Hange Fanart Novels & Stories

“It happened at the nightclub. I walked in. Nothing seemed shady. It was a normal club. Maybe it was just a rumor. At least that's what I thought. But I wish I never would have gone. People were looking at me weirdly, but I didn’t think much of it at first. I walked to the bar. The men sitting beside me were side-eyeing. It was starting to creep me out. “Excuse me, I’d like a margarita!” The bartender looked at me in amusement. “We don’t serve those here.” “I’ll have a Cosmopolitan then.” “Don’t have it.” “Moscow?” “Nope” “Old fashioned?” “No” What kind of bar doesn’t serve these common beverages? “What do you have then?” He eyed me up and down. “Bloody fang, Vamptini, Dark Fangroni, Blood o

signs, the fan club had taken over entire sections. Several large, colorful banners stood out prominently: “HARLOW x JONES: ENEMIES TO LOVERS ARC” “KANE + DANICA = CHAOS & CUDDLES” (with a cartoon teddy bear waving a hockey stick) “Protect Her, Captain Soft!” “From Hits to Hearts – Go Harlow-Jones!”

She was left with no choice and left alongside Nicholas who said that he will send her to the library before he leaves. Zinnia already knew that saying no will only annoy the overly doting man and so she didn’t react to it anymore. She can only allow the man to pamper her to his heart's content. As they walked past the tall gigantic walls, Zinnia went silent as she felt the extreme familiarity from the artworks hanging on the wall. Some of the framed artworks had names on them while the others didn't. Most of them were sketches of forests, wolves, the moon, and some kind of artwork about a goddess that somehow causes her mind to go blank from time to time.

Sara’s eyes squinted and her eyes seemed full of anger. Rachel chimed in, her tone laced with sarcasm, "Don't take it personally, Sara. We were just stating facts. You know, Austin has rejected all our daughters just because he fell for an ordinary woman like you." Sara's eyes burned with indignation, her fists tightening at her sides.

At our class reunion, my so-called best friend, Shannon Drew, pulled out a box stuffed with folded notes. A line was taped across the top— [Draw one of Mia Martinez's hopeless-romantic quotes.] The room burst out laughing. Someone pulled a love letter I'd written to Damien Byford senior year. "Damien smiled at me today. I want to give him all my tomorrows, too." Someone else grabbed one from college. "It's okay if he doesn't text back. He'll think of me when he's not busy." Damien had never replied to a single letter. I'd always figured he'd tossed them years ago. Then Shannon drew letter No. 99. Leaning against Damien, she laughed as she read, "If you ever decide you don't want m

But she couldn’t explain it away, not when she looked at his mouth from which two teeth were protruding now. No, not teeth. Fangs! Pointy, sharp fangs like those of an animal. Like a Sabertooth tiger. She couldn’t think it, no, because to think it made it real. It couldn’t be real. It didn’t exist. He didn’t exist, not like that.