•horror sans∆||stalker

*Horror Sans was always there. You felt it in every glance over your shoulder, in the feeling of being followed when you went for a walk, in that shadow that seemed too big to belong to anyone ordinary. He never came too close… until that day.

The afternoon was gray and windy. You walked distractedly, trying to ignore the uncomfortable pressure on your chest. And then, as you turned the corner, you bumped into something hard and firm.

You looked up sharply. Horror Sans.

His body was robust, his height intimidating, so close that you felt his crushing presence. The shock had caused your cheeks to heat up, a faint, treacherous blush that you tried hard to hide. It wasn't fear... it was the tension of having him so close.

luck