#automatic strapping machine

[jashpackagings]

Automatic Strapping Machine

We are a Automatic Strapping Machine Manufacturers & Exporters in Gujarat, India. An Automatic Strapping Machine is meant to make package strapping easy and simple. It can enclose a strap around a package or a box and seal it, it is an ideal machine for many industrial applications. Such machines play an integral role in industries where heavy items, such as logistics, warehousing, and manufacturing, need to be packaged frequently. Packaging operations are speeded up, made consistent, and safest using this automated machine. Automatic strapping machines are used for product bundling, carton reinforcement, pallet securing, and storage shipment stability. They also save a great deal of time in mass operations where the manual strapping of each item would be too slow or not consistent.

[globalpackindia]

The PR SQ450 is an automatic squaring machine, This machine is used for high speed automatic squaring operations, majorly in the corrugation industry.

The PR SQ450 is made of high quality parts and has a heavy structure ready for heavy duty production.

This machine is suited to perform best with the automatic strapping machine PR 350R for use in the corrugated box manufacturing industry.

[fhopepackcom]

In today’s manufacturing facilities, typically strapping procession is rely on the manual or physical labor or semiauto strapping machine. Reducing your dependency on manual work through automation has the potential to increase your revenue and efficiency. Compare to the other industry, the metallugical and steel industry asking the strapping automation urgently. If the strapping and packing procession optimize in your project plan, the strapping procession will be speed up the processes without high lobor cost and less maintenance and energy costs. Investing in a high-quality strapping system is one of the best automation decisions to make investment return fast because it offers many benefits. 

As a manufacturer, FHOPE not only is comprehensive as a supplier, but also a comprehensive manufacturer. There are many high-quality strapping machines, heads and complete machines, as well as steel and polyester belts and a large number of accessories come from FHOPE's factory.

[qualisengineers]

SEMI AUTOMATIC STRAPPING MACHINE

Semi Automatic Strapping Machine is designed for efficient and reliable packaging of paper cartons, wooden boxes, and other similar items using PP straps. 

automates the strapping process

consistent tension

secure seal by heat

Semi Automatic Strapping Machine, available in both High Table (HT) and Low Table (LT) models, can be customized to meet different product line requirements, making it ideal for a wide range of industries that need to strap various packaging types quickly and efficiently.

How Semi Automatic Strapping Machine Works:

The Semi-Automatic Strapping Machine operates by placing a product or box on the machine’s tabletop and resting it against the resting pads. The operator feeds the PP strap around the package, and the machine automatically tightens the strap. Once the desired tension is achieved, the semi-automatic box strapping machine uses heat sealing to join both ends of the strap, securing the package for transport or storage. This process minimizes manual effort and ensures a consistent, secure seal every time.This machine is easy to use and improves packaging speed helping you increase your output and reduce downtime.

Key Features Semi Automatic Box Strapping Machine:

Semi-Automatic Operation: The semi automatic strapping machine automatically applies tension to the strap and seals both ends via heat, reducing manual effort and increasing speed.

Versatility: Works with PP straps, making it suitable for a variety of packaging applications.

High and Low Table Models: Available in both HT (High Table) and LT (Low Table) configurations to accommodate different packaging line setups.

Adjustable Tension: Allows for customization of strap tension, ensuring a secure fit for varying sizes and types of packages.

Compact and Space-Efficient: At just 910mm in length and weighing only 80 kg, the machine fits easily into both small and large work areas without taking up valuable floor space.

User-Friendly Interface: Designed with intuitive controls for easy operation, minimizing the learning curve for operators.

Reliable Heat Sealing: The semi automatic strapping machine uses heat sealing technology to join the strap ends securely, ensuring consistent and strong seals.

Product Benefits:

Increased Productivity: The semi-automatic operation speeds up the packaging process by reducing manual strapping effort.

Versatility: With options for High Table (HT) and Low Table (LT) configurations, the machine can easily adapt to different package sizes and line setups.

Cost-Effective: A more affordable option compared to box strapping machines, while still providing efficient strapping capabilities.

Reduce Labor Costs: Less manual effort means fewer workers needed for packaging. This helps cut costs and optimize your workforce.

Reliable and Consistent: The heat seal technology ensures strong and secure strapping, reducing the risk of package damage during transit.

Space-Saving: The compact design makes it suitable for use in various production environments, even where space is limited.

User-Friendly: Simple to operate with minimal training required, helping businesses maintain efficiency and reduce operator errors.

Applications of Semi Automatic Box Strapping Machine:

This semi automatic box strapping machine is ideal for:

Logistics and Warehousing – Secure packages quickly for shipping or storage.

Manufacturing – Bundle products neatly and prepare for delivery.

E-Commerce – Pack orders efficiently, especially smaller cartons.

Food and Beverage Industry – Strap light-weight boxes for safe transport.

Retail Distribution – Organize outgoing goods and reduce package handling errors.

Why Choose Our Semi-Automatic Strapping Machines for Packaging Solutions?

At Qualis Engineers, we offer industrial packaging solutions that blend reliability, efficiency, and versatility. Our Semi Automatic Strapping Machines are designed to meet the diverse needs of businesses, offering customizable options to fit various packaging lines. With a focus on durability, user-friendly design, and high performance, our machines provide the perfect balance of cost-effectiveness and efficiency.

Whether you need a High Table (HT) or Low Table (LT) model, we are here to help you select the ideal solution for your packaging needs. We pride ourselves on delivering top-quality equipment with excellent customer support, ensuring you get the best possible value for your investment.

Choose us for your semi automatic strapping machine needs and enhance your packaging operations with precision and ease.

Source code : https://qualisengineers.com/product/semi-automatic-strapping-machine/

[mrunalijadhav]

Automatic Strapping Machine Market Barriers: Challenges in Technology, Costs, and Global Market Expansion

The automatic strapping machine market has been growing rapidly in recent years, driven by increased demand across various industries such as packaging, logistics, and e-commerce. These machines play a critical role in securing products and ensuring efficient packaging, offering a variety of benefits like increased productivity, reduced labor costs, and improved operational efficiency. However, despite the impressive growth, the market faces several barriers that could potentially hinder its progress. These barriers range from technological limitations to market dynamics and economic challenges. Understanding these challenges is vital for stakeholders looking to navigate the market and identify opportunities for innovation and improvement.

Technological Limitations and Complexities

One of the primary barriers in the automatic strapping machine market is the technological limitations of current models. While automation has significantly improved operational efficiency, many existing machines still struggle with adapting to complex packaging requirements, especially when dealing with irregularly shaped or heavy items. Additionally, older models often lack the capability to handle multiple types of strapping materials, which limits their versatility in industries that require customization. As technology continues to evolve, manufacturers are required to continuously invest in research and development to enhance the performance and adaptability of their machines.

High Initial Investment Costs

Another significant barrier to the widespread adoption of automatic strapping machines is the high initial investment cost. Small and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs), particularly in developing regions, may find it challenging to afford the upfront cost of purchasing and installing these machines. While the machines offer long-term cost savings through reduced labor and increased efficiency, the high capital expenditure required for their purchase can deter many businesses from making the switch from manual to automated systems. This can limit market penetration, especially in industries that operate on tight budgets and profit margins.

Maintenance and Operational Costs

While automatic strapping machines are designed to reduce labor costs, they come with their own set of operational and maintenance challenges. The complexity of these machines often requires specialized technicians for repair and maintenance, which can lead to higher operational costs over time. Furthermore, as machines become more sophisticated, there is an increased risk of system malfunctions or breakdowns, which can result in costly downtimes and production delays. In some cases, businesses may be reluctant to adopt these machines due to the potential long-term costs associated with maintenance, parts replacement, and system updates.

Limited Awareness and Training in Developing Regions

In many developing regions, the adoption of automatic strapping machines is still limited by a lack of awareness and inadequate training. Many businesses in these areas continue to rely on manual strapping methods due to the familiarity and lower upfront costs. However, transitioning to automated systems requires a level of knowledge and expertise that is often lacking in these regions. The absence of skilled labor and technical training programs further compounds the issue, preventing businesses from realizing the full benefits of automation. To overcome this barrier, manufacturers and industry leaders must work together to raise awareness about the benefits of automatic strapping machines and invest in training programs to build local expertise.

Competition from Alternative Packaging Solutions

Lastly, the automatic strapping machine market faces stiff competition from alternative packaging solutions. Many businesses are increasingly turning to other packaging technologies, such as stretch wrapping or shrink wrapping, as these methods can be more flexible and cost-effective in certain applications. Stretch wrapping, for example, can be more suitable for packaging irregularly shaped products or those with varying dimensions. The growing availability and cost-effectiveness of these alternatives present a challenge to the automatic strapping machine market, particularly in industries where businesses are looking to minimize costs or streamline operations with a simpler solution.

Conclusion

The automatic strapping machine market, while poised for significant growth, must overcome several barriers to ensure long-term sustainability. Technological limitations, high initial investment costs, maintenance challenges, limited awareness and training, and competition from alternative packaging solutions all pose significant hurdles. However, as innovation continues to drive advancements in automation and as businesses become more aware of the benefits of strapping machines, these barriers may begin to dissipate. Overcoming these challenges will require collaboration between manufacturers, end-users, and policymakers to develop solutions that address the needs of different industries while promoting broader market adoption.

[jason598]

🚀 Unlock the Power of Secure Packaging with PP Strapping! 🚀 Are you looking for a reliable, cost-effective solution for your packaging needs? Look no further than PP strapping! Here’s why polypropylene strapping should be your go-to choice: 🔹 High Strength and Durability: PP strapping is known for its exceptional tensile strength, making it perfect for securing heavy loads and ensuring safe transportation. 🔹 Cost-Effective: Save on packaging costs without compromising on quality. PP strapping offers a high-performance solution at a fraction of the cost of other materials. 🔹 Eco-Friendly: Made from recyclable materials, polypropylene strapping is a sustainable choice for businesses looking to reduce their environmental impact. 🔹 Versatile Applications: Whether you’re in logistics, manufacturing, or retail, PP strapping is versatile enough to meet all your packaging needs. 🔹 Easy to Use: Our PP strapping is designed for both manual and automatic strapping machines, making it incredibly user-friendly. 💬 We Want to Hear From You! Have questions or need advice on the best strapping solution for your business? Drop us a comment below or send us a direct message. Our team is here to help! 🔗 Shop Now: https://www.alibaba.com/product-detail/Yongsheng-factory-wholesale-custom-black-polypropylene_62430816768.html?spm=a2747.product_manager.0.0.9c0871d2RKZb8R

PackagingSolutions #PPStrapping #PolypropyleneStrapping #EcoFriendly #CostEffective #Logistics #Manufacturing

[indiabizzness]

Unbox Efficiency with Premium Used Semi-Automatic Strapping Machines

Discover IndiaBizzness selection of used semi-automatic strapping machines, meticulously inspected for optimal performance. These machines offer a blend of efficiency and affordability, perfect for businesses seeking reliable packaging solutions. With intuitive controls and sturdy construction, they streamline your strapping operations while minimizing downtime. Enhance your packaging workflow with our range of quality, pre-owned semi-automatic strapping machines, backed by our commitment to quality and customer satisfaction.

[correapack]

Pet Strapping Rolls Manufacturers

Pet Strapping Rolls Manufacturers

If you're looking for a way to keep your pet safe while travelling, you may want to consider using a Pet Strapping Rolls Manufacturers. There are a number of different options available, so it can be tough to decide which one is right for your pet.

We are used for strapping down pets on vehicles. The rolls are made of a strong and durable material that will keep pets safe and secure. The rolls are easy to use and can be wrapped around pets of all sizes.  There are different types of strapping rolls that are used for different purposes. Pet strapping roll is the most common type of strapping is polypropylene strapping. This strapping is very strong and durable.

Strapping is a very important material when it comes to pet restraint. There are different types of strapping rolls that are used for different purposes. The most common type of strapping is polypropylene strapping , this strapping is very strong and durable.  Another type of strapping is polyester strapping. This strapping is also very strong and durable. However, it is not resistant to weather conditions. 3. How to choose the best pet strapping roll for your needs

When it comes to choosing the best pet strapping roll for your needs, it is important to consider a few key factors. The type of pet you have, the size of the pet, and the type of material you need are all important factors to consider.

If you have a small pet, you will need a smaller strapping roll that is easy to handle. If you have a large pet, you will need a strapping roll that is strong enough to handle the weight. The type of material you need will also depend on the type of pet you have. Some pets require a softer material, while others need a more durable material.

 The benefits of using pet strapping rolls There are a number of benefits to using pet strapping rolls. They are economical, durable, and easy to use.In addition, they provide a strong hold and are resistant to weathering. This makes them ideal for a variety of applications, including securing cargo in a truck or on a trailer.

 Some tips for using pet strapping rolls If you're using a pet strap to secure a pet in a car, there are a few things you should keep in mind. Make sure the strap is tight enough that the pet can't get loose, but not so tight that it's uncomfortable. Also, make sure the strap is long enough to fit around the pet's body. If you're using a pet strap to tie a pet up outside, make sure the strap is strong enough to hold the pet's weight, and that the pet can't chew through it.

 The best brands of pet strapping rolls There are many different brands of pet strapping rolls on the market, but not all of them are created equal. Some of the best brands include Rok Straps, Gorilla Straps, and PetSafe. These brands offer high-quality materials and construction that will keep your pet safe and secure.

Where to buy pet strapping rolls There are a variety of places where you can buy pet strapping rolls. You can buy them from pet stores, online retailers, or even from manufacturers. It's important to do your research and find a supplier that offers a quality product at a competitive price.

Contact Us

Phone No : +91-8700864205

Gmail Id : Correapack@Gmail.Com

 Address : KH NO -30/2 GROUND FLOOR, RANI KHERA VILLAGE, DELHI - 110081, INDIA

Url : https://www.correapack.com/pet-strapping-roll/

[packtechbalaji]

Strapping Head

TP-733-SH, TP-601YPT-SH and TP-601D-SH are the strapping heads to fulfill different requirements for tension, strap types, strap widths, etc. They are all ideal for pallet strapping machines.

Designed for PP strapping, TP-601D-SH is the strapping head ideal for light duty pallet strapping machines.

Having a robust and compact design along with advanced production process, it fulfils the need of higher standard while keeping consistent Transpak quality. It provides maximum quality with less cost.

[shreebalajipacktech]

Polyester (PET) strapping is the strongest plastic for heavy loads. Our PET strapping tools include a Tensioner, Sealer, Combination Tool, Battery-Powered Tool, and Strap Dispenser.

[globalpackindia]

The PR 102A Automatic Box Strapping Machine has a PLC control board and thus can be connected with other machines on an unmanned packaging line.

It has a high stability rate and can auto detect, package and transmit packages up to 100kgs with ease and reliability.

For times when you need careful packaging, the machine can also be operated manually with the hand switches.

[thelotusrabbit]

DpxDc #14

(My flesh has betrayed me, so you’ll have to suffer as much as I am right now.)

Drift away.

Danny loved his parents.

He always loved them, no matter how crazy they behaved, how rarely they would talk to him, when most conversations with him were about how much of a failure he was…

He would die for them, and die he did.

That day, inside the machine, he died halfway, the rip in space went straight through him, making so a part of his consciousness operated in a separate reality from his own.

His mind was half in the present and half in every other dimension simultaneously.

He tried to behave normally when visions of other universes became a constant in the back of his head, giving him unwanted knowledge.

That’s until one day he saw his own dimension, more precisely, his own dimension a week in the future.

Himself, strapped on a table, screaming, his parents hovering above him…

He tried to make sense of it all, but in the end, the conclusion was obvious.

It didn’t matter how much he loved his parents,

They would never love him back.

----------------------------------------------

Leaving home didn't feel as hard as he would've liked it to feel.

When he stepped outside of Amity Park, everything became automatic, as his other mind gave him knowledge on how to survive on his own.

And like this, he started to lose himself a bit.

He started to shift his other mind closer, his consciousness passing from one to the other, until he started to drift away.

His body was still there, still alive, but his attention was on other planets, other universes, other realities, pasts, and futures.

His body was surviving, but he wasn't there inside it.

----------------------------------------------

He doesn't know how long it takes, but when he comes back, something's not right.

He's clearly wearing some strange yellow goggles and a mask...

In front of him, a guy dressed in a bat costume is doubled over, holding his stomach, blood dripping from his lips...

[uniquexusposts]

The one-off | Carlos Sainz Jr. x reader (1)

Summary: She’s not from the world of F1, she’s a sunshine-soft emergency medical specialist used to cracked ribs and bloody football pitches. But when a one-time case calls her into the paddock, she ends up face-to-face with the man she once loved and left behind. Carlos drives for Williams now. She’s just here to fix a shoulder. It’s clinical. Temporary. Professional. So why does it feel like everything unfinished between them is waiting just under the surface?

The paddock buzzes with nerves and noise, full of sleek bodies and sharper egos. It’s like walking into the belly of a machine that’s forgotten how to breathe.

Y/n steps out of the taxi, the sun pressing down hard on her shoulders, and adjusts the strap of her med bag. She smiles politely at the security guard who stood next to the gate, a smile that’s met with confusion. She scanned her pass and walked through. Her bright energy doesn’t quite match the paddock’s stiff professionalism. She doesn’t mind.

She’s used to being the odd one out.

Her badge reads: Dr. Y/N Y/L/N – Emergency Medical Specialist Temporary Access – Williams Racing

Field hockey, football, high-contact chaos; that’s her usual beat. Fast-paced games, cracked ribs, adrenaline surges, bloodied faces. She thrives in the mess. Her reputation has grown not because she’s loud, but because she’s always calm when everyone else panics. Kind to the athletes. Brutal with the rehab.

F1 wasn’t supposed to be on the list. It never has been.

But a call came three days ago.

"It’s urgent. One-time case. Discretion preferred. The driver requested someone with your record."

She didn’t ask which driver.

But now she knows.

She read the file that morning and felt the breath catch in her chest, even if her face never changed.

Carlos Sainz. She hadn’t heard that name out loud in almost two years.

The Williams motorhome is sleek and sterile, like someone tried to design a hotel lobby for robots. She’s led through a glass corridor by a young staffer who speaks fast and avoids eye contact.

"You’ll have the physio suite for the hour," he says, flustered. "Carlos will be in shortly. Let me know if you need... uh... water, towels, whatever."

"Thanks, I’m all good," Y/n says brightly, flashing him a warm smile.

He blinks like he doesn’t quite know what to do with that. She gets that reaction a lot. People expect someone harder. Sharper. Someone who barks orders.

They don’t expect her, sunshine voice, soft features, heart-shaped face. They don’t expect the shift that happens the second she starts working.

She enters the room, alone now, and exhales quietly. Clean table. Blank walls. Only a small Williams logo on the cabinet. She sets up fast, gloves, oils, pressure tools, ice packs, all lined up in practiced rhythm. Her fingers move automatically, but her thoughts are slower.

Carlos.

She hasn’t seen him since Madrid, some rooftop birthday, some too-warm July night where his laugh carried over the crowd like it still belonged to her.

She left before he saw her.

She had meant to forget him.

The door clicks open behind her, soft and deliberate.

She doesn’t turn.

She doesn’t have to.

"Didn’t expect you," Carlos says quietly, his voice lower than she remembers but just as steady.

Y/n adjusts the table height like it’s the most important thing in the world. "Didn’t expect you to be at Williams."

"I needed a change."

She nods once. "So did I."

Finally, she turns. And there he is, leaning against the door like he owns the oxygen in the room. Polo shirt hugging his frame, jaw sharper, hair longer than she remembers. There’s a new tiredness in his face, hidden behind his usual calm.

He blinks once when he sees her properly. "You look-"

"Don’t." She cuts him off, gentle but firm. "Shirt off. Lie face down."

A flash of amusement tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Still bossy."

"Still injured."

He obeys without protest, pulling his shirt over his head and settling on the table with the practiced ease of someone who’s done this a hundred times.

But not with her. Not like this.

"Why you?" he asks, voice muffled by the cushion under his cheek.

Y/n pulls on her gloves. "I’m called in for emergencies. Fast recovery. High pressure. You know. All the things you attract."

"You usually do football."

"And field hockey. And dislocated shoulders at 3am in random cities." She starts pressing gently along the edge of his spine. "This is a one-time thing."

A beat. Then: "Is it?"

She doesn’t answer.

Instead, her hands shift , from soft to surgical, mapping his shoulder like she’s reading a story in the tension. She finds the problem immediately: strain, deep in the rotator cuff, masked by compensation along the upper trap and back.

"You’ve been protecting this too long," she says gently. "Probably since your last crash."

Carlos hums. "Didn’t want to sit out."

"You’ll sit out if this tears."

"You always talked like that," he mutters, half amused. "Soft voice, scary hands."

Y/N smiles faintly. "You used to like that."

Silence.

She applies deeper pressure, focused and precise. Her energy softens between movements but tightens on contact, he flinches once when she hits a knot, but he doesn’t make a sound.

"You’re quiet," she says, half-teasing.

"Trying not to curse," he mutters into the table.

"That’s new."

Carlos huffs a breath of laughter, low and rough. It almost makes her lose rhythm.

"You always remembered how to hurt me."

Her hands pause.

Only for a second.

He says nothing.

She finishes the session in silence, professional to the end. When she steps back and peels off the gloves, her whole body feels like it’s buzzing, not from the work, but from everything unsaid.

Carlos sits up slowly, bare chest rising with each breath. He moves carefully, not because of the pain, but like he’s searching for words he doesn’t want to waste.

"You’re still the best," he says finally.

"And you’re still reckless," she replies, reaching for the ice pack.

Their fingers brush for a second.

He looks at her, really looks at her, like maybe he’s searching for the version of her that once stayed up all night on balconies and laughed at his terrible Spanish pick-up lines.

But Y/n only smiles, kind and tired and distant.

"Apply this tonight. Stretch tomorrow. Don’t be a hero."

Carlos stands slowly, polo draped over one arm. "I didn’t ask for you, by the way."

"I didn’t come for you."

Another silence.

But it feels different now. Not heavy, just unfinished.

At the door, he turns. "You ever think about Madrid?"

She tilts her head. "Only when I need a reason to say no."

He winces. Laughs once, under his breath. "Still sunshine with a bite."

And then he’s gone.

The door clicks shut behind him, and Y/n finally lets her shoulders drop.

She sits on the edge of the table, ice pack pressed to her own wrist where she’d overworked it from the pressure, and stares at the empty wall.

It was supposed to be clinical. Quick. Efficient.

But it wasn’t.

Not with him.

Not with Carlos.

And the worst part?

It didn’t feel over.

Part 2

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @crashingwavesofeuphoria @maryvibess @ironmaiden1313 @sltwins @heart-trees @npcmia @llando4norris

[ninus9607]

The things we do for love - Wanda Maximoff*

Pairing(s): Dark! Wanda Maximoff x Female! reader

Word count: 8K

This story contains dark themes, including obsession, kidnapping, emotional manipulation, non-consensual elements, dubious consent, violence, and possessive behavior. It also includes explicit sexual content,

tags: l content: Wanda Maximoff x Reader, Dark Wanda Maximoff, Obsessive Love, Kidnapping, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Breeding Kink, Dubious Consent, Strap-on Sex, Magical Restraint, Virgin!Reader, Soft Dom!Wanda, Aftercare, Love Confession, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn to Yandere, Dark Romance, Happy ending

AN: GUYS, IT'S DARK ROMANCE. JUST ENJOY, ALSO SORRY ABOUT EVERY GRAMMAR MISTAKE!

I've always liked mornings. They were quiet,  just me and my coffee shop, the sound of the espresso machine, and the delicious aroma of cinnamon from the muffins baking in the back. It was the kind of peacefulness I had come to rely on.

That's when I noticed her.

She walked inside the shop like a ghost who had come in from the cold. Her dark, bright red coat, messy curls, and eyes appeared to bear the weight of many lifetimes. She hesitated just past the door, blinking as if she hadn't expected to be there either.

"Hi," I said with my normal smile, scrubbing my palms against my work clothes. "Can I get you something?"

Her gaze moved to mine, shocked at first, then softened. She nodded and walked closer, taking careful, calculated steps.

"Just tea," she said. Her voice was low and nearly harsh. "Chamomile, if you have it."

I didn't say anything else, just turned to make her a drink. But I felt her gaze on me the entire time - quiet, curious, and bitter. I didn't mind. Her presence was oddly pleasant.

When I moved the cup across the counter, our fingers brushed.

She flinched. Then smiled.

"Thanks," she mumbled. "This place is... peaceful."

"Yeah," I responded, leaning slightly against the surface beneath me. "That's sort of the idea. There aren't many people around, especially at this hour in the morning."

She seemed to want to say anything else, but didn't. She just took her cup and slid into a corner seat, watching the rain paint slowly run down the windows.

I returned to cleaning down the counter while pretending not to look at her. But I did. More than once.

When she had finished her tea, she just stood up and left. But the atmosphere in the room had not changed; there was something more, but what was it? God, you're going insane. It's just another customer, and you're experiencing gay panic, idiot. 

My mind was screaming at me, and another customer was waiting for me anyway, so I just forgot about it and went to work.

It started like every other afternoon.

The bell above the door rang at exactly 3:07 PM — not that I was counting — and the strange girl walked in again. Maroon coat. A soft scarf hung high around her neck. Eyes that were usually a touch worn, as if she'd seen the world burn and sat through the ashes with a kind smile.

Hm, something about her seems awfully familiar? Do I know her? Have I seen her before she came here?

She said nothing. She never did, actually. I moved directly to the table in the back corner, beside the window. Her usual. It's kind of become her spot now, which is strange considering it's still my café.

I watched her from the corner of my eye as she sat down and relaxed. She stroked her fingertips across the table's wood, as if she were testing it, as if it might not be there tomorrow. I'm not sure, she does it a lot.

I started making her drink before she even glanced up. I simply knew what she wanted. Not that I was trying to impress her or anything; I'm not even sure she notices, but she usually orders the same thing. 

Chamomile tea.

It has honestly become automatic at this point.

When I carried it over and placed it in front of her, she looked up at me, seemingly shocked. "You remembered," she murmured softly but not coldly.

I shrugged. "You come in around the same time every day. It's hard not to."  Why am I nervous?

She smiled slightly — barely a twitch at the corner of her mouth — before looking down at her cup, which was warmer than it should have been. I returned to the counter and pretended not to see her grin. Or her voice. Or the way she glanced out the window, as if she were constantly waiting for something. Or someone.

It wasn't anything, I told myself. Just a frequent customer. Absolutely not, ridiculously beautiful woman... I didn't even know her name until today, when she stood up and left far more money on the table than she was supposed to pay with a small note.

Thank you for this excellent tea.

 You're an angel. 

Wanda

Wait wanda? I knew that name, hmmm, WAIT. SHE'S WANDA MAXIMOFF? THE AVENGER? 

As time passed, I became more thrilled about Wanda's visits. She became a regular, sitting in the same place at the same time every day. It was subtle at first, but she appeared to draw toward me, and it quickly became routine. I'd look up from the counter, and there she was, a calm smile on her face, ready for her standard tea.

She was very sweet-almost too sweet—and I assumed it was due to her kindness. But there was something in her eyes that remained a bit longer than expected. It gave me a nice feeling inside, a flutter I couldn't quite define.

One day, she surprised me with a small gift. It was a small package wrapped with a red ribbon, and as I opened it, I saw a tiny silver bracelet.

"I thought you might like it," she said, smiling gently and truthfully. "It's nothing much, but it reminded me of you."

I was caught aback, not expecting anything, and I'm sure my cheeks heated. "Thank you," I managed to say, my voice catching slightly. "It's beautiful."   When I put it on my neck, I felt an unusual tingling feeling that I didn't recognize. And as I glanced into her eyes, all I noticed was a sparkle, as if she was really happy; hmm, weird.

Wanda was always thoughtful. She'd wait for me after my shift, sometimes waiting outside the store, her presence relaxing and quiet. I'd find her there, leaning against the wall, staring at me with the same intensity I'd grown to recognize. It was not disturbing, however. If anything, it made me feel special, as if I were the only one she cared about at that time.

One day, we found ourselves alone in the shop, just the two of us, with the sunset light streaming through the windows. I was washing the counter when I realized she was watching me. She had always done this, but her stare was more intense now.

"You know, I don't think I've ever told you how much I enjoy your tea," she added, her voice somewhat lower than normal.

I chuckled while cleaning off the counter. "I am happy you enjoy it. You come here commonly enough; I'd say it's a favorite of yours."

Her smile grew, and something reflected in her eyes. "Maybe more than you realize."

There was a lull, and I couldn't help but notice a warm sensation slipping across my chest. Was she hinting at anything? I got nervous and struggled to keep my cool. Every time she was around, my world seemed to brighten a little.

It was then that I realized: perhaps I started to look forward to seeing her as well. There was something about the way she spoke to me that made me feel seen and important. The concept sparked a rush of excitement in me. Is it possible that I developed a little crush? Noo, me? Never right?

But I brushed the idea aside. Wanda was just being kind, right? She was only a friend, perhaps a bit more? But I did not want to leap to a conclusion.

"Thanks, Wanda," I replied, smiling at her. "I appreciate your company, too. I mean, you are one of my best customers."

She grinned, and for a moment, I could have sworn her eyes sparkled. "I'm glad to hear that, Detka,"  Detka?   she said. "I might just have to keep coming back... to see you, of course."

I was just wrapping up my shift at the coffee shop when I remembered I had forgotten to pick up some groceries for dinner. With a silent groan, I grabbed my jacket and decided to rush to the nearby store. It wasn't far from the shop, just a short stroll around the block. My feet felt light as I walked along the street, enjoying the fresh air. The city was still full of activity, but it was quieter than normal as the evening sun began to set beyond the horizon.

I entered the store, welcomed by the usual hum of light bulbs and the quiet rustle of people finding what they wanted.

But then I spotted her.

Wanda.

She was standing by the produce section, calmly picking out veggies, and seemed so... normal. But something about her presence sent shivers down my spine. My heart pounded a little, but I didn't want to confess it.

For a moment, our gazes connected across the store, and I felt my cheeks warm up. She gave me a fleeting, soft smile and then turned away, seemingly disappearing into the jam-packed aisles.

I stood frozen for a second, blinking. Did she just smile at me?

I shook my head, giggling quietly to myself. Get a grip, I whispered beneath my breath. She's probably just spotted you. You've seen her plenty in the coffee shop.

I hurried swiftly to the milk area, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach. But I couldn't help it. There was something about Wanda that drew me in.

I eventually got to the checkout desk, and there she was again. Wanda stood by the self-checkout, scanning her purchases with her back turned. She didn't appear to notice me, but I couldn't take my gaze away.

My pulse raced as I paid for my purchases, wondering what to do next. I could leave. I could walk out of here and pretend nothing happened. But before I could make a decision, Wanda turned around.

"Y/N?" she asked, her tone sweet and friendly. "Hey, I didn't expect to see you here."

I paused for a second, looking up at her. "Oh, uh, hey!" I mumbled. "I just needed to pick up a few things for dinner."

Wanda smiled, the same kind grin she usually has when she sees me. "Funny. I was thinking about getting something to cook tonight, too."

A pause existed between us. I wanted to say something more, like ask her about her day or what she was preparing. Instead, I simply grinned uncomfortably.

"Well, I'm sure you'll make something amazing," And with that, I quickly turned around and exited the shop as fast as possible to avoid making myself even more of a blushing mess!

Later that evening, after a satisfying lunch, I relaxed in my living room, intending to chill out from the day. My thoughts kept returning to Wanda and the way she smiled at me or spoke about her brother or the Avengers. I couldn't get over the excitement and desire that was developing within of me. I glanced over to my tiny table by the window, where a bouquet of flowers had been placed. I couldn't remember seeing them there before, and I was pretty sure I hadn't bought them myself.

My breath froze in my throat as I picked up the card that came with them. 

To lighten up your evening. - W.

When I brushed my fingertips over the tiny note, my heart skipped a beat. Wanda. She had delivered them to me, and I had no idea how she got into my flat, but it didn't matter. The notion of her carefully picking my favorite flowers caused some comfort in my chest.

I carefully placed the card down and landed on the edge of the couch, my phone buzzing on the coffee table. The message came from an unknown number.

I grabbed it quickly,

Hey, It's Wanda. I was too hesitant to talk to you previously, but do you want to go with me on a picnic tomorrow? It's just the two of us. I thought it would be fun—something quiet, just spending the day together.

My fingers paused over the screen, and a grin gradually grew over my face. A Picnic? I hadn't been on one in years

I quickly wrote my response:

That sounds fantastic! I would love to. Where do you want to go?

Wanda responded almost instantly.

I know of a quiet spot near the lake. I will bring everything; just bring yourself. 😊 I will pick you up at noon. Cannot wait.

My heart was fluttering. She is picking me up. I felt a bit thrilled at the prospect, like a teenager preparing for her first date. Was it a date? Or no? I am not sure, so let's not worry about it.

I entered another message.

That sounds perfect. I will be ready. Looking forward to it! ♡

I put down my phone and sat back on the couch, smirking to myself. Everything seemed so natural with Wanda. Easy. Comfortable. However, she showed passion in the way she looked at me and invited me to spend time with her. It made me feel special, not every day, an avenger asks you to spend time with him.

After a little moment of thought, I stood up and walked to my bedroom to prepare for tomorrow. That night, I tried to sleep, but my mind kept drifting back to the messages and the idea of the picnic.

The whole thing was pure gold, and she is incredible. Believe me, I never imagined anyone would be interested in me. God, I think I'm falling in love with her, but what if she only meant it as a friend? Maybe she doesn't like women at all, even though she's wearing so many rings. :)

I nestled further under the blankets, my pulse beating from the excitement of everything. I was ready to fall asleep when I heard a gentle sound, like the slight creak of a door opening. I blinked, groggily opening my eyes, only to discover Wanda seated on the side of my bed.

My heart has stopped. How was she doing...?

Before I could respond, she softly caressed my cheek, her fingertips icy yet soothing on my flesh. "Hey," she said quietly, her voice smooth and pleasant. "It's me. I apologize for scaring you."

I attempted to speak, but the words would not come. I couldn't move or say anything. Wanda's magic was like a blanket over me, sending me into a deep, peaceful sleep.

The sun was shining through the curtains when I awoke slowly, stretched out, and wiped my eyes. The room was calm, the type of serenity that comes with a languid morning. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I looked at the screen, still groggy from sleep.

Wait.

My attention instantly focused on something-something from last night. I froze. Had Wanda been in my room?

I shook my head, tossing the notion away as I wiped my face. No, that was absolutely a dream.

But it felt extremely real. I could almost feel her fingertips brush over my body. The memory had an odd charm for me, but I couldn't figure out why. It was only a dream, right?

I pushed the thoughts away as I got out of bed, stretching again and moving toward the bathroom. After washing up, I made myself some coffee and ate a light breakfast, still trying to shake the weird feeling. It wasn't like me to get so worked up over something that didn't even happen.

A few hours later, I waited at the window and watched Wanda's car drive up in front of my apartment. The thought of spending the day with her, just the two of us, made me feel all warm inside. I grabbed my stuff, took a big breath, and walked out the door.

When I went outside, Wanda had already left her car, a warm smile spreading across her face.

"Hey," she said, her voice warm, that familiar, reassuring tone that always made me feel at ease. "I'm really happy u agreed to go with me." Her Sokovian accent was very beautiful and attractive. 

"Definitely," I said with a smile, walking towards her.

Without saying anything, she moved around the front of the car and opened the passenger door for me, like some flawless, old-school gentleman.

"You didn't have to do that," I smiled as I slipped in.

"I wanted to," she answered simply. "You look beautiful, by the way, Malishka."

My cheeks heated, and I whispered just a little "thank you" while trying not to smile too much. She softly closed the door and returned to the driver's seat.

At first, the ride was silent, but not awkwardly so; it felt calm. The fingers lightly tapped the steering wheel in time with the pop music playing through the speakers.

"So," I eventually questioned, looking to her with curiosity, "What is it like? Being an Avenger, I mean."

She laughed briefly, but it was bittersweet. "Overwhelming. Constant. Sometimes I feel lonely." Wanda hesitated before continuing, "It's strange that so many people know your name but don't know you at all."

I frowned, observing how her jaw clenched. "Do you miss it?"

"I miss the people," she said quietly. "The ones who understood what it felt like to carry too much."

"What about you?" She questioned suddenly, her voice lightening again. "What's your day like when you're not making everyone's morning better with coffee and sarcastic commentary?"

I laughed. "Honestly? Not really exciting. I read a lot. Take a walk or listen to music. Sometimes I pretend to be mysterious and tough to get close to, but then I destroy it by sobbing over documentaries or chatting too much to customers about my books..."

The lake wasn't far away, hidden peacefully along a spiraling road surrounded by thick grass and trees that looked golden in the late afternoon sunlight. Wanda pulled up in the shade and shut off the engine.

She stepped out swiftly and unlocked the trunk, revealing a folded blanket and a little wicker package. She gave me a look over her shoulder. "You said you liked strawberries, right?"

My heart made a dumb little flip. "You remembered?"

"Of course I did, Detka. " Detka? What is the word? Is this some sort of nickname? petname?

We sat near the lake, shoes kicked off, with the wind gently blowing on our faces. She spread out the blanket with only a flick of her wrist by magic as if she had done it a hundred times before. The package includes fresh bread, fruit, chocolate, and even miniature cans of sparkling lemonade.

"You know, this is way too romantic for a friend picnic," I mocked, taking a strawberry from the bowl.

Wanda smiled but said nothing.

We chatted. A lot. Regarding books and favorite places. About music and sports. She described Sokovia in a way that made my heart throb. I told her about my mother teaching me how to make tea and coffee properly, and how I never leave the home without my headphones. The way she listened made me feel as if every word was important.

Her gaze followed the shape of my mouth as I bit into a piece of fruit.

Her fingers touched mine as I went for the lemonade, and she did not draw away.

She had a warm, strong charisma. The sun, for example, is not just warm but also has the potential to burn if you get too close. However, I did not move away.

As the sun began to set, bathing the sky in beautiful orange and gold, she carefully packed everything, moving slowly and thoughtfully.

"You didn't have to do all this," I said quietly as we headed back to the car.

She glanced at me, and the softness in her gaze revealed something deeper, almost possessive.

"I wanted to. I like making you happy."

I opened my lips to respond, but couldn't find the words. It was only a picnic. Right?

The ride back was quieter. The sun was almost gone now, and my mind was racing with questions I didn't know how to ask.

When we arrived at my apartment, she took me to the door. For a short while, it seemed that she wanted to say something. Her fingers moved slightly at her side. Then she simply sighed.

"I'll see you soon," she said.

"Yeah," I replied, smiling despite myself. "I'd like that."

And when I opened the door and slipped inside, I couldn't help but wonder...

There was something about Wanda. Something I did not fully understand. I feel like she is everywhere! But I don't mean it in a bad way, it's as if I can still feel her eyes on me, or her scent? I do not know. I might be overworked...

The days after the picnic did not feel real. They felt like dreams—or perhaps like I hadn't entirely awakened.

At the start, it was simple stuff. My favorite mug was showing clean and dry on the counter when I thought I'd left it in the sink. A book I was reading was suddenly marked on the correct page, even though I had not touched it since Monday.

Then it became more personal.

A pair of delicate underwear I liked was gone. Then another. And a bra. I turned my place upside down looking for them, but they seemed to have disappeared. Nothing else was missing. Just that. Just enough to be annoying.

I tried to joke about it to myself. Maybe the laundry gods were hungry. Perhaps I was losing my mind. But the pit in my gut told me differently.

Nights were the worst.

I started dreaming about her.

Wanda.

Always Wanda.

Sometimes she stood at my bedroom doorway, dressed in her scarlet witch suit, her eyes gently gleaming as she watched me sleep. Sometimes she sat in my bed, snuggled behind me like a second skin, her palm placed low on my tummy, saying my name as if it were sacred.

Sometimes the dreams became darker.

My hands were pinned above my head, and her speech was a seductive whisper in my ear. "Mine. Say it." Her eyes burned dark as she kissed me, her magic wound around my wrists like silk cuffs.

I'd wake up covered in sweat, my sheets twisted, and my body throbbing like it had been touched. Marked.

But no one was there.

Right?

I began locking the windows. Bolting the door. But every morning, it was as if nothing had happened. The locks should be OK. The windows closed. And still, I'd wake up with a feeling of her. Perfume hangs in the air. As if she had just quit.

I convinced myself I was dreaming things.

That the dreams were only dreams.

But yesterday... I noticed a message on my pillow.

Only five words.

Я знаю, ты хочешь меня                                    ( I know you want me )

No signature. No explanation. The handwriting was delicate, looped, and feminine.

I don't remember letting anyone in.

I don't remember anyone being there.

I burned the note in the sink and told myself it was some kind of prank. But I couldn't stop trembling. Not even after the flame died.

After a few days, everything seemed normal again. Okay - normal enough.

Wanda and I continued messaging. Her name was the first thing that appeared on my screen every morning. Good morning, moya lyubov. Do not forget to eat something today. Are you working late again? Do you want me to drop by with anything sweet?

She was warm. Thoughtful. Kind. That type of presence you hadn't realized you needed until she was there every day.

I did not mind. Actually, I was looking forward to it.

Okay, not quite. I was obsessed. With how she made me feel. Her words are patient. She always noted the slightest details, such as when I changed my hairstyle or changed the display at the register at the business.

I'd find myself rereading her texts during slower hours at work, smiling like a lovesick idiot. And every afternoon, exactly after lunch rush, she entered through the café doors in the same comfortable red sweater, as if on script.

We didn't discuss feelings or anything like that. Not yet. But I saw how her gaze lingered on me when she assumed I wasn't looking. She'd brush her fingertips against mine as she returned her change.

She never looked at anyone else in the same way she looked at me.

I wasn't sure what we were.

But I understood exactly what I wanted us to be.

It had become more difficult to pay attention. The discomfort at home hadn't truly vanished. My bathroom light flickered whenever I spoke Wanda's name. My coffee machine brewed on its own—once. Okay, maybe I was fantasizing about her more than I should have.

I had dreams of her holding my hand and putting a gold ring on my finger as everyone around us yelled and celebrated. Dreams of us kissing behind the café, away from the public, her lips soft and respectful on mine.

And other dreams. They left me breathless, hot, and tangled in wet blankets.

I awoke with her name on my lips.

Part of me wanted them to be real.

The things she does in my dreams cause me to moan her name every time I wake up. I can feel her hands exploring my body, but never where I need them to be, her tongue going closer and closer,  but then disappearing. AND I was freaking annoyed!

I wake up every morning with wet dreams that seem so good. God, what am I supposed to do? And I even have to touch myself only thinking about her, her fingers, or tongue. Shit I sound like some horny teenager.

The worst thing is that I've never done it with anybody before; YES, I KNOW I'm 24, but I didn't want to waste my virginity on some high school boy who would never be interested in me, until Wanda. She's different.

Even with the lingerie— Yes, again. Another part is gone. This is my favorite one this time. Cream lace and silky silk. It was simply gone. Poof. Like magic. I'd looked into every drawer, pile of laundry, and the back of my closet.

Nothing.

If it hadn't been for the nightmares and the electricity that tingled up my spine whenever Wanda stared at me for too long, I would have been even more terrified. But I was not. Not really.

Perhaps I should have been.

Instead, I smiled to myself, thinking, "What if she takes it?"

That afternoon, I was standing behind the counter replacing cups when the small bell over the entrance rang.

"Yo, caffeine queen," Becca beamed as she took her normal seat near the window. "Got anything strong enough to fix my life?"

I chuckled, having already poured her espresso. "Double shot, coming right up."

Becca Stan, had been one of my very first customers. Now, I have a pal. She stopped by a few times a week, always full of snarky remarks and advice. Today, she was wearing sunglasses indoors, indicating that her night out was either highly successful or very dirty.

"You look like you barely survived," I joked.

"I danced with a long-haired guy with a tattoo of his own face on his chest. So yes, just barely."

I snorted. "What's the opposite of a red flag?"

"God complex with a tequila chaser," she said with a big sigh. "Anyway, enough of my horrible choices. Spill. "What is going on in your love life?"

I blinked. "What love life?"

"Oh, please," she smiled. "The redhead who has been coming every day for, what, a month now? Same jacket, same smile, same eyes that are nearly stripping you over the counter?"

"Wanda's just...sweet," I muttered, but my cheeks felt heated.

"Sweet?" Maya lifted her eyebrow. "Bro, she looks at you like you're her prey, she literally looks scary."

I leaned on the counter, biting my lip. "Okay. Perhaps she is more than sweet."

"Tell me everything."

I hesitated, but something within me wanted to say it. "We had been messaging a lot. She brought me to a picnic last week. It wasn't a traditional date, but it felt special."

Becca grinned. "You like her."

"I do."

"And?"

"And I think about her all the time," I said gently. "I dream of her. Strangely often."

"Sexy dreams?"

I looked down, ashamed. "...Sometimes."

"Ooooh," she smiled, thrilled.

I giggled and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. "She helps me feel protected. "I feel like she's always looking out for me."

Becca lifted her eyebrows again. "Is anyone keeping an eye out for you? Or are you simply watching?"

I stopped. For a fleeting second, I remembered the missing underwear. The strange note, I still assumed it hadn't happened. My spine tingled when I was alone, as if someone was still watching me.

"Maybe both," I answered, gentler than usual.

Becca leaned back with a knowing expression on her face, drinking her cappuccino. "Don't let those gentle eyes deceive you, baby. Obsession might appear to be romance-until it isn't."

It started with the bracelet.

The silver is thin and delicate, with a little blood-red stone inset in the middle. She'd put it around my wrist with an almost arrogant look and said softly, "Just something to keep you safe when I'm not around." Her fingers lingered a little too long, and her eyes searched mine, as if she wanted to say something else but didn't.

I haven't taken it off since.

At first, it was just because it was attractive. Then it was because I enjoyed how it made me feel—warm and protected. Even though I was alone, I felt like I wasn't. And then... I could not describe it. I did not want to take it off. Not for a shower. Not for sleeping.

Tonight, I was closing up my shop alone. The rest of the lights were turned down, creating golden shadows across the café. I was cleaning a coffee pot when something grabbed my attention.

The stone on the bracelet.

It pulsed.

Not with light, but with power. A faint, constant throb that sounds like a heartbeat. A heartbeat that was not mine.

I froze. The room felt instantly cooler, and the hair on my arms stood stiff.

Just the lights, I reminded myself. Just sleepy eyes. But deep down, I knew better.

Then the door chimed.

I turned, already knowing who it was.

Wanda stood there in the dimness, silent and still. No coat, no gloves, and no smile. It's just her.

My chest clenched.

"Hey," I said, attempting to seem casual. "You scared me."

She went inside, closing the door behind her. She did not speak for a moment. Just gazed at me, her eyes dark and inexplicable.

My hands dried rapidly. "I didn't expect you. Is everything okay?"

"You didn't text me today," she whispered quietly, moving closer. "I waited."

"I—sorry," I blinked. "Work was chaotic. I did not mean to ignore you."

Her eyes dropped to the bracelet. "But you wore it."

"Yeah," I grinned hesitantly. "Of course. I love it."

Something about the way she stared at me made my heart race. Her eyes were heavy with emotion. Something heavy.

She stepped carefully behind the counter, fingertips tracing across the marble exterior, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I saw someone walking you home last night."

"What?" I blinked. "That was only a neighbor. I did not even speak to—"

"I don't care who it was."

My throat was dry.

"You belong to me," she remarked almost passionately. "You know that, right?"

I did not react.

"You're not scared of me," she said, her voice gentle and almost respectful. Her eyes were dark red. "You want me. You just don't know how much."

My voice cracked. "Wanda, I-"

"I'll walk you home."

"No, I am fi-ne"

I tried to think of anything to say, but I couldn't. Everything went black. The only thing I remember is her hands around me, protecting me from a fall....

My eyes opened to the darkness.

The air was cold. Too silent. An odd smell lingered—something wet and aged, like mold and cement.

I sat up slowly, my body throbbing in areas I didn't realize could hurt. My head throbbed, heavy and cloudy, as if I'd been pulled from the depths of a black sea.

Where am I?

There was no bed and no window. Only harsh walls—gray, peeling paint, and shadows. A solitary, faint light bulb flashed above, its chain swaying gently, as if someone had recently been there.

I called out, and my voice cracked. "Hello?"

No response.

Panic entered my chest like smoke. I stood, wobbly, and staggered towards the door. Locked. Of course. I hammered on it till my hands ached.

"Let me out!"

Silence.

Finally, a little slot in the door opened. The tray slipped through. A bottle of water. Some type of dry bread. No words were said.

It continued on like this for days.

I had no idea what time it was. No one speaks. Just the tray. Sometimes food, sometimes nothing. The water was never in full bottles, only enough to keep me from falling. I counted the droplets as if they were gold.

I lost count of how long I had been there. I began chatting to myself, only to hear a voice. I glanced at the ceiling and said, "What the hell is going on?" over and over until the words stopped making sense.

But what is the worst part?

I failed to remember how I got here.

The last thing I recalled was... closing the shop. Wanda had walked me home. She held my hand. Her voice was soft. I remember that.

Then nothing.

Was it a dream? No. This wasn't a dream.

Today was different.

The food tray came late. I was crouched up in the corner when I heard the metal move. But rather than going away, I heard voices. For the first time.

Male voices.

"You think she's awake?"

"I do not care. I'm bored with waiting around. She's not a princess."

My stomach sank.

Footsteps getting closer.

The door creaked open.

One of them came in—a large, heavyset man with a cigarette tucked behind his ear and eyes that made my skin crawl. The other remained near the door, moving anxiously.

"Hey there, sweetheart," the guy remarked in a thick, nasty voice. "You look lonely."

I backed up so quickly that I smacked the wall, heart thumping and lungs hardly functioning.

He grinned. "I just want to have some fun, slut"

"Do n't—don't come any closer," I said, my voice shaking.

The other man spoke from the back. "She said no one touched her. Those were the rules."

He waved his hand. "Do you think she's going to know? Just a quick fuck, that is all. She won't say anything."

He grabbed me as he unzipped his pants.

I yelled.

And then everything exploded.

BOOM.

The wall beside the front door burst inward, sending cracks of wood and concrete flying across the room. The man at the entrance was thrown back swiftly, his body smashing against the far wall with an unsettling crunch.

The other barely had time to turn before his body rose from the ground, dark magic wrapping around his body parts like snakes, twisting till bones broke and cries rang out.

Then quiet.

Wanda stood at the doorway, eyes burning deep red and hands shaking with fury. Blood streaked over her cheek. Her chest heaved, as if she had sprinted through fire.

Her magic disappeared. The man dropped to the ground with a dull bang.

She walked nearer, her expression changing from wrath to dread as she gazed at me.

"Y/N," she sighed. Her voice cracked. "I'm very sorry. I didn't realize—he wasn't meant to—"

She was kneeling before I could respond, her hands hovering but not touching my arms, as if she was frightened of hurting me further.

"They were not supposed to touch you. They were not even supposed to speak to you. I assigned them rules. I—I was watching. I swear, I was watching."

I blinked, my eyesight blurred.

She eventually touched me, gently and carefully, sliding her fingertips over my face as if she were confirming my identity.

"I am here now. You are safe. I'll never let anyone near you again."

"I'm sorry," she whispered again. "You're coming home with me. Home, moya lyubov."

...

...

...

The first thing I felt was warmth. Soft mattresses, a slight scent of lavender, and the heat of sunshine stroking over my skin through open curtains.

I blinked gently, my heart beating before I opened my eyes.

Where was I?

No concrete. There's no moist air. There are no locked doors.

Just silk pillows. A softer mattress. Clean pajamas on my body that were clearly not mine.

My throat was dry, my lips parched, and my limbs weakened, yet I was familiar with this room. I had spotted it in passing. Wanda's bedroom.

Her bed.

I sat up with effort, my heart crashing as I struggled to remember how I got here and what had happened previously. Wanda- covered in blood, whispering apologies and promises, hugging me like I'd break apart if she let go- was the last memory I had.

"Wanda?" My voice was strong and broken.

The door creaked open quickly.

She was there.

Perfect. Organized. Hair in curls down her shoulders, a silky purple sweater caressing her figure. She appeared to have walked out of a dream, specifically mine.

However, there was something behind her gaze. That ever-glowing red, pale but throbbing under her eyes like a beating heart. Dark, silent, and waiting.

"Y/N," she replied softly, entering inside. "You're awake."

"Where am I?" Despite knowing the answer, I asked.

"My home," she said without skipping a beat. "Where you belong to."

I swallowed hard. "You kidnapped me."

Her expression twitched.

"No," she said, her tone cold and measured. "I rescued you."

"From the people you hired!"

"It was never supposed to happen! I gave them rules! They ignored me; one of them touched you. Do you know what it did to me? Her voice broke, the quiet melting into something more cruel. "I wanted to burn the entire world for what he almost did to you."

I gazed at her. She was shaking.

She didn't even bother to disguise it anymore.

"And so what?" I whispered. "You brought me here?" Locked me in another room? "Lied to me about everything?"

She remained silent for a beat. Her jaw clenched.

"I was scared," she said finally. "I wasn't sure how else to keep you safe. I knew you would not understand. That you'd leave."

"Wanda." My voice dropped. "You can’t force someone to stay."

Her gaze grew dark. "However, here you are. I'm still here. You continue to stare at me as if you don't despise me."

That stung.

since it was true.

I avoided my gaze, my lips trembling. "I should hate you."

"You don't," she whispered quietly as she moved in closer.

Her warmth, irresistible charm, and obvious presence were overpowering. With her in the room, it seemed as though the entire world had reduced to the area between us.

I confessed, "I dream about you every night. I'm no longer even sure where dreams finish and reality begins. Your lips come to mind. Your hands. You treat me as though I'm yours. I missed you even when I was locked up. How in the heck does it describe me?"

Wanda gasped with surprise.

She was now kneeling at the edge of the bed in front of me.

"You're mine," she said, her voice breaking with passion. "You were always mine."

With a tear streaming down my cheek, I whispered, "I'm afraid of you. Additionally, I love you. Both."

Before I could speak another word, Wanda rushed forward and kissed me.

It was bruises. In a desperate situation. Everything.

Her body pressed down on mine with a desire that shocked me from the bottom of my heart as my back struck the pillows. Her lips moved as if she longed to reclaim me, her fingers got caught in my hair, and her knee slipped between my legs.

Helpless, I groaned into her mouth.

It wasn't sweet. It was not a slow one.

It was religion, battle, and desire.

Her fingers burned over my waist and ribs as they moved beneath my shirt. My hips bucked up into hers as her tongue teased mine and her fangs grazed my bottom lip with a snarl.

She kissed a line down to my collarbone and said, "I won't let you go. Never."

I sighed, my eyes drooping closed, "I don't want you to."

"You are everything," she said in a whisper. "You were always."

Then her lips found mine once again, seizing me and binding me to her in every manner she could.

I also gave her permission.

I let her. God help me.

She was shaking her hands.

It's from constraint, not fear.

With her hot eyes blazing like a hurricane hardly contained, Wanda loomed above me. As her fingers ran down my sides, her lips were swollen from our kiss, her cheeks were flushed, and her hair was flowing forward—tentative, respectful. As if she still feared that if she touched me too forcefully, I might disappear.

However, I no longer wanted soft.

Not this evening.

Breathless, I said, "Wanda."  moan "Touch me."

For just a moment, her power surged as her eyes darkened, a flash of red moving across the room as if it were attracted to the way my thighs moved beneath her.

Her voice was low and harsh as she rasped, "Say it again."

"Touch me," I said again, dragging her by her shirt as my lips touched her jaw. "Please."

All she needed was that.

Once more, her mouth was on mine, deeper and more demanding, her tongue slipping past my lips as her hand finally went beneath my shirt. Her cold fingertips skated over my ribs and up my stomach before cupping my breast through the thin bra fabric.

Arching my back into her touch, I gasped into her lips.

"You're so soft," she moaned, trailing her kisses down my neck, her voice heavy with need. "This is really amazing. Mine."

The way she said it made me ache between my thighs.

Her knee pressed in farther, pressing precisely near my pussy, and I couldn't help but moan. My hips pressed against her voluntarily, pursuing contact, and she groaned—low and guttural.

"Tell me no," she whispered suddenly, moving back just enough to meet my gaze, her magic crackling slightly in her palms. "Tell me no, and I will stop. Even today. Even after everything."

I reached up and covered her face with my hands.

"I want you," I stated. "I want this."

And then there was no holding back.

Her soft hands destroyed the pyjamas I was wearing in one swift motion... her mouth wrapped around my nipple, her tongue swirling while her fingers moved beneath the waistband of my underwear, teasing but never quite giving in.

"Fuck" I whispered, already wet for her. "Please…"

She rejected me, her fingers eventually lowering and gliding between my folds with a cry of pleasure.

"So wet for me already?" She mumbled. "You've been dreaming about this too, haven't you?"

I nodded, breathless, holding to her shoulders as her fingers slid within me, slowly and steadily at first, curving just right, causing my legs to shake.

She knew exactly how to ruin me

"I'll tell you a secret now: every night you dreamt of me, and it was I who implanted those dreams in your precious little mind. I stroked your body, and I controlled you, but I never touched you where you needed it the most. Do you know why?"

Her lips found mine again as she picked up the pace, her thumb circling my clit in a rhythm that made me cry out, hips bucking. The coil in my stomach tightened fast, unbearable and perfect.

"Because I wanted you to let me in by choice, and now look at you. Moya lyubov "

"Come for me, baby," she said softly, her voice like silk and evil. "Let go."

It did not take long.

I crumbled beneath her touch, gasping her name as if it were a request, a curse, or the only thing that mattered in the damn world. She kissed me through it, uttering praises in Sokovian as her fingers remained deep within, till I couldn't take it anymore.

When I finally opened my eyes, she looked at me as if I had hung the stars.

"You're mine now," she told me, kissing my temple. "Forever."

I was still breathless, trembling beneath her, my skin hot and slippery with sweat. Wanda stared down at me as if I were her best creation. I felt like I belonged completely to her.

And, yes, perhaps I did.

I let out a gentle giggle, attempting to get the power to move us and lay her onto her back. "Let me return the favor," I said softly, kissing her collarbone. "You always care for me..." I'd want to do something for you.

But before I could move lower, red magic tentacles wrapped around my wrists and pinned them softly but firmly above my head. I looked up at her, confused and immediately panting with passion.

"Wanda?"

Her grin became sharp, dangerous. Her eyes shone with molten red.

"You don't need to," she said, reaching down to kiss my face and sliding her lips to my ear. "Tonight… I'd want to mark you. Claim you. Allow the entire world to feel what I already know: you are mine."

Suddenly, I felt something press against my thighs.

Firm. Warm.

I gasped as the shape completely nestled against me before I could see what it was. Wanda sat back, straddling my hips, with a lightning red strap-on between her thighs, charmed and throbbing with her magic, as if it had been created from the raw essence of her power.

I swallowed hard.

It moved with her as if it belonged there. Like it was a part of her.

"Wanda…" I sighed, heat collecting down in my gut once more.

She grinned.

"I made it just for you," she whispered, trailing a glowing finger along my jaw. "Sensitive to every touch. Every clench. I’ll feel everything you give me."

I was already soaked again, legs trembling, and she hadn’t even done anything yet.

My breath caught.

"I want to make sure I fill you full until there is no more room. Even if it is impossible, my magic does not care. It wants to own you. Just as I do."

She leaned over me again, positioning herself, her body pushing against mine.

"And you, my sweet, innocent girl, are mine to ruin."

She pushed in slowly and carefully, paying close attention as every inch disappeared inside me. My spine straightened, nails sinking into the blankets, and my lips fell wide in a yell.

"Fuck," I gasped. "Wanda—"

"I can feel you," she moaned, her eyes closing. "So fucking tight, Detka. My precious little virgin. "Love of my life."

She pushed further, and I couldn't stop the moan that escaped from my throat.

"Look at you," she said, panting quietly. "Taking all of me in this way..." And you were saving yourself for whoever, some boy? "Some stranger?"

Her hand moved between my thighs again, pressing tight circles into my clit as she started to move slowly and deeply.

"No," she muttered, her voice shaking. "It was always going to be me. The first. The only."

The strap pulsed inside me as if it were alive, with enchantment pouring through each nerve ending. I was already close again, my legs wrapped around her waist, pulling her in intensely.

"Gonna fuck my name into you," she growled, her pace hard and severe. "Make sure no one else can ever touch you again without tasting me."

I wanted it.

I wanted everything.

"Say it," she urged, grasping my chin as her speed never slowed. "Say who you belong to."

"You," I gasped out. "You, Wanda—I'm yours!"

Her eyes darkened, and her mouth smashed against mine again as her cum filled your tummy...

"I know, baby," she said softly against my lips. "And now everyone else will too."

Your body was still shaking as she carefully, slowly pulled you out. Her spell disappeared like mist in the early sun, leaving just her hands—warm, genuine, and soothing—tracing across your skin.

"Shh, I've got you," she said, her voice suddenly gentle and human again.

You barely had the strength to talk, still stunned and overwhelmed, floating on a cloud of happiness and Wanda's affection. She kissed your forehead, face, and shoulder, murmuring apologies and affirmations into every inch of you.

"I'm sorry I got so carried away," she said, embracing you in her arms and drawing a big, warm blanket around both of you. Her fingers gently stroked through your hair. "You just… You make me lose control."

You grinned softly while gathering your breath. "I like it when you do."

Her laughing was low, filled with disbelief and admiration. "Of course you do." You are mine."

She snuggled you beneath her chin, your body perfectly matching hers. Her heartbeat was regular and clear. Safe. Home.

And then, softer than before, she muttered the following words into your hair:

"I love you."

Your heart halted for a brief minute, shattering and then rebuilding stronger.

She drew back just enough to look into your eyes, and her expression was blank. There's no magic. No power games. Just Wanda.

"I don't think I've ever loved anyone before," she said, her eyes misting. "It is not like this. "Not like you."

You reached up and brushed your fingers across her cheek.

"I love you, too."

And she held you all night, rubbing gentle strokes on your back.

And when the morning came, you were still there, wrapped in Wanda's arms—safe, full, and hers.

AN: Should I make part 2?

[huxhsz]

✈ — weightless paradise

transmigrated non-mc!reader x caleb

prev ch: 01 - "first" meet┆series masterlist ┆next ch: 03 -regeneration

This isn’t how the game was supposed to go. You're not supposed to be here. You're an anomaly. But if you’re already here, then… can’t you just enjoy it for now? Just for a little while? Before the main story begins? Before everything inevitably falls into place? ...Right?

— content warning/s:

non-consensual medical & scientific experimentation

torture and pain (electrocution, physical restraint)

implied abuse and dehumanization

cross-posted on ao3! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

CH. 02 — EXPERIMENT

You hear the screaming before you see them.  

High-pitched and thin, broken in places where their breath cuts out.  

You freeze. Your hand tightens automatically around Caleb’s wrist. His fingers flex beneath yours, but he doesn’t pull away. His gaze sharpens, head tilting slightly toward the sound.  

You know that voice.  

The door slides open with a soft hiss, and the cold, sterile air of the lab spills out. Caleb steps in first, leading you by the hand. He doesn’t hesitate. He’s calm—too calm—but his grip is firm. Steady. Like he’s done this before. Like it’s nothing.  

You don’t want to look. But you do.  

Unicorn is strapped down to the operating table, arms and legs pinned beneath thick metal restraints. Their hair is damp with sweat, sticking to their forehead and cheeks. Thin white hospital clothes hang off their small frame. Wires snake from their collar to the machines humming around them, feeding streams of data into flickering holographic screens.  

They’re shaking.  

Their dark eyes are wide and glassy with tears, locked onto the masked scientist leaning over them. There’s a thin instrument pressed against their chest, just over their heart. A faint blue glow pulses from the tip, growing brighter with every strained breath they take.  

"Again," one of the scientists says.  

“No—!” Unicorn gasps, but the scientist presses the device deeper.  

Their body arches violently beneath the restraints, their back bowing off the table. Their scream splits the room in half.  

Your breath catches painfully in your throat. You try to move—try to step forward—but Caleb’s hand tightens around yours.  

“Don't.”  

Your head snaps toward him. “We can’t just—”  

“We can’t stop it,” he says. His voice is flat. Cold. “It’s a waste of energy.”  

You shake your head, swallowing against the knot in your throat. “But—they’re hurting them—”  

“Yes,” Caleb says. His gaze is fixed on Unicorn, but his expression doesn’t change. “They always do.”  

Unicorn’s breathing stutters. Their chest rises and falls in shallow, broken gasps. Tears slip down their temples, disappearing into their tangled hair.  

"Please," they whisper.  

Your legs move before you can think. You pull away from Caleb’s grip—hard enough to make him stumble—but his hand closes around your arm before you reach the table.  

“Stop.”  

“Ca—Destroyer!”  

“If you interrupt,” he says evenly, “they’ll make it worse.”  

You choke on a breath. “How could it get any worse?”  

He doesn’t answer.  

The scientist adjusts the device. The blue glow pulses brighter. A sharp, electric sound fills the room—high-pitched and unnatural—and Unicorn’s whole body locks up. Their mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Their eyes are wide, pupils blown, their lips trembling.  

“I…” Their head tilts toward you, barely moving beneath the weight of the collar. Their gaze struggles to focus through the haze of tears. “It… it hurts…”  

You feel sick.  

Caleb’s hand slides down to your wrist, thumb pressing lightly against the inside of your palm. His touch is warm. His grip steady.  

They’re strapped down to the table—thin wrists pinned beneath metal restraints, pale skin mottled with bruises. Their dark hair fans out beneath their head, damp with sweat and sticking to their flushed cheeks. Electrodes are attached to their temples, to their chest, to their throat. Their mouth is open, breathless sobs escaping between broken cries.

The scientists are talking. Calmly. Flatly. Adjusting the settings on the machine as if Unicorn’s body isn’t arching in pain beneath their hands.

"Subject 001’s core stability is deteriorating."

"Increase the output by 5%."

"Yes, sir."

Unicorn’s back bows violently. Their mouth stretches wide in a scream you can’t hear through the glass. Their body thrashes against the restraints, limbs jerking uncontrollably. Their eyes are wide, glassy, tears streaking down their cheeks.

Caleb’s hand moves. He presses his palm flat against the glass, his jaw clenching.

"They’re killing them," you whisper.

"Yeah," Caleb says darkly.

Unicorn’s breathing sharpens—short, shallow gasps. Their chest heaves. Blood wells beneath the restraints where the metal cuts into their wrists. Their body convulses violently once—twice—before going still.

The monitor flatlines.

A sharp, continuous beep.

You flinch.

Unicorn’s head falls limply to the side, their dark hair sticking to their damp cheek. Their eyes are half-lidded. Glassy. Empty.

"They…" Your voice catches. "They’re…"

"No." Caleb’s voice is cold. Hollow. His hand slides down the glass. "Just wait."

You’re about to demand what he means when it happens.

The monitor flickers. The long, continuous tone of the flatline cuts off abruptly.

A beat of silence.

Unicorn’s chest rises with a shaky inhale. Their fingers twitch.

The scientists exchange a few brief words. A quick note is entered into a tablet. The restraints are removed.

Unicorn’s eyes flutter open. Slow. Unfocused.

They sit up. Their legs swing over the side of the table, small hands curling loosely over their knees. Their gaze lifts toward the glass. Their dark eyes are clear, calm. Empty.

They smile.

"Good morning!" Unicorn chirps brightly.

Your breath stops.

The bruises on their wrists are already fading. Their cheeks are flushed with new color. They tilt their head, dark hair glinting beneath the overhead lights.

"Where am I?" they ask cheerfully.

The scientists don’t answer. They’ve already turned away, gathering notes and dismantling the machine.

Unicorn slides off the table. Their legs wobble slightly beneath them, but they recover quickly. Their gaze shifts toward the window. Their eyes meet yours.

Their smile brightens.

"Hi!" they wave. "Who are you?"

Your stomach drops.

Caleb steps away from the glass. His hand curls loosely at his side. His expression doesn’t change, but his gaze hardens.

"You see?" His voice is low. Bitter.

You swallow. Your mouth tastes like metal. "How…?"

Caleb’s eyes darken.

"They don’t know," he says. "They just know it works."

You stare at Unicorn.

They’re already being led out of the room by one of the handlers. They glance back over their shoulder, catching your eye through the glass. Their smile never fades.

As if they didn’t just die.

As if none of it happened.

Unicorn raises a hand and waves.

You can’t move.

"Come on," Caleb mutters. "It’s over."

He turns and walks away. His shoulders are tense.

You remain standing at the window, your pulse pounding painfully in your ears.

You’re sitting in the observation room again.

The glass is cold beneath your fingertips, the faint outline of your breath fogging the surface. The room beyond it is too bright, too sterile. The low hum of machines pulses against your skull, steady and sharp.

Inside the room, Caleb is strapped down to the table.

Metal cuffs circle his wrists and ankles. His dark brown hair is damp with sweat, strands clinging to his forehead. His breathing is steady, but his jaw is tight, his knuckles white where his hands curl into fists. Electrodes are attached to his temples and chest, thin wires running from his skin to the machine standing beside him. The screen pulses with bright lines, sharp spikes that match the rapid beat of his heart.

He doesn’t look at you. He’s staring at the ceiling. His eyes are narrowed. Cold. Detached.

"This is test sequence 14," one of the scientists says.

"Begin."

A sharp pulse crackles through the air.

Caleb’s body jerks. His back arches against the restraints, breath hitching sharply between his teeth. His hands curl tighter.

The hum of the machine deepens.

The gravity in the room shifts.

You feel it first in your chest—a heavy pressure sinking into your lungs, squeezing the breath from your throat. The glass vibrates beneath your fingertips. The metal tray beside the table shudders. The lights overhead flicker.

"Containment field holding," a scientist says.

"Increase output."

"No," you whisper.

Caleb’s breath sharpens. His teeth flash in a snarl as his body strains beneath the cuffs. The table creaks beneath him. The glass beneath your hands trembles violently.

"Output increased by 10%."

Caleb’s eyes snap open.

You stumble back a step.

His eyes—normally deep violet—are blazing now, burning bright and unnatural. The air pulses around him, pressing outward. The lights overhead shatter in a burst of sparks. The scientist closest to him staggers back, clutching his chest.

"Containment field destabilizing—!"

"Shut it down—"

A violent pulse tears through the room.

You gasp, hands flying to your ears as the pressure slams against you. The walls groan. The glass splinters beneath your hands. Blood hums beneath your skin, too fast, too loud—

"SHUT IT DOWN!"

The machine powers down with a metallic hiss.

Caleb’s body collapses back against the table. His chest rises and falls sharply. His eyes slide closed, his head tilting to the side. His hands are trembling where they hang limp at his sides.

The scientists are already moving toward him, adjusting the restraints, collecting data.

"Another failure."

"We need to increase the threshold."

"He’s destabilizing too quickly."

You press your hand to your mouth, trying to steady your breathing. Your knees feel weak.

One of the scientists reaches toward Caleb’s arm. His fingers brush Caleb’s wrist—

Caleb’s hand snaps upward. His fingers wrap around the scientist’s throat.

The glass between you cracks.

"Shit, Subject 002—!"

The scientist’s face twists in panic as he claws at Caleb’s hand. Caleb’s eyes slide open. His gaze is dark. Empty.

"Release him!"

The guards rush forward. Caleb’s grip tightens.

And then—

"C...― Destroyer!"

Your voice breaks.

His eyes flick toward you.

For a moment, you see it—recognition flickering beneath the surface. His hand loosens. The scientist falls to the floor, coughing.

The guards seize Caleb’s arms, strapping him back down as he exhales shakily. His gaze slides toward you. His eyes have darkened, the unnatural glow fading back into violet.

"Take him to containment," one of the scientists orders.

Caleb doesn’t resist. He sits up slowly as the guards unlock the restraints and haul him to his feet. His head tilts slightly toward you as they drag him toward the door. His gaze finds yours through the fractured glass.

You can’t breathe.

He doesn’t smile. But his lips move.

I’m fine.

You know it’s a lie.

The door slides shut behind him.

You sink to the floor, your head falling into your hands.

The room feels too empty without him.

Later, you’re back in the hallway. Cold fluorescent lights buzz faintly overhead. You’re waiting outside the medical ward, hands curled over your elbows. You’re still shaking.

The door slides open. Caleb steps out.

He’s still pale. His hair is damp. His uniform jacket is unzipped, the collar hanging loose around his throat. His gaze sharpens when he sees you.

"Hey," he says quietly.

You swallow thickly. "Destroyer—"

Before you can say anything else, his hand lifts.

He presses his palm gently over your eyes.

Your breath catches.

"You don’t have to look," he murmurs. His hand is warm. His fingers brush lightly against your temple. "It’s okay."

"But it’s not okay."

His hand shifts. His thumb brushes your cheek. His gaze softens.

"I don’t want you to see it."

"You…"

He doesn’t let you pull away. His other hand touches your shoulder.

"You’re shaking," he says.

You inhale sharply. "Of course I am! They—they were hurting you, and I couldn’t—"

"I’m used to it."

"That doesn’t make it better!"

His gaze darkens. His hand stays where it is, steady over your eyes.

"You don’t have to watch," he says softly. "Not if you don’t want to."

You press your hand over his. Your heart is still hammering painfully beneath your ribs.

"I do," you whisper.

His breath hitches. His hand slides away from your face, his fingers brushing against your cheek. His violet eyes catch the dim light—soft and sharp all at once.

For a moment, he just looks at you. Then his hand falls to his side.

"Come on," he says. "Let’s go."

His hand lingers briefly against your wrist before he starts walking down the hall.

You follow him.