look at the person who had been helping him—and froze.

It was a face he knew all too well. A face he had seen countless times, though usually twisted in fear or twisted in death. It was the pizza delivery man—the survivor Azure almost always killed first during rounds.

But there was no fear in the man's expression now. Just a warm, gentle smile, one that reached his eyes. He looked at Azure like he was someone worth comforting, not someone to be afraid of.

The man—Elliot, if Azure remembered right—seemed to understand how overwhelming this must be. He didn’t rush him. He didn’t push. He just sat there, giving Azure a chance to take everything in.

Azure’s mind swirled with confusion. Why? Why were they helping him? Why weren’t they terrified? He had slaughtered them over and over again without hesitation. Some he had hunted for sport. Others he had taken down without even a flicker of emotion. Surely they should hate him—shouldn’t they?

His heart pounded heavily in his chest as he forced himself to look away from Elliot and take in his surroundings. They were in a small cabin, lit only by a few weak oil lamps scattered around the room. Shadows clung to the corners. The air was thick with the smell of woodsmoke and something warm and comforting, like stew cooking over a fire.

And scattered around the room were faces he recognized. Faces he had once stared down through a mask of cruelty. Survivors he had once made into victims.

Yet none of them looked at him with horror. None of them flinched away. Instead, their faces were filled with something even worse—pity.

The weight of their pity wrapped around him like chains.

Panic began to creep up his spine, clawing at his chest. His breath hitched as he looked down at himself for the first time—at his hands.

They were pale, almost sickly white, with patches of black creeping across his skin like ink stains. His fingers trembled slightly as he turned them over, trying to understand what he was seeing. His chest grew tight, and a cold sweat broke out across his skin.

His gaze dropped lower, and he stared at the gray pants he wore. Familiar. Hauntingly familiar. They were the same kind of pants he had worn back in the days of the cult, before he had been forsakened.

He should have panicked. He should have fallen apart. Any normal person would have.

But Azure just sat there, frozen, thinking.

It didn’t take him long to piece it together. Somehow, his body had reverted to what it once was—before he had become a monster, before the Spectere had twisted him into a killer.

That was why they weren’t afraid.

For a long time, he stayed still, his heart hammering against his ribs, staring down at the pale hands that didn’t feel like his own, yet used to be.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Azure didn’t know whether he should feel relief or terror. He no longer heard the voices whispering into his ear about how he should feel.

Elliot spoke up from beside him, his voice light. “We should probably show you around! Hmm… I’m busy making lunch, though.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Chance? Can you do it?”

He stood up and held out a hand to Azure, who hesitated briefly before accepting it. Slowly, Azure rose from the couch, still a little unsteady on his feet.

Chance gave a half-hearted shrug. “No can do, bud. I’ve gotta clean my gun today. Been putting it off too long.” He leaned back, then added with a grin, “How about 007–”

“No,” Elliot cut in sharply, arms crossing with zero hesitation. “Absolutely not.”

At the dining table, a man with slightly graying hair and tired eyes deflated, visibly sinking in his seat. The retired hacker gave an exaggerated sigh.

“Oh, come on, man–”

“I said no. I do not trust him.”

Chance let out a groan and threw his hands in the air. “Alright, alright. What about Taph then? He’s always free.”

Elliot gave him a look. “Taph’s mute, you dingus. We’ve been living with him for months and I barely know any sign language. You think Azure does?”

Off to the side, Azure rolled his eyes. They could’ve asked instead of assuming. He didn’t know much, but he knew enough to understand the basics.

“Okay, fine, jeez,” Chance muttered. “How about Two Time? They're always around.”

And just like that, the temperature in Azure’s body dropped ten degrees.

Oh. Hell. No.

Panic crawled up his throat. Do not let that psycho be alone with me! Just because Azure was trying not to hate them anymore didn’t mean he forgot. Two Time had sacrificed him. Forgiveness wasn’t the same as trust.

Elliot tilted his head, muttering to himself, “Two Time’s… a little strange, sure. But they’ve got the spawn of their shirt too, so maybe they’ll get along.”

“Wai–” Azure tried to interrupt, voice cracking slightly.

“Perfect! Settled, then,” Elliot said cheerfully, grabbing Azure by the wrist before he could protest further. “Let’s go!”

And just like that, Azure was being pulled along, barely keeping pace as Elliot dragged him out of the cabin and down a long dirt path lined with other cabins.

Azure tried to protest—multiple times, in fact. He tugged back, stumbled, even let out a panicked "wait," but Elliot was stronger and far too determined. After a while, Azure gave up, his feet dragging as Elliot led him to a small cabin nestled near the tree line.

Hanging on the door was a symbol—one Azure recognized all too well. The mark of the Spawn.

Of course it was.

Elliot raised a hand and knocked, the sound firm yet polite against the wooden surface.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then—thud.

A loud crash echoed from inside, like someone had just fallen straight to the floor. Fast footsteps followed, frantic and uneven, thudding toward the door.

It creaked open just a crack.

Two Time peeked out from behind it, their head tilted slightly, hair a mess, but smile perfectly in place. Their eyes—those dark, hollow eyes—locked onto Elliot’s first. Their smile reached their eyes, yes, but not in the way it used to.

Azure stared from behind Elliot’s shoulder, breath caught in his throat.

He remembered those eyes differently. Once, they’d held stars—glittering, dancing things that made it hard to look away. But now those stars were gone.

Extinguished. Like someone had dropped the sky into the ocean and left it to drown.

He’d never noticed it during the rounds. Maybe because he was too consumed with hatred. Too focused on revenge or fear or rage—he hadn’t seen the difference. But now that he was still, now that there was no blood on his hands, he could see it clearly.

The smile was the same. Or at least, it looked the same.

He would always remember their smiles. The way Two Time used to grin when they were sprawled on the floor, laughing at his awful plant jokes. The way their nose scrunched when he tickled them, how they’d gasp between giggles and tell him to stop while never really meaning it.

But this smile...

This one wasn’t real. Not to him.

Now their eyes were clouded. Hollow. And that smile didn’t reach anywhere it used to.

“Greetings, Elliot,” Two Time said, voice light and pleasant, almost perfect. “May the Spawn bless you.”

It was cheerful.

But it was empty.

Notes:

I gotta balance these requests with my motivation, other request page, AND SCHOOL/TESTS!!!

I got this guys. I'm built like... Noob.

Trust guys! 🫰

(Can call tell where I got lazy?? I hope not... 🙏)

Notes:

Also! I headcanon that Two Time was tricked by the cult into killing Azure. They told Two Time that they would get a second life AND that the Spawn would revive Azure.

Also quickly wanted to make something clear that someone pointed out before. I do NOT use AI in the final product of my stories. I use it ONLY when I have stayed up really late trying to write as much as I can and my brain goes fuzzy. I want to write as much as I can for thus and it kinda keeps me awake to the point where I cannot think properly. It will ALWAYS rewrite anything that has used AI.