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mariacallous · 4 days ago

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“We’ve seen arson, sabotage and more: dangerous actions conducted with increasing recklessness,” warned Ken McCallum, the head of MI5, Britain’s domestic security and counter-intelligence agency, of the threat posed by Russia and the GRU, its military-intelligence agency. “The GRU in particular is on a sustained mission to generate mayhem on British and European streets,” he said on October 8th. Other European intelligence agencies are equally concerned. On October 14th Bruno Kahl, Germany’s spy chief, said that Russia’s covert measures had reached a “level previously unseen”. Thomas Haldenwang, the head of Germany’s domestic intelligence services, told lawmakers that an act of sabotage had almost caused a plane to crash earlier this year as he warned that “aggressive behaviour” by Russian spies was putting lives at risk.

Russia’s war in Ukraine has been accompanied by a crescendo of aggression, subversion and meddling elsewhere. In particular, Russian sabotage in Europe has grown dramatically. “We see acts of sabotage happening in Europe now,” Vice-Admiral Nils Andreas Stensones, the head of the Norwegian Intelligence Service, said in September. Sir Richard Moore, the chief of MI6, Britain’s foreign-intelligence agency, put it more bluntly: “Russian intelligence services have gone a bit feral, frankly.”

The Kremlin’s men have squeezed the West out of several African states. Its hackers, Poland’s security services said, have tried to paralyse the country in the political, military, and economic spheres. Russia’s propagandists have pumped disinformation around the world. Its armed forces want to put a nuclear weapon in orbit. Russian foreign policy has long dabbled in chaos. Now it seems to aim at little else.

Start with the summer of sabotage. In April Germany arrested two German-Russian nationals on suspicion of plotting attacks on American military facilities and other targets on behalf of the GRU. The same month Poland arrested a man who was preparing to pass the GRU information on Rzeszow airport, a hub for arms to Ukraine, and Britain charged several men over an arson attack on a Ukrainian-owned logistics firm in London. The men were accused of aiding the Wagner Group, a mercenary outfit now under the GRU’s control. In June France arrested a Russian-Ukrainian who was wounded after attempting to make a bomb in his hotel room in Paris. In July it emerged that Russia had plotted to kill Armin Papperger, the boss of Rheinmetall, Germany’s largest arms firm. On September 9th air traffic at Stockholm’s Arlanda airport was shut down for more than two hours after drones were spotted over runways. “We suspect it was a deliberate act,” a police spokesperson said. American officials warn that Russian vessels are reconnoitring underwater cables.

Even where Russia has not resorted to violence, it has sought to stir the pot in other ways. The Baltic states have arrested a number of people for what they say are Russian-sponsored provocations. French intelligence officials claim that Russia was responsible for the appearance of coffins draped with the French flag and bearing the message “French soldiers of Ukraine” left at the Eiffel Tower in Paris in June. Many of these actions are aimed at fanning opposition to aid for Ukraine. But others are intended simply to widen splits in society of all kinds, even if these have little or no link to the war. France says that Russia was also behind the graffiti of 250 Stars of David on walls in Paris in November, an effort to fuel antisemitism, which has surged since the start of the Israel-Hamas conflict.

Much of Russia’s activity has been virtual. In April hackers with ties to the GRU seem to have manipulated control systems for water plants in America and Poland. In September America, Britain, Ukraine and several other countries published details of cyber-attacks by the GRU’s Unit 29155, a group that was previously known for assassinations in Europe, including a botched effort to poison Sergei Skripal, a former Russian intelligence officer. The GRU’s cyber efforts, which had been ongoing since at least 2020, were not just aimed at espionage, but also “reputational harm” by stealing and leaking information and “systematic sabotage” by destroying data, according to America and its allies.

Beyond Europe, GRU officers have been in Yemen alongside the Houthis, a rebel group that has attacked ships in the Red Sea, ostensibly in solidarity with Palestinians. Russia, angered by America’s provision of long-range missiles to Ukraine, came close to providing weapons to the group in July, CNN reported, but reversed course after strong opposition from Saudi Arabia. The fact that Vladimir Putin, Russia’s president, was willing to alienate Muhammad bin Salman, the kingdom’s de facto ruler whom he had courted for years, is an indication of how Russia’s war has cannibalised its wider foreign policy.

Everything everywhere

“What Putin is trying to do is hit us all over the place,” argues Fiona Hill, who previously served as the top Russia official in America’s National Security Council. She compares the strategy to the Oscar winning film: “Everything Everywhere All at Once”. In Africa, for instance, Russia has used mercenaries to supplant French and American influence in the aftermath of coups in Burkina Faso, Mali and Niger.

Russia’s meddling in America takes a very different form. In May Avril Haines, America’s director of national intelligence, called Russia “the most active foreign threat to our elections” above China or Iran. This was not merely about trying to shape America’s policy on Ukraine. “Moscow most likely views such operations as a means to tear down the United States as its perceived primary adversary,” she said, “enabling Russia to promote itself as a great power.” In July American intelligence agencies said that they were “beginning to see Russia target specific voter demographics, promote divisive narratives, and denigrate specific politicians”.

These efforts are generally crude and ineffectual. But they are prolific, intense and sometimes innovative. In September America’s Justice Department accused two employees of RT, a Kremlin-controlled media outlet that regularly spews out Russian talking points and lurid conspiracy theories, of paying $10m to an unnamed media company in Tennessee. The firm, thought to be Tenet Media, posted nearly 2,000 videos on TikTok, Instagram, X and YouTube. (Commentators paid by the company denied wrongdoing.) The department also seized 32 Kremlin-controlled internet domains designed to mimic legitimate news sites.

Russian propagandists are also experimenting with technology. CopyCop, a network of websites, took legitimate news articles and used ChatGPT, an AI model, to rewrite them. More than 90 French articles were modified with the prompt: “Please rewrite this article taking a conservative stance against the liberal policies of the Macron administration in favour of working-class French citizens.” Another rewritten piece included evidence of its instructions, saying: “This article…highlights the cynical tone towards the US government, NATO, and US politicians.”

Russian disinformation campaigns are hardly new, acknowledges Sergey Radchenko, a historian of Russian foreign policy, pointing to episodes such as the Tanaka memorandum, an alleged Soviet forgery that was used to discredit Japan in 1927. Nor are proxy wars or assassinations a novelty. Soviet troops were already fighting in Yemen, disguised as Egyptians, in the early 1960s, he notes. The KGB’s predecessors and successors have killed many people abroad, from Leon Trotsky to ex-spy Alexander Litvinenko.

The genuinely new part, says Mr Radchenko, “is that whereas previously special operations supported foreign policy, today special operations are foreign policy.” Ten years ago the Kremlin worked with America and Europe to counter Iran and North Korea’s nuclear programme. Such co-operation is now fanciful. “It is as if the Russians no longer feel they have a stake in preserving anything of the post-war international order,” says Mr Radchenko. This period reminds him more of Mao’s nihilistic foreign policy during China’s Cultural Revolution than the Soviet Union’s cold-war thinking, which included periods of pragmatism and caution. Ms Hill puts it another way: “It’s Trotsky over Lenin.”

Mr Putin embraces these ideas. “We are in for probably the most dangerous, unpredictable and at the same time most important decade since the end of World War II,” he said in late 2022. “To cite a classic,” he added, invoking an article by Vladimir Lenin in 1913, “this is a revolutionary situation.” That belief—that the post-war order is rotten and needs rewriting, by force if necessary—also gives Russia common cause with China. “Right now there are changes the likes of which we haven’t seen for 100 years,” Xi Jinping told Mr Putin last year in Moscow, “and we are the ones driving these changes together.”

Russia’s foreign-policy strategy, published in 2023, offers the bland reassurance that it “does not consider itself an enemy of the West…and has no ill intentions”. A classified addendum acquired by the Washington Post from a European intelligence service suggests otherwise. It proposes a comprehensive containment strategy against a “coalition of unfriendly countries” led by America. That includes an “offensive information campaign” among other actions in the “military-political, trade-economic and informational-psychological…spheres”. The ultimate aim, it notes, is “to weaken Russia’s opponents”.

This does not mean Russia is unstoppable. It is increasingly a junior partner to China. Its influence has slipped in some countries, such as Syria. It does not always back up its own proxies—dozens of Wagner fighters were killed in an ambush by Malian rebels, aided by Ukraine, in July. And Russian subversion can be disrupted, says Sir Richard, by “good old-fashioned security and intelligence work” to identify the intelligence officers and criminal proxies behind it. The fact that Russia is increasingly reliant on criminals to carry out these acts, in part because Russian spies have been expelled en masse from Europe, is a sign of desperation. “Russia’s use of proxies further reduces the professionalism of their operations, and—absent diplomatic immunity—increases our disruptive options,” says Mr McCallum.

Russian meddling is intended to put pressure on NATO without provoking a war. “We also have red lines,” says Ms Hill, “and Putin is trying to feel those out.” But if he is truly driven by a revolutionary spirit, convinced that the West is a rotten edifice, that suggests more lines will be crossed in the months and years ahead.

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frozenlight-gvf · 1 year ago

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Strawberry Wine: Part 1

pairing: barn au: danny x fem!reader (enemies to lovers)

summary: you'd spent the whole summer tormenting the new barn hand, but things were finally reaching that inevitable tipping point where you two would either fall in love or fall apart... or both

word count: 4.5k

warnings (for this part): language, dirty talk, ~digital penetration~, something to do with a hayloft...?, praise/degradation all that good stuff (18+ MINORS DNI)

a/n: this one is dedicated to my youth spent riding horses, everyone who likes imagining danny in levi’s and a cowboy hat, and “strawberry wine” by deana carter

***

Even without the heaviness of the southern July sun and that infamous humidity, you would still be hot under the collar.

You seemed to always wear a scowl. Perhaps it was because the muscles of your face were permanently screwed-up in a sun-blinded squint, or it was because Daniel never let you win a single argument.

Susannah– your mother and owner of the Nightingale Ranch– had hired the man to help around the barn– feeding the horses and cleaning the stalls and that– but she also had a not-so-secret hope that maybe her only daughter would take a bit of a liking to him. You were always a lone wolf, howling at the moon and snarling at any human– specifically the male type– who got too close.

Daniel Wagner was only the latest victim of your bared teeth; you’d ruthlessly torn out the throats of three other barn hands in recent years, mercilessly tormenting them until they quit the job, citing ��workplace tension” to Susannah as the reason for their seething resignations. But despite your constant raised hackles towards him, Daniel stayed. And he stayed with a shit-eating smile.

***

“Wagner, how many times do I have to tell you not to feed Chief until after the 4 o’clock lessons?” you scolded with a bite in your voice.

He flashed a teasing grin at you, carrying a saddle towards the tackroom.

“At least one more time.”

You stomped your boot on the packed-dirt floor of the stable, knuckles planted firmly on the waistband of your jeans. You knew tugging on the horse’s lead rope would be completely in vain, so rather, you focused your frustration at the man walking brazenly down the line of stalls.

“You know I need him for one of my riders, and he won’t do shit when he’s got food in front of him.”

“Come on, that spoiled little priss can ride any other horse here. She doesn’t always need to ride Chief. Put her on Tucker today.”

Scoffing, you marched after him, following him towards the dusty tackroom, the saddles and pads lining the walls making the entire room smell like leather and sweat.

“And who are you to tell me which horses to put my riders on? I’ve known these horses my whole life, and I’ve been teaching lessons for three years.”

Daniel grunted a bit as he lifted the saddle up to one of the higher slots, reaching his arms above his head then turning to you, catching your eyes flickering to the glimpse of torso you got as his shirt lifted.

“My bad. I forgot that you're just so far above me, heiress."

You bristled at his nickname. “I hate it when you call me that.”

“Exactly why I do it– heiress.”

Since your mother owned the barn and all the horses, you were the technical “heiress” of all of it, just as your mother was. But Daniel always made it sound like you were some rich princess, rather than the granddaughter of an honest man who built that barn and raised all the horses.

You grabbed a saddle from the rack, begrudgingly heading towards Tucker’s stall and tacking up the flea-bitten grey stallion. You would never admit that he was a perfect fit for your rider in the absence of Chief.

After the lesson, the little girl dismounted Tucker, going on and on how she wanted to ride him every week rather than Chief. There was no way in hell you could ever let Daniel know.

You led Tucker back down from the lesson ring to the stable, both of you covered in sweat and desperate for a cool breeze. Once his tack was off, you patted his soaked side, feeling his huge lungs expanding and contracting rapidly, panting.

“I know, me too. Hotter than hell out there today. Let’s get you a bath, huh?”

The sun was setting over the barn, so you decided to take Tucker out back to the pasture to cool him off, rather than using the hose right outside the barn. The grass was soft and green, and the cicadas were starting to sing. You looked to your left to see Daniel hunched over the broken fence, placing a fresh plank of wood and nailing it in. The incessant noise of the hammer was spoiling what would have been an otherwise peaceful moment.

“Do you mind?” you called over to him. Daniel looked up in the direction of your voice, and a smile dissolved the concentration etched in his face. You could have sworn for a moment that he was happy to see you.

“Susannah said I have to get this done before I leave today. So… no. I don’t mind.”

You rolled your eyes and led Tucker towards the water pump, feeling the heavy softness of his hoofbeats resounding in the ground under your feet. Trying to focus on the sunset and the rousing song of cicadas rather than the pounding of Daniel’s hammer, you cranked the handle of the pump a few times, waiting for water to come out of the hose you had attached to it.

After a few more cranks and crouching down on your knees to see what the matter was, you were about to give up on the old thing and go back to the barn to give Tucker his bath, until water exploded from the pump, sending the hose flying off and soaking you to the skin. You shouted a curse and tumbled backward in surprise, landing in the grass.

Daniel’s loud cackles from across the pasture were not welcome.

And of course you had decided to wear a white t-shirt today.

“Did Tuck get any of that water or no?”

You growled in frustration, reattaching the hose to the pump and finally getting some water to come out. You grabbed the hose tightly, wishing it was Daniel’s neck.

“Do you wanna come do this? Considering bathing the horses is part of your job description?” You shouted as you shook the hose, coaxing the low-pressured water out from it. Your wet shirt was sticking to your skin, making the nagging heat of the day even more insufferable.

Daniel took the nail he was holding between his teeth and dropped it in his toolbox, closing it up. He gave the fence one last look-over before sauntering over to you. You tried to hide behind the horse to cover yourself; now that your shirt was practically see-through, your black bra was prominently making its presence known.

“Go home, Daniel.”

He didn’t stop walking towards you.

“But I thought you wanted me to bathe Tuck?”

He was close enough now that you had to physically angle your body away from his eager eyes. You watched as his gaze shifted from your chest to your face and back again.

“Black, huh? I always pictured you in pink,” he said with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

Your eyes shot open wide at his baiting tease, and words came flying out of your mouth.

“You shouldn’t be picturing me in anything!”

Daniel cocked his head, his smirk widening and a laugh bubbled from his chest.

“Alright then. I won’t.”

Your jaw dropped, then you clenched it up tight, hating the fact that a blush was rising to your cheeks. Maybe you could blame it on your anger. Or the summer heat. But the idea of Daniel imagining you naked made your whole face burn pink.

“I said, go home.” Your voice was quieter now, but there was still an unmistakable venom to it.

Daniel chuckled and shook his head, putting his toolbox down in the grass and extending his hand for the hose.

“Come on, give it to me. I’m the barn boy, so I’m the one who has to keep the heiress’ perfect hands from getting all dirty.”

You kept a tight clutch on the hose, skimming the water from Tucker’s coat with your other hand. At this point, you thought your teeth might crack. Daniel moved closer to you, keeping his hand outstretched.

“Y/N, come on, let me have it.”

“No. I know what you’re trying to do. If you get the hose, you’re gonna bathe everything but the horse. And I’d rather not get any more wet than I already am.”

You heard Daniel snicker a bit, and you instantly regretted your choice of words.

“You’re fucking impossible, Wagner,” you grumbled.

He grinned, moving even closer. Leaning down, his voice was low and taunting, almost whispering in your ear.

“But you like me anyways.”

Immediately, you turned the hose on him, relishing in the brief look of surprise in his eyes as he instinctively raised his hands to cover his face. You didn’t let up, bending down to crank the handle of the pump to produce even more water for your attack.

A devilish grin crossed your face as you watched Daniel try and back away, but it was too late. His shirt was already drenched and clinging to the defined muscles of his chest and abdomen underneath.

Before you knew it, Daniel was upon you and wrestling the hose from your grip. You yelped as you felt the water soak your hair and pour into your eyes.

“Daniel!” you shouted, trying to push him away, but one of his strong arms was wrapped tightly around you, keeping you held fast as he laughed and let the remainder of the water drain from the hose.

Sputtering, you wrenched yourself out of Daniel’s arms, stumbling slightly, trying to keep a grip on Tucker’s rope.

“Fucking dick!” you shouted, sweat and sunscreen stinging your eyes.

Daniel just shrugged and smiled, wiping his wet curls from his face.

“Oh, so you can dish it out, but you can't take it?”

“I swear to God, Wagner, I’m going to get you fired.”

He dropped the dripping hose into the grass, taking the horse’s rope from your hand as you kept trying to get your eyes to open without them burning.

“Susannah loves me. There’s no way in hell she’d fire me.”

“Then quit,” you growled, starting to make your way through the pasture, back towards the barn.

Daniel chuckled, following close behind you and leading the horse with him.

“Aw, but if I quit, that means you’d never get to tease me again. And that’s your favorite thing in the world.”

“My favorite thing in the world is watching you leave the barn at the end of every day so I don’t have to be around you anymore,” you shot back.

“You watch me leave every day? Someone’s obsessed,” he teased in a sing-song voice.

You clenched your fists and continued your trudge back to the barn, not turning around or responding to Daniel. When you got back, the sun had fully set, and your mother was standing at the back entrance of the barn, watching as two soaking wet figures and a horse approached. You heard her mutter something like “I don’t even want to ask” before turning and heading up towards your house, which was a short walk from the barn.

The lights inside the barn were warm and cozy, the heat of the day still lingering. Your body was still simmering with anger as you squeezed out your hair. You turned to take Tucker’s rope from Daniel, but he didn't let go.

“I’ll put him away.” His voice was surprisingly soft, and he was wearing a warm smile as opposed to his usual roguish grin. You stared up at him, in a bit of shock– and hating how the sight of him looking down at you made your heart flutter.

“No–”

“Do you not trust me to put the horse back?”

“I don’t trust you being in the barn alone.”

“What do you think I’m gonna do? Set all the horses loose?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“Come on, heiress, I love these horses just as much as you do.”

You scoffed and opened your mouth to speak, but Daniel cut you off with a wave of his hand as he started walking Tucker back towards his stall.

“I know, I know, ‘I grew up with these horses,’ ‘I know them better than anyone,’ blah, blah, blah. Ok, I love these horses just a little bit less than you. Better? Are you gonna correct me on that, too?”

You cocked your head proudly, biting back a smirk.

“No.”

“Alright then.” Danny removed Tucker’s lead rope and hung it up on the nail outside his stall, turning the lock on the gate. He turned to you, giving you a dramatic bow. “Am I dismissed, heiress?”

Without a word, you turned to leave, but you felt a firm grip on your wrist. Danny pulled you back to face him, suddenly very close to you. You could feel the heat of his muscular body radiating off of him, making you flush even hotter. Your breath hitched in your throat. Once again, his eyes flickered down from your face, catching on the areas of your body that your soaked white shirt revealed. His voice was low and smooth, sending goosebumps up and down your skin.

“Am I dismissed?”

You looked back and forth between his dark eyes, swallowing hard. Daniel smirked at your apparent speechlessness.

“Well, heiress?”

“Don’t call me that,” you said, but your voice had lost all its usual force. Daniel’s closeness and the heat of his eyes was like anti-venom, sucking out all your bite and resentment. His hand travelled slowly from your wrist up your arm.

You backed away, shuddering slightly.

“Go home," you said, your voice sharp and trembling.

Daniel stood back up to his full height, rolling his shoulders back.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

~~~

You didn’t speak to Daniel at all the next day, practically shivering with unresolved tension. He knew something was up when you didn’t say a single word to him when he once again fed Chief before 4 o’clock; instead, you headed straight to Tucker’s stall without so much as a glance in his direction. He watched you with an eager smile quickly fading from his face as he realized you weren’t going to engage.

After you finished your last lesson of the day, you decided to retrieve your favorite horse– a beautiful dapple grey mare called Guinevere– from her stall for a sunset trail ride. The trail wound through the thick woods that stood behind the barn, just beyond the pasture. There was a lusciously cool breeze blowing, like the Earth was sighing at the end of a long day. You sighed with it, unable to shake Daniel from your mind.

You plodded along the trail on the back of Guinevere, enjoying the feeling of her slow, steady movements beneath you, unimpeded by a saddle. Riding bareback was your favorite way to unwind; you let your mind drift away, lulled by the warmth of your horse and her dependable gait.

A flash of a wispy black shadow flickered through the trees. The burning gold of the setting sun almost made it look like smoke from a fire before you realized it was the tail of Ares.

“Hello?” you called through the woods, wondering if someone else was there, or if Ares had broken the lock on his stall with a kick of his powerful hooves and escaped. It wouldn't be the first time.

“Y/N?”

Of course. Ares was Daniel’s favorite horse in the barn.

Daniel came trotting around a bend in the trail, saddled up on the tall black horse. He held the leather reins in one hand, forgoing a helmet for his weathered Stetson. You internally scolded him for his blatant disregard for personal safety, but you couldn’t help but think that he almost looked like something off the cover of a Western romance novel, with the golden light shining through his dark curls and illuminating his tanned skin. And him taking a liking to the most notoriously difficult horse in the barn made it even more cliche.

“You shouldn’t be out on the trails. Don’t you have work to do?”

Daniel shrugged and urged his horse closer to you. “I finished everything before 3 o’clock. You know, I do my job a lot better when you’re not constantly torturing me all day.” Something in his voice almost sounded regretful-- like he missed your taunts. But he hid it well behind that damned charming smile.

You didn’t respond. Instead, you nudged Guinevere’s mane to turn her around, starting to head back towards the barn. The trail ride wasn’t worth it if it meant having to be out there with Daniel.

He noticed your wordless retreat. Surrendering wasn't like you. “Relax, heiress, I’m done out here. I was just taking Ares back and then heading home for the day.”

You turned Guinevere back around, facing Daniel once more. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, giving you a look of concern.

“What’s wrong?”

You shrugged, urging Guinevere forwards, passing Ares. “Nothing,” you muttered. You were glad to leave Daniel behind you, so you didn’t have to try and hide the utter longing in your eyes anymore. Ever since last night, you yearned to be close to him again. But the very fabric of your being wouldn’t allow that.

“I’ll stay at the barn until you get back. In case you need anything.”

“I’m fine,” you called back to him, already disappearing through the trees. "See you tomorrow.”

There was nothing but silence behind you, until you finally heard Ares’ heavy hoofsteps grinding on the gravel at the trailhead. You let out a deep breath.

You tried to enjoy your ride, but not even Guinevere’s gentle presence could calm you. She could sense that you were uneasy, her head on a constant pendulum swing as she looked around the darkening woods for any sign of danger. But she didn’t know that the danger was only in your mind– the irrevocable, perilous danger of falling for a boy.

Guinevere carried you back up to the barn, and you were surprised to see that the lights were still on. Usually when you came back from your late trail rides, the barn was dark and empty, the only sounds being the sorts and sighs of the horses. You assumed your mother was sitting in the small makeshift "office," perhaps finishing up some work.

You got Guinevere all cozy in her stall, giving her some loving pets and a kiss on her nose. But before you could close the gate, you noticed that her bucket of food was emptier than usual. You decided to head towards the back of the barn and climbed the ladder to the hayloft, where you kept a stash of treats specifically for Guinevere. A burlap bag of apples was your goal, but your mind instantly shifted when you saw a figure sat up against the hay bales.

Your heart shot to your throat and you almost fell back off the ladder in fright, but the figure reached out from the shadows to grab your wrist.

“Daniel! What the hell are you still doing here?” you whisper-shouted as he pulled you from the ladder up into the dark loft. The barn lights didn’t exactly reach that area, but you could still see his flickering smile, like a candle in the night.

“I told you I’d wait here if you needed anything,” he said, settling himself back against a hay bale, one leg kicked out.

You shook your head, sighing, trying to get your breathing to slow. “In the hayloft?”

“Where better?” He said, outstretching his arms, looking around at the space, then locking his eyes on you.

The entire reason for your being up there was forgotten. “Seriously, why are you up here?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I like it up here. It’s quiet. And I get a good view of the stable. Figured I’d get some payback and watch you go home this time rather than the other way around.” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes, that familiar frustration you felt towards him starting to simmer. “I told you to leave an hour ago, Wagner. You know I don't trust you to be in the barn alone.”

“Why are you always trying to get rid of me?” he asked with a stupid grin.

“Because I hate you.” You spoke bluntly, with the intention to hurt him. Anger was curling off your skin like smoke. But your words bounced off of him– he saw right through you and locked onto the desire bubbling just under your surface.

“You don’t hate me. You hate the way I make you feel.”

“Oh, yeah? And how do you think you make me feel? Other than angry?” Your voice was louder than it probably should have been.

“Turned on,” he answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You’re full of shit, Wagner.” You snarled, ready to rip him to shreds.

“But I’m right, aren’t I?” he said, standing up. “I turn you on. I get you all bothered, and if my assumptions are correct, I’m the first person that’s ever made you feel this way.”

You chuckled bitterly: an attempt to bring him down a peg, as well as to mask the sensations stirring within you. “You’re definitely not the first.”

Daniel cocked his head, and you instantly realized your mistake. You just admitted that he turns you on. You exclaimed, stomping your feet and clenching your fists. You were seconds away from digging your claws into him.

“That’s not what I meant–!”

You bumped into a stack of hay bales behind you. You hadn’t even realized you were backing up. Daniel was stalking towards you, his eyes intense.

“Oh, don’t worry, I know exactly what you meant.”

Before you could say another word, Daniel moved as close to you as he was last night, his breath fanning across your face. One of his hands grabbed the side of your face, holding you fast. You were about to protest, and Daniel could sense it, so he leaned his forehead against yours and stared into your eyes.

“Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop.”

His lips were almost touching yours, his eyes fluttering as his breath grew heavier. His closeness almost felt like static electricity; sparks flew between your lips as they threatened to collide. Panting already, you swallowed hard as he pressed his sturdy body into yours.

“Tell me you don’t want this, heiress.”

The tension was so thick that you could see it– you could see it in the twitch in the corner of Daniel’s mouth, in the imperceptible flare of his nostrils, in the lift of his eyebrows. Months of teasing and taunting were coming to their inevitable head right before your eyes, right in front of your face.

You didn’t tell him to stop.

He seized your face with both hands and pulled it to his, your lips slamming together in a kiss like a firecracker, setting the both of you aflame.

Your head felt hollow, weightless– but the feeling of Daniel was quickly filling it like water. He pressed you against the hay bale as the kiss deepened, one of his hands skimming down your body and squeezing your waist. You found yourself clutching at his shirt, almost like you wanted your bodies to exist in the exact same spot, with no space between them. You wanted to live inside him.

Daniel let out a grunt, meeting your whiny sigh as his tongue pushed into your mouth, finally tasting you for the first time. His body bucked into you slightly, forcing you harder against the hay bales.

You gasped into his mouth as you felt his thigh shove itself between your legs, applying delicious pressure on your most sensitive spot. He smirked against your lips as he started moving his leg back and forth.

“Oh, that feels good, doesn’t it?” he spoke in a soft, provocative tone, taking your little moans as a sign to keep going. “See what I can make you feel when you stop fighting me?”

You practically growled into his mouth, curling your fists around the fabric of his shirt, pulling him tighter against you. He let out a little grunt of surprise, falling into you.

“Feisty little thing, aren’t you?” He smirked down at you.

Your voice was nothing but a breathy whisper. You were just staring at his lips. “Shut up and kiss me, Wagner.”

He kept kissing you deeper and deeper, unable to get enough of you. His fingertips toyed with the hem of your shirt for a moment or two before slipping underneath the fabric to feel the soft warmth of your bare skin at your stomach. His hand was soon splayed out, his palm rubbing your waist and traveling up towards your ribs, holding you tight.

You were pinned against the hay bales by Daniel’s weight. His fingers started working at the button and zipper of your jeans, not wasting a moment before stroking your clit over your panties with the pads of his fingers. You sucked in a sharp breath, your head falling back.

Daniel chuckled darkly, and you knew he was feeling how wet your panties were. “What was that about me not turning you on? You’re soaked just from bickering with me, sweetheart.”

Before you could shoot back, he pulled your panties to the side and made direct contact with your swollen clit, making you choke on any words you were about to fling at him. Daniel raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth in a mock look of surprise, mimicking your pitiful moment of submission.

You started grinding your hips against his fingers, instantly addicted to the friction his arousal-slicked, rough fingertips provided you. Daniel smirked, enjoying watching you already coming apart for him.

“Yeah? My fingers feel good against your cunt, don’t they?”

All you could do was nod, squeezing your eyes shut as he slipped his fingers inside you, forcing a moan from your throat. The movements of your hips didn’t stop as you fucked yourself on his thick fingers. He matched your rhythm, hissing at the way you clenched around his fingers.

“Fuck, sweetheart… so fucking tight…”

A coil was twisting itself mad in the pit of your stomach, begging to be snapped. Daniel could tell how close you were by the crease between your eyebrows and your desperate gasps for air.

“Aw, is the heiress gonna cum on my fingers? Make the barn boy’s hands all dirty like they should be?”

You nodded frantically, mere moments from your peak.

“I bet you don’t even touch this filthy pussy with your fingers… would be such a shame to get your hands dirty, right?”

“Daniel–” you squeaked, warning him of your impending release.

“Maybe I should take care of this little cunt of yours as part of my daily chores.”

You whined as your head fell forward against his shoulder, your movements becoming frenzied as you edged closer and closer to that blissful explosion of pleasure.

“I know. Give it to me, sweetheart. Make a mess of me.”

A moan clawed up from your chest as you began to convulse, your vision going white for a moment as your entire body erupted with wanton delight. Daniel held you upright with an arm tight around your waist as your legs gave out. You clung onto him as the waves crashed against you. You could vaguely hear Daniel whispering words of praise in your ear.

“That’s it– yeah, that’s it, good girl… good girl.”

A few moments passed before you could string a coherent thought together. You were panting, trying hard to swallow past your dry mouth. You could hardly believe what just happened– it was like your brain wasn’t allowing you to process it.

Daniel smiled at your disheveled state, picking bits of straw out of your hair.

“So, I think it’s safe to assume that you don’t actually hate me, right?” Daniel said, breaking the silence and grinning teasingly.

He slid his fingers out of you and buttoned up your jeans. Before you could speak, he was already tipping his hat with a crooked smile and descending the ladder, leaving you swaying and trying to remember your name.

"Goodnight, ma'am."

***

PART TWO

Taglist:

@sunandthemoontwinflames @brujamagik

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#greta van fleet #gvf #gvf fanfiction #gvf fic #danny wagner #daniel wagner #danny gvf #gvf smut #greta van smut #greta van fic #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet smut

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