A/N: This is actually meant to be a part of a bigger story. However, one day I was wearing my green plaid shirt and fixing my hair and this story just started writing itself in my head. I was inspired by my own fucking clothing. How awesome is that? This is an AU, since EE is perfect for those. In it, Ella and her family live on a farm and Hattie and her family are visiting their less-than-reputable relatives from "up north." It's supposed to be a typical "north/south/dramatic sexual revelation" sort of thing. I'll add on to it, but for now, I leave ya'll with this. (No, the ya'll wasn't mean to be ironic.)

Grass fluttered against her skin-the sensation felt like pinpricks. She could practically hear her mother screaming at her for laying on the grass like this, pants down around her ankles and her shirt yanked all the way up. The muscles of her stomach stretched tight, tension building inside as she clung to a thin body clad in blue jeans and green plaid.

That fucking green plaid.

She hated that shirt, with its grease stains and dirty stains and she hated the jeans, with all the rips and the grass stains. It was disgusting, and yet she was clinging to it like it was her lifeline. Like she actually needed it, needed this.

"Mother…I can hear her yelling at me…" she panted, trying to keep her voice even as skilled, slender fingers worked their way beneath the waistband of plain white panties. White was meant to symbolize innocence-purity. Something her mother had educated her to save for marriage, to save for a man.

"She's not yelling at you. Stop being paranoid."

Her panties were gone then, yanked down her hips and bunched up around her ankles. Her exposure made her shiver, the hot July sun was beating down upon them, and it nearly burned her innocence was exposed.

"But she is! I can hear it, Ella!" She was sweating hard now, feeling what was between her legs dampen as soon as Ella's fingers made contact with it.

"Hattie, shut up."

Fingers plunged inside of her, the hole stretching to a limit that was meant to be reached gradually-the limit that her mother had said only a man could achieve. But Ella was achieving it, Ella was stretching her and fucking her, ignoring any and all notions about "making love" or making her first time special.

It hurt, it burned, she felt blood as Ella broke her-popped her fucking cherry.

"Ella…please…" Hattie groaned piteously, bucking her hips and trying to get more and get less, a mixture of want and hate and love and just too much too fast too soon too late.

"This is mine. Innocence…it's mine. I have you." Ella was hissing into her ear and biting harshly on her earlobe. Pain was everywhere. But pleasure wasn't far behind.

"Deeper…d-deeper please…make her go away."

Hattie pleaded and pleaded, hips wild and wanton as Ella's fingers moved inside of her mercilessly. She felt like she were being torn apart, but the pain was melting into a pleasure so intense that her mother's yelling was becoming nothing more than a bothersome drone in the background. The sounds and smells of sex were so intense that she wanted to pass out…wanted to fade away or curl up into a ball and never see the light of day ever again.

She didn't want to see the fucking Frell farm anymore. Didn't want to see Ella. But Ella was fucking her and making her feel so fantastic and so degraded and absolutely worthless, and it was probably the best feeling of her life.

"And you call me the dyke. How funny. I'm not the one being fucked by a farm girl."

Ella's anger seethed through her every pore, and Hattie wanted to cry. She wanted to sob and claw at Ella's back and make her bleed. But she didn't. Her arms stayed still at her sides and her fingers dug into the grass beneath her and she felt so dirty. Soiled. Practically shit on by Ella's cruel dose of reality.

Her mother's insults rang through her head,

..

And all she could think about was that the person her mother directed all of that at was inside of her.

"Oh, god Ella…Ella…I'm…oh fuck…"

The curse sounded strange on her mouth. Her mother had repeatedly told her, swearing isn't for ladies. And Hattie had to be a lady. She had to be prim and proper. Had to be what her mother wanted. Had to be…

"Ella! Fuck me, Ella! Fuck me…"

She saw stars-millions upon millions of stars before her eyes, and they swirled and curved and made her dizzy…it felt so good to be so wrong. It felt so good to be what her mother didn't want her to be.

Hattie clung to Ella, took in the scent of grass and farm smell and the fabric of her plaid shirt. That fucking green plaid shirt.

She'd always promised herself she'd never lose her innocence to a fucking farm girl.

She'd always promised herself she'd never love a fucking farm girl.

She always promised herself she'd never be…

"You're exactly what your mother hates."