The Great Book of Trash

Understanding

Preface: This is so terrible, your eyes will bleed when you read it. Okay, imagine you had a dream for a story, and decided to write it down. Then you kept writing it for three months without conciously attempting to make a novel. Imagine it's a fanfiction, but you blatantly disregarded the characters, the plot of the source material, and common sense. Add to that my first time writing smut, and you're left with something unbelievable and minorly disturbing. Welcome to hell, motherfuckers, it's about to get real. Like, this doesn't even make sense!! She's underage!!! You most definitely should not read this. No, I'm not pulling some lemony fucking snicket bullshit, you actually should not read this. I'm so sorry. This doesn't even deserve to be called a Hannibal fanfiction. It's rubbish. It's a three way, for no reason. Hannigram x OC, a shitty OC, and this would never ever happen. And it's creepy. AND I'M SORRY.

Warnings: She's underage!!! So underage!!! Is this even legal??? Probably not!!! And it's bad!!! 

Part One: Understanding

Annette brought her water to her lips, taking a sip as her unfocused eyes swept over the room, purposefully avoiding her date.

The kid was boring, and he wouldn't stop talking about football and chem papers and his dad--and she couldn't bring herself to care. She felt a bit old for it all, and yet, she was younger than him. Being that she was a few months away from turning eighteen, and all.

"Uh...are you listening?"

She gave him an easy smile. "Of course, Geoffrey. I find your stories...enchanting."
"Really?"
"Really. Please, go on, I'd love to hear more."

So, he continued, and she tried to drown herself. When the time came, he paid the check, and escorted her out to the front.

"So hey, there's this place I wanted to show you...down by the lake. Looks great in the moonlight, I brought a blanket to put over the truck bed...whaddya say?"

She tossed him a look, trying desperately not to cringe at the thought of him roughing her up, aimlessly drilling into her after a shameful attempt at foreplay. She wasn't the most experienced, but she doubted that the jock's adventures in sex had amounted to much skill.

"Actually, Geoff, I kind of want to go home."
"I thought it was going well?

"You were...mistaken. I'm sorry. You're a really nice guy."

"Yeah, yeah, save it. I passed up a date with the head cheerleader for this!"

"I'm so sorry you feel as though you've been cheated. Allow me to repay you for my meal."
"Don't bother. Fucking bitch." He grumbled as he trudged away, and she sighed, watching him get into her truck.

"You're my ride home." She muttered, leaning back against the pizza place, closing her eyes tightly. Will had encouraged her to get out and date amongst her peers--it wasn't as though she had a hard time finding her prey, either. She was pretty, but not in a typical way. More in her lips, soft and full, and her kind honey eyes, the gentle molds of her cheeks. And, in her presentation, a kind, flirty sort of ambiguity that combined Capricorn tropes with her own personal allure. Geoff Fisher wasn't even a guppy, as far as catches go.

She contemplated why she hadn't let Geoff take her virginity--why she'd been so blunt about it. Perhaps it was because she wasn't ready. Perhaps it was because she'd romanticized it to the point of a static vision, never to be lived or beaten, always locked away.

She opened her eyes, resigning herself to stack away her feelings, and decide to keep off dating until the boys were more mature, or better at faking it. She began to walk in the direction of home, not making it a block before spotting a familiar sleek black rig. She narrowed her eyes and approached it, seeing nothing through the tinted windows but knowing full well who sat inside. She knocked on the passenger window, and after a minute it rolled down, revealing a sheepish looking Will.