I LOVE Hunter From The Bad Batch

It is based on this image I saw online that made me laugh way too much.

Tapping your finger against the desk, you glanced beside you.

The streets below were busy as usual. People strolling past each other, couples walking their dogs, a family of three eating ice cream, and employees rushing towards their work carrying cups of coffee. Same routine, same outcomes. Still no inspiration. It was eating you alive at this point. The deadline for the first draft was in two months, and you’ve done nothing but find that inspiration that could just… bring life into you.

What kind of life though?

What were you exactly looking for?

You’ve already scoured the internet for ideas, yet not a single one struck you. Everything else seemed like it was already written by someone better.

“God,” you muttered, glancing back at your laptop with a frown. “What the fuck am I doing?”

You wrote a fantasy-thriller as your first book. A story about a travelling circus who kept appearing in small towns without any notice. Only for a young girl to discover their elusive and dark secrets. It did relatively well despite the fact it was self-published. You were surprised to find out it captured the interest of a local book club in your city, which gathered more attention from critics and more readers. That rush of euphoria allowed you to write another months later, a sequel to your first, before it became a trilogy which earned you those best selling awards.

Your next four books were another series about another thriller-esque story of a young detective who investigated a string of unsolved murders from the past which leads to finding out more secrets than answers. And your most recent was a short prose and poetry book about your personal struggles living alone in the city. It didn’t gather as much attention as your other works, but it did well enough that you had a decent amount of copies signed in your local libraries.

And here you were, still staring at the blank document, the cursor blinking like it’s mocking you.

The last coherent sentence you managed was three days ago. Everything after that has been deleted, rewritten, and deleted again. The moment your fingertips began to move, your mind shut down and you were reduced to a statue until the spell lifted.

Just before you were about to exit the document, your phone buzzed against the desk.

Mara.

You almost ignored it, then cringed at the thought of having to face her incoming messages and more missed calls after just missing one.

So, you answered with a sigh. “Hey.”

“Please tell me that wasn’t the sound of creative despair,” her voice came lightly through the speaker. “How’s the manuscript?”

“It’s… existing,” you half-heartedly supplied. “In the same way a corpse does.”

There was a pause. You can practically hear her raising an eyebrow. “Still blocked?”

“How’d you know?”

“Normally, you would’ve gone off into a manic ramble the moment you picked up.”

“You caught me.”

“So, what’s up?”

Leaning back against your chair, you indulged her. “I don’t know. I keep thinking what to write next. Romance? Not really my thing. Sci-fi? I’d give myself a headache from that. Comedy? I’m hardly the funniest person on this planet—”

Mara cut you off. “You are funny. At times.”

You rolled your eyes. “Gee, thanks. Glad I can make you laugh at times.”

“No one’s funnier than me, though.” She sighed dramatically. “Aren’t you lucky you have a funny best friend and an amazing editor?”

Right.

If it weren’t for her insistent pushes to get you into writing, you wouldn’t have eight books published. Since middle school, Mara has been supportive of your hobbies the same way you were of hers. And in all those hobbies, you had a mutual passion for arts and literature. Which was why during college, she helped you publish your own book after proofreading your drafts and editing the revisions. Now, she’s a full-fledged editor for a renowned publishing company while you were a self-made author.

“Listen,” you heard her speak again. “You’ve been cooped up in that apartment for months. Barely leaving except for coffee runs and the occasional book signing. It’s not healthy, and it’s clearly not helping your mind.”

You dragged a hand through your hair. “I know. I just… this is where I work.. Where I’ve always worked.”

“And right now it’s where you’re stagnating,” she snided, though not unkindly. “Look. Summer’s coming. Why not get out of the city for a while? Rent somewhere quiet. A house in a small town. No deadlines breathing down your neck, no constant noise, no distractions. Just space. You could take a real break. And who knows? You might actually find your inspiration again out there.”

You opened your mouth to protest on instinct—your whole life was here, your routines, your comfort zone—but the words died in your throat. The blank page was still staring at you, as though awaiting for your answer as well.

You glanced at the calendar on the wall. “A break, huh?”

“A proper one,” Mara confirmed. “Not a weekend. Give yourself permission to not produce anything for a while. See what happens.”

Closing your eyes, you let the idea swim through your head.

It felt both terrifying and strangely appealing. Leaving the city. The noise. The pressure of being a best-selling author who’s supposed to always have the next story ready. Maybe this time you could finally experience something worth writing about. Not just a figment of your imagination, but an actual real-life event you only read in books when you were teenager. But now you were an adult, what were the odds of experiencing those?

You opened your eyes again and looked at the blinking cursor one last time.

“Fine,” you agreed at last, reluctant but hopeful. “I’ll look into it.”

Mara’s grin was audible through her words. “Good. I’ll handle the publishers. You just focus on finding somewhere that doesn’t feel like a prison. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find more than what you’re looking for. Who knows? Maybe there’s a carpenter out there who’d catch your eye, or a—”

A soft chuckle escaped you, quickly cutting her off before she started crafting another love story for your nonexistent love life.

“Okay, okay. I'll keep you updated if I ever get lucky.”

“You better! Stay safe out there, girl. Love you!”

“Love you too, Mars.”

You hung up a second later and sat in the comfortable silence of your apartment, the city still moving beyond the windows.

A quiet neighborhood. Somewhere peaceful.

You told yourself that as you opened a new browser tab, searching for short-term rentals outside the city limits.

Just for the summer.

You spent the next few days scrolling through listings late into the night, half-hoping nothing will feel right so you can stay put. But one evening, a quiet two-bedroom house in a small suburban neighborhood caught your eye.

Grass-lined street. Wide front porch. A backyard that looked like it actually got sunlight instead of the wash out city lights. The photos showed soft yellow walls, a kitchen with an old wooden table, and a spare room that could easily become a writing nook. And the good news was… it was available for the whole summer. And against yourself, you put down the deposit before you can talk yourself out of it.

The week that followed was a strange blur of packing, panicking, and more packing.

You moved through your apartment quickly—sorting books into boxes, folding clothes, double-checking every box and luggage you have. Your laptop went into your bag, along with a few notebooks. You stood in the middle of the living room more than once, staring at the half-empty shelves, and felt an unexpected tightness in your chest. This place has been yours since you moved out of your parents’ house. Leaving it—even temporarily—felt like stepping out of your own skin.

The morning you finally locked the door behind you, the city was already loud.

Horns, distant sirens, the low roar of traffic that only someone from the city could get used to.

You loaded the last of your bags into the trunk of your car, slid into the driver’s seat, and sat there for a long moment with the engine off.

This is it.

Your eyes flitted up, catching your own gaze through the rearview mirror.

Just for the summer.

Then you turned the key and drove off.

You kept the radio playing, though the music was lost in your ears.

At some point during the drive, Mara called you and you picked up immediately. For a while, you talked to each other about what’s on your mind. How your nerves felt too charged, how you’re going to adjust in a new setting, how you’re going to be cooking home cooked meals now instead of ordering online. She kept assuring you everything’s going to be fine, while you mentally listed the pros and cons of your decision.

“Wish you were here, though.” You told her somberly, throwing a quick glance beside you. “We could share the rental house all to ourselves. A fun little sleepover for the summer.”

Mara laughed through the call. “Oh my god. I missed those days. One moment, we’re kids having sleepovers during weekends, and the next…”

“We’re grown ups who can barely schedule their own doctor’s appointment.”

You both shared a laugh, the bittersweet memories drifting by like the clouds outside your windows.

After a short pause, she spoke again. “But seriously, you need this. Also try not to spend too much time online. Live in the moment. Walk around. Find a lake you can swim in. Just… breathe for a while, hon.”

You found yourself nodding, releasing a soft breath. “Yeah, that sounds… nice. God, I can’t believe I never realized how cooped up I am.”

“That’s the city for you.”

“Thanks, Mars. For everything.”

“Always, hon. Also, one last favor for me.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll block your number,” she stated, and before you could protest, she continued. “Just for the summer while you’re there. It’s time for you to go out and meet some new people. Socialize, get drunk, take someone home from a bar or something.”

You lightly glared at your phone. “And what if they’re a serial killer?”

Mara groaned in exasperation. “This is why you need a break. All those late night revisions are catching up to you.”

Shaking your head, you chuckled. “Touché.”

“Now, do me a favor and go have fun!”

“Alright, alright.”

“See you after summer. Love you!”

The moment she hung up, the GPS told you you were only a few minutes away.

The landscape has changed. No longer concrete walls and polluted air. Trees were everywhere, sunlight peeked through the clouds without smoke. Quiet residential streets. Freshly mown lawns. Houses with children playing outside or riding their bikes instead of staying indoors glued to their phones. Everything felt slower, softer, almost unreal after the constant buzz of the city.

You turned onto the street listed in the rental confirmation.

There it is.

The house sat near the end of the block, painted a soft blue with white trim. A wide porch wrapped around the front, complete with a pair of wooden chairs that looked like they'd been waiting for someone to sit in them. The lawn could use some trimming, but it wasn’t too bad to fluster over. Just a few steps away was a similar house, the driveway empty.

You pulled into the driveway, cutting the engine once you’ve parked, and finally stepped out of the car, the gravel crunching softly under your shoes.

Just for the summer, you told yourself.

You walked up the steps, finding the keys left behind by the landlord on the windowsill, and ready to unlock the door.

“Hello! Are you our new neighbor?”

You froze, then turned towards the sound.

On the porch of the house next door stood a young girl, maybe twelve years old. Tanned skin from long hours playing in the sun, short blonde hair catching the light. Her smile was wide and unguarded, warm eyes sparkling with pure, open curiosity. She leaned against the wooden railing as if she’s been waiting for this exact moment.

The tension you didn’t realize you were carrying eased a little.

You relaxed your shoulders and faced her fully.

“Yup,” you answered, a small smile on your lips. “Only for the summer though. I’m taking a break from the city.”

Her eyes went round with astonishment. “The city? That sounds cool. What’s it like there? I've never been out of town. Is it like this but bigger?”

Amused by the contagious energy pouring out of her, you leaned your hip against your own porch railing and nodded.

“Much bigger. But everything's too noisy. Too cramped. People cuss you out even when they’re the ones who bumped into you.”

She still looked incredibly delighted by the information, bouncing lightly on her toes. “I wanna go there someday. My dad says once I'm eighteen, I get to go to the city by myself.”

You can’t help the laugh that followed. “Well, don’t get your hopes up. It’s a little… too much. It can get overwhelming after a while. That’s why I'm here.”

The young girl shrugged one shoulder, completely undeterred.

“I’m Omega!” She introduced herself gleefully. “Nice to meet you, summer neighbor.”

You told her your name, before greeting her. “Nice to meet you too, summer neighbor.”

“Am I the first one you talked to?”

“Yeah. Just got out of my car when you called out.”

“So, I'm your first friend!”

Again, you laughed at her enthusiasm.

She really has an infectious spirit.

“That’s right. Not gonna lie, I was expecting a sweet old couple living next door, but I'm not complaining.”

Omega laughed at your words. “An old couple can’t help you with your bags though, but I can!”

Blinking, you watched her run towards your car. “You wanna help me?”

“Yeah!” She grinned at you, placing her hands on your trunk. “We’re friends now. Which means I get to show you around town too!”

Huh.

You really couldn’t stop smiling the whole time. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Alright,” you unlocked the door first, then approached her. “If you show me a good place to eat around here after, I might just treat you.”

She jumped in joy. “Deal!”

For the next hour, the two of you carried bags and boxes from your car into the house.

Omega chattered the entire time, asking question after question about the city—how tall the buildings were, whether the subways were really as loud as movies made them seem, if people really walked around with coffee cups the size of their heads. You answered as best as you could while she carefully stacked your books on the living room shelf and unfolded the throw blankets you brought.

In return, you asked about her family. She told you she lived with her dad, that her mom died when she was born, that she liked science and soccer, and that she has four cool uncles who visited sometimes. She has a golden retriever named Batcher, but he’s currently with one of her uncles. She also mentioned her dad worked long hours sometimes and came home late, but he always made time for her on weekends.

You listened, quietly filing the information away, and found yourself smiling more than you have in weeks.

By the time the last box was inside, the afternoon light had begun to fade.

Omega stood in the living room, hands on her hips, surveying the slightly chaotic piles of your belongings. There were still a few things left to unpack, but you assured her you could take care of them in the morning.

“Okay,” she declared. “Now I have to show you the town. I know the perfect place we can go!”

Before you could stand upright to breathe, she was already tugging you back toward the car.

You ended up behind the wheel with her in the passenger seat, giving directions with the confidence of someone who grew up around suburban streets. During the ride, she pointed out the tiny library (which you’ll definitely pay a visit to), the park with the playground, and the ice-cream place that only opened on certain days. The whole town felt gentler compared to the city—everyone knew each other, people waving as you passed by—with no blaring horns honking behind your car.

Eventually, she directed you to a small diner with a faded neon sign and a row of red vinyl booths visible through the windows. The large sign flickered on and off, Cid’s, and you hummed thoughtfully to yourself.

I could use that for my book.

Beside you, Omega was already unlatching her seatbelt.

“Best burgers and fries in town,” she stated proudly. “Trust me. We’re basically family with the owner.”

Inside, the air smelled of grilled meat, homemade gravy, and bittersweet coffee. There were a decent amount of people inside, most with companions and a few eating by themselves. The bell rang loud with orders as a passing waitress impressively balanced two plates on her arms whilst walking around tables. Several heads turned to follow you, spotting a new face in town, while you tried to ignore their stares as you followed closely behind Omega.

You slid into a booth across from her, studying the place with keen interest. “I rarely see diners like this anymore. Not even in the city.”

“Really?” Omega’s eyes went wide. “You've got to have one there. Probably bigger than this!”

You shrugged, smiling. “Well, I don’t go out much. So I probably missed out on a lot of places.”

The young girl appeared downright offended by your words, about to comment something when an old woman appeared behind the counter.

“Back again, kid? You were just here the other day with your dad, ain’t ya?”

Omega turned, grinning as she waved at the woman. “Hey, Cid! I’m here with someone new. She's staying in town for the summer.”

Cid. Must be the owner.

You nodded, smiling lightly. “I rented the house next to theirs for the summer. Omega brought me here after helping me out with my stuff. She said you have the best burgers and fries in town.”

She held two fingers up. “And we’ll have two please! Oh, and chocolate milkshakes too.”

Cid rolled her eyes, but there was a fond smile on her lips. “Whatever you say, kid. Two burgers and fries with chocolate milkshakes coming right up!”

Then, the woman disappeared behind the doors.

When the food and drinks arrived, the conversation never really stopped.

You asked about her school and the friends she has in the neighborhood. About the fun hangout spots around town. If there were any notable crimes around you should be worried about and more. The age gap should make things feel awkward, yet somehow it didn’t. Omega talked to you as though you’ve known each other for a long time, and you appreciated her warmth and genuine kindness despite being a stranger.

When evening rolled by, you ordered a third burger and fries to go—something for later, you told yourself. You paid for the meal later on, chatting with Cid for a brief moment, before bidding farewell to the woman with the promise of returning soon.

Omega skipped toward your car, a content smile on her face as she took the passenger seat again.

The drive home was quieter, both of you full and satisfied.

You turned onto your shared street and noticed the unfamiliar truck parked in Omega’s driveway. On the porch stood a man in his late thirties, arms crossed over his chest, posture tight with worry. Once you were parked, Omega was out of the passenger seat and running up her porch.

“Dad! You’re home early.”

Dad?

You blinked, taking in the sight of her father.

Long dark hair, curled like soft waves behind his ears, with a distinct red bandana over his forehead. Strong jaw shadowed with slight stubble, and piercing hooded eyes. He shared the same sunkissed complexion as his daughter, and he was tall enough he could tower over most people in town, including you, with broad shoulders and faded jeans that hugged his long legs.

For a moment, you admired the man silently, before you realized you—a complete stranger—took his daughter out for dinner without his knowledge.

The man crouched just in time to catch her as she launched herself into his arms. He wrapped her up in a firm hug, relief clear in the way his shoulders dropped.

“Now where did you run off to?” His voice reached your ears, deep and rough with worry. “I came home and you were gone.”

Omega pulled back, still grinning, and stepped aside so she could point straight at you. “I was with our new neighbor. She treated me at Cid’s for dinner.”

Her dad’s gaze lifted.

For a moment, he simply looked at you, quietly appraising, taking in your presence with careful attention. Something flashed in those dark eyes, surprise then melted into something else. He straightened up, stepping down from the porch to properly welcome you.

“New neighbor?” He glanced at your rental house. “So I take it you’re the one who rented that old house next to ours?”

You were momentarily caught off guard by the proximity. Up close, you had to crane your neck up to meet his gaze. Something about the way his size loomed over you caused an embarrassing wave of heat to simmer underneath your skin.

You blinked, then nodded. “Yeah. Just for the summer though. Nice to meet you, sir.”

You offered your hand, introducing yourself softly.

His hand closed around yours—larger, rougher, warmer—but the contact lasted only a second.

“Hunter,” he introduced himself,the corner of his mouth stretched into a half-smile. “Welcome to town, ma’am. And thanks for looking after my girl.”

“No problem.” You ignored the warmth that rose in your cheeks under his steady gaze. “She’s been a delight to be around. Helped me with my stuff and showed me around town earlier.”

Hunter released your hand, though his eyes lingered for a moment longer before he glanced back at Omega. “Did she now? And you already ate at the diner?”

“We did,” Omega answered, then her face fell. “Wait, I didn’t get you anything—”

You held out the takeout back before she could finish. “Here. It’s just fries and burgers, but I hope it’s enough.”

From the corner of your eye, you caught her confusion. She was about to protest that those were yours, but Hunter was already accepting the bag. His smile was unexpectedly warmer, softer this time.

“That’s awfully kind of you, ma'am. Thank you.”

Omega, you didn’t tell me your dad was hot, polite, and respectful.

Dismissing the thought, you smiled. “Sorry for worrying you again. I’ll ask for permission next time if Omega can come with me.”

Hunter shook his head once. “No need. If she trusts you, then I do too.”

The look he gave you almost has your knees crumbling beneath you. The quiet certainty in his voice settled a foreign weight within your chest. Something shifted in the air between the silence that passed. His eyes never left yours, and for a second, you thought they flickered down to your lips.

Just my imagination.

You looked over his shoulder. “Thanks again, Omega. I had fun today. I should head inside and rest. More stuff to unpack tomorrow.”

Hunter finally stepped back, nodding. “Of course. You must be pretty tired. Thanks again for the food, and for bringing my girl home safely.”

“Anytime,” you waved your hand. “Goodnight, Omega. Sir.”

“Goodnight!” Omega waved enthusiastically, still having so much energy despite the late hour. “Thanks for dinner!”

You unlocked the door and stepped inside, trying to convince yourself it was still your imagination playing tricks on you when you felt his stare from behind until the door closed.

The next morning, you awoke to the soft gray light of dawn filtering through the thin curtains of the bedroom. For a moment you stayed there, basking in the change in silence. It almost felt like a dream. One second you were surrounded by your apartment walls, tied to your blank documents, and trapped underneath the endless cycle of the city.

But now, there was none of that here.

No distant noise, no traffic, no deadlines.

I could get used to this.

You released a sigh, smiling to yourself.

A few minutes later, you finally decided to push off the blankets and get ready for the day.

You went about your normal routine: brushing your teeth, washing your face, changing into your day clothes, before you went downstairs to make yourself some coffee. Luckily, the landlord was kind enough to leave a few things you could use. Though you still needed to go grocery shopping in town. As much as Cid’s burgers and fries were appetizing, you didn’t want to spend every penny you have on food diners.

After finishing the cup, you went straight to organizing what you and Omega left from yesterday. More books found their places on the living room shelves. Clothes hung in the closet. The spare room became a quiet writing nook with your laptop on the wooden desk and a few notebooks alongside. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours for the timebeing—the whole summer—and it already felt a little more like home.

You were still cleaning up a few boxes aside when a bright knock came from the front door.

Omega stood on the porch when you opened, grinning from ear to ear, blonde hair pulled into a low ponytail.

“Heya! Want to go out for lunch? Cid’s has grilled cheese on Tuesdays.”

Blinking, you glanced behind you towards the clock. “It’s already noon?”

“Yup!” Omega giggled, taking a peek into your living room. “Oh, you’re finally done? It’s so much cleaner now.”

You chuckled, amused by her obvious desire to look around. “You can take a look inside later. We’ll head to Cid’s first. I’m starving.”

The young girl cheered, stepping down your porch whilst you grabbed everything you needed.

The two of you walked the distance into the town, the late morning sun warm on your shoulders. More people were out at this time. Children with their bikes again, shops filled with customers, and a few owners walking their dogs along the sidewalk. Omega took the initiative to introduce you to a couple of people she knew, and you indulged in short conversations for her sake.

You weren’t the best at small talk, but something told you this was the perfect opportunity to get more comfortable.

When you arrived at the diner, you both claimed the same booth the night before and ordered grilled cheese sandwiches along with another pair of chocolate milkshakes. Omega talked between bites—about school ending, her soccer team, about her uncles, and more about her dad.

You listened attentively, smiling, and offered stories of your own when she asked.

After lunch, she leads you through the streets, pointing out every interesting corner you haven’t seen yet. When she was satisfied with her tour, you asked her if she wanted to accompany you to the grocery store for some shopping. Of course, she agreed enthusiastically—helping you cross off your list, carrying paper bags back home, and finally letting her inside your house.

When it became late, you walked her out the door and was surprised to see Hunter’s truck pulling up into the driveway.

You watched her run towards it, greeting him with a hug around his shoulders as he crouched down to return it.

He asked about her day, and she started retelling what had happened with a wide grin.

You were about to head inside when his eyes found yours.

Hunter, as though surprised to see you standing there, raised his eyebrows. Then, a half-smile stretched across his lips, nodding at you as a form of a silent greeting.

Your heart fluttered at the gesture, nodding back with a timid smile of your own.

When he stood up, you felt the hair on your arms do the same. “Evenin’, ma'am.”

“Good evening,” you hoped the darkness could hide the flush on your cheeks. “Long day?”

He sighed, rubbing a hand behind his neck. “You could say that. Someone towed in a busted truck at our shop last minute, so I had to stay back and fix it.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. “You’re a mechanic?”

“The best in town!” Omega flaunted. “Well, the next town over.”

Humming, your gaze fell down his arms subconsciously.

That explains the arms and grease stains.

When you looked up again, Hunter was looking at you in amusement.

Fuck, he caught me.

Thankfully, he chose not to point it out. “Thanks for looking after my girl again, ma'am. I appreciate it.”

You nodded, forcing yourself to stay composed. “Like I said, it’s no problem. I enjoy having her around.”

He stood there a moment longer than necessary, dark eyes catching the porch light, before Omega nudged his arm. They exchanged a silent look, but Hunter shook his head whilst his daughter giggled to herself. The glance he left you with before he went inside their house was enough for you to think about it for the rest of the night.

And over the next few days, a new routine began.

Some mornings, Omega appeared at your door with an invitation. Other days, you let her hang at your house while her dad was away for work—baking cookies, reading together, and even assisting you in your still existing problem of solving your writing block. The suggestions she shared ranged from hilarious takes of exaggerated tropes, to action packed adventures filled with supernatural powers and magical creatures.

As much as you appreciated her ideas, you still couldn’t find the right one to stick by.

One afternoon, she took you past the park and down a narrow trail that opened onto a quiet lake.

You sat on a weathered bench while she skipped stones, telling you about the times her dad taught her how to do it for the first time. Another day, she brought you to an old treehouse tucked among the branches of a massive oak in their backyard.

“My uncles helped build it,” she said proudly, climbing the ladder. “Wrecker carried the big boards. Tech measured everything. Crosshair complained the entire time, so Hunter made him watch. And Echo painted the inside!”

You were more than impressed how cozy it was inside. Fairy lights hung across the hanging branches above you. A large, soft-looking bean bag at the corner beside a soccer ball. Shelves filled with books, action figures, and picture frames. Thick blankets on the floor with small pillows scattered across like a childhood dream came true.

Then there were days where she went somewhere with her dad or visited an uncle out of town, and you took the time to enjoy the town at your pace. The library was a cute little shop with narrowly-spaced shelves and a pair of lovely cats loitering around, rubbing themselves to every leg they came across. There were more afternoons like that—ice cream on the sidewalk, peaceful walks along the railroad tracks that no longer carried trains, taking pictures of golden hours, and evenings spent watching the stars on your rooftop.

In such a short time, you ease into this little world like opening a page to a new book—slowly drifting between the pages, awaiting for the next chapter to unravel with anticipation and excitement swimming in your veins.

And in between those moments, Hunter appeared every once in a while.

One night, you were taking out the trash when his truck rolled in later than usual.

He stepped out, rolled his shoulders, and stopped in his tracks when he noticed you there.

“Everything okay there?” He asked, voice rough from exhaustion.

“Just finishing up,” you smiled, a bit breathless. “Long day again?”

He exhaled, a worn smile on his lips. “As usual.”

There was a brief pause, standing there on your front lawns just looking at each other.

Then, quietly, he added. “Omega talks about you a lot at dinner. Says you’ve been good company.”

The simple statement, how his tone softened, and the way his crinkles around his eyes deepened when he smiled settled something warm beneath your ribs.

You shrugged, chuckling softly. “She’s good company too.”

For a second it looked like he might say more, but he only tipped his head and headed inside.

On Saturday morning, you heard the low rumble of a lawn mower outside.

When you stepped out with your coffee, Hunter was cutting the grass in a worn gray shirt, the sleeves perfectly hugging his arms. Omega waved from the porch where she was shelling peas into a bowl, asking if you wanted to have some. That brought his attention to you. He shut the mower off, wiping his forehead with the back of his wrist.

Your throat dried at the sight.

“Morning, ma’am.” He greeted, tilting his head. “Didn’t wake you up, did I?”

You shook your head, smiling. “Nope. You’re good.”

He glanced at your still-slightly-overgrown lawn. “If you want, I can run the mower over yours when I’m done. Won’t take long.”

You were about to refuse out of habit, then stopped. “That’d be… really nice. Thank you.”

He gave a single nod, already turning back to the machine, but you caught the briefest upward curve of his mouth before he started it again.

Later that day, Omega insisted you stay for an early dinner after the three of you have spent the afternoon at the lake. Hunter grilled burgers on the back patio while she set the picnic table. The conversation was light—weather, your time in the city, plans after summer—yet every so often Hunter’s gaze found yours across the table and lingered. When he passed you a plate, his fingers brushed yours for a fleeting moment.

Neither of you commented, but the air felt a little heavier since then.

It went on like that.

You spend the day with Omega, sometimes alone, then welcome him back when he arrives from work.

There were nights when you hosted dinner at your place, inviting them both for a homemade casserole with the excuse of “making too much” when in reality, you made enough for the three of you. You told yourself it was out of gratitude for welcoming you into their neighborhood and helping you around, and it truly was, but then you’d catch his eye from across the table more than once, feel the heat of his body when you’re putting away the dishes, and notice how he stood closer than before.

At the end of each day, you opened your journal and wrote everything that had happened. A small journal containing daily entries since you first arrived. Something to remember this summer by once it passed. Once you return to the city, you’d carry this collection of memories with you, never to be forgotten.

You wrote everything down: the way the lake looked at dusk, Omega’s treehouse, every moment spent with her, and the soft stillness of the neighborhood. And secretly, you wrote about Hunter as well. In bits and pieces as though you were afraid what you were feeling for him might just become real the moment you made them longer. Hopefully, an inspiration will dawn upon you sooner or later.

You still have enough time before summer ends, and enough time to figure it all out.

Still nothing.

You sighed, leaning back against your chair in defeat.

Since you couldn’t sleep yet, you figured it would be a good idea to try and sort your thoughts into at least making a draft. After twenty minutes of restless silence inside of your room, you decided to hang outside your porch to get some fresh air. And still, even the cool evening breeze and the faint crickets in the distance did nothing to help.

Your notebook sat helplessly on your lap, crossed out sentences and half-hearted notes scrambled together in a haphazard mess. Every time you wrote something down, your mind would contradict it immediately. Maybe you weren’t used to venturing out of your comfort zone that you struggled with diving into unknown waters out of fear of what’s beneath.

Something Mars would say.

You mused internally, twirling your pen around your fingers.

“Didn’t expect you to be up at this hour.”

Jolting, you whipped your head to see Hunter leaning against his porch railings, giving you an amused look at your startled expression.

“Jesus,” you exhaled, smiling. “I didn’t even hear you. Sorry, I was just… thinking.”

“Can’t sleep?”

“Yeah. I thought a bit of fresh air would help.”

“Did it?”

“Not really.”

Hunter hummed, tilting his head.

For a second, you caught the way his eyes flickered down to your bare legs. His gaze lingered there, something unknown flashing across his face, before those dark eyes met yours again. And just like that, your skin warmed underneath his silent appraisal.

The breeze was not helping at all.

“You writing something?” He asked, nodding at your notebook. “Omega did mention you were a writer.”

Oh.

You mentally slapped yourself at the realization.

He was looking at my notebook.

Shrugging, you glanced down at it. “Yeah, but it’s… I'm in a ditch right now. Can't think of anything interesting. Wait—Omega mentioned that?”

That same half-smile stretched across his lips. “She never stops talking about you once she starts. Not that I mind. I enjoy hearing what she’s up to while I’m away. And she says you’re real good at writing. Makes me curious about what kind of things you write.”

You flushed, unprepared to talk about something so… personal with him. Not that you minded, but this was by far the longest conversation you have. Especially without Omega. Somehow, it felt incredibly electric. You were sure you weren’t the only one who felt the tension after days of skirting around each other. Every time you were in the same room, even just standing next to each other, his presence made you relax and panic at the same time.

And now, just the two of you alone, it was even more nerve-wracking.

“Mostly dark stuff,” you kept it vague. “I haven’t explored other genres yet. Actually, I have one of my books with me. If you wanna read it.”

His eyebrows raised, mildly surprised by your offer. “That’s… I wouldn’t mind that. Is it alright with you?”

You were already standing up by the time he finished his question. “It’s alright. Omega already beat you to it though. She finished it in two days just so she can share what she thought about it.”

That brought out a rare laugh from him.

“I’ll tell you what I think of it too,” he said, voice dipping low. “Maybe I can help you out with making a new one.”

Blinking, you gaped at him. “Making a new one?”

Hunter nodded. “A book.”

Right. A book.

Clearing your throat, you shifted on your feet. “If it’s not too much of a problem. Omega’s been helpful, but… her ideas involve spaceships and warriors wielding swords made out of light.”

Again, you managed to make him laugh. “Got it. No spaceships and lightsword warriors.” Then, he added, “I'm sure I'll like it. Might take me a while to finish it though.”

Shaking your head, you smiled. “No worries. Just take your time, sir.”

Before you could enter inside, you heard him say, “Hunter.”

When you looked at him again, he was wearing a soft smile on his face. “Hunter’s just fine.”

It was only then you realize you’ve never called him by his name.

Until now.

You laughed, breathlessly. “Nice to meet you, Hunter.”

“Nice to meet you too,” he said your name afterwards.

Low, rough, and playful.

Like he knew how much his voice affected you. And if he did, you were in big trouble. Right now, just hearing him say those words while giving you that smile, almost makes you want to melt right then and there.

“I’ll just grab the book,” you turned away before he could see the blush on your cheeks. Not that he could in the darkness. “Be right back.”

And when you went inside to fetch it, you couldn’t escape how fast your heartbeat raced beneath your chest.

You didn’t know how much would change after that moment.

Omega would tell you about how many times she caught her dad reading a book—your book—and how she has never once seen him read anything except for her grade reports, essays, and occasional newspapers. You told her you let him borrow the book, and the knowing grin on her face made you suspicious. Thankfully, she didn’t comment on anything else.

Hours later, you were back on your porch with more doodles than any significant progress.

And much to your surprise, Hunter was awake as well to keep you company.

Needless to say, you spent hours talking about your book, notebook forgotten on your lap.

Before you realized it, your whole routine changed.

Daytime was specially for Omega, where you’d do anything you wanted until both of your stomachs hurt from laughing and your cheeks were aching from smiling. When you were with her, the hours would fly by in a blink of an eye until you realized dusk has arrived.

And when night fell, you’d spend the quiet hours with Hunter just talking about anything, everything, even nothing at once. It started with his thoughts about your book, which you enjoyed hearing his raw and honest opinions about the storyline, before it gradually shifted into something else. Something deeper and more personal than thriller books or crazy plot twists.

He began to ask about your life, if you were missing anything or anyone in the city.

You told him you missed your best friend, Mara, and how you missed your apartment at times. In return, you asked him about his. If he had any plans for the future once Omega turned eighteen, or if he was planning to stay here when she moved out.

He told you he planned on staying, already decided on letting his daughter live independently once she became of age. But of course, he’ll always welcome her back. He wouldn’t mind coming along with her to the city, though he knew how much her dreams meant to her. So, he was willing to stay behind while she chased them somewhere else.

Eventually, the distance between you lessened.

He no longer stood on his porch.

One night, you invited him to yours.

From then on, you were sitting next to each other on your porch. Sometimes with coffee, other times with cheap, convenient store beers. The conversations flowed deeply. The space between you shrunk each time you found him again, already waiting for you outside his door. And when the warmth you felt around him began to feel like heat, you knew it was already too late. You only realized it now. At some point, you didn’t know what possessed you to say those words.

“Would you like to come inside?”

Maybe you could blame the impulse, or maybe you were dying to finally do something stupid for once.

Experience something worth writing.

You’d never forget the look on his face once he realized the same thing.

You watched the soft look on his face morph into confusion, before he turned to face you fully. His jaw flexed, a flash of heat flickering in his gaze that nearly scorched you from where you sat. The broad expanse of his shoulders tensed, as if he was trying to restrain himself from the way he inhaled sharply.

“You’re inviting me in?” You shivered from the way his voice deepened. “Do you trust me enough for that, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t look away as you answered. “I do. Do you trust me too?”

A slight scoff escaped him. “Already told you that before, sweetheart. Of course I do.”

Then, you were opening the door.

And he was stepping inside, never breaking eye contact.

Once the door locked, everything snapped.

His hands found the back of your thighs, your arms went around his neck. And in the next second, he has you lifted and pinned on your door, lips crashing down on yours in an unexpected surge. He groaned into the kiss, relieved like he’s been waiting to do that for so long, and you melted into him like a wax underneath a flame.

“Fuck,” Hunter rasped in between kisses. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this, sweetheart.”

Sighing, you broke apart. “You’ve thought of this?”

He nodded, bringing one hand up to cradle your jaw. “Dreamt of it too.”

And he was back to kissing you.

Drowning you deeper and deeper until you could hardly breathe. When he pulled back, his lips trailed down your neck, stealing your breath away until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Room’s upstairs,” you whimpered, tilting your head back once he found your sensitive spot. “First door on the left.”

He hummed, gruff and amused, before he rose to kiss you again. “Eager, aren’t we? Need you to ask nicely first, sweetheart.”

You were about to, the word please was at the tip of your tongue, when he began to roll his hips into yours.

Fuck.

Moaning, your mouth fell open. “Hunter.”

“Not the word I’m looking for, sweetheart.” He rolled into you again. “One word, and I’ll take you upstairs.”

“Hunter, ple—“

He slotted his mouth over yours again, trapping your next words between both of your tongues. “Come on, sweetheart. Tell me what you want.”

Bastard.

You were about to say, but the friction of his jeans rubbing deliciously against your sleep shorts has your mind reeling. He knew what he was doing—riling you up like this until you were a needy mess. And fuck, it was working. He knew the right words to say, the right pressure to put, and the right moment to silence you with another kiss or a teasing grind.

You tugged on the strands behind his head, pulling him back so he could see your face. “Take me upstairs now.”

Hunter smiled, raising an eyebrow. “So you can be feisty, huh? Ask nicely first.”

Glaring lightly, you gave in. “Please?”

“Fuck,” Hunter pressed his forehead against yours. “Say it again. One more, sweetheart.”

“Please, Hunter.”

“Please what?”

“Please take me upstairs.”

“Good girl.”

And with ease, he carried you away from the door and up the stairs.

The moment he located your room, he wasted no time kicking your door open and laying you down on your bed. At the same time, he never stopped kissing you. His rough palms, calloused from work, began caressing your thighs. Fingers inching higher, slipping beneath your shorts to squeeze your hips. Just when you were about to beg for him to take it off, he pulled away.

Kneeling above you, Hunter kept his eyes on you as he rested his palms on your knees.

“Now, sweetheart.” Hunter drawled, a rough strain in his voice. “I said I’ll help you with your book, right?”

Confusion wrapped your head.

“You did,” you raised yourself on your elbows. “What’s wrong?”

He patted your knee, cooing softly. “Relax. I’m just keeping my promise. All you have to do is sit there, keep your eyes open, and focus on me.”

“What for?”

“So you’d know what to write.”

In the next second, he reached behind him and pulled his shift off.

Agonizingly slow.

Your jaw dropped, shamelessly eyeing the expanse of his hard chest down to his tattooed torso. Broad shoulders dipping into a tapered waist, jeans riding low on his hips. The half skull on his face continued lower, tinting the same side of his body with skeletal ink. It was so unfair how it perfectly fit him, how much you wanted to trace the lines with your fingers or maybe with your tongue.

He threw the shirt over his shoulder, already forgotten.

“I want you to watch,” he said, caressing your thighs. “I want you to remember every single thing that happens. And I want you to write them. Think you can do that, sweetheart?”

Thumbs stroking your waist, he hooked them inside the waistband of your shorts. He didn’t pull just yet, awaiting your answer with a heavy lidded stare.

“Answer me, sweetheart.”

You gulped, throat suddenly dry. “Yes.”

Hunter inched your waistband lower. “And you’d keep them open for me?”

Nodding, you squirmed. “I will. Please.”

He released a short, strained breath. “Good.”

Then, he was sliding your shorts off of your legs.

You let him remove the article quietly until they were tossed behind as well, immediately closing your legs once the air hit your exposed center. mm—already slick with arousal and desire. That didn’t go well with Hunter. One pointed look from him, and you were timidly parting your thighs with a warm flush on your cheeks.

“It’s been a while,” you admitted softly. “I haven’t had the time to—”

Hunter shushed you, kissing your knee gently. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll take good care of you. Just focus on me, okay?”

With a nod and a timid okay in response, he began trailing those kisses down. Kissing your inner thighs, sighing softly against your skin, while you watched him intently. He squeezed your thighs lightly, lips getting closer and closer to where you needed him. But he didn’t place his mouth on you yet.

His lashes fluttered shut, breathing you in deeply before sighing. “You ever had someone like this, sweetheart?”

Flushing, you glanced away. “Once, but I didn’t get to… y’know?”

When he opened his eyes, they were darker than before.

The golden hues were swallowed by the void of his pupils, eclipsed with barely concealed desire.

“Lucky me, ” he placed a kiss on your core. “I’ll make it good for you, sweetheart. So good you’ll have to write about it.”

You didn’t even have time to respond to that when he licked you open, flattening his tongue between your folds and sucking on your swollen clit. Your elbow gave in, laying flat on your back as he continued his assault. And he didn’t stop there. A harsh suck on your clit forced you to open your eyes and look down, shivering at his disapproving glare.

“Told you to watch, sweetheart.”

Nodding, you shifted closer. “Sorry, I will. Just—”

“Just keep your pretty eyes open for me, yeah?”

The response you let out was a breathy, almost broken, exhale once his mouth returned on you.

And so you watched him, forcing your eyes open whenever the urge to close them surfaced. Hunter watched you too. Head between your thighs, lips and tongue soaked in your arousal, he looked undeniably sinful that it felt like a forbidden dream. But here he was, coaxing you closer and closer to your release with every deep lick, gentle suck, and ragged groans that vibrated against you.

You didn’t think he was this hungry for you.

But with the starved look he was wearing, it must’ve been a while for him too.

“Always watched you with my girl,” he confessed quietly. “Always thought you’d be the perfect mom for her. So sweet and caring. Always wanted to thank you like this—”

His next words were muffled, unintelligible as he buried his face deeper between your legs. Another ragged groan shook your core, losing control the more he tasted you. When you pulled on his hair instinctively, he rewarded you with more vigor, as if urging you for more. And when you did it again, he took one hand to draw circles around your clit.

“Fuck—” you whimpered into the air, arching. “I can’t—I’m so close—”

“Focus,” Hunter clicked his tongue. “Need you to remember everything, sweetheart.”

He said that as he switched his thumb with his tongue, carefully sliding a finger into your walls. Just one, but it was enough for you to chase your breath. Your thighs began to tremble, and he took that as a sign to add another. Two fingers slowly drifted in, curling them back out, until it became a steady rhythm.

Fuck. Fuck.

You really couldn’t focus.

Not when the pleasure was too much. Not when the coil in your stomach felt too hot, too tight, too unbearably close to snapping.

But with every strength you have left, you opened your eyes and looked down.

Hunter was still watching you, hooded eyes locked on your face with rapt intensity. He hummed in approval, the vibration rumbling deep into you. At the exact moment, his fingers sped up. Pushing in and out, quickening until he felt your wall clenching around him.

“Getting close?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Doing so good for me, sweetheart. Wanna see you fall apart for me.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

It was too much.

Everything was too much.

His eyes, his voice, his tongue, his fingers.

He knew exactly how to ruin you. Exactly like the stories you’ve read in the past. You wouldn’t be surprised if you suddenly woke up in cold sweat any second now. This must’ve been a dream. It had to be. But then you felt the coil uncurling, light burst behind your eyelids as you finally snapped.

You cried his name out loud, arching off of your bed as you finally came undone.

Wave after wave crashed down on your body. Head swimming in ecstasy whilst stars danced behind your eyes. You didn’t even realize you must’ve been suffocating him with how your thighs squeezed his head. Still, he didn’t stop. He kept going. The sounds were downright filthy. Lewd slurps and heavy panting echoed off of your walls, almost as loud as your thunderous heartbeat in your ears.

“Hunter,” you sobbed, tugging his hair. “Too much. It’s too much—”

You felt like you were being burned alive, skin too hot and body too taut.

“You can take it,” was all you heard from below, rough and beyond patient. “Need one more from you.”

Your head has never felt so light, but your body sank deeper against the mattress. You couldn’t even move your limbs, letting Hunter take from you. The pleasure was coming back. The heat was building again. When you looked down again, Hunter was no longer looking at you.

His eyes were closed, brows furrowed in concentration, long strands falling over his forehead. His mouth was relentless, working you open with every hungry swipe of his tongue. Whatever restraint he had earlier was gone. You had a feeling this was for his pleasure now. And fuck, how will you write something like this? How will you replicate the same feeling and sensation to make your readers live in the same situation?

Before you could think of it, Hunter’s fingers slid back inside you.

And your mind blanked.

“Focus on me, sweetheart.” He rasped. “Need one more. Give me one more.”

And you gave in.

You came harder than before.

The waves were gone. Instead, your body was being scorched. The scream you released was silent, muscles tensing as your second orgasm burned you alive. Distantly, you heard Hunter groan loudly, a feral sound that reached your ears—adamant on not wasting a single drop until he was satisfied. It took a while for you to come back from your high, panting heavily from the exhaustion.

When you finally opened your eyes, everything was blurry.

Your ears were still ringing. Your skin was so flushed you wouldn’t be surprised if your sheets were soaked with sweat. You faintly registered Hunter pulling away after giving your inner thigh a tender kiss, before the mattress dipped from his weight. The ringing eventually stopped, and your breathing slowed.

There was a faint sound of something rustling and shuffling somewhere in your room, before your bed dipped again with an unknown weight.

A kiss landed on your collarbone, causing you to sigh softly.

Hunter raised himself above you, kissing your flushed cheeks and jaw.

Instinctively, your arms raised—though very weakly—and wrapped around his neck.

“You doin’ okay, sweetheart?” He asked, low and raspy beside your ear. “Still with me?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, breathing in his scent. “I’m okay. More than okay.”

You heard him chuckle, felt his breath against your neck, the ghost of his smile on your skin.

“Good. ‘Cuz we’re not done yet.”

Your eyes flew open.

What?

He must’ve sensed your confusion, because you heard his laugh again as he raised himself to face you.

“We need to make a story, remember? I’m gonna give you more things to write about.”

Then you felt him parting your thighs, something hard and blunt glided along your sensitive folds. The last thing you remembered was him sliding into you, clinging to him while you both released a broken groan, before you lost yourself in pleasure again.

The next morning, you woke up to something heavy around your waist. You were laying on something hard, breathing, and it took you a while to process what happened the night before. Flashes of rough hands on your thighs, tongue between your legs, skin slicked with sweat, dark eyes fixated on your face, and the delicious ache inside you.

Flushing, you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

“Already awake?”

Fuck.

If the heat was already tempered last night, it came back instantly from the rich sound of his voice. Warm, deep, and rough from sleep. Amongst other things. His arms tightened around you, releasing a strained groan as he shifted. He turned to his side, bringing you along with him, until you were face to face with each other—well, face to neck.

“What time is it?” You asked quietly. “Did I wake you?”

He pressed a soft kiss on your head, humming. “It’s still early. And I was already up an hour ago. Didn’t want to ruin your sleep after… last night.”

You laughed breathlessly, tracing his tattooed chest. “Don't tell me you’ve gone shy on me now. And I slept just fine. Best sleep I’ve had in a while, to be honest.”

Hunter let out an amused huff, no doubt smug. “Yeah? Any idea why?”

Rolling your eyes, you raised your head and glared at him. “You know why.”

He tucked fallen strands of your hair behind your ear, expression softening into worry. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? It’s… been a while for me too. Might be out of my element—”

“Might be?” You nearly shrieked, propping yourself on your elbow. “You made me come three times, Hunter.”

And there he was, amused and smug again. “Three, huh? So you really were focusing.”

Bastard.

You scoffed, lightly smacking his chest before laying back down. “Shut it.”

He chuckled, gathering you back in his arms to kiss you. “Hmm, I’ve got an idea how.”

The idea caused you to spend another hour in bed, and before you knew it, sunlight was streaming through your windows. It was only then you realized it was time to get up, though it was extremely difficult given how Hunter kept pulling you back against him, a rare, unguarded tenderness to him you saw often with Omega.

Once the two of you (successfully) managed to get cleaned and dressed, you made your way down to start breakfast. Scrambled eggs and toast seemed perfect.

“You can invite Omega over,” you absentmindedly suggested, already cracking an egg open over a bowl. “Not to brag but she says she likes my scrambled eggs better than—”

“Sweetheart.”

“Yes?”

“You wrote about me before?”

Your heart dropped, turning around to see him standing at the doorway.

With your journal in hand. Not the notebook you used for your writing. Your journal.

Panic struck you, already forming an excuse in mind, when he set the journal down on the table.

“I’m not mad,” he approached you slowly. “Not creeped out too. Flattered actually. That you think I’m so handsome it makes you ‘want to commit all seven cardinal sins in my name’. You really have a way with words, huh?”

You sincerely the floorboards would just open miraculously beneath your feet and swallow you whole.

Averting your gaze, you stepped back. “I left that in the living room, didn’t I?”

“Mhm.”

“And it was open?”

“Uh huh.”

“And you read it.”

“I did,” he crossed the remaining distance, towering over you. “Didn’t mean to but I saw my name there, and… just couldn’t help myself.”

He lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Don't tell me you’ve gone shy on me now, sweetheart.”

He’s using my own words against me.

You steeled your composure with an exhale. “They’re mostly personality thoughts. Things I did, saw, felt, or… loved.”

You’ve already shared a bed, just a few hours ago, but why was this more vulnerable than that? Why did it look like he could see right through you? Why were you nervous about being rejected when you woke up beside him in bed? It didn’t matter now. It shouldn’t matter if he read the pages, read your most intimate thoughts of him, because you’ve already let him in.

Hunter searched for something across your face, thumb stroking your chin. “You really feel all those things for me, sweetheart?”

Nodding, you answered. “I do.”

“Is it enough to convince you to stay here?”

Stay?

You forgot about it entirely.

You were here just for the summer. Only a month away, and you were back to living your old life in the city. You’d leave this dream behind. This momentary glimpse of freedom. That was your plan. Just for the summer. But summer was bound to end, and whatever this was needed a choice to be made—torn between your heart and mind.

“You don’t have to answer yet,” Hunter assured you, though there was hope gleaming in his warm gaze. “We still have time. But if you still want to go, I won’t stop you. I’ll wait here until next summer. I won’t go away.”

He was letting you choose.

Though you knew he was perfectly fine either way, you couldn’t deny the fact he wanted you here, and he’s looking at you as if you already had an answer.