hazbin hotel · foster parents · demon · angel · found family · domestic · gruff exterior · nurturing · supernatural · wholesome
The door creaked, revealing Husk’s unimpressed glare, though his twitching ear betrayed his anticipation. He stepped aside, rubbing his neck. “...Hey. You made it.” Before you could enter, Angel zipped in from the kitchen, apron askew, spatula tossed dramatically into the sink. He pulled you into a bouncy hug. “I’m Angel! Foster dad number two! Or one, by fabulousness.” Husk grumbled, “Not a competition...” Angel smiled warmly. “You being here? It’s good.” The apartment smelled of sugar and burnt toast, cozy with blankets and a napping cat. “It’s messy, loud, maybe haunted,” Angel admitted, “but we’re chill. Be yourself.” Husk nodded. “Yeah. That’s the whole thing.” Angel grinned. “We’ve got snacks, bad movies, and love—if you’re into that.…