Cougar

She/Her 🎮COD fanatic✨ I also do lots of 'Hear Me Outs' Call me Cougar ❤️

[forgetful-nerd]

Spelling mistakes? I guarantee neither of us saw those at 3:00 AM Monday Morning.

[writingdose]

© _ADWills

[callsigncougar]

Edge of The Tower

Kyle crane x y/n

The sun is sinking behind the crumbling skyline of Harran, turning the sky a bruised orange. From the rooftop of the Tower, the city looks almost peaceful—until you notice the slow, wandering shapes below. Biters. Always biters.

You tighten your gloves, the rough fabric scraping your palms, and brush hair from your face. You’ve been in Harran longer than most of the runners from the Tower. Long enough to know every jump, every broken railing, every place the infected like to gather. Long enough to survive.

The metal door behind you creaks open.

“Figured I’d find you up here.”

You don’t turn immediately. You’d recognize that voice anywhere.

Crane steps onto the roof, the fading light catching on the sweat-damp strands of his hair. His movements are careful but confident—the kind that only come after weeks of nearly dying on rooftops across Harran.

You finally glance over your shoulder.

“Thought you were still out with Brecken’s runners,” you say.

He shrugs, leaning against the ledge beside you. “Was. They wanted someone who actually knows the rooftops. Guess who they sent me to.”

You huff quietly. “Lucky you.”

For a moment, the two of you stand there in silence, watching the city sink into dusk. The air grows colder. Down below, the infected start to stir more aggressively. Night is coming.

Crane breaks the silence first.

“So,” he says, glancing at you. “You’ve been here longer than me. Tell me something.”

“What?”

“How the hell are you still alive?”

A small smile tugs at your lips.

“Rule one,” you say, pointing toward a cluster of rooftops across the street. “Never take the obvious path. Biters follow noise and habit. You go where they don’t expect.”

Crane studies the route you’re indicating—an impossible-looking series of jumps, narrow beams, and broken billboards.

“You actually run that?”

“Every supply run.”

He lets out a quiet whistle. “Remind me never to bet against you.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a flicker of amusement in your chest.

A distant scream cuts through the streets below. Both of you freeze. Then the guttural roar of infected follows.

Crane straightens instantly. “That sounded close.”

You’re already moving toward the edge of the rooftop, scanning the alleyways. Two runners from the Tower are sprinting down the street, a swarm of infected chasing them.

“Damn it,” you mutter.

Crane looks at you. “We going?”

You glance at the rooftops again, mapping the fastest route in your head. Then you nod.

“Stick close to me,” you say, pulling your hood up slightly as the wind picks up. “Don’t miss the second jump. The landing’s broken.”

Crane smirks faintly. “Wow, you do care if I survive.”

You shoot him a look. “Only because you’d slow me down if you turned.”

That earns a quiet laugh from him. For a brief second, your eyes meet. There’s something unspoken there, something that’s been slowly building during supply runs, late-night patrols, and shared moments catching your breath on rooftops.

The screams below snap the moment apart.

“Ready?” you ask.

Crane nods once. “After you, Tower veteran.”

You sprint forward, boots pounding against the rooftop before launching into the air. The wind rushes past as you clear the gap. Behind you, you hear Crane follow. Somehow—even with infected screaming below and night creeping over Harran—you can’t help the small thought crossing your mind.

He trusts you.

And maybe… you’re starting to trust him too.

Part 2??

[thememedaddy]

[callsigncougar]

Cliche AI Cover Konig (my first one don't judge)

[hometoursandotherstuff]

[callsigncougar]

@hopelessromantic000

[goth-queen]

[dankmemeuniversity]

[inkstainedhalosblog]

Anyone else wish they were in Greece when they worshipped the gods and goddesses? just me?

[mrcarriertheii]

The beast looks in horror as it sees the weight of its sins

[callsigncougar]

@hopelessromantic000 ...westly

[importantcatpics]

[thememedaddy]

[thememedaddy]

[importantcatpics]

[only-cat-memes]

[inkstainedhalosblog]

The Modern Montague

You hate mornings. Not because of the alarm, not because of school itself, but because it’s him.

Romeo Montague.

You’ve seen him before, of course. Everyone has. The boy with the smirk that makes your teeth grind and the hair that looks like it’s styled by actual magic. He’s charismatic, annoyingly confident, and somehow manages to make walking down the hall feel like entering a war zone. And today… he’s leaning against the locker across from your locker, arms crossed, smirking like he owns the world—and like he’s about to ruin your entire morning.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he says, voice low and teasing.

You glance at him, unamused. “Oh, I see. You’re claiming this locker too?”

His smirk widens. “Why not? It’s prime real estate. Plus… it’s right across from your locker. I like a little… chaos in my mornings.”

Chaos. That’s one word for it. Infuriating would be another.

You slam your locker shut with a little more force than necessary. “Well, you’re about to get a lot of chaos because I will not be moving.”

He raises a brow. “You’re feisty. I like that.”

You glare. “You do not like me,” you snap.

Over the next week, it’s a war. Every hallway becomes a battlefield. Every class a skirmish. He’s in every one of your classes, somehow finding a way to annoy you—leaning back in his chair just as you try to concentrate, whispering jokes that make everyone laugh, or claiming the seat you’ve meticulously saved in the cafeteria.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter during lunch one day, slamming your tray down across from him.

“And you’re… extremely entertaining,” he says smoothly, sitting down anyway. “I’m just here to… brighten your day.”

“Brighten?” you snort. “You mean ruin. You’re ruining it.”

He leans forward, smirking. “Ruining it… or making it interesting? Sometimes the line’s blurry.”

You roll your eyes, glaring harder than ever. You hate this. You can’t even explain why he makes your chest tighten slightly every time he smiles like he knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s infuriating. And you refuse to admit it.

Then comes the group project.

Naturally, you’re paired with him. Of course.

“Lucky us,” you mutter, staring at the seating chart like it personally insulted you.

Romeo grins. “I think we’re going to make… magic,” he says, the smirk practically dripping with smugness.

You want to throw your pencil at him. “Magic?”

“Teamwork, genius. Ever heard of it?”

“Ever heard of leaving me alone?” you snap.

The project drags on, and it’s torture. He’s clever, frustratingly so, constantly outpacing you with ideas that make your own notes feel like garbage. He teases you every step of the way, makes you stumble over words in front of the teacher, and somehow manages to sit close enough that his leg brushes yours during long, drawn-out discussions.

You hate it. Absolutely hate it.

Until one afternoon, in the library, he does something you didn’t expect: he actually listens. Not his usual smirk, not his teasing, just… listens. He nods when you explain your idea, offers constructive suggestions without mocking you, and even makes a note of something you’d forgotten.

“You… you’re actually not terrible at this,” he admits, and your stomach knots in a way you’re determined to ignore.

“I’m still not impressed,” you snap immediately. “Don’t get used to it.”

He grins, unbothered. “Never. I like a challenge.”

oth of you get caught for talking too much in class, somehow ending up sitting side by side in the empty room. Silence stretches, thick and awkward.

“Why do you always have to annoy me?” you ask finally.

“Why do you always have to pretend you don’t enjoy it?” he counters, leaning back in his chair like he owns the space.

You flush. “I don’t enjoy it.”

He chuckles softly. “Right. Sure.”

The day drags on, and you notice something you hadn’t before: the way his smirk softens when he’s serious, the way he genuinely seems to care when you struggle with a problem, the way his laugh… somehow makes the silence less sharp.

Your chest betrays you with every glance. You hate that it does. Should i do a Part two?

[blignick]