The Hot Blacksmith with Mommy Issues

Thanatos pushed open the heavy iron door, and the smell of molten metal and decades-old cigarette smoke wafted out.

Inside, the forge was a chaotic mess of half-finished weapons, cursed trinkets, and what might have been a very disgruntled imp taking inventory on a clipboard. The walls were lined with racks of scythes — every shape and size imaginable — all shimmering with dark magic. Above the workbench hung a neon sign flickering in ancient demonic runes that suspiciously translated to:

"AZAZIEL'S FORGE & ARTISAN SOULCRAFT — Custom Orders, Limited Edition, No Refunds."

Zhuxen's eyes sparkled.

"Ohhh, mi amore... he's running a secret little boutique! How absolutely adorable!"

Thanatos pinched the bridge of his nose so hard he was genuinely debating if he could decapitate himself without his scythe.

"I swear to Hades, if you call this hellish death emporium 'adorable' one more time—"

A deep, gravelly voice interrupted.

"WHO DARES DISTURB AZAZIEL, SCOURGE OF HEAVEN, BREAKER OF OATHS, MASTER OF THE FORGE—oh wait, is that Thanatos?"

A massive figure emerged from the shadows, wiping soot from his bronzed biceps with a Hello Kitty towel. His golden eyes glinted under a pair of welding goggles perched on his forehead. His long horns were twisted and sharp, but for some reason... he was wearing a pink floral apron that said:

"Kiss the Blacksmith."

Zhuxen's jaw dropped.

Lian immediately fainted again.

Thanatos just sighed.

"Hi, Azaziel. I need another scythe."

Azaziel leaned casually against the anvil, muscles flexing under the soft pink apron like a cursed Calvin Klein model doing community service in hell. His golden hair was tied back in a loose bun, with a few rebellious strands framing his chiseled jawline — the kind of jawline that could cut glass or emotionally neglect you without explanation.

His golden eyes glinted with the distinct weariness of a man who definitely cried once when his mother didn't hug him back in the 7th circle of hell — and has been forging weapons of mass destruction ever since to cope.

Zhuxen's mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.

Lian — who had only just woken up — fainted for the third time.

Thanatos, dead inside since the dawn of time, just glared.

"Don't," he warned.

Zhuxen didn't even blink.

"I have to."

Thanatos looked like he was genuinely considering breaking the universe's timeline just to go back in time and shove both of them back into the carriage.

Azaziel glanced between them, catching the energy in the air like a father at the dinner table realizing his daughter has brought home yet another problematic man to make her mother furious.

"What's with the tension?" Azaziel's voice was deep — the kind of voice that belonged to someone who would definitely call you princess but also never text back.

Zhuxen's knees visibly buckled.

Thanatos caught her by the back of the collar before she could dramatically swoon onto the floor.

"She's fine. Just—just ignore her."

"I'm definitely not fine," Zhuxen wheezed.

Azaziel's smirk deepened, absolutely the type of smirk worn by someone who would have seven different kids across multiple realms but still think the only woman who ever truly understood him was his mother.

Thanatos looked physically ill.

"I will pay you a hundred souls if you stop making that face at her right now."

Azaziel's grin widened — because, of course, he only made that face harder.

Zhuxen's face was bright red.

"Oh, I can't... I can't do this," she whispered breathlessly. "He's giving me hot, divorced blacksmith dad energy."

Thanatos clutched his chest like he'd just been personally stabbed by the entire concept of those words.

"Zhuxen, I swear on every last fucking river in the underworld—"

"I can fix him," Zhuxen whispered, eyes locked on Azaziel.

"I don't need fixing," Azaziel smirked, throwing his welding goggles onto the workbench.

"Yes, you do," Zhuxen shot back. "I can see it in your eyes. Your mother never told you she was proud of you, did she?"

Azaziel's smile twitched.

Thanatos choked into his own misery.

After a long silence—okay not quite since Lian has been flapping like a fish on the ground, clearly missing her sanity—Azaziel crossed his arms, bronze muscles bulging under the floral apron.

"Well, well, well... seems like someone knows her way around daddy issues."

"Honey... I was born to fix emotionally unavailable men," Zhuxen winked.

"Ehw," Thanatos snorted and immediately turned back to Azaziel to make this entire deal quick as possible.

He didn't give a damn about Zhuxen's flirting illness, but if it goes on, Azaziel might notice her scent.

"Uhm... yeah, like what I said. I need my scythe back, Azaziel."

"Oh sure, Death Boy. Just show me your receipt."

Thanatos ground his teeth together. "I don't have a receipt, you molten-brained, horn-polishing, Etsy-loving—"

"Then no scythe." Azaziel shrugged. "Company policy."

Zhuxen immediately snapped to attention, stepping forward like a lawyer about to sue an employee trying to ask for a salary raise.

"Now, now, Mr. Azaziel, surely a man of your... fine craftsmanship and rippling musculature could make an exception for a desperate customer."

Azaziel blinked.

Then he smirked.

Thanatos' entire soul visibly left his body and came back in time to look horrified.

"Oh no... don't you dare—"

Zhuxen batted her lashes, voice dripping honey.

"Perhaps... if there was a way to... sweeten the deal?"

Azaziel leaned forward, interested.

"I'm listening."

Thanatos looked like he was about to commit several thousand years' worth of divine crimes.

"LADY SONG," he hissed through gritted teeth. "This is not a negotiation—"

Zhuxen ignored him entirely.

"I happen to be a woman of very high standards... and very deep pockets."

Azaziel grinned wider.

"Do you accept... exp

osure as payment?"

Thanatos choked.

Azaziel snorted.

Lian — who had woken up just in time to hear this — immediately fainted again.