#scraping city and pin codes

[gladiatorcunt]

- # GIVE A FLY SOME HONEY !!

all roads lead to death valley

cw: southern setting & accents, sui ideation/thoughts, protected sex (are you proud of me), dead dove ending and undertones, sort of ambiguous, virgin cowboy!anakin x virgin afab!reader, ROTS coded!anakin, r2’s a horse, the force is in place of the christian God and is referred to as such at times, star wars being a fictional franchise in a star wars au fic, weird mix of a farm and a ranch, spanking, clit slapping, biting, reader’s inner freak has some crazy thoughts, mentions of humiliation and collaring/choking, anakin murders somebody (one scene of violence), what a heat advisory and the south’s sex education does to a mf, implied plus size and neurodivergent!reader, kidnapping????????????, mention of drugs, reader has a lot of internalized shame about where they’re from

wc: 4.2k (unedited)

what if instead of star wars it was called 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 wars

consider commissioning me!

Your unlucky streak rears its ugly head yet again. June was already shaping up to be a hot month, and your junkyard car wouldn’t start. You’re used to driving long stretches of road with nothing but livestock in fields to gawk at, it comes with the territory. But you couldn’t afford gas and decided to push your luck on the way back home, nevermind that the drive would be at least 20 hours. Moving to the city had its drawbacks, the road trip to and back being one of them.

“No, no. Come on, please work. Do you need me to fucking sing to you or something?” You groan, fruitlessly twisting your key in the ignition over and over.

Nope, “Tough shit.” Your engine mocks, death coughs sputtering out one after the other.

“ ‘You havin’ trouble?” A masculine voice shouts from behind you.

You get startled by the sound and gracefully slam your head up into the roof of the car as you turn around. You must look like quite the sight, clutching your now throbbing head and stumbling out of your broken down hand-me-down car on a long open road. Once you’ve blinked enough to adjust to the harsh sunlight, your eyes land on a tall muscular figure riding a horse. The clip clop of the horse’s dirty hooves on the gravel pierce your ears but the gentle sway of the man’s fluffy hair softens the blow.

“Um…. yes, sir. I am actually. My…. my car won’t start and I’m all out of gas.” You burn with embarrassment as you get through your explanation, trying your hardest not to throw up from the sheer social anxiety.

“Well that ain’t no biggy, I think I can help with that.” The man cocks his head and hops down from the horse, a white stallion with a few faded black-gray spots here and there. “Stay here, R2.”

You’re standing there dumbly, ignoring the tiny rocks digging into your shoes and the pounding in your skull as the cowboy wanders up to you. The sun bounces off his dark hat in a way that gives him a sort of halo, and you gape like a fish when he tips it down at you in a silent greeting, reaching out to shake your hand after. The silver spurs on his boots reflect sunlight directly onto your face, so you miss his open palm the first time.

His hand is rough, you can feel numerous old scrapes and cuts when you accept the gesture. But it’s so much bigger than yours, and there’s strange heat coming from his skin that you’re hesitant to pin on the southern summer sun. Too handsome, in a way that just can’t be possible, you quickly swipe a fingertip over his ring finger during the handshake and The Force must be looking out for you because there’s no ring. Not that you’re seeking anything out, but in the town you’re from, you’re lucky if anyone makes it past 18 without having a baby and getting hitched as a result.

Anakin tinkers away at your car for over an hour, finding more problems than just a lack of gas. Eventually he determines that you’ll die in this heat before you can back on the road, so he asks you to accompany him back to his ranch and he’ll send out one of his employees to bring your car around. You try to show him that you’re listening by ‘hm’-ing and nodding every so often, but it’s hard to rip your eyes away from a very attractive man bent over and sweaty while he’s fixing your car. You definitely do not want to cry when his flannel lifts up as he wipes the sweat on his forehead away with his greasy hand, revealing the slight softness over his muscles.

Since your car was no longer an option, Anakin grins as he gestures towards his horse, “R2’s a good horse, won’t give you any trouble. He likes to make a lot of noise and has an… acquired sense of humor, but I reckon we’ll get back just fine.”

He has you practice getting off and on the horse for a good while, the next step is letting you adjust to the feeling of being on one. You’d be embarrassed that Anakin’s having to teach you how to ride but his hands curl around your waist, keeping you steady and whispering in your ear to not be so stiff. Horses can smell fear after all, it’d suck to not only have your car be broken but your bones too. It’s a scene straight out of a cheesy romance novel, the kind that’s a tiny yellowed book sold almost exclusively in run down gas stations with a cover not far off from a porno.

Your cheeks are burning the entire way to the ranch, you relax as much as you can on an animal that’s a few hundred pounds of muscle with a searing hot body pressed right up against you from behind. It doesn't take long to get to your destination though, and before you know it sprawling fields bracket a mid size homey wooden building. There are some smaller pens for the cows to stay in and you follow their movement as an employee unlatches the gate and leads them out towards the left most field.

“They gotta switch pastures every so often.” He informs you, urging his horse into an energetic trot, “And it’s a good rule of thumb to have about an acre per cow.”

You tighten your hold on the reins and try not to focus on your fear of falling off. The pace of R2 isn’t one that you struggle to match but then again this is the first time you’ve ever ridden a horse in a long time. You’ve always been too skittish to do it regularly, and when you moved you got rid of the hobby entirely. You take a deep breath and let the horse’s movements travel through you, coming to enjoy the gentle jostling as you go. Anakin keeps his hands around yours on the reigns, making sure you don’t panic and seize up. R2’s not really beginner friendly unless he likes his rider, he has a tendency to just whinny and take off when the spirit moves him.

“The Force has done me good and given me a nice house on nice land, but it don’t mean nothin’ if i’m all by my lonesome. Ever since my dad passed and my ma’ died a few years after that, the workers and the cows are all I got, plus R2 of course.”

All right, he sinks into the jargon a little too much, but the way the sun accentuates the scar on his cheek makes it a charming quirk. You want to lick his teeth when he smiles, you think, before blaming it on an oncoming heatstroke. You’re no better than a man in this moment, and if you had seen him soaking up all of the attention in a crowded room in a bar you’d have no business being in, you like to think that you could pull him. You play with the slightly waxy feel of the leather reins, allowing the sensation of coarseness in the stitching to overpower any coherent thought.

“Why’d you name your horse R2?” You ask, ducking your head as you feel him guide the animal towards the stables.

“Oh uh, I was real wild over these sci fi movies from back when I was a kid. The hero had this robot called R2-D2, and I guess it just stuck with me.” He answers you with a shrug and a mild blush, curving his fingers around yours.

Your stomach warms at the feeling, but you refrain from returning the gesture, he probably isn’t even thinking that deeply about what he’s doing. He’s not obsessing over every square inch of skin that comes into contact with his own, not like you. You’re already missing the comforting weight of Anakin’s herculean body when he’s pulling the reins to stop R2 and hopping off, clamping his big hands around your waist and helping you down. You wobble for a bit and find your footing before you can pick up on how he momentarily froze in front of you, anticipating an easy opportunity to touch you again. Force, you really are stupid, bless your heart.

You glance up at him and start to say something but then you hear rustling in the bushes, Anakin must hear it too because before you can tug on his sleeve and tell him, he’s pulling his revolver out from its holster and striding off towards the sound. You’re quick to learn that he has a bit of a one track mind, especially when it comes to indulging the serpent twisting in between his ribs like a switchblade.

“I’ll be damned…”

You’re supposed to head inside and awkwardly linger around until your car is in good enough condition to get you back to Coruscant. The only thing is, you’ve now found yourself without your new security blanket, and your curiosity agrees with how much you don’t fucking want to speak to any of the people here without Anakin to hide behind. R2 loudly chuffs at you from his stall in the stables, either saying “That’s just how he is, leave him be!” or "What are you doing? You should obviously go after him!” You choose to believe it’s the latter, so you wander off into the distance, following Anakin’s lead.

You catch up to him quicker than you thought you would, and you have half a mind to scold him like a child if you weren’t catching your breath. All you can see is his wide shoulders because he’s hunched over something, your heartbeat quickens when you spot his gun being pointed at something. You circle around him to find a man squirming on the ground like a toddler, twitching every so often. Anakin seems almost enthralled by the desperate display, so he doesn’t notice you until you gingerly place a hand on his shoulder, soft and looking to soothe. Later you won’t remember the blood on the man’s temple or the matching stain on the muzzle of Anakin’s gun, because you didn’t witness that part.

He snaps out of it, turning his head to nuzzle his nose against your knuckles, “ ‘s alright, sweetheart, just a meth head too out of his mind to watch where he’s goin’. Had a knife with him, probably lookin’ to rob somebody blind.”

Your eyes flicker between him and the man, fully aware of how common stuff like drug addicts trespassing is and the old fashioned black and red ‘Trespassers Will Be Shot On Sight’ sign. You’ve grown up around guns, you’re more used to hearing them in a hunting or taking shots at beer bottles kind of way, but it’s not like Anakin’s the only one to have that kind of self enforced rule when it comes to his property. Still… killing a human man is different than making use out of a successful deer hunt, right?

“Maybe we should call the cops, he can’t hurt nobody like that…” You try to reason, casting a pitiful glance towards the cowering man.

There’s a scratch on Anakin’s face that’s still bleeding from the knife the guy had used before Anakin took it, it just barely missed his right eye, he could’ve lost it. You’ll ask to help him with it when you get back to the ranch, but you know that there’s no seeing to it right now. You don’t want to risk an infection just so you could brush your thumb across the wound, you’re not even sure why you want to, it’s like the urge just materialized in your head out of thin fog. Anakin gently shrugs your hand off and uses his free one to pull you against his chest, and it’s like you’re back on his horse, that same fear entwined with exhilaration like barbed wire. Your hearts are beating at the same pace, some folks say that’s how you know it’s love, that’s how you know it’s fate.

“You don’t got the stuff in ya to be a killer, that’s just fine, darlin’. ‘Cause I sure do.” His words dissolve into a previously unknown to you cold sneer.

Anakin clamps a burly, sweaty hand over your eyes as he empties the entire magnum into the tresspasser’s skull. The bright sun bounces off the brim of his hat, casting a shadow over his stormy eyes. He may not have let you witness the massacre, but you will never forget the sickening yelps the poor bastard gave to Anakin like prayer. And then he got put down in a more inhumane fashion than if he were a rabid dog. To your gracious host, there’s probably not a whole lick of difference. Between a wanderin’ sap and a deranged mutt, that is.

But there’s a far off expression on his face, maybe he was once at risk of having two bullets in his temple at the hands of someone unforgiving.

“Welp.” Anakin exclaims, making a point of slapping his thigh as he holsters his pistol. “Better head on home now, I reckon. Come on, honey, don’t want to lose you to the coyotes.”

It’s said like “kai-yohtes.” You balk at his teasing and obediently trail after him, a vulnerable duckling staying in line. The storm is hitting hard by the time you’re out of the woods, and you briefly wonder if the Angels up in heaven are gonna start bowling soon. A saying that got passed around in your family, when you and the ones before you would stare up in wonder and shiver in fear at the thundering purple skies as kids. You remember being surprised that one of the Angels’ bowling balls never fell down to earth, maybe it’d be somethin’ like a meteorite.

As is the case with many things, it’s easy to lose sight of the fresh corpse in the dry grass. Once you turn around and thread your finger through Anakin’s, dirtying them, it’s almost like that man never existed. There must be something wrong with you, sure the situation is so unimaginable that it would be hard to cope with, but shouldn’t you be feeling more guilt than you do? You feel bad, of course, but ‘easy come and easy go’ has always been the way of things in these parts. God giveth and God taketh away.

You’re back where you should be, a narrow dirt path going under a wooden fence to the ranch. Grand trees line the road forming a moss green canopy. A few workers are goofing off and playing a very amateur game of football, blissfully ignorant to the fact that Anakin can obviously see them from his place next to you.

It would be a peaceful place to die, a bright and clear afternoon-evening in the way that the world can only be when you’re about to leave it. That’s how you’d want it to feel, like you’re rowing a boat across the lake you used to go fishing at to see people you’d never thought you’d see again waiting for you. Fall leaves, blinding pale sun, a serene and calming quiet. You’d be the happiest you’ve ever been, skipping even though you never could as a kid. There’d be no sadness, only relief and a memento of everything that’ll only make sense when it’s someone’s turn to see you again. No buzzing from mosquitoes or chirping from crickets, only little lightnin’ bugs. Maybe you only get that kinda ending if you’re good, in the godly sense, if you come from something worth remembering.

Anakin raises an eyebrow and gently jostles you, and just like that your train of thought is derailed. He chalks it up to shock, and nods his head towards a clearing behind the building. A change of plans. You follow, as you are wont to do.

“That rat bastard had it comin’ to ‘im, hun.” He tries to reassure and squeezes your hand, imploring you to see reason. “The Force decided it was his time, sweet thing.”

You shake your head, not disagreeing, just in utter disbelief. “I just… most everyone in my life I've known that’s died did it when I wasn't there. I’ve never had to actually be there when they… you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” And that’s all he says, regardless of the truth.

It’s what you need, somehow he just understands exactly what that is. You’re starting to think that you certainly don’t have a damn clue. You look up at him again, really drinking in every facet of his entire being that you can latch onto and obsess over. You’re remembering why you were so anxious to get out of this sinkhole, it’s a miracle you ever got out of it in the first place. His hair’s all messy, dark curls strewn about like a windswept bale of hay. A storm is brewing in his eyes, like he could Earth to rotate in the opposite direction if he wanted it to. He works his jaw around in a weird way to get rid of the soreness after grinding his teeth.

It’s tantalizing, being the hand holding a man on the edge back from wreaking his God given havoc.

You dot a quick peck on his cheek, scrunching your nose up at the barest hint of prickly stubble.

His eyes widen, and the sun itself shines brighter. The cutest light dusting of pink spreads across his face, so he one ups you by pressing your lips together. It’s exactly how a first kiss should feel, a simple gesture that leaves you breathless and with more butterflies than a flower garden swarming in your tummy. There’s no fireworks, but you can hear wind chimes and birds singing as your lips glide together, the meeting of your tongues is so natural that you won’t be able to remember when his slipped through the seam of your mouth. You want to keen as he maps out your teeth, his spit has to have some kind of aphrodisiac in it.

Anakin works your jeans open and off your legs completely, his pupils expand when he sees your thick thighs in all their glory but he keeps himself from slapping them and acting like they’re the only part of your body. There’s an ever growing to do list in both of your heads, your combined inexperience brings a flurry of perverted ideas and porn scenarios to recreate with it, and you’re sad that you’ll very likely leave with none of them being fulfilled.

He yanks the collar of your tank below your chest, immediately leaving over to bite your cute breasts with all the grace of a rattlesnake. He doesn’t try to make any marks, he just wants to bite wildly and with reckless abandon, like he’s using your tits to self soothe. You’d do the same if he let you at his pecs to be fair, his chest is practically as big as yours if not bigger.

“This means somethin’ to me, hear that? ‘m always gonna remember my first.” He spits, clutching onto your bruised tit like he’s a split second away from sinking his hand into your viscera and dumpster diving for your heart.

He pauses pawing at your tits to reach in his back pocket and pull out a condom. It’s crumpled and the packaging is worn by rubbing against the denim of Anakin’s jeans, you can tell that he’s excited to finally put it to use. You’re glad that there’s some safety measures being taken, but your heart swoops in disappointment at the dose of reality. It’s the kind of thing that calls for the most diabolical, unhinged, strings of goopy fluid hanging from his balls as they slap against your rippling ass, raw sex. You don’t let yourself pout, Anakin’s making good use of the only working brain cell between the two of you. You scoot back on his lap to give him room to pop to button on his pants and whip his dick out. It makes a heavy ‘thwop!’ as it slaps against Anakin’s abs.

Your mouth waters at the sight, so thick with the just right amount of curve, it would scratch your throat perfectly. His hands shake harder as he rips the condom’s packaging open with his teeth and rolls it on his twitching length. You take a deep breath, finding comfort in the tense muscles on Anakin’s shoulders through his warm flannel. He curls a hand around the base of his cock and grasps it tightly, positioning it right under your empty hole. You’re lucky he didn’t have to tell you what to do, because working yourself down every inch would’ve been much more painful if you already needed to be taught a lesson. It’s weirdly sweet, the chaste pecks he presses along your nose and jawline as you adjust to what feels like a tree log forcing your tender folds to stretch around it. Your slutty body tries to twist itself in a pretzel with the way you’re swiveling your hips, trying to get more of Anakin’s dick inside of you when you’ve miraculously already swallowed him to the hilt.

“I want this pretty pussy weepin’ for me, I’m awfully sorry honey but i’m not stopping till it’s gushin’ all over me.” He speaks in between wet kisses up and down the column of your throat.

“Mmm- It’s okay, I want it like that, Ani. Promise- oh my god, so big.”

You make him feel like a man trying to outrun a forest fire only to get swept up in a tornado. Like there’s a fever in his brain that’s gotten into his blood, black tar dripping into his liver. Drives a man to drink so he can have a sliver of that feeling, that scalding need not even God could give you. There’s no finesse or coordination to anything, his lips frantically scurry along random spots on your upper body. His upward thrusts are heavy hitting and wrangle your breath out in stuttered gasps, he moves as if he were riding a horse, following only the imagined scent of old blood. Anakin’s cock is so big your walls could rip if he wasn’t always keeping a sharp eye on how much he’s bullying you. He doesn’t try anything crazy like fucking your cervix, it might shock you so much that you remeber exactly how long it’s been since he’s had your car “taken to the shop”.

His spurs dig into the dirt as he slaps your ass, the material of his gloves adding an extra bit of ‘umph!’ to the resulting sting. Anakin’s jeans are so warm against your ass that it takes a few more spanks before you really get the urge to bend over his lap and tell him to just have at it until you sob. You’re on an ecstatic high, living in the present with a near stranger’s dick balls deep inside of you. His eyes gleam gold when you make eye contact, and you find it so easy to fall down the rabbit hole, letting this man burn away all your responsibilities until he’s the last one left standing in a sea of ashes.

You don’t mind that he stops talking eventually, switching to gruff grunts and harsh yells. ‘Don’t be so stiff, let the movement roll through you.’ Anakin digs his fingers into the meat of your jiggling ass and delivers a final smack to both cheeks. You sigh in relief, but then you snap out of your cockdrunk haze to yelp at the cruel hit to your swollen clit.

“Need ya to keep squeakin’ sweets.” He orders. “Don’t want the townsfolk to think I fucked your brain out your ears.”

It’d be polite to make conversation with the people you meet when Anakin parades you around with his hat on your head later, something of a pre engagement tour. If the Force is good, you’ll be willing, because rope burn isn’t something you want to become your new normal.

“Chin up, buttercup,” He says almost bashfully despite how hard he’s pounding your puffy cunt, “We can get some ice cream at the fair after if ya like, make it a cute little second date.”

You whimper and harshly pull his hair, earning you a throaty moan and another slap to your clit, saying yes to him like you’ve already done a million times. You thought that the pure social anxiety of being around so many of Anakin’s employees would be nerve wracking, it’s nothing compared to having to speak to them AND keep their boss’s cum from oozing down your leg. Anakin’s discarded belt catches your eye when a sharp thrust sends your head falling back, and you picture the scuffed up belt buckle as the O shaped ring of a more traditional collar. The black stains from working on your car only add to the appeal, it scares you exactly how much you’d let the man fucking you with a cheap gas station condom get away with. You’ve already heard him kill a man, finding yourself in a relationship is pretty much the natural next step.

When he cums deep inside with a hoarse growl, there’s the sound of a bear trap slamming shut on an unsuspecting bunny rabbit. Your simultaneous orgasm is the tiny squeal it makes before it dies.

“I forgot to ask, hun, what stuffed animal do ya want me to win for ya?”

- faetreides 2024. do not repost, translate, or put my works into ai

[stormystarlightamethyst]

Aftershock: Chapter 2

"This is your shop. Do not call it a car. It is where you work," Tim says, voice like gravel and authority rolled into one. He doesn't even look at her—just keeps walking, like she's already three steps behind.

Skylar nods, lips pressed into a thin line. "Yes, sir."

"First, you check the exterior for damage. Any nicks, scrapes, or dents—log 'em in. Has the suspect left anything? Have a look, Boot."

Skylar walks toward the patrol car, her boots echoing against the concrete like punctuation marks. She inspects the backseat of the shop—efficient, meticulous, already in motion before he's done speaking. Her fingers brush the worn vinyl. Gum wrapper. Shoe scuff. Handcuff marks. All logged mentally.

She slides out of the back, shutting the door with a clean click.

But she doesn't get two seconds of silence before Tim pounces.

"Why haven't you been taking notes, Officer Altair?" His voice cuts like a blade wrapped in polite contempt. "Do you think I'm impressed by your last name? Your family tree"

His tone cuts. No smile. No flicker of last night's spark. He's all badge and bark now.

Skylar's eyes flick up, steel against ice. No flinch. No fluster. Just that eerie, calm precision that makes people underestimate how deadly she really is. "I don't need notes, sir."

"Oh?" His arms crossed. "And why's that? Enlighten me."

"I have a photographic memory. Visual recall in three dimensions, audio retention at 98%. I've got this entire rundown filed and color-coded in my head. You can quiz me anytime."

His jaw flexes.

Her expression doesn't twitch, but there's heat beneath her calm—controlled, professional, but simmering like lava under polished marble.

"I don't care how smart you think you are," he says, stepping a little closer. "Out here, brains don't save you. Caution does. Consistency. And you're not in the Academy anymore, princess. I don't give a damn if you're Doogie Howser with a Glock."

There it is. The word again.

Princess.

Skylar lets the corner of her mouth twitch—just enough to register, just enough to rankle. "Noted, sir. But if you do quiz me... throw in some Latin. Just for fun."

He doesn't laugh. But there's a twitch at the corner of his mouth. A betrayal of amusement—so quick, so buried, it might've never been there at all.

"Next up," He said. "shotgun. Let's see if your genius memory works under pressure." 

The patrol car hums down Wilshire like a shark beneath the surface—quiet, deadly, always moving. The radio crackles softly, dispatch murmuring in the background like ghosts in the wires.

Inside the shop, it's silent. Not peaceful—charged. Like the air before a thunderclap.

Tim drives like a man wired to control. Hands at ten and two. Posture stiff. Jaw tighter than a locked gun safe. He hasn't looked at her once since they rolled out, but the tension? It's deafening.

Skylar sits beside him—flawless, unreadable, spine straight. Her gaze pinned to the passing blur of city blocks, but her mind's clearly somewhere else. Every inch of her says, "Don't ask."

So, naturally, he does.

"Why'd you become a cop?"

His tone is calm. Too calm. Like the kind of question you ask right before flipping the table.

She blinks. Once. Keeps looking out the window like she didn't hear him.

"Altair."

She turns, slow and deliberate, and meets his stare like it's a dare.

"What?"

"Why. The badge. The blues. The vest. You had options. And you picked this. Why?"

A beat. Two. Her jaw ticks once. Then she exhales through her nose and leans back like she's getting comfortable—except she's not. Not even close.

"Thought I'd try a third career before thirty," she says flatly.

Tim huffs. A breath that's halfway between a scoff and a laugh.

"Cute. Try again."

Her lips press into a line. That crack in her calm flickers, then seals shut again. Perfect. Polished.

"Does it really matter?"

"It will," he replies, eyes never leaving the road. "When you're bleeding out behind a dumpster and the only thing keeping you alive is the reason you signed up for this gig? Yeah. It'll matter."

She doesn't flinch. But her fingers curl slightly on her thigh. The smallest tell.

"Why do you care?" she fires back. "You don't even know me."

"Exactly." His voice drops a notch. "I don't. Which means I don't trust you. And if I don't trust you, I sure as hell can't train you. So I'll ask one more time—why are you on this car?"

Silence.

The city keeps sliding by. Neon signs and cracked pavement and people who don't know they're being watched.

Finally, she speaks. Quiet. Almost too quiet.

"I wanted to make a difference."

Tim snorts, one harsh exhale that says bullshit louder than any word.

"You could've done that with a checkbook and a press conference. You could've stayed in your ivory tower and funded ten reforms. But you chose a badge. A vest. A target on your back."

Her head whips toward him, eyes sharp.

"So what?" she snaps. "Isn't wanting to make a difference enough?"

"Not if it's the kind of want that gets people killed."

And just like that, he slams the brakes.

The car lurches to a stop in an empty lot. The tires squeal. The seatbelt jerks. Skylar's heart leaps into her throat.

"I've been shot!" he barks, suddenly. Loud. Raw. Like a scream. "Where are you, Boot?! I'm bleeding out!"

"What the—?!" she gasps, turning to him fully.

"You have ten seconds to call it in. Where are we? What's the address? What's the cross street? Am I breathing? What's your next move?!"

"I'm bleeding to death. You have to call for help. Where are you, boot?!" He says again and her instincts kick. 

Skylar's pupils contract.

It's like a switch flips behind her eyes—click. She's not in the patrol car anymore. She's in an ER. A warzone. A cold alley slick with blood. Her mind fractures, reorganizes, responds.

"Dispatch, this is 7-Adam-19," she says, voice low, urgent, clinical. "Officer down, my TO's been shot. Location is the 500 block of South Serrano, just east of Wilshire. Requesting immediate backup and medical—officer is unresponsive, presumed critical."

Her fingers fly to her belt, grabbing for the radio like she's done it a hundred times before—even though she hasn't, not out here. But she has done it in worse. So much worse.

She whips around to face him, eyes scanning—pulse, pupils, breathing. "You're conscious but hypotensive. Rapid heartbeat. Weak radial pulse. Entry wound high left quadrant, no exit, likely hit the spleen. You've got minutes, not hours."

Tim blinks.

Skylar's already yanking her trauma shears from her vest, hand steady, eyes blazing. "I'm applying pressure. Need a tourniquet or I'm doing this with a belt. You still with me, sir?"

A beat of silence stretches between them like a wire ready to snap.

Then—

"Jesus Christ," Tim mutters.

He blinks again. Like the world's trying to reboot around her words.

"I said pretend, Boot."

Skylar freezes.

For a second, just one second, the illusion lingers in her bones like phantom pain. The kind that never really leaves. Her jaw tightens. She drops the shears.

"I don't pretend," she says coldly. "Not with blood."

Tim stares at her. Something unreadable crawls behind his eyes—something not even he knows what to do with.

The silence roars again. But now it's heavy. Full.

Skylar leans back in her seat. Composed. Stone-cold. But her fingers still tremble faintly on her lap, and he sees it.

"What were you?" he asks, voice lower now. Less bark. More curiosity. More... something else.

She doesn't look at him. Just stares out the windshield like the answers live there.

"Doctor," she says.

And for the first time since the shop started rolling, Tim Bradford turns and really looks at her.

A full beat.

Then he nods once.

Puts the car back in drive.

Nothing more is said.

But the air's changed. A crack formed. A thread pulled.

And they both felt it.

One beat.

Two.

And then—softly, without looking at him:

"Because the system failed me."

He doesn't say anything. She hears it in the silence—the slow shift in his focus. The way he looks at her, not just at her.

"I was on the other side," she continues, voice low but steady. "Did everything right. Worked in the ER. Saved people who never got a second chance. But when it was me bleeding? When I needed someone?" Her lip curls. "They closed the file."

Another beat.

"So, I decided if the system was broken—I'd fix it. From the inside."

Tim's grip tightens just slightly on the steering wheel.

"Revenge tour or savior complex?" he asks, tone unreadable.

She turns to him. That steel-gray gaze cuts sharper than any scalpel.

"Neither," she says. "I'm just done waiting for someone else to protect the people who don't have a voice."

There's something there in his eyes now—respect, maybe. Or the ghost of it. But it flickers out fast, replaced by the usual cold neutrality.

"Good," he says finally. "You're gonna need that fire."

The TO and Rookie duo hadn't advanced much when a small trunk honked at the patrol car. 

Skylar saw it before it happened—swore she could see the gears grind behind Tim's eyes just before he slammed the brakes, shoved open the door, and got out with the kind of irritation that vibrated off his boots.

She followed, slower, hanging back like a shadow with opinions.

Tim marched to the driver's side of the vehicle like judgment incarnate.

"Gentlemen," he said, voice steel wrapped in scorn. "Honest question. Were you grown in a petri dish of stupid?"

Skylar raised a brow, one part amused, two parts horrified.

"Por favor, no hablo inglés—"

"Don't pull that crap on me," Tim snapped, voice sharp enough to slice a tire.

Skylar stepped forward fast, shooting him a side-glare that could curdle milk, before crouching to the passenger side window with a kind smile.

"Buenos días, caballeros. Licencia y registro, por favor."

Tim scoffed. "Well, aren't you fancy."

As he took the documents, he added with deliberate venom, "Tell him it's immigrants like them that make Americans like you look bad. If it were up to me, I'd send them all back by catapult."

Skylar's eyebrows practically left orbit.

"You're kidding, right?"

Tim deadpanned. "Do I look like a man who jokes, Altair?"

She didn't blink. "Listen, sir. I don't care if this is a test, a performance, or your actual belief system—there's no universe where I'm saying that."

Then she turned to the men in the car, words crisp and clear:

"El oficial dice que deben evitar tocar su bocina cuando su auto ya está violando la mayoría de los códigos vehiculares."

The men exchanged wary glances, murmuring in Spanish. Skylar caught every syllable—concern, confusion, barely concealed offense

She nodded reassuringly.

"No recibirán una multa si cooperan. Están bien. Él solo está... probando algo."

"¿Probando qué?" the driver asked, eyes bouncing between her and Tim.

"Mi paciencia," she muttered. Then straightened up.

Tim watches her. Eyes like knives, cold and sharp—but beneath that is something else. Calculation. Curiosity.

He hands the documents back without another word. No ticket. No lecture. Just a stare that lingers a second too long.

He looks back toward the car.

"Let them off with a warning. Tail light's busted. Tell them to fix it."

Skylar nods. Walks back to the passenger side. Her Spanish is clear, confident, kind but authoritative.

"Todo bien. Solo una advertencia esta vez. Pero arreglen la luz trasera. Que tengan buen día."

The men thank her quickly, visibly relieved, and drive off as the tension breaks like a snapped violin string.

Silence.

Skylar straightens, hands on her hips, eyes like twin storms. "So, was that one of your little psychological obstacle courses? Or are you just casually xenophobic between traffic stops?"

Tim looks at her. Deadpan.

"That was a test. You passed."

She blinks. "What was the pass criteria? Basic human decency?"

"Standing your ground," he replies flatly. "You didn't cave. You didn't get flustered. And you didn't let me bait you into crossing a line."

She exhales slowly. The tight coil in her chest eases—but only a little.

"You ever try a less racist-sounding method?" she snaps.

Tim shrugs, not an ounce of apology on his face. "Real world doesn't hand you clean scenarios, Boot. You'll get officers who say worse and mean it. You'll need to know where your line is before someone tries to erase it."

Skylar narrows her eyes, quiet for a moment. Then, dry as hell: "You ever considered therapy?"

A twitch at the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile. More like... a glitch in the Matrix.

"Every Tuesday," he deadpans. "Now get in the car."

Skylar does.

But as she settles back into the passenger seat, she throws one last jab with a smirk:

"Tell your therapist your racism cosplay needs work. I give it a three out of ten—very 2006 Fox News."

Tim snorts. Not a laugh, exactly, but the air in the shop gets marginally less suffocating.

"You know Spanish, don't you?" she asked, eyes narrowing just enough to make it clear—this isn't idle curiosity.

Tim's grip tightens on the steering wheel, just slightly. His jaw ticks.

Skylar watches him out of the corner of her eye. She knows a dodge when she sees one.

"So... fluent? Conversational? Or just enough to say grande instead of grandé"

"I know enough," he says.

"So you understood everything. Got it." She nods, tone clipped, that signature Altair sarcasm dripping like venom off a scalpel.

Tim doesn't answer. He just shifts the car back into gear and eases onto the road, eyes forward like the conversation's dead in the water.

But she's not done.

"You really went for the full commitment on that little act, huh? Throwing in 'catapult' was a nice touch. Bold. Deranged. Little fascist flavor on top."

He smirks. It's small. Barely there. But it's real. "Had to see if you'd flinch."

"Well," she mutters, "next time maybe try seeing if I punch."

His laugh is short, quiet—like he's not used to letting it out but forgot to hold it in. "Noted."

They drive in silence for a few beats. The city stretches out in front of them—heat waves rising from the pavement, a blur of sirens and sunlight and smog.

Then, without turning his head:

"You know, I've had rookies who froze when their partner said the wrong thing. Who let a bad call slide because their TO shrugged it off. That's how people get hurt. That's how things get buried."

Skylar hums. "So that whole thing back there? Just you running your little social experiment with live humans?"

"Everything's a test, Altair. Out here, if you're not testing, you're guessing. And guessing gets you killed."

She bites her tongue, but her knuckles tighten slightly against the edge of the seat.

"I get it," she says finally. "Stress test the new toy. See if it breaks."

Tim's eyes flicker to her. "You're not a toy. You're a weapon. And I need to know if you're gonna fire when it counts—or jam up and get someone killed."

Silence falls again, but it's not awkward—it's weighted. Thoughtful. Like the kind of silence that says we're not done here, but I'm letting you breathe.

Then Tim speaks again, softer this time. Still gruff, still him—but with the edges sanded down by something a little too close to honesty.

"I needed to know if you'd throw me under the bus to make yourself look good. Or if you'd blindly follow a senior officer even when he's wrong."

Skylar stares straight ahead, voice low. "And?"

"And you did neither." He shifts the gear into drive. "You navigated the moment. Which is the whole damn job."

She snorts lightly. "Good to knoe you are not actually a xenophobic asshole. You just play one on patrol."

"Don't get used to the clarification," he replies. "Sometimes the line between 'test' and 'real life' gets blurry out here."

Skylar leans back in her seat, a slow, skeptical exhale leaving her lips. "You like putting people in boxes, don't you?"

"I like knowing who I can count on when the bullets start flying," he says flatly. "Boxes are efficient."

"Boxes are lazy," she shoots back. "People don't fit in neat compartments. You should know that by now."

Tim doesn't respond for a beat. Then—

"Maybe. But when you're training someone, you've got to start somewhere. And I start with pressure."

Finally, he says, "You'll thank me later."

"For being a massive asshole?"

"For knowing how the job breaks people," he replies, tone low and almost—almost—not combative. "Better you find your backbone with me than lose it out there with someone who really means it."

She side-eyes him, lips twitching. "If this is you being nice, I'm terrified to see you when you're pissed."

"You will," he says, not even blinking.

Silence falls again—but it's not the same as before. It's heavier, loaded with things unsaid and battles unchosen.

Then Skylar breaks it with a casual: "You're a walking HR complaint, by the way."

"I'm a training officer," he counters. "We're supposed to make you uncomfortable."

Skylar snorts. "Buddy, I've been through twelve-hour surgeries on no sleep, testified against men in $5,000 suits trying to gaslight me in Latin, and survived things you wouldn't last five minutes in. You don't make me uncomfortable. You just make me tired."

Tim glances at her then—just a flick of the eyes—but it's enough. He's watching her now, not just testing. Measuring.

"You think you're bulletproof," he says finally. "That's dangerous."

"I don't think I'm bulletproof," she replies. "I just know I've already been shot at—figuratively and literally. And I'm still standing."

His fingers drum the steering wheel. Thoughtful. Irritated. Maybe impressed.

Another red light. They pause.

"I'll break you down eventually," he mutters.

She grins, teeth and heat and challenge. "You can try."

A few blocks pass in silence. Then, casually—too casually—Tim drops:

"So, how many languages do you speak, Altair?"

She smirks, just a little. "Fluent in nine. Conversational in five more. I get bored easily."

He grunts. "Show off."

"Overachiever," she corrects.

Another half-smile from Tim. This one sticks around a little longer. The armor doesn't drop—but it shifts, just enough to let her see there's a human under all that steel and structure.

Then the radio crackled.

"7-Adam-19, respond to an assistance request from 7-Adam-15. Hollywood Boulevard."

Tim's face hardened in an instant—like flipping a switch.

He grabbed the mic. "7-Adam-19, responding."

The shop turned. The moment snapped shut like a trap.

But Skylar's pulse? Still racing.

She passed the test.

Now she had to survive what came next.

When Tim and Skylar arrived at Hollywood Boulevard, it was already a circus.

Traffic was choking the street like a dying animal. Horns blared in frantic staccato. People yelled over each other, some ducking for cover, others holding up phones like they were livestreaming the apocalypse. A toddler sat on someone's shoulders with cotton candy in one hand and trauma in the other. Classic LA.

"Well, that's a way to get attention," Skylar muttered, stepping out of the shop, hand instinctively brushing the grip of her firearm.

A man was standing on top of a Toyota Corolla like it was the hill he was gonna die on. Screaming his lungs out, baseball bat in one hand.

"Boot. Analysis," Tim said, arms crossed, tone flat.

Skylar's eyes scanned the scene, quick and surgical.

"Male, late thirties. Agitated. Possibly psychotic break or high as hell on a hallucinogen—maybe PCP or LSD, given the volume and the unicorns. Shirt's torn, pupils dilated, favoring his left leg, but still mobile. Weapon is a bat—metal, probably regulation-size. No blood. No visible injuries on civilians. Crowd is keeping a distance but getting too close for comfort. And someone's definitely livestreaming this on TikTok."

She glanced at a teenager holding their phone sideways, narrating: "Yo, this man's hunting a unicorn named Lucas—he's not even the craziest thing I've seen this week."

Tim gave her a look. "You ran that like a medical chart."

Skylar shrugged. "I triage everything. Old habit."

Tim started walking towards John and Bishop, and Skylar was quick to follow after him. John was trying to de-escalate the situation when the pair reached them. "We just need you to get down of the car," John called out.

"No. No, you're trying to trick me! No... You don't want me to find him!" the man howled, swinging the bat frantically.

"Sir, I can handle unicorns, alright? This is what we train for," John tried reasoning again, "I just need you to get off the car and give me a description so we can find him."

The frantic man seemed to have calmed down a little, now breathing heavily as he carefully stepped down from the car.

"Exactly. Yeah, just jump down. Put the bat down right there," John pointed to the ground, and the man slowly lowered the item from his hold. "Excellent. Perfect," he tried taking a few steps towards the man, "What's your name?"

Before John could get a response, the man spun and fled; John quickly rushed after him

Tim turned his attention to the auburn-haired woman next to him. "Go get him, Boot."

Skylar didn't hesitate.

The second Tim said, "Go get him." She was off like a shot—boots slapping the pavement, the front pieces of her hair coming loose, her heart pumping not from fear but pure, instinctive focus.

"Excuse me!" she shouted, weaving through the gawking civilians with a fluidity born from ER chaos and childhood fencing tournaments. "LAPD! Coming through!"

The suspect leapt over a parking meter with the grace of someone whose brain chemistry was straight up doing Cirque du Soleil, but Skylar didn't hesitate—vaulted it like it owed her money.

She was gaining on him.

"Hey! Lucas isn't down that way!" she called, voice sharp and baiting as the man skidded into an alley. 

Skylar followed without missing a beat, dodging a stack of trash bins and sliding across a wet patch like she was born on roller skates.

"The unicorn is a thief!" the suspect bellowed, glancing behind him with wild eyes. "He took the glitter and Lucas and ran!"

Skylar's lungs burned, but her voice didn't waver. "I knew the unicorn was shady! Glitter hoarder energy!"

That threw him off. Just enough.

He looked back again—confused. And that's when Skylar surged forward and tackled him with surgical precision, taking both of them down in a controlled crash that skidded across asphalt and landed with her knee on his back, arm twisted behind him.

"Hey, hey, relax! I'm not Lucas, but I'm real damn good at finding him," she huffed, breathless but grinning. "Now stop squirming or I'll make you talk to a therapist."

The man thrashed more, then groaned. "Unicorns betrayed me..."

"Yeah, yeah. We've all been there."

She cuffed him in one fluid motion despite his constant movement and then looked to the side and laughed at the sight of John stuck in a gate and fighting against a metal chain. 

"You okay, buddy?" She asked between giggles, her cheeks turning rosy; the soft freckles across them standing out more. 

Before he could answer, the sounds of tires screeching cut through the air as two patrol cars arrived at the scene. 

Their TOs got out of their respective vehicles in perfect synchrony. Tim looked shook his head in dissapointment as he freed John from the chain.  "Welcome to the arrest" He deadpanned before taking over for the gray-eyed rookie to hold the man down. 

"Please let go of me! You have to let me go! You don't know what you're doing! You don't know what you're doing! You don't know what you're doing! I have to find him! Help me! I have to find him! The unicorn! The unicorn!" The man kept saying.  

"Uh, sir, ma'am," Skylar started. "I don't think he is simply hallucinating."

The TOs exchanged a confused glance and as if on cue, the man's phone started ringing and Bishop reached for it and answered it. 

"Who is Lucas?" She asked into the phone, and the other three didn't fail to notice how her expression dropped before turning into an alarming one. "Sir, where is your boy?" She asked the cuffed man. 

"I only left him in the car for a minute," He yelled. "I swear, the unicorn has him!"

"I don't think he's high," Skylar said again, more firmly this time. "There's too much coherence mixed into the chaos. He's fragmented—but not gone. This isn't just drugs."

"Could be heat stroke, could be a psychotic episode," Bishop said grimly. "But if there's a kid in a locked car in this weather..."

"Let's move," Tim snapped. "Nolan, Bishop—fan out. If he doesn't remember the exact location, we're gonna have to search like hell."

John nodded. "We've got to find that unicorn."

"All units be advised, the suspect vehicle has been found, along with the boy." Came the message through the radio. 

Skylar breathed a sigh of relief and Tim shot her a glance. "You'd be surprised at the number of kids, especially little ones, that've died cause of irresponsible parents." She said and he nodded in understanding. 

He parked the shop by an alley with a bunch of people near a food truck. "Go buy our lunch, boot," Tim said as they got out. "You'll be judged by your pick."

"I'll have you know, I have excellent taste," Skylar said as she walked into the alley and quickly joined her friends/fellow rookies. Jackson was already halfway through his lunch, and Lucy waved her over as she received her food. 

"What's up?" she asked as she read over the menu. 

"I was just asking how everyone's morning is going?" John said as the auburn-haired woman placed her order. 

"Oh, you know, the guy I flirted with at the bar turned out to be my TO," Skylar said nonchalantly while she paid, and the other three's jaw dropped. 

"What?!" Lucy exclaimed.  She almost dropped her tofu bánh mì. Jackson choked on his soda. Nolan straight-up blinked like his brain blue-screened.

Skylar just smirked, holding up a hand for her order. "Yeah. Officer Tall-Dark-and-Glowers? That's Tim Bradford. TO. Intensity level: biblical."

"No way," Jackson said, eyes wide. "You flirted with Tim Bradford?"

Lucy leaned in like Skylar had just confessed to smooching a Greek god in a supply closet. "Wait—you flirted? He flirted back?! Was it full-on banter or just awkward eye contact and thirst vibes?"

"Oh, it was banter, baby," Skylar said, popping the lid off her drink like a mic drop. "Texting, mysterious unknown number, 'see you tomorrow' energy. Then bam. Next day? He's my training officer. Poetic irony with a side of 'I'm going to die under his judgmental stare.'"

John winced. "Oof. So how's that going?"

"Imagine being grilled by someone who knows what your flirty voice sounds like," she said, grabbing a chip. "He tested me on a traffic stop earlier. Pretended to be xenophobic. I almost yeeted him into oncoming traffic."

"Extra spicy sauce, please," Skylar asked the man in the truck, and he nodded.

Lucy furrowed her brows. "You don't do spicy" She said. 

"No, but Tim looks like he does." Was Skylar's only reply. "Listen, either way, he seems like a great TO for me, reminds me of my med school teachers, it's nice to know someone doesn't care who my family is or anything. 

"And it doesn't bother you that you flirted with him?" Jackson asked. 

"He is acting like that never happened, so other than the great second-hand embarrassment and the strong urge to built a time machine, everything is peachy".  The youngest of the rookies shrugged. 

"Right," Lucy nodded and added, "You sure you want to risk it with the hot sauce?"

Skylar nodded.  "How's Lewis as a TO?" She asked her friend. 

Lucy groaned dramatically at the question, taking a mournful bite of her sandwich. "Lewis is... fine. I mean, he's smart, he's steady. But if I hear the phrase 'consistent police work is built on consistency' one more time, I might actually walk into traffic."

"Well, that's their job, right?" John reasoned, "They've got to get inside our heads, push our buttons, see how we react. It's not personal. Just turn it around and figure out what makes your training officer tick."

Lucy raised a brow at him. "You make it sound easy."

"Piece of cake," John shrugged.

"Really?"

"Mm-hmm."

"What does your TO want for lunch then?" Skylar asked, her head tilted and eyes sparkling with amusement. 

John was quick to shut up and look at the menu. "Should I get something with meat?"

Too engrossed in reading the menu, he failed to notice how the other three rookies exchanged mischievous glances. "No," They answered in unison. 

Once they had theirs and their TOs' lunches, the rookies made their way to the table occupied by said training officers. 

Skylar was the first to set the lunch in front of her TO. 

"Barbacoa tacos," she said, placing the tray down with a flourish. "Extra spicy sauce. I made an executive decision."

Tim raised an eyebrow at the tray, then slowly looked up at her. "You trying to kill me, Boot?"

"Only with flavor," Skylar quipped, sliding into the seat across from him like this was poker and she was all in. "Figured you could handle heat."

He narrowed his eyes. "We'll see." He took a bite of his food. 

"Well, you're the first rookie with decent taste in food." He said at last and Skylar smirked and shot her friends a smug smile. 

Skylar, Lucy, Jackson, and John sat tucked into the same booth as the night before, the warm glow of string lights casting lazy halos above them. The rooftop bar hummed with soft music and louder laughter, but their little corner felt like a memory on loop—safe, familiar, theirs.

It had become a ritual, a holy little tradition during the Academy—grab drinks, decompress, swap stories, bond over bruises and bad cafeteria coffee. And tonight? Their first official shift behind them? They weren't skipping it for the world.

Skylar sipped her drink—whiskey, neat—and half-listened to John recount the details of the call that had ended in tragedy.

"He was just... gone," he said, fingers wrapped tight around his glass. "No second chances. One minute I'm standing there, thinking I'm helping, and the next—"

His voice cracked, barely, and Lucy reached across the table, squeezing his wrist with quiet reassurance. Jackson murmured something soft. Skylar nodded along, but something pulled at her.

Her gaze flicked to the neon clock above the bar.

9:00 PM.

Right on time.

She didn't mean to look—honestly, she didn't—but her eyes slid to the bar anyway. Not searching. Just... curious.

And then she froze.

One of the stools—their stools—was taken.

And it wasn't just the action that had her heart doing that stupid flutter thing in her chest. It was who was sitting there.

Tim Bradford.

Same seat. Same posture. Same stone-faced stillness.

But this time, he wasn't alone. A glass of something dark sat in front of him, untouched. He was scrolling his phone, one hand draped over the bar like he wasn't waiting for anyone. Like he didn't care. Like he didn't do this on purpose.

But Skylar knew better.

Because when she looked at him—really looked—he lifted his eyes.

And he met hers.

Not with a smile. Not with a smirk. Just a flicker of acknowledgment. Barely-there. Intense. The kind of look that felt like a secret.

"I'll be back," she told her friends, slipping out of the booth with her drink in hand.

"Sky, you okay?" Lucy asked, brows knitting like she already knew the answer.

Skylar nodded, lips curled into something not quite a smile. "Yeah, Luce. I'm okay."

But that wasn't really true, was it?

She walked slow, deliberate, like the weight of the day finally caught up to her. The music blurred around the edges, her boots whispering against the rooftop wood as she crossed the distance between what was and what might be.

Tim didn't move.

Didn't look away.

Didn't flinch when she slid onto the barstool beside him—their barstool now, apparently. She didn't speak right away. Neither did he. Their drinks sat between them like a treaty signed in bourbon and silence.

"I didn't think you would show up." she said, swirling the amber liquid in her glass, eyes fixed ahead.

"I didn't think you'd be here," He replied. 

'I was hoping it, tho'  He thought

She chuckled. "This is our go-to bar now" she leaned in a little and whispered. "The bartender always gives us free drinks. "

Skylar lifted her glass and took a small sip, the burn familiar, grounding.

Tim's eyes flicked toward her. "So, this is your little post-shift sanctuary?"

She smirked. "It's tradition. Trauma bonding with a side of overpriced cocktails."

He hummed, low and skeptical. "You always drink whiskey?"

She shrugged. "It's honest. Doesn't pretend to be anything it's not."

He let that sit, swirling the dark liquid in his own glass. "That why you like it?"

"No." Her gaze dropped to the bar. "I like it because it burns a little. Means I'm still feeling things."

That earned the smallest tilt of his head. Not pity—no, Tim Bradford didn't deal in pity—but maybe... understanding. Respect, even.

A pause stretched between them, thick as molasses, unspoken words swimming just beneath the surface.

Then—

"I thought about texting," he said, eyes still on the glass. "Earlier. After the shift."

Her brows lifted. "And say what?"

"I don't know." He finally looked at her, really looked. "Something professional. Maybe something like... 'Good work today, Boot. Didn't totally screw it up.'"

Skylar laughed, the sound rough around the edges. "Wow. Be still my heart."

He cracked half a grin—just a twitch of lip, but it counted. "Didn't want to give you a big head."

"You did eat the tacos."

"I suffered for them. That hot sauce was criminal."

"You finished them."

"Yeah, well." He took a sip of his drink. "I'm not a quitter."

Their eyes met again—no smirk, no sass. Just that low buzz of something warm and unspoken threading between them like static in the air.

She tilted her head. "So why'd you really come here, Bradford?"

He leaned back slightly, gaze calm but unreadable. "Maybe I just wanted a drink."

"You don't strike me as the rooftop bar type."

"I'm not." He looked down at his glass, then back at her. "But maybe I wanted to see if you'd be here."

Skylar didn't answer right away. Her heart was thudding—too fast, too loud. She hated it. Hated how easy it was to fall into this quiet, magnetic thing they kept circling. It was dangerous. Uncharted.

She turned her body toward him just slightly, enough to close the space between past mistake and future maybe.

"Listen, I..." Skylar started. 

"I don't mind if you wanna switch TO's," Tim cut her off. "I can talk to Grey tomorrow."

Skylar shook her head. "I talked to Zoe today; she said I got lucky with you as my TO. She said you were the best I could get," she sighed and looked him in the eye. 

Blue against gray. Gentle now, soft and longing and wondering. 

"So I'm gonna ask you this. Are you my best chance to becoming the best cop I can be?" The auburn-haired woman asked. 

Skylar didn't blink. Didn't flinch. She just held his gaze like it was a lifeline. Like the answer mattered more than she wanted it to.

Tim's fingers drummed once against his glass. Thoughtful. Measured.

Then, low and certain, he answered:

"Yes."

Simple. Uncomplicated. But heavy in all the ways that count.

Skylar let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. It left her body like surrender.

"Okay," she whispered, like she'd just made peace with the war inside her.

They sat in silence again, but this time it wasn't loaded. It wasn't awkward or hesitant or full of words unsaid. It was just... them. Breathing the same rooftop air. Sharing the same stolen moment.

Tim glanced at her again, slower this time. Not as a TO sizing up his rookie—but as a man seeing someone he maybe didn't expect to find in the middle of all this chaos.

"Just so we're clear," he said, voice low, "this thing between us? The flirting? It ends here."

Skylar's lips curved, but it wasn't quite a smile. More like a dare dressed as agreement.

"Of course. Fully professional. No banter. No eye contact. I'll even stop making fun of your glower."

"You can try," he said, smirking into his drink.

A pause. A hum. The city lights flickered like they knew something they weren't saying.

Skylar looked at him sideways, expression unreadable. "And if it doesn't end here?"

Tim raised an eyebrow. "It has to."

She nodded once, slow and cool. "Right. For the job."

"For both of us," he said, softer now. "You want to be great? I can get you there. But not if we muddy the line."

Skylar bit the inside of her cheek. That old familiar sting behind her ribs—that mix of want and restraint, fire and discipline—burned bright.

Skylar didn't answer right away. She just stared ahead, swirling the last of her whiskey like it held some kind of spell. Her voice, when it came, was too quiet for the noise around them, but plenty loud for him.

"I get it," she said. "Lines. Rules. Boundaries."

Tim nodded slowly. "Good."

"But," she continued, and that little but practically crackled in the air, "what if we don't cross any lines..."

She turned her head just enough to meet his eyes, gray crashing into blue like two weather systems ready to spiral.

"...until tomorrow?"

A pause.

Then—

Tim chuckled. Just once. It was low and dry and dangerous. "That's cheating."

She smiled like sin in red lipstick. "You just said 'this thing ends here.' Technically, 'here' is this bar. Right now."

"You're splitting hairs, Altair."

"You're dodging answers, Bradford."

Another silence. He took a slow drink, watching her over the rim of his glass, like he was trying to convince himself he wasn't about to jump.

He lost that fight.

She leaned in a fraction. Not enough to touch, but enough for the tension to shiver between them.

"Skylar..." he warned, voice gravel and restraint.

She looked at him through her lashes, lips barely parted. "One night. No rules. No fallout. Clean slate at dawn."

He set his drink down with purpose. "You offering that like it's not going to make everything worse."

She tilted her head. "I'm offering it like I know exactly what it'll make better."

And that?

That broke something in him.

Tim moved first. Not recklessly. Not even fast. Just... decided. His hand brushed her arm, a ghost of a touch, grounding her in the yes they weren't supposed to say out loud.

"We leave now," he said, voice tight, controlled, "or we don't leave at all."

Skylar stood.

Didn't hesitate.

He followed.

Neither of them looked back.

Author's note:

Hi lovelies, so I  was really conflicted about whether to have Tim and Sky leave together or not and I thought, you know what? What the hell? It's a beautiful day. Also I guess it will add more to the longing and that so yeah. 

Hope you like this chapter. Don't forget to comment on your thoughts!

XOXO

Kristy

[actowizdatasolutions]

🍔💸 #SameRestaurant. #SameDish. #Differentprices.

Confused about why food costs vary across Swiggy, Zomato, and Uber Eats? You're not alone.

At Actowiz Solutions, we help brands, aggregators, and restaurant chains scrape and compare real-time menu prices and offer data across major food delivery platforms.

🔍 Here’s what we reveal: ✅ Dish-to-dish price comparisons across apps ✅ Delivery charges & platform service fees ✅ Discount offers & loyalty program tracking ✅ Menu variation by city, region, or PIN code ✅ Customer sentiment linked to pricing behavior

💡 If you're managing a cloud kitchen, a food delivery app, or a restaurant chain—menu price intelligence can shape your entire revenue strategy.

📥 Ready to uncover hidden pricing gaps and smarter market opportunities?

👉 Explore the insights: https://www.actowizsolutions.com/restaurant-menu-price-comparison.php

[iwebdatascraping0]

📊 Grocery Pricing Data Intelligence Services – Unlock Real-Time Competitive Insights

In today’s price-sensitive grocery market, one small shift in pricing can impact everything—from margins to market share. That’s why brands, retailers, and aggregators trust iWeb Data Scraping to deliver real-time grocery pricing intelligence across platforms and regions.

🛒 We collect structured pricing data from top platforms like BigBasket, Zepto, Blinkit, JioMart, Instacart, and more to help you:

✅ Monitor competitor pricing by product and pin code ✅ Track price fluctuations & promotional activity ✅ Benchmark across cities, categories & delivery apps ✅ Power your dynamic pricing & inventory strategies ✅ Identify opportunities for SKU expansion or consolidation

💡 Use Cases:

FMCG & CPG brands benchmarking prices

Retail analysts building competitive dashboards

Revenue teams aligning price points with demand

Q-commerce platforms adjusting offers based on location

📈 In grocery retail, real-time price intelligence is a strategic advantage—and we’re here to help you capture it at scale.

🔗 Learn more: https://www.iwebdatascraping.com/grocery-pricing-data-intelligence.php

[actowizmetrics]

Weekly Wine Price Changes in Tesco & Sainsbury’s – Actowiz Metrics

Introduction

The UK wine market is highly dynamic, with supermarkets like Tesco and Sainsbury’s adjusting prices weekly based on stock rotation, promotions, and competitor behavior. Consumers, brands, and suppliers alike require visibility into these shifts to make informed decisions.

Actowiz Metrics provides real-time wine pricing intelligence across top UK grocers, offering deep insights into SKU-level changes, discount cycles, and regional patterns across all major UK cities.

Scraping Scope

Platforms: Tesco UK, Sainsbury’s UK

Cities Covered: London, Manchester, Birmingham, Leeds, Glasgow, Liverpool, Edinburgh, Bristol, Sheffield, Nottingham

Data Points Extracted:

Wine name and brand

Grape variety and vintage (if available)

Bottle size

Regular price and discounted price

% discount applied

Promotion tag (e.g., “Clubcard Price”, “Multibuy”)

Customer rating and reviews

Weekly change log

Product availability by postal code

Weekly Price Movement (July Comparison)

Weekly promotions often reset every Wednesday or Thursday, aligned with supermarket campaign cycles.

Insights Delivered by Actowiz Metrics

1. Discount Frequency and Depth

Tesco offers Clubcard prices across 65% of wine SKUs every week.

Sainsbury’s features more multibuy deals and loyalty-linked pricing (Nectar).

2. Regional Availability Tracking

Some wine discounts only appear in southern UK stores or based on local inventories.

Actowiz flags SKUs not available in Manchester or Edinburgh during discount weeks.

3. Consumer Review Shifts

Reviews spike during promotions; Campo Viejo saw a 12% review increase during July’s £7 deal.

4. Price Elasticity Behavior

Wines under £8 show the highest conversion bump when discounted.

Use Cases

For Wine Brands:

Benchmark how competitors like Barefoot or 19 Crimes are priced week-to-week

Track regional discount saturation

Push real-time adjustments for promotional pricing

For Retail Chains:

Monitor competitor promotion frequency

Sync regional stock levels with national promotions

Optimize Clubcard and Nectar discount campaigns

For Data Aggregators:

Build pricing trend datasets across cities

Create wine price intelligence dashboards

Offer alerting solutions to vineyard partners

Actowiz Metrics Features for Wine Price Tracking

Scraping frequency: Daily or Weekly

Format: CSV, JSON, API delivery

Geo-tagging: Pin code-level price maps

Review sentiment parsing

Vintage-level breakdown for select wines

Client Testimonial

“Actowiz Metrics helped us automate competitor price tracking for our retail wine shelf. We realigned our promotional campaigns with pinpoint accuracy.”

— Category Manager, National UK Wine Distributor

Conclusion

The UK wine retail market is driven by weekly discount strategies, loyalty programs, and tight competition. Platforms like Tesco and Sainsbury’s leverage promotions aggressively to increase conversion.

Actowiz Metrics empowers wine brands, distributors, and data platforms with structured visibility into every price change—helping them optimize pricing, promotions, and shelf performance across the UK. Learn More

[simpatel]

Pin Code-Level Grocery Monitoring via Blinkit & Zepto APIs

Pin Code-Level Grocery Price Monitoring Using Blinkit & Zepto APIs

This case study highlights how iWeb Data Scraping leveraged Q-commerce API scraping in India to assist a top FMCG conglomerate in tracking grocery prices at the pin code level. By extracting data from Blinkit and Zepto APIs, the client gained real-time insights using advanced grocery price intelligence tools, resulting in smarter promotional strategies, improved price parity across platforms, and a 12% boost in regional profitability. This case study explores how iWeb Data Scraping helped a leading FMCG conglomerate monitor pin code-level grocery prices using Blinkit and Zepto APIs, leading to smarter promotions, better price parity across platforms, and ultimately, 12% improved regional profitability.

The Business Challenge

The client — a top-5 Indian FMCG firm — faced major challenges:

Price inconsistencies between Blinkit and Zepto in different pin codes

No centralized visibility of daily grocery price fluctuations

Losses from misaligned discounts across Delhi-NCR and South India

Manual price tracking by field reps was inefficient and costly

They wanted a way to automate real-time grocery price tracking at the pin code level with alerts, analytics, and structured datasets.

The iWeb Data Scraping Solution

We proposed a comprehensive grocery price monitoring solution using Blinkit and Zepto APIs, tailored to extract:

Product Name, SKU

Price, Discount Price, Coupon Offers

Stock Status

Pin Code & Delivery Zone

Delivery ETA

Ratings & Reviews

Price Change History

The solution was powered by:

Real-time scraping every 4 hours

Pin code-based coverage, focused on top 10 metros

Data QC filters to remove anomalies

Unified API data into normalized format across both platforms

Sample Data Output

Pin CodePlatformProductPriceDiscountETAIn StockRatingCoupon Code400001BlinkitMaggi 70g₹12₹2 OFF10 minYes4.5MAGGI5560001ZeptoMaggi 70g₹10₹07 minYes4.6None110001BlinkitFortune Oil 1L₹132₹10 OFF12 minYes4.2SAVE10600001ZeptoAashirvaad Atta 5kg₹289₹20 OFF9 minYes4.4AATA10

Pin Code Granularity: A Game Changer

By monitoring price, discounts, and availability by pin code, the client could:

Detect pricing anomalies

Align regional offers

Flag out-of-stock issues instantly

Respond faster to consumer complaints

Optimize inventory and delivery logistics

They built heatmaps and dashboards using our structured feeds to visualize:

Price differences across cities

Discount saturation zones

Delivery ETAs by locality

Outcome & ROI

Within the first 45 days of deployment:

8–12% reduction in discount leakage

15% faster promotion response time

9% uplift in pin code-level profit margin

Over 1.2 million product records processed

The client now runs automated daily tracking, with alerts on:

Sudden price hikes/drops

Product unavailability across pin codes

Competitor price undercutting on Zepto vs Blinkit

Technical Architecture

Language: Python with BeautifulSoup & Requests

Framework: FastAPI for modular scraping

Infrastructure: AWS Lambda for real-time tasks, S3 for data store

Output: JSON + CSV + SQL

Dashboard: Power BI / Google Data Studio

Use Cases for Other Businesses

Retail Chains: Benchmark Q-commerce prices for online-offline parity

FMCG Brands: Launch localized offers based on price and stock availability

Logistics Providers: Predict product demand by region

E-commerce Startups: Track Blinkit/Zepto coverage for expansion

Compliance & Ethical Scraping

Used publicly available APIs and mobile endpoints

Rotated user agents and respected request frequency

Fully GDPR and Indian IT compliance ready

Shared legal disclaimers and fair usage notice in client deployment

Expansion Plan

500+ additional pin codes

5 new categories (Beverages, Frozen Foods, Personal Care)

Hourly price tracking option for high-volatility SKUs

Integration into client ERP and SAP systems

Conclusion

In today’s dynamic Q-commerce landscape, pin code-level grocery price tracking is not just a strategic advantage — it's a business imperative. iWeb Data Scraping empowers brands with real-time Blinkit data scraping and Zepto grocery data extraction, enabling Blinkit grocery price monitoring and Zepto product price monitoring at scale. Our robust, API-driven platform delivers hyperlocal pricing insights in India, helping FMCG brands stay ahead through precise, location-based analytics. Leverage our solution for India FMCG price benchmarking and make smarter, faster decisions that drive profitability and consumer loyalty.

Source :

https://www.iwebdatascraping.com/pin-code-grocery-price-monitoring-blinkit-zepto.php

[arctechnolabs1]

🚀 Elevate Grocery Insights with Blinkit Delivery Data!

In the dynamic world of grocery delivery, success hinges on rapid access to product availability, pricing, and promotional data. Discover how businesses utilize Blinkit Grocery Delivery Data Scraping to gain strategic advantage and optimize operations.

🔍 What You’ll Learn: ➡️ Automated extraction of product info: names, descriptions, prices, discounts, inventory, and delivery options. ✅ ➡️ Insights into real-time promotions and pricing trends across regions and cities. ➡️ Benchmarking against competitors’ offerings and pricing strategies. ➡️ Regional and hyperlocal analysis to adapt pricing per pin code. ➡️ Scalable scraping with proxy handling, browser automation, and data cleaning.

💡 “Brands tracking Blinkit pricing and stock across cities can fine-tune promotions and improve inventory planning with precision.”

📊 Whether you’re in retail analytics, FMCG, pricing strategy, or supply chain management, this service delivers the real-time data intelligence needed to outperform and innovate.

🔗 Explore More>>>>https://www.arctechnolabs.com/blinkit-grocery-data-scraping-services.php

[productdata]

Real-Time Grocery Price Monitoring For Zepto, Blinkit & BigBasket

Introduction

India’s quick commerce boom has transformed how millions shop for groceries. To keep up with changing prices, offers, and hyperlocal stock availability, Indian startups are embracing Real-Time Grocery Price Monitoring For Zepto, Blinkit & BigBasket. Product Data Scrape helps these brands build competitive, real-time insights into grocery price shifts, discounts, and competitor tactics. By combining Scrape Real-Time Price Data from Zepto, Blinkit & BigBasket with robust tracking tools, startups now respond instantly to market moves and demand spikes. In this case study, discover how real-time price monitoring has powered smarter pricing, increased sales, and improved customer loyalty for India’s fastest-growing quick commerce brands.

The Client

An emerging grocery aggregator startup approached Product Data Scrape with one clear goal: outperform larger players by using reliable, granular price intelligence across India’s top grocery delivery apps. This client needed Real-Time Grocery Price Monitoring For Zepto, Blinkit & BigBasket to spot price drops, match competitor discounts, and adjust their own offers dynamically. With fierce local competition and daily pricing changes, it was no longer enough to rely on manual checks or outdated spreadsheets. The client also wanted to scale insights across multiple cities and store formats, covering essentials, fresh produce, and Gourmet Food Data. The need for a trusted partner who could deliver Real-Time Data Monitoring for Grocery Prices & Discounts led them to Product Data Scrape’s proven expertise. The client’s vision was clear: get real-time data or get left behind.

Key Challenges

The client faced several challenges typical for India’s quick commerce and grocery tech startups. First, manual price checks on Zepto, Blinkit, and BigBasket were time-consuming and error-prone, missing daily promotions and location-specific discounts. Second, without a system to Scrape Real-Time Price Data from Zepto, Blinkit & BigBasket, they couldn’t confidently match or beat competitor offers, which led to lost customers. Third, the team struggled to handle huge volumes of SKU-level data with variations across cities, PIN codes, and product categories. They needed Real-Time Grocery Price Tracking from Zepto, Blinkit & BigBasket to feed their pricing engines and marketing tools automatically. Additionally, they lacked robust tools for Quick Commerce Grocery & FMCG Data Scraping, which meant missing insights on emerging neighborhood-level demand. They also required clean integrations with Real-Time Indian Grocery Price Scraping APIs , so their tech stack could automatically update pricing dashboards daily. Without dependable Grocery Price Monitoring Scraper For Zepto, Blinkit & BigBasket, their strategy was reactive instead of proactive. Staying competitive demanded a scalable solution to Extract Blinkit Grocery & Gourmet Food Data , Extract Bigbasket Product Data , and launch smarter promotions instantly.

Key Solutions

Product Data Scrape built a robust solution covering every pain point. We deployed dedicated crawlers to Scrape Real-Time Price Data from Zepto, Blinkit & BigBasket with 99% accuracy. The client gained city-level price feeds that updated hourly, fueling their dynamic pricing engine with precise SKU details and store-specific offers. Our team customized Zepto Grocery Data Scraping modules to capture neighborhood differences for quick commerce. Combined with Web Scraping Grocery Price Data, they could compare pricing trends, track discounts, and identify competitors’ loss leaders. To scale, we integrated Real-Time Indian Grocery Price Scraping APIs into the client’s dashboards, giving instant visibility into price gaps and fresh offers.

Product Data Scrape also activated Grocery & Supermarket Data Scraping Services for broader market mapping, including insights from smaller grocery stores and specialty listings. The client used our Grocery Data Scraping Services to enhance supply chain forecasting and inventory planning with a high-quality Grocery Store Dataset. Our tools helped them Scrape Grocery & Gourmet Food Data to spot premium product trends, boosting margins with curated assortments. Together, this complete solution turned chaotic market signals into actionable pricing strategies. Today, the client uses Product Data Scrape for continuous Grocery Price Monitoring Scraper For Zepto, Blinkit & BigBasket, plus robust Quick Commerce Grocery & FMCG Data Scraping to stay ahead in India’s competitive grocery space.

Client’s Testimonial

"Product Data Scrape transformed how we compete. Their Real-Time Grocery Price Monitoring For Zepto, Blinkit & BigBasket helps us adjust prices daily, match discounts, and win more loyal customers. Their data scraping quality and support are unmatched."

— Head of Growth, Leading Indian Quick Commerce Startup

Conclusion

Real-time grocery price tracking is no longer optional for India’s quick commerce brands — it’s mission-critical. This case study proves that Real-Time Grocery Price Monitoring For Zepto, Blinkit & BigBasket drives competitive advantage, sharper pricing, and smarter promotions. Product Data Scrape remains the trusted partner for startups that need powerful Grocery Price Monitoring Scraper For Zepto, Blinkit & BigBasket and ready-to-use insights that fuel growth. Get started with Product Data Scrape today and unlock your edge in India’s grocery market!

Unlock More Info>>>https://www.productdatascrape.com/real-time-grocery-price-monitoring-zepto-blinkit-bigbasket.php

[fooddatascrape43]

Leverage the Zomato Restaurants Dataset With All Postcodes

How Can You Leverage the Zomato Restaurants Dataset With All Postcodes for Hyperlocal Strategy?

Introduction

In a world of food delivery and analytics, where the pace is everything, knowing what's going on at the neighborhood level is crucial. Different areas consume differently, spend differently, and react differently to offers, which is why businesses are moving to Zomato Data Scraping by Postcode, a hyper-targeted study of extracting structured data from one of the largest food ordering platforms in the country.

Zomato Data Scraping by Postcode isn't just about data. It is a detailed localized picture of the food environment, and each pin code represents a unique micro-market comprising demand, price sensitivities, and food preferences. For data-led brands, this means unexpired new ways to be personalized brands, better pricing choices, and efficient delivery—all thanks to access to the Zomato Restaurants Dataset With all Postcodes.

Whether establishing a cloud kitchen or enhancing delivery tracing, Scrape Zomato Restaurant Data with Postcodes to understand hyperlocal trends and consumer behavior curves and fine-tune food-tech agility.

Zooming into Postcode Precision

Zomato is built on a foundation of geo-intelligence. Every listing, offer, rating, and menu item is tied to location. This is no accident — consumer behavior in food ordering is intensely local. What works in Delhi's Rajouri Garden may not resonate in Bengaluru's Indiranagar. By scraping data postcode-wise, businesses can analyze each area on its terms using a detailed Zomato Restaurant Dataset with Locations.

This isn't a one-size-fits-all market anymore. It's a mosaic — and postcode data is your magnifying glass. You can extract local-level patterns and consumer trends with a reliable Zomato Data Scraper for Location Insights. The ability to perform Web Scraping Zomato Delivery Data gives businesses the edge to adapt strategies based on delivery zones, customer preferences, and neighborhood performance.

What Happens When You Slice Zomato by Postcode?

When you break down Zomato's vast dataset postcode-by-postcode, a world of valuable insights opens up. You're no longer looking at a city; you're studying neighborhoods — their favorite cuisines, price preferences, and appetite for offers.

Here's the type of data that becomes actionable at the postcode level:

Top restaurants by user rating

Trending dishes and seasonal favorites

Average order value (AOV) by locality

Delivery time benchmarks by zone

Dominant cuisines in each micro-market

Variations in service fees or platform charges

Promotional trends by location (coupons, discounts)

And more importantly — how each of these variables shifts over time. Monday night dinner rush in Malviya Nagar might not match the Friday evening surge in Koramangala.

Who Uses Postcode-Based Zomato Data?

Multi-Outlet Restaurant Chains: Restaurant groups with branches in multiple cities — or even multiple postcodes within a city — rely on postcode-level data to manage regional menus, pricing, and offers. A ₹200 thali may sell well in a student-heavy area but not in a premium residential block. With this data in hand, brands stop guessing and start optimizing using insights from the Food Delivery Dataset from Zomato.

Cloud Kitchens and Virtual Brands: For virtual kitchens operating without dine-in spaces, data is everything. They use postcode scraping to spot cuisine gaps. If Mexican food is underrepresented in a bustling delivery zone, they can launch a delivery-only Mexican brand targeting just that area. That's the kind of pinpoint precision modern food entrepreneurship requires, enabled through Restaurant Menu Data Scraping.

Food Delivery Logistics Partners: Companies that support last-mile food delivery use postcode-based Zomato data to predict peak times, optimize rider allocation, and plan delivery radius adjustments. By analyzing delivery ETAs and customer reviews per postcode, logistics companies improve reliability and reduce customer churn — a process simplified with the Zomato Food Delivery Scraping API.

Investment & Market Intelligence Firms: VCs, PE firms, and consulting houses now see postcode food data as a treasure trove. Want to evaluate the performance of a QSR chain in South India? Compare Zomato reviews, menu coverage, and repeat order trends across local postcodes. The depth of insights is remarkable, mainly when supported by dedicated Food Delivery Data Scraping Services.

Applications of Zomato Postcode Scraping

Let's break down some real scenarios where Zomato postcode data makes a visible difference:

Smart Store Placement: Knowing where to set up shop is critical when entering a new city. Zomato data reveals not just competition levels but delivery zone density, consumer engagement, and menu gaps. For example, if a locality has a high demand for biryani but few top-rated options, that's your signal—something you can quickly identify using Food Delivery Scraping API Services.

Competitive Analysis, But Better: Why scrape Zomato data for an entire city when you're only competing in 6 zip codes? Postcode-based scraping lets you benchmark against the right competition — those targeting the same households and pin codes as you are.

You get data on:

Menu overlaps

Discount strategies

Ratings over time

Bestseller comparisons

This is where Restaurant Data Intelligence Services gives you the sharp edge for precise local strategy.

Offer Personalization by Location: Discount fatigue is real, but location-aware promotions change the game. Zomato postcode data allows brands to launch time-bound, hyperlocal offers. For instance, if data shows lower Monday sales in Pune's Aundh area, roll out a Monday-only free delivery there. This is how Food Delivery Intelligence Services drives ROI through pinpoint execution.

Menu Engineering for Local Audiences: It's common to find large chains offering the same menu citywide. But that's not what customers want. By analyzing which dishes trend in which postcodes, restaurants can build menu variants that reflect local taste — a vegetarian burger version in Jayanagar, a spicier one in Noida — and visualize all of it through a dynamic Food Price Dashboard.

Postcode-Based Data Feeds = Better Dashboards

Zomato data, when scraped and structured by postcode, powers powerful BI dashboards. Whether you're using Tableau, Power BI, or a custom analytics suite, postcode filters allow decision-makers to:

Visualize customer ratings by locality

Monitor delivery trends across multiple areas

Run A/B tests of new offerings on selected postcodes

Track review sentiment at a street-level granularity

This saves time and boosts agility in campaigns, pricing, and customer experience.

Data Enrichment & Integration

Scraped Zomato data is often just the starting point. Businesses enrich this data by integrating it with other sources like:

Foot traffic data from mobile GPS signals.

Social media sentiment about local restaurants.

Transaction volumes (where available through partnerships).

Google search trends for cuisines per locality.

This fusion creates a 360-degree picture of the food economy, enhancing the predictive power of data analytics efforts.

Unlock hyperlocal food insights—start scraping Zomato data by postcode with our expert solutions today!

Contact us today!

The Future Is Local

Zomato is already moving toward more granular targeting — dynamic search results, neighborhood-based trending sections, and customized delivery windows. Scraping by postcode mirrors this trajectory. It allows you to meet customers where they are, with offerings they genuinely want.

Imagine a world where:

New dishes are launched only in test pin codes

Delivery speeds are optimized based on local traffic

Ratings are studied in postcode clusters

Dynamic pricing adjusts per neighborhood

That's not a future fantasy — it's happening today, and postcode scraping enables it.

What Makes Postcode Scraping Indispensable?

Precision: Neighborhood-level data is more actionable than citywide averages.

Personalization: Fine-tune menus, prices, and promotions per locality.

Performance Monitoring: Spot issues early — whether delivery delays or ratings drops — right down to the zip code.

Strategic Expansion: Don't guess where to launch next. Use data from real consumer behavior by area.

Competitive Advantage: Keep tabs on who's doing well and why — block by block.

How Food Data Scrape Can Help You?

Postcode-Based Data Extraction: We provide hyperlocal scraping solutions that extract Zomato data by specific postcodes, helping you analyze restaurants, menus, ratings, and delivery insights at a granular level.

Restaurant and Menu Intelligence: Our tools capture complete restaurant listings, menu items, pricing, add-ons, and bestseller tags—enabling deep competitor analysis and regional menu optimization.

Real-Time Review & Rating Monitoring: We collect real-time user reviews, ratings, and customer feedback to help you track performance trends, identify local sentiment, and refine service quality.

Discounts & Delivery Insights: We track dynamic delivery charges, estimated times, and promotional offers—offering clarity on regional strategies used by restaurants and aggregators.

Custom Dashboard Integration: We deliver Zomato data in ready-to-use formats (JSON, CSV, API feed) that integrate smoothly with your BI tools, enabling visual analysis and strategic decision-making.

Final Thoughts

Zomato Data Scraping by Postcode is not just a technical capability; it's a strategic necessity in a world where food choices, delivery expectations, and digital interactions vary dramatically across short distances.

As consumer expectations become more localized and food brands become increasingly digital, postcode-based data gives you the clarity to act faster, smarter, and more effectively. For restaurant chains, cloud kitchens, delivery platforms, and market analysts, this approach unlocks the kind of deep, actionable insight that fuels growth in the food-tech space—powered by accurate and timely Food Delivery Datasets.

If you are seeking for a reliable data scraping services, Food Data Scrape is at your service. We hold prominence in Food Data Aggregator and Mobile Restaurant App Scraping with impeccable data analysis for strategic decision-making.

Source>> https://www.fooddatascrape.com/zomato-restaurants-dataset-all-postcodes-strategy.php

[harryglass]

Edward Evans (You dig?)

Part One He never does what he is told! Edward Evans, 10 years old In bed one night, said: “I insist I’ll be an archaeologist. I’ll dig for buildings, dig for gold Be rich at only 10 years old! I’ve got a spade, I’ve got a tent– I’ll find lost cities! Excellent!” At half past midnight, off he went! Found a spot to pitch his tent, Raised the spade, switched on a light, And scraped, and scratched, and dug all night. “I’ll dig for buildings, dig for gold, Be rich at only 10 years old! Ah-ha! What’s this? My spade has bent! I’ve found a city! Excellent!” “A city’s been here all along!” But Edward didn’t smile for long. “It’s not a city?” (There’s a shock) In fact it’s just a strange-shaped rock. He used his spade and chipped away Then whispered: “Woaahhh!” for there it lay– No city sprawled at great extent; Just one pale bone…“Excellent!” He never does what he is told! Edward Evans, 10 years old Delicately brushed away The dirt and stones, and yelled: “Hooray! A skeleton, from toes to jaw... A fossilised dinosaur!” Which kind? The tiny forearms meant… “Tyrannosaurus Rex-cellent!” At that, the skeleton sprang up! It stood there like a well-trained pup And wagged its bony tail, and said: “You spoke the magic code word, Ed! I am 65 million years old And I’ve learnt to do as I am told For one whole day – and then I’m spent.” Edward shouted: “Excellent!” To school next day he marched his prize– His friends could not believe their eyes. Edward said: “Let’s have some fun– Bite the teacher on the bum!” The fossil crept, the children beamed– It bit his bum – the teacher screamed! It went wherever Edward went. “Wow!” kids shouted, “Excellent!” It pinned the bully to the floor It scared the scary dog next door It roared and stamped along the streets Till shops gave Edward bags of sweets. His parents went to bed in shock So Ed watched films till 12 o’clock. It went to sleep when Edward went: “Tyrannosaurus Rex-cellent!”

Part Two Edward’s sweet and pleasant dreams Were shattered when he heard some screams; He woke to hear his mother shout: “You bony little creep, get OUT!” The fossil (65 million years old) No longer did what it was told. It saw the cat and followed it And opened wide and swallowed it. The cat was fine, I tell no fibs– The cat jumped out, between its ribs! At that, the skeleton looked up: “I need some more to fill me up!” Away it clattered, through the door, Eating everything it saw– It ate the neighbours, stuffed its snout! But every neighbour fell straight out. “I did behave for one whole day But now I won’t! I’ll hunt for prey! No meals for 65 million years– These children taste so good, the dears! And all their fluffy doggies too! Their bikes are tough and hard to chew But Granny’s soft, all wrapped in wool!” It ate her up and wasn’t full. Edward Evans, 10 years old Commanded: “Do as you are told! Stop eating! Naughty dinosaur! Put that baby down! NO MORE!” But it wagged its bony tail, and said: “You’ll need the magic code word, Ed!” The baby looked at Ed and blinked. The fossil opened wide, and winked… Edward Evans did lament That nothing had been excellent Since fossil dino stopped behaving– Edward felt like ranting, raving. It wagged its bony tail, and said: “So what’s the magic code word, Ed?” Ed yelled: “WAIT! That's it!” (He winked) “Tyrannosaurus, you’re Rex-tinct!” It stood quite still, from jaw to toes– The spell had worked! The fossil froze! Edward promised: “I insist I’ll be a palaeontologist! And now I’ve learnt, at 10 years old It’s nice to do what you are told. I dig it now! 100 per cent!” Edward Evans! Excellent!

[actowizdatasolutions]

🛒 Zepto Grocery Data Scraping API – Unlock Hyperlocal Pricing & Stock Insights with Actowiz Solutions

In India’s #FastGrowingQuickCommerce sector, Zepto is redefining how groceries reach consumers. But for brands, aggregators, and market analysts - understanding #ZeptosPricing, #ProductAssortment, and availability across cities is critical for staying competitive.

🔍 With Actowiz Solutions’ Zepto Web Scraping API, you can extract real-time grocery data, including:

✅ Product names, SKUs & categories

✅ Real-time pricing, discounts & delivery fees

✅ Availability by pin code & local stores

✅ Brand vs. private label comparison

✅ Ingredient, pack size & nutritional metadata

💡 Whether you're in #FMCG, #D2C, #RetailAnalytics, or delivery optimization, our API enables #DataDrivenInsights across:

📍 Top Indian cities like Mumbai, Delhi, Bengaluru & Hyderabad

📦 Competitive benchmarking for your product pricing

📊 Shelf intelligence & stock tracking at the hyperlocal level

🛍️ Market trend analysis based on real-time grocery fluctuations

🚀 Built for scale, speed, and compliance, our solutions are ideal for teams building grocery price trackers, inventory planners, or real-time dashboards.

📩 Get a free demo or sample dataset today!

🌐 Learn more: https://www.actowizsolutions.com/zepto-web-scraping-api.php

✉️ Contact: sales@actowizsolutions.com

[actowizmetrics]

Unlocking Grocery Pricing Insights with Blinkit and Zepto Data

Introduction

In the fast-moving world of Quick Commerce (Q-Commerce), grocery platforms like Blinkit and Zepto have transformed how consumers shop for everyday essentials. For FMCG brands, grocery chains, and retail analysts, tracking real-time pricing across these apps is essential to stay ahead in a price-sensitive market.

Actowiz Metrics empowers brands with powerful web scraping tools to extract hyperlocal grocery pricing data, enabling smarter pricing, competitive benchmarking, and regional promotion strategies.

Why Real-Time Grocery Pricing Matters

Blinkit and Zepto often revise prices based on:

Local supply-demand

Warehouse availability

Time of day (surge or flash sales)

City-specific competition (e.g., Mumbai vs. Bengaluru)

This makes static price tracking outdated. Only real-time or hourly updates can help you:

Stay competitive

Avoid stockouts

Optimize regional margins

What Data Can Be Scraped?

From Blinkit and Zepto, Actowiz Metrics can extract:

Product name and SKU

MRP and selling price

Discount and % off

Weight/quantity

In-stock/out-of-stock status

City and pin code-based availability

Delivery ETA

Use Cases for Brands & Analysts

1. FMCG Pricing Teams

Benchmark your SKUs’ pricing against competitors in real-time across cities.

2. Retail Analysts

Monitor which categories are being discounted most frequently or in which cities.

3. Regional Marketing

Launch pin code-level promotions based on price gaps or stock patterns.

4. Inventory Teams

Spot out-of-stock trends city-wise to optimize restocking.

5. Competitor Intelligence

Compare Blinkit vs Zepto for price wars, delivery ETAs, and discount depth.

Why Actowiz Metrics?

Real-Time API Access or CSV Feeds

Coverage Across All Major Indian Cities

Pin Code-Based Accuracy

Custom Dashboards & Alerts

AI-Driven Price Pattern Recognition

Strategic Insights You Can Unlock

Which brand offers maximum discount in Delhi vs Mumbai?

Where is a SKU out of stock, and what’s the next best replacement?

How do Blinkit’s prices differ from Zepto’s by category?

Interested in a sample grocery pricing dashboard? Request a demo and take control of your regional pricing strategies today.

Contact Us Today!

Conclusion

In the age of instant grocery delivery, every rupee counts. With real-time Blinkit and Zepto data from Actowiz Metrics, your team can unlock critical pricing insights, outsmart local competitors, and stay agile in India’s hyperlocal grocery market. Learn More

[simpatel]

Hourly Price Insights: Amazon, Myntra, Meesho & Flipkart – 2025

Hourly E-Commerce Pricing Insights Across Amazon, Myntra, Meesho & Flipkart

Featuring: iWeb Data Scraping

In the fast-paced world of Indian e-commerce , platforms like Amazon, Flipkart, Myntra, and Meesho change product prices multiple times a day to stay competitive, drive conversions, and react to market trends. For brands and sellers, staying ahead in this dynamic pricing environment is a challenge — one that iWeb Data Scraping solves with precision.

This blog delves deep into how hourly pricing insights can transform pricing decisions, optimize promotions, and maximize profitability across leading e-commerce platforms.

Why Hourly Price Monitoring Matters in Indian E-Commerce

1. Dynamic Pricing Strategy

Online platforms frequently adjust prices based on:

Demand fluctuations

Time-based offers

Competitor pricing

Stock availability

Without real-time data, businesses risk being undercut or missing out on trending SKUs.

2. Sale Period Volatility

During flash sales, festive discounts, or platform-specific events (like Myntra EORS or Flipkart Big Billion Days), price changes occur every hour—or even every few minutes.

3. Buy Box Wars (Amazon & Flipkart)

Winning the Buy Box often comes down to having the most competitive price, tracked and adjusted hourly. Brands without pricing visibility risk losing valuable conversions.

iWeb Data Scraping’s Hourly

At iWeb Data Scraping, we provide automated hourly scraping for key product categories such as:

Fashion & Apparel

Electronics & Mobile Accessories

Home & Kitchen

Personal Care & Beauty

FMCG & Grocery (Meesho/Fulfilled by Amazon)

We offer real-time dashboards, API integrations, and downloadable datasets.

Platform-Wise Insights & Sample Use Cases

1. Amazon India: Competitive Price Tracking

Amazon updates product listings, seller prices, and discounts frequently based on customer engagement and Prime exclusives.

Use Case: Identify competitor pricing moves and trigger automatic repricing using scraped hourly data.

2. Flipkart: Flash Sales & Price Drops

Flipkart’s dynamic promotions impact categories like electronics, fashion, and home appliances.

Use Case: Predict hourly flash deal windows and adjust ad spend or inventory exposure.

3. Myntra: Fashion Pricing During Sales

Myntra adjusts prices every few hours, especially during EORS (End of Reason Sale), flash promotions, and clearance windows.

Use Case: Sync fashion promotions across marketplaces based on competitor markdown timings.

4. Meesho: Budget & FMCG Insights

Meesho often targets tier-2/tier-3 cities, where price sensitivity is high. Hourly changes are common on grocery, kitchen tools, and fast-moving goods.

Use Case: Retailers use Meesho hourly data to stay affordable in high-volume geographies.

Key Features of iWeb Data Scraping’s Hourly Price Tracker

Cloud-based dashboards with real-time filters by brand, category, and price movement

API access for seamless integration with repricing tools or ERP systems

Custom alerts for sudden price drops, discount thresholds, or Buy Box shifts

Visualized price trends across platforms

City-wise & pin-code-wise product availability data

Benefits for Sellers, Brands & Retailers

Optimize Margins:

Avoid pricing too low or too high by referencing hourly market data.

Competitor Benchmarking:

Track how competitors react to major campaigns across Amazon , Flipkart, etc.

Campaign Timing:

Sync your social media, push notifications, or Google Shopping Ads to peak pricing hours.

Inventory Planning:

Use hourly data to forecast which SKUs are surging in popularity or are being aggressively discounted.

How It Works – Our Hourly Scraping Architecture

URL/ASIN/Product Link PoolingA curated list of SKUs monitored by our bots every 30 to 60 minutes.

Custom Scrapers Per PlatformiWeb Data Scraping deploys tailored parsers for Amazon, Flipkart , Myntra & Meesho.

Proxy Rotations + CAPTCHA SolversEnsures uninterrupted access, even on high-security platforms.

Data Cleaning & EnrichmentPrice, discount %, availability, seller, and timestamps formatted to your required schema.

Delivery Modes

CSV/Excel via email

API push

Google Cloud / AWS buckets

Web dashboard login

Industry Use Cases in Action

Fashion Brand:

Tracks rival price reductions hourly on Myntra & Flipkart and adjusts pricing via API-connected tools to remain the most competitive in size/color variations.

Amazon Seller:

Monitors hourly Buy Box status and reacts within 60 minutes using iWeb data to restore competitive edge.

FMCG Brand:

Scrapes Meesho + Amazon hourly to benchmark price movement in tier-2 cities and align retail promotions to match digital pricing.

Sample Alert Message (From iWeb Dashboard)

Price Drop Alert

Flipkart: “Samsung M14 5G” dropped from ₹14,499 to ₹12,999 (10.34% ↓)

Amazon: Still at ₹13,999. Adjust pricing or run limited-time ad boost?

Why Choose iWeb Data Scraping for Hourly E-Commerce Insights?

True Real-Time Updates:Unlike daily crawlers, we provide hourly granularity, vital for flash-sale success.

Flexible Integrations:JSON, Excel, API, Google Sheets — choose how you receive and visualize data.

Actionable Intelligence, Not Just Raw Data:Our insights highlight anomalies, missed opportunities, and ideal pricing windows.

Localized Targeting:Track price differences across cities, helping in regional promotion design.

Final Thoughts

Hourly pricing intelligence is no longer optional—it’s a strategic necessity. With platforms like Amazon, Flipkart, Myntra, and Meesho becoming more dynamic than ever, staying updated hour-by-hour gives your business the edge to respond, react, and reap results.

Partner with iWeb Data Scraping to transform raw data into real-time profitability.

Originally Published At https://www.iwebdatascraping.com/ecommerce-price-monitoring-hourly.php

[thecaptainhelm]

Shut Your Mouth Pt.2

hahaha, daminette part two, wasn’t a one shot, gn gn gn.

Marinette sighed as the shower warmed up, rolling her neck and relishing in the light feeling of accomplishment. Ever since Hawkmoth had been defeated, a mere two days ago, things had been tense. Hawkmoth, now known as Gabriel Agreste, was arrested along with his assistant Nathalie Sancoeur who had since retired as Mayura the year before. It was a stroke of luck to discover that the Guardian had the ability to forcibly renounce a broken Miraculous. Something Gabriel hadn’t known, granting them extra time as he futilely tried to ‘fix’ the brooch. While that happened, she managed to finally convince Chat to at least keep him as a suspect if not out of suspicion, then to actually strike him from their list. It didn’t take long rack up evidence against him, especially after learning from the Bats of Gotham. 

The battle was quiet, in the early hours of the morning, where the city forcibly cut the power to the Agreste mansion, and it only took one Venom for each while they slept defenselessly. It took only a few minutes to find evidence that he was at least working with Hawkmoth, and when they found the miraculous pin and brooch, it was confirmed that he was, indeed, Hawkmoth with Nathalie working as his henchwoman Mayura.

Soon, with what was probably the fastest trial of the century, Gabriel Agreste and Nathalie Sancoeur were declared guilty and sentenced to serve life in prison and an insane asylum respectively. It had only shocked her for a moment that Mayura pleaded guilty and asked to be sent directly to rehab for mental help, by reason of insanity wrought by grief. What did surprise her was that she was the one to take the miraculous and give them to the Agreste couple as an anniversary gift, ultimately setting off a chain of unforeseen consequences.

That was a whole other cake she didn’t want to bake just yet, so she decided to finally just take a moment to breathe for what felt like the first time in five years. 

So it was only normal that her smartwatch chimed on the hook of the shower caddy, a picture of a frowny eagle glaring right at her. She cursed her luck, yeah, no breaks was still her usual routine. It must be real hard for the universe to break out that particular habit.

Then she remembered that she set this particular picture and ringtone for the one person who had never called.

Robin, the vigilante that she might have, kind of, definitely made an enemy of.

Who was also her crush, so that was just. Great.

In her defense, she was a human being, and human beings were capable of amazing feats. It was just that her amazing feats were more amazing bouts of stupidity. Seriously, why did she do it? Just where did her common sense escape to make her think that was even a remotely good idea, because she wanted to go there and never come back.

She had kissed-- no! She made out with Robin, the most notoriously ill-tempered member of Batman’s team. The only reason he didn’t deck her in the face was because, because, well she didn’t know! Was it mercy, a misplaced feeling of pity, perhaps?

No, actually, it was more likely that he was frozen stiff with rage. Marinette couldn’t blame him, heck, she’d be angry too, suddenly getting passionately smooched in the middle of livid rant. 

She had planned on giving him her contact information for the longest time, since they'd come to the understanding that they only wanted to do what was best for everyone, the kind of understanding that only leaders could have. And to maybe get closer to him as much as professionalism allowed. So, it stood to reason that she had to go ahead and ruin that, too. She really couldn’t believe herself sometimes, who randomly kisses someone, hands them their number, and then trots off back to work? Marinette Dupain-Cheng apparently.

In fact, it was about time he called. She had pretty much an entire year to prepare herself for what was sure to be a concise and frigid rejection, maybe even a “Stay for away from, lest I stab everyone in this room and then jump out of a window out of utter disgust”? She might as well get it over with and then move on to be alone for the rest of her life.

She wiped the water out of her eyes and squinted at the text message, before jumping out the shower with a loud curse. She hurriedly dried off and put on her clothes, before heading to the Miracle Box, rereading his message.

Emergency evac, one person, requesting Pegasus’ portal twenty kilometers horizontally above sea level precisely fifteen minutes after this message. Coordinates attached.

The message was sent ten minutes ago. How long was she catastrophizing for?!

Max was partying along with the rest of Paris while she took a breather in her art studio. Even with the full fifteen minutes she wouldn’t be able to find him in time. Shit, would she even be able to transform in time?

She grabbed the glasses from the box and Kaalki appeared in a proud flash. 

“No time, there’s trouble,” she panted. “Ready?”

“Hmph, of course,” Kaalki tossed her head. “Let’s go, shall we?”

“Kaalki, transform me!” She eyed the time, two minutes left. She memorized the coordinates as she searched for a suitable place for him to land, and realized she was going to have to catch him in her storage closet.

One minute left. She opened the door and cleared space in the center of the room.

Thirty-five seconds. She stood on an old chair that she moved into the center of the room.

Twenty seconds, and she called, “Voyage!” and threw the portal up towards the ceiling.

Zero. She braced for impact and caught a body that plummeted through in a free fall.

“Ow,” she closed the portal with a groan, amidst the shattered pieces of what used to be a pretty sturdy chair.

“Don’t complain, it could have been worse.” A deep voice rasped.

Wow, to think she missed him, that asshole.

“Shut up, Robi-- oh my god your arm! Get up, getupgetupgetup!” She hauled him up as gently as possible, annoyance giving way to concern.

Robin was, putting it lightly, a mess. He had lost his mask, his eye was swollen shut and his face was bruised with cuts all over, and he was sticky with blood practically everywhere she looked. It was his arm that she was most concerned about, however. It was set in a splint, but he must have been in a rush because it was set wrong, his thumb facing perpendicular lyaway from his body.

“I am fine,” he sagged into her, weary. “I just need a place to stay for the night.”

“If you weren’t so grievously injured, I’d throw you out for that,” she remarked. “But guess what? It’s your lucky night monsieur, and I’m a trained field medic.” Robin looked at her, maskless, and she had to dart her eyes away from his maskless face.

“Oh, so Ladybug finally started replacing her subpar lineup? About time, either she benched them or Hawkmoth would kill them at some point. They were woefully incompent.” Yep, this was definitely Robin, no doubt about it with that attitude.

She called off the transformation and was somewhat pleased when he reflexively jerked his head away. She pulled him into a princess carry and made her way back to the bathroom, inwardly delighting at his reaction. She would never let him live this down.

“It’s me, Robin. Ladybug. Pegasus couldn’t make it, so you’ll have to do with me instead of a random stand-in.” She raised her brow, not that he could see it.

“Unless that bothers you, Boy Wonder?”

“...I’m not,” he mumbled.

“Hm?”

“I’m not Robin anymore.”

What. What.

“What?”

“I’ve retired, effective as of nine months ago today, Robin’s cape has been hung up for the next generation.”

Relief didn’t come yet. “Oh, so you’ve taken on a new mantle? Or are you finally the next Batman, though it would take some time to fill those shoulders. Literally, I mean that literally, um.” She observed his downcast expression and once again started walking to the bathroom. When had she stopped?

“I’m not taking over anything,” he said sullenly. “I can’t. Not after what I did.”

“Come on, it couldn’t have been so bad,” she opened the door with her heel as she backed them towards the stool by the sink. She set him down carefully, taking full stock of his injuries.

“It was. Batman’s cowl has always represented a strict moral code, one that I’ve always...struggled to adhere to.”

Marinette bit her lip as she kneeled in front of him. He didn’t say anymore, and she couldn’t think of anything to say. She sighed and brought out her med kit from the towel cabinet. She was always like this with him.

With Robin (now not Robin?) she had always drawn a blank. She could read his emotions somewhat well, had a good grasp on his moods, and could have genuinely insightful conversations with him. It was only at crucial moments like this that she struggled. Even with Adrien she had always known what she wanted to say, but Robin was different. Everything about him screamed “one chance only” and that caused her mind to go blank. It was so unbelievably frustrating that she could scream.

Marinette handed the glasses to Kaalki and nodded towards her purse hanging on the door handle. The kwami zoomed towards it and soon disappeared into it with the miraculous.

“Robin,” she called gently. He didn’t move. “I’ll have to cut your shirt off, okay? I need to see where the blood is coming from.”

“It’s not mine.The blood.” He kept his gaze away as she froze.

“Well, we’ll have to reset that arm,” she tried again. “It’s not...it’s not looking good, to say the least.”

He looked towards his mangled right arm and nodded. 

It took some time to undo the splint and she tried not to think about where he had been for him to only have rotted wood and prison rags on hand. She cut his shirt off at the sleeve and down his middle, pulling it off and exposing a painful canvas of mottled bruises, scrapes, and cuts. She handed him her towel and he stuffed it in his mouth without a word. She gently untied the splint.

“Are you ready?” She gazed at him resolutely. He nodded and braced himself as best he could.

“On my count, one, two--” She re-broke his arm a count early on purpose.

“Arrghh! Ffuk!!” He jerked out of her grip.

“Hold still!” He spat out the towel and glared in response.

“Mizq dhiraei allaeaynat 'aw aidbitha!!!” She only understood ‘rip’ and ‘arm’ but she got the gist of his screaming.

“Alright it’s done now, I’m setting it, so stop moving,” She couldn’t help but sigh under his vicious scowl.

“Tsk. Be grateful that I can barely discern your features Ladybug. You’re on my shit list and I don’t feel like kicking your ass today.”

“Wow, thanks for saving me Ladybug, I could have died if it weren’t for you!” Marinette couldn’t help but snark at him.

“...tsk!” Yep, that was as good as she was going to get in his condition.

After years of fighting akuma victims she was able to observe the complex and hidden emotions of her opponents and the civilians that she rescued. And right now, her experience was telling her that Robin had more than his pride ruined. His self-confident, courageous, and taciturn nature seemed to be regressing as he fell back into what was probably a self-defense mechanism. For him to be like this instead of exhausted in his current state told her that he must have been through a lot since she last saw him.

She started to gently clean the blood off and noted the bruises underneath definitely came from an intense melee battle. Most of them were in places that made her cringe just looking at them. At least he doesn’t have any other broken bones, or stab wounds. Lucky him.

Robin put an ice pack to his face in the meanwhile and wouldn’t look in her direction.

It was quiet for a while. “So, what should I call you, then?” And she had to open her big fat mouth, didn’t she? Now it was awkward. It was awkward, and he hated her, and she was never speaking again, ever.

“Damian.” Uh oh.That didn’t sound like a moniker.

“Um, nice code name?” She started disinfecting his cuts and scrapes, trying not to panic.

“I no longer require such aliases.” Ok, process that later, heal Robin now. Process. Later.

“Ro--, Damian, uh, well,” She sighed.  “My offer still stands, you know?”

He made a quiet noise. 

“Last time I saw you, I mean. I had left in a rush,”-- after kissing you senseless-- “but I’m always here to listen if you want to talk about what happened.”

Robin, or Damian now, she still wasn’t used to that, froze. His brows furrowed and he strangely went red in the face, before sighing, slumping against the sink.

“I...the blood’s not mine. It hasn’t been my for a long time, but it might as well be for how long I’ve carried it. I’m not a good person so much as to blame myself completely, but I do recognize some of the fault as mine. I’d gotten help, and I was making progress, but it wasn’t enough. I started falling back into old habits and I hated it. I tried and I failed, and I kept trying and failing for months and I…” He gained a look of despair, the first real emotion she’s seen on him since he dropped in.

“I couldn’t do it anymore. I just kept disappointing everyone and I hated it so much,” he dug his fingers into his matted hair.

“So, I left. I decided to go on a journey to try and repent, and it was working, at least I thought it did. But, then I had stumbled upon a Shadows base and I…” He peered unseeing at the floor.

“It was like I lost all sense of reason. I lay siege to the entire facility and found my way to the next base. It all turned into an endless cycle, all the way until I reached headquarters and inadvertently met up with high ranking members of the Justice League, teaming up to diminish their power. We were successful, but a candidate for the position of the Demon’s Head activated the self-destruct module. Everyone was scrambling to get out and suddenly my mind felt clearer than it had ever been.” He took  a deep breath and Marinette moved closer to offer some comfort. He leaned towards her gratefully.

“The Justice League had already had an escape route, but the Shadows were in disarray for some reason. After I was sure my old comrades were out, I locked all the doors, and dived down to a ceremonial bathing chamber.”

“And that’s where I came in,” she whispered. I think I’m starting to like him more than I should. What is wrong with me?! Who made me this way?! She had some complaints in regards to that.

“You saved my life,” he inclined his head in an informal bow. “Thank you, Ladybug.”

“...Marinette.” She croaked suddenly. She was left reeling from his info dump and her intense, romantic feelings. So, why not go for a confession? 

Damian whipped his head up in disbelief.

“My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Enchanté, Damian.” She smiled at his bewildered state, wiping away a bit of blood under his chin. She opened her mouth to say more, but didn’t get the chance.

Damian leapt up, furious. “You fool! I knew you were a space cadet, but I didn’t think your brain drifted beyond the stars! How utterly moronic!”

“Wait, why are you so mad?!” She panicked. She kind of had a spur of the moment idea to kiss him on his split lip, but that was looking less and less likely to happen.

(Damn it.)

“You told me your name!” he shouted.

“Yes, and you told me your’s?” She retorted. 

“Have you forgotten Hawkmoth?! Your enemy that can read the minds of the emotionally disturbed should he decide to possess them!” He started to hobble out of the bathroom, still half-treated and mostly in pain.

Oh. 

Oh!

“I have to leave, now! If I can stay calm long enough to reach the trains then I’ll be moving too fast for a butterfly to suddenly get me.”

“Uh, Damian?”

“No, it might already be enroute to someone else and might even already be on board,” He winced and stumbled on the tassel rug in the hallway.

“Woah, hang on a second Damian,” she grabbed him before he could fall, but he pulled out of her grip.

“We don’t have time for this, I can guarantee that I would be one of the worst akumas you’ve faced in your hero career, nevermind the insider information I hold within my mind.”

“Yes, but listen to me,” Damian moved towards the small sitting area, not listening to her. 

Again.

“This safehouse should be around one hundred kilometers from the city limits, you’re safe for now, but Hawkmoth’s estimated rate of growth was--”

That’s it!

Marinette grabbed his jaw and slammed it closed. She had had enough.

“This isn’t a safehouse, we’re in my art studio,” she snapped. She could see the rage begin to build to new heights in his eye.

“No, shut your mouth, and listen!” A vein in his forehead started to pulse, but he didn't move to speak.

Good.

“Hawkmoth has been defeated as of last week, and the trial was concluded a couple days ago. Going by what you told me, you've been out the loop for almost a year, so you don’t know that my team and I had closed in on Hawkmoth’s trail some time ago and were able to build a solid case that’ll go through in a court of law,” She carefully let him go.

“So, you’re safe, I’m safe, and Paris is safe too.” She’d already started to calm down in the middle of her explanation, and idly noted that she should probably take an anger management class.

And sign up for therapy. Lots of it, preferably.

Damian nodded slowly as he rubbed his jaw and she couldn’t help her wince.

“Sorry, did I handle you too roughly? Come here,” she started to pull him back towards the bathroom. He resisted.

“No, it’s fine, no damage just from that much force,” he tugged his arm away but she quickly moved behind him and began to push him through the bathroom door.

“Well, I’m not done treating you, so get back in there.” He grabbed the door frame and pushed back, and her calm demeanor left as quick as it came. Was it even truly there to begin with?

“I said,” she picked him up and threw him back on the stool where he grasped for stability.

“Come here.” She leaned in close to his bruised face, and wow, the one eye that she could see was so very, very green. “I’m not done with you, yet.”

“...okay,” he whispered. He kept his head down.

It didn’t take long to finish disinfecting the rest of his wounds, and soon she started applying ointment to the worst of his bruises. She had enough, but she was definitely going to be restocking in order to play his nursemaid for the next week or so. She rose to her feet and started packing away her kit.

“I’ll give you some pain meds for the night, I’ll leave you to take care of the injuries under the rest of your clothes. Come find me in the kitchenette. I’ll make something for us, though it won’t be anything fancy.”

“That is fine.” Marinette frowned at the strange husk in his voice. Did someone try to suffocate him? Why hadn’t she noticed until now?

She kneeled beside him and reached around him for the water bottle she had left in there earlier, but noticed him twitch and start to blush. Did he get a fever too?

She observed his red face and clear, but dilated eyes. Merde, did she embarrass him from earlier? She knew he had a large ego, but it was his own fault for being stubborn.

“Here, get yourself some water from the sink,” she handed the glittery black bottle to him and hurriedly strode out of the bathroom, calling,

“Holler if you need me!” 

Completely aware of the flustered state she left Damian in. Though not for the reason she thinks, at least.

[dindjarindiaries]

Serendipity - Chapter 1: The Bounty

gif via @twillight​​

summary: You come across the Mandalorian yet again on a hunt and have to battle it out for who gets to win the prize.

warnings: canonical-type violence, angst, din and reader are both jerks but we love that for them

rating: T

word count: 3.146k

previous ⟸ masterlist ⟹ next

chapter 1: the bounty

This is supposed to be your job.

All it takes are the turning heads of those around you to realize who’s just entered the cantina. You curse under your breath and tighten your grip on the drink you haven’t even started nursing. Each sound of his spur is a scrape of a knife against your patience, wearing it down more and more until your knuckles are turning white around the cup. You force yourself to take a deep breath and relax your arm, refusing to show him how his presence has affected you—unlike the others who sit in this cantina.

But then the glimmer of light reflecting off the beskar of his helmet catches the corner of your eye and you realize he’s standing right beside you.

“Mando.” Your greeting is curt, unfriendly, and hopefully as sharp as the vibroblade tucked on your belt. You refuse to give him a glance, instead lifting your cup to your lips as you finally drink its strong contents. “I figure you’re not here for a drink.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything just yet. Instead, you watch his gloved fingers flex on the bar counter from your peripherals, as if his every movement is calculated. When he speaks, the modulated voice is as low and gruff as ever, void of any emotion. “Neither are you.”

You raise an eyebrow, still refusing to look over at him as you take another sip. “Are you so sure about that?” Mando doesn’t answer, instead continuing to flex his hand as his helmet peers around. You let out a sigh as you hold the cup between your hands. “They’re not here—at least, not yet.”

“I didn’t ask.”

You scoff. “You wouldn’t have stood next to me if you didn’t want to know.”

“I wouldn’t have stood next to you if it wasn’t the only spot along the counter that was open.”

You roll your eyes, tightening your hold on the cup again as you try not to get into a petty argument with the man yet again. Too many times, he’s used it to his advantage, distracting you enough to go after the bounty before you even get a chance. This quarry will be yours, no matter what he tries to pull. “You just like to throw me off.”

You can see Mando’s head tilt slightly to the side as a gloved hand checks something on his vambrace. “If the shoe fits.”

With a snarl under your breath, you look to the tracking fob hooked on your belt, watching it beep in the same rhythm it has for the past half-hour you’ve already been here. You’re not sure how you and Mando keep ending up with the same commissions—but you know that you’re tired of only getting half of what you’ve been promised. You never split a reward; you fight until someone wins it all. But if you’d gotten to have all those quarries to yourself, your fortune would be doubled.

Often, you wonder what one of his kind’s doing in the Bounty Hunter’s Guild, rather than steaming in a dead heap on the soils of Mandalore.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the simultaneous sound of rapid beeping coming from both your tracking fobs. You look over at the Mandalorian sharply, watching as his own helmet looks down to the fob on his belt. Over your shoulder, you can see the Pantoran bounty standing by the door, having just walked in and sat down with a buddy. You and Mando share a quick glance and you narrow your eyes as you stare him down.

You wouldn’t dare, your gaze warns him.

Try me, the slight tilt of his helmet taunts back at you.

And then you lunge in the direction of the bounty, only to have your waist seized by Mando’s grappling hook as he pulls you back. You nearly fly into the mass of other people standing at the bar, now looking more alert as you and Mando launch into action. You push yourself off of them to see Mando pursuing the bounty, who’s now jumped up and started to take off for the outside.

“You metal bastard!” you exclaim through clenched teeth, completely clearing a table as you quickly follow in pursuit of both your targets.

The Mandalorian underestimates your speed as always, failing to quicken his pace as you already nip at his heels. The Pantoran weaves through the confused crowd, causing you and Mando to shove people aside as you try to stay on his trail. Soon, you get close enough to Mando to reach out for his cape, giving it a hard tug that causes him to trip back a few steps with an exclamation of surprise. You race ahead while you hear him curse through his modulator, quick to follow in pursuit of both you and the quarry.

You watch as the Pantoran sharply turns into an alleyway, causing you to sigh as you realize the three of you will be stuck in a confined space. That means it’ll be harder for you to claim the bounty—you’ll likely have to duel it out with Mando, now. At least in a pursuit, you can just say you got there first. When you’re fighting in an alley, that means the quarry belongs to whoever wins your own fight. And as much as you hate to admit it, fighting one-on-one with a Mandalorian isn’t easy.

Still, you follow the bounty, slowing down and drawing your blaster when you realize it’s a dead end—and he’s nowhere to be found. You can hear Mando’s boots getting closer and closer behind you, but he’s not your focus. If you can find the Pantoran first, you can claim him easily. That’s all you’re trying to think of.

Sadly, your efforts are to no avail, as you soon hear the Pantoran drop onto the ground behind you and catch you off guard.

You’re knocked to the ground hard by a kick to your back, causing you to sprawl out as you roll over and raise your blaster. The bounty’s already got his pointed at you, but it’s quickly shot out of his hand by another blaster bolt—Mando’s. You jump up as the Pantoran turns, watching him start to engage in a fight with Mando. You take the opportunity to lunge towards his back, grabbing him by the shoulders and swinging him around to hit the ground. You take a step to hover over him and claim your quarry, but you’re shoved to the side before you can, the mass of metal instead trying to take your place. You fall onto the ground yet again and roll over, struggling to get up as you give the Mandalorian a glare full of fire.

“He’s mine, Mando!” you exclaim with frustration.

Mando tilts his helmet at you. “Really?” His modulated voice is almost a scoff, making your blood boil even more as he gestures with his blaster to the quarry beneath him. “Looks like you’ve got a secure—.”

As Mando’s busy bickering with you, the bounty sits up quickly and hits the back of Mando’s knee, causing him to fall onto it. He takes that opportunity to stand up, kneeing Mando on the back until he collapses right where you are, further crushing you with his weight. You look around Mando’s helmet and shoulders that are now almost completely obstructing your vision to watch the Pantoran run out of the alleyway. Mando hovers over you, now, as he slams his fist against the ground in frustration just beside your head. “Get off of me,” you snarl, shoving him by the shoulders to the side as you scurry to get up.

You get a head start this time, trying your best to pretend that the Mandalorian isn’t hot on your trail as you catch the man’s blue skin just a few feet ahead of you. People gasp as you shove them aside, never slowing your speed no matter how tired you are as you press on. You’re closing the distance even more rapidly than before. The Pantoran starts to head outside of the small city’s walls, but he doesn’t make it far before you reach into your boot for your knife and make the throw. It lands in the back of the bounty’s leg, causing him to cry out as he collapses onto the ground.

You smirk with satisfaction as you lean over him, retrieving your knife from his leg—much to his own agony—and unclip your binders from your belt. Just as you grab his hands and start to cuff him, you suddenly hear the whizzing of a blade beside your ear, and the material of your shirt gets caught in the blade and pins it along with you to the soil of the ground. You writhe around to try to tear the fabric or get the knife out of the ground, but it’s at an awkward angle and your shirt was made specifically not to rip.

That’s when Mando comes back into sight, his faceless expression somehow saying everything you know he feels as he cuffs the quarry and tosses him over his shoulder. Before he stands up completely, he comes back to you, tilting his helmet down at you for a moment. “This is why you never challenge a Mandalorian,” Mando says, his rasp full of amusement as he retrieves his blade from your shirt and sheathes it back in his boot.

You’re tempted to fight him tooth and nail just because of his words, but you know you have to stick to the ethics of your code. He’s got the bounty secured, which means it’s no longer yours to take. Instead, you glare up at him, propping up on your elbows as you raise an eyebrow at him. “Tell that to the Imperial officers who wiped out the rest of your kind,” you mutter, not willing to feel any sympathy at the moment as you watch Mando carry the expensive quarry you’ve been spending all day tracking.

He immediately tenses up at your words, his helmet straightening out as he starts to walk away. You stand up with a scoff, brushing yourself off as you call after him.

“Not even gonna say goodbye, Mando?” You watch as he continues on without even acknowledging you. Your hands clench into fists at your sides as you keep yelling. “If you ever get a bounty over your head, I’m gonna be the first one to track you down! And I’m gonna enjoy every single second of it, you buckethead!”

You know Mando’s probably tuned you out by now. You let out a groan as you kick the ground in frustration, watching the dust of the earth stir around as you cross your arms. Looking back to the city for a moment, you heave a sigh, switching your gaze back to the distance where your ship waits in the hangar. It’s on the smaller side, a much humbler ship than the Mandalorian’s huge Razor Crest, but it’s always done the trick.

Whenever the tin can bastard hasn’t stolen your bounty.

You can feel a cloud of rage hovering above your head as you begin to stomp off towards your ship. On the way, you brush off the dust that’s still lingering on your black shirt and matching pants, muttering obscenities the entire way as you practically throw a tantrum to yourself. It’s been one time too many that you and Mando have ended up tracking the same quarry and you’re sick of having to fight it out after you’ve done most of the work. As soon as you’re aboard, you power up the ship, connecting yourself to Greef Karga’s frequency as you instantly reach out to him.

“How unexpected!” Karga greets you through the holotransceiver, his blue image crossing his arms as he raises his brow with interest. “Has something gone amiss?”

“Karga.” You say his name firmly. You’ve always been close with the magistrate, mostly because you’re one of the best he has—along with Mando—and so you feel comfortable challenging him, knowing you won’t face any consequences. “Why the hell do you keep doing this?”

Karga now wrinkles his brow. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. The quarries. You keep giving my fobs out to Mando.”

Karga sighs and shrugs, keeping his arms crossed as he does so. “You two are just too fast. I only have so many quarries, and you two just happen to land on the same ones.”

“He keeps taking my jobs!” you exclaim with frustration. “How am I supposed to make a living when this buckethead’s out here robbing me of every quarry?”

“In my book, you’re both quite even.” Karga even seems slightly amused, which pisses you off further. “But, if you really want to get ahead, then you need to become even better. Become the best and then you’ll be the one stealing jobs from him.”

You huff. “I am the best.”

Karga chuckles at that. “Well, then, there shouldn’t be a problem.” You roll your eyes dramatically, leaning back in your chair as Karga goes on. “Still, I’ll try to make sure that you both don’t end up with the same fob this time.”

“Thank you,” you mumble, no longer entertaining his games as you dismiss the call. You begin to set course for Nevarro, hoping you can somehow avoid the Mandalorian upon your return.

Once you land in the hangar just outside the city, you heave out a breath, seeing the Razor Crest already parked there. A furious fire burns in your belly as you power down your ship, stepping out of it and instead making your way to your humble abode before you return to the cantina.

Your home is further into the city than the cantina, a small place that’s just beside an abandoned convenience store. You pull out your keycard and slide your way in, practically throwing yourself down onto the cushioned corner seat in your kitchen as you set your blaster on the tabletop. You reach for your cleaning supplies and go to work, cleaning your weapon to distract yourself from your frustrated thoughts.

A sudden gleaming catches your eye and you stop your frivolous cleaning for a moment to look up and observe it. You realize it’s your old blaster from when you first started out as a hunter, catching the glow of light from the small window above your sink as it hangs on the wall along with some of your other childhood relics—or, at least, the childhood you reinvented. Your shoulders sag a bit at the memories it brings you.

Aurra Sing had given that to you after she’d finished training you, just before your first job together. She always had things under control. She was good at working with other hunters, creating deals and fair arrangements that still got her the credits she wanted. You wish you could be more like that instead of getting cheated out of every other job by a Mandalorian.

You think just for a moment what it would be like if you did the same thing. Yet, the simple thought of working alongside Mando makes you want to flee to the furthest planet in the Outer Rim. You don’t understand how Aurra did it and you’re afraid you’ll never be able to do the same.

You know you would kill Mando before you’d ever try to work with him, which leaves you with one option: becoming the best in the parsec.

You stop your cleaning altogether as you huff out a breath, determined to make your thoughts come into fruition. You rise from your seat and holster your blaster, walking back out the way you came and heading to the cantina. Many eyes start to look your way thanks to your determined stride, but you don’t return their stares. Instead, you look ahead, refusing to let your angered thoughts of the Mandalorian hold you back any longer. You’ve defeated him before and you can do it again. You need to get another job to make up for this one—and this time, even if Mando ends up with the same one, you’re determined to be the one who comes out on top.

The cantina’s crowded as you walk in, yet Mando’s still the first person you spot. He’s just getting up from the table across from Karga, securing his Amban pulse rifle over his shoulder before he turns towards you. You give him a glare that you never break as you begin to pass each other and you can feel his gaze burning into you through his visor. It doesn’t intimidate you. Instead, it only fuels your fire more, making you hold your stare at him until he’s past your shoulder. Then, you face Karga again, sitting where Mando just was. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Ah, I thought you’d… well, wait a while,” Karga confesses, folding his hands on the table as he catches the fiery glint in your eye.

“There’s no need,” you insist, crossing your arms as you raise your brow back at him. “I want my next job.”

“Funny,” Karga breathes, reaching into the pocket of his vest to view your options. “That’s what Mando just said.”

“Good for him,” you mutter. “Now, what is there for me? Don’t take it easy.”

Karga chuckles. “Never with you,” he assures you, sliding a specific puck forward. You reach out to activate it, watching the image of a Rodian appear in its blue light. “Married to a senator’s daughter,” Karga further informs you as you soak in the details. “I heard there’s some type of event hosted by the senator where he’ll be present. It’s open to the public.”

You keep an eyebrow raised, dismissing the puck as you tuck it into the pouch on your belt. Karga also hands you the fob, which you put in the same place. “Is he worth a lot?”

Karga gives you a single nod. “The most expensive one I have right now.”

You smile with satisfaction, returning his nod as you move to stand up. “Then it’s the perfect job for me.” With that, you begin to make your way out of the cantina, already heading back to your ship. Even after your draining day spent playing cat-and-mouse with the Mandalorian, you feel re-energized, eager to plan and execute this job to the best of your ability.

And even though you think you’ve pushed the thought of Mando to the back of your mind, he still lingers there, ever-present and constantly fueling a fire within you.

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