#like cochise is talking about some guy and swan is like yeah not my thing

[mega-banette]

going to go on a ramble in the tags hold on

Cochise is so underrated Lin did her dirty

Like everyone else has a Thing. Even Cowgirl has her 'he bit me!!' saga

We as a fandom need to give her a Thing

She deserves so much attention

Girlie had everyone's back right from the start

[flowersandskeletons526]

"We Need A Tagger" - Warriors Concept Album Fanfic (Part 1/5)

okay so based off some of their interactions on the album, I am of the firm belief that Ajax was the one to recruit Rembrandt. This is my take on their first meeting and Rembrandt's initiation. Enjoy!

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Ajax sat at the table in the Warriors’ tiny apartment, holding a crumpled tissue under her still-bleeding nose. Cleon paced the kitchen around her as she muttered under her breath. In the other room, Cochise sat on the couch thumbing through a newspaper beside their newest addition, the stray Cleon found under the boardwalk and promptly promoted to second-in-command. Ajax was still a little sore about that, but Cleon made the argument that her number two needed to at least sometimes remain level-headed and Ajax couldn’t make a valid point against that. 

“For fuck’s sake, Ajax,” Cleon hissed. “When I said I wanted to expand our territory, I didn’t mean you should go off by yourself to annex two blocks!”

“I thought I was on our turf,” Ajax repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. “I swear, Cleon. I wasn’t picking a fight on purpose.”

“This time,” Cochise added.

“Fuck off.”

“If you thought someone was on our turf, you should've gotten us,” said Cleon.

“There were only three of them.”

“And only one of you!”

“Send your assistant on patrols with me if you’re worried about numbers.”

“Hey, fuck you, man!” Swan snapped.

Ajax leapt to her feet and was immediately pushed back into her seat by Cleon. “I made you an enforcer, not a scout,” she said. “You handle the issues the scouts bring in. You don’t go looking for them yourself.”

“We don’t have scouts,” Cochise pointed out. 

“I thought you were gonna talk to your friend that bartends at the Neptune Lounge. The one that’s always wearing that fucking hat.”

“Still trying to convince her.”

“Fuck.”

“We need a tagger,” Swan interjected. “Yeah, we need more members, but that’s just going to cause more problems for us if we don’t mark our borders.”

“For once,” said Ajax, “I agree with the sewer rat.”

“Dude! The fuck!”

“Cool it, you two,” Cleon warned. “Do you have any nominations?”

“I’ll find one,” Ajax offered.

“If you can find a decent tagger that isn’t already affiliated, you have my permission to bring ’em in to talk.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And no more fights!”

So ensued two weeks of fruitless searching for an unclaimed graffiti artist. Ajax went halfway insane with frustration by the end of the first week. Every time she found a new artist’s signature, she went back to report and was met with one denial or another. If they weren’t already running with a crew, it was because they were untrustworthy or had been jumped out of their old gang for some offense and Cleon didn’t want someone else’s scraps. 

Swan volunteered to go out for a few rounds with her. She knew more about the political side of things, Ajax could admit that, and since they’d both promised Cleon that they wouldn’t butt heads, the trips passed by in almost complete science. They were out late one evening, the sun setting over the ocean as they patrolled the boardwalk, when Swan stopped before a massive, impressively intricate and detailed graffiti mural sprayed across the front of a shuttered carnival booth.

She whistled as she looked over the painting. “Damn. Someone spent time on this.”

“There are a bunch of these,” Ajax said, standing beside her. “Talked to some of the carnies, they said the things pop up overnight, they get covered or washed off, and the next day there’s a whole new design.”

Swan hummed and nudged the bottom of the grate with her foot. Where she stepped, in gorgeous swirling script, was a signature. “Rembrandt,” she read aloud. “You tell Cleon?”

“Asked her, asked Cochise, asked everyone. No one knows who the guy is, just that he’s talented and prolific.”

“Well.” Swan shrugged. “Let’s find him.”

Easier said than done. When Ajax said no one knew, she meant no one. No one had a clue because no one ever saw the paintings go up. When Ajax explained her plight to the crew, the only help she got was, “You said you would find a tagger, so go find him.”

This resulted in Ajax walking the boardwalk in the dead of night, listening to the waves and her own footsteps and watching out for the sound of spray cans. Her unlucky streak finally broke one night walking past the abandoned parachute tower. She almost thought she was hearing a gas leak at first, a constant hissing from the other side of the structure. She realized it was spray paint when she heard the telltale rattle of a can being shaken.

Crouching low, she crept silently around the base of the tower. A small, slight figure wearing a respirator face mask held a can in each hand, arms flying as the graffiti artist raced through his work. Ajax watched in fascination as he dropped cans into his backpack and pulled out new colors without ever taking his eyes off his canvas, working only by the light of the moon and the city’s distant glow.

She straightened. She’d found the phantom tagger.

“Yo!” She called. The artist froze as she approached. She couldn’t see his eyes beneath his hood, only the mask. “Let me talk to you for a second.”

The artist grabbed his backpack and a paint can and bolted.

“Shit!”

Ajax took off in a chase after the artist. The little fucker was quick and agile, but Ajax was quicker and knew Coney Island like the back of her hand. “Stop!” she shouted. “I just want to talk!” He only ran faster.

Just as she thought she would run out of steam, the artist turned the corner into an alley. He hit the fence at the back hard and started to climb but Ajax had a major height advantage. She grabbed his backpack and yanked him down. He wheeled around, can in hand, and smashed her square in the face with it. 

He was quick but he wasn’t that strong. Ajax was certain the hit at least chipped a tooth, the taste of blood coating her tongue, but she wasn’t stunned. He tried to dart past her. She spun and snagged a fistful of his sleeve, then threw him backwards into the fence with enough force to knock the mask off his face. She wasn’t proud of it - she was trying to recruit the punk, after all - but her mouth hurt from the hit so she considered it a fair trade.

Ajax stood over the artist. On his ass with his back pressed to the fence, he raised a paint can and pointed it at her like a gun. His hand trembled so hard she thought he might drop his improvised weapon. His hood fell back. She finally got a good look at his face.

Staring up at her was a terrified young woman with the saddest deep brown eyes she’d ever seen. She had a busted lip halfway healed and short, wild curls framing her face. She didn’t even try to act tough; she wore the expression of someone who’d been in a similar position and knew she didn’t have the skill to fight her way out of it.

Ajax was violently aware of how dangerous she must have looked at that moment. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t proud of it.

“I’m not tagging,” the girl said before Ajax could get a word out. “I don’t run with anyone. I’m just painting. I swear I was only painting.”

Ajax tried to make her voice sound gentle. “I know. I know you’re not.” She wiped away the blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. “Fuck. You really clocked me. Sorry for throwing you, I didn’t mean to do that.”

“I’m not tagging,” the girl repeated. “I don’t-”

“I know! Calm down, I just want to talk. I’m not going to hurt you. Really.” She crouched down to the artist’s eye level. “You’re Rembrandt, right? That’s your signature?”

The girl lowered the can. “Yeah,” she said timidly. 

“Call me Ajax. I run with the Warriors.” She extended a hand to shake. Rembrandt didn’t take it. Fair enough. “You don’t have a crew, right? Did you ever run with one?”

“No.”

“Well, listen, we’re looking for a tagger-”

Red and blue lights illuminated the alley. Police sirens blared. Ajax shot to her feet.

“Shit! Why are the cops - wait! No, no, no, wait! Come back!”

But Rembrandt was already over the fence. Ajax roared in frustration and booked it, knowing she couldn’t risk getting jammed up by the cops again.

Mission failed, tail between her legs, Ajax ran home.

---------

“The artist’s a girl?” Cleon asked, huddled around the kitchen table with the rest of the gang. “Damn. I feel a little sexist now.” 

“Her paintings are amazing,” Ajax said. She was still a little breathless from her sprint back to the apartment. “And she’s insanely fast. No way the cops would ever catch her.”

“Apparently no way you could catch her, either.”

“She was listening to me. The cops scared her. That’s why she ran.”

“Take a breath, you look like you’re going to pass out,” said Swan. Ajax flipped her the bird, and she rolled her eyes. “You said she looked scared out of her mind. What makes you think you’re ever going to catch up to her again?”

“She has a point,” Cochise agreed. “Ajax, you know I love you, girl, but you’re not exactly the most, y’know, approachable person.”

“She was listening to me! If I can go out there again, I swear I can find her and get her to come back here and talk to us. Cleon, come on, have my back.” 

Cleon sighed and hung her head. “Alright,” she relented. “If you think you can get her, then go get her.”

So Ajax went.

She sat beside the unfinished painting for five nights straight. She made sure no one covered it or washed it away, hoping the graffiti artist would come back to finish her work, but Rembrandt never showed. When Ajax returned to the apartment in the morning, she was met with the same simple question: “Any luck?” And she would only shake her head before going to pass out in the room she shared with Cochise. Cleon suggested she call off the search by the fourth night of no results, but Ajax couldn’t bring herself to take a step back and she didn’t understand why. Maybe it was simply a sense of duty to succeed at this mission for her gang. Maybe it was the paintings. Maybe it was the fear in the girl’s eyes and the fact that there was so obviously someone beating on her that made Ajax want to find her so badly. 

Cleon offered to come with on the evening of the sixth day, an offer that Ajax declined. “I don’t want to show up with the crew behind me and freak her out,” she explained.

“Ajax, I really can’t afford to keep sending you out. We’ve got other jobs I need you for.”

“Two more nights. Give me a solid week.”

“You get tonight. And if you can’t find her, I’m calling it off. We’ll find another tagger.”

“Fine.”

“Be safe.”

Ajax wandered the boardwalk for a bit before parking herself in front of the unfinished mural. It hadn’t been touched. She sighed and shoved her hands in her vest pockets. This mission was a fucking bust. Two weeks of searching and a week of waiting around and she had nothing to show for it. It was already past midnight and she hadn’t seen a single sign of anyone being out there with her, let alone Rembrandt. She promised herself that she’d stay until dawn and after that, she would give up and call it quits. Still, it sucked. She hated leaving things unfinished.

She wasn’t sure when she dozed off, only that she woke with a start to the quiet patter of footsteps on the weathered wooden planks. She looked up to see the masked, hooded figure standing a little ways off and staring straight at her. She climbed slowly to her feet and raised her hands.

“I’m not packing,” she promised. “I’m here as a friend.”

Rembrandt removed her hood and pulled her mask down around her neck. In addition to the split lip, she now sported a black eye with a scabbed over cut on her cheek beneath it. She kept her left arm tucked in close to her side like it hurt to move it.

Ajax grimaced. “Holy shit, man. Is that-”

“It wasn’t from you. You didn’t throw me that hard,” Rembrandt said quietly. “What do you want from me?”

“My gang needs a tagger.”

“I’m not a tagger.”

“You’ve got more than enough skill to be one. Look, the Warriors are on our way to running Coney Island but first we need someone to define our borders. You said you just want to paint? We’d give you free reign to put up new murals anywhere you want and they wouldn’t keep getting taken down. And whatever’s going on with this…” Ajax gestured to her black eye, and she turned aside to hide it. “We could help with that, too.”

Rembrandt hesitated. “Why me? I can’t fight.”

“You wouldn’t need to, just need to run. That’s why they have me.” Ajax looked over her shoulder at the unfinished painting. She flashed a smile. “How long would it take you to finish this?”

She thought. “Thirty minutes max.”

“Great. I got your six.” Ajax stepped away from the wall and posted up behind the girl, who frowned quizzically at her. “Seriously. Finish it. Just promise you’ll come back to Warriors Headquarters with me when you’re done. My friend makes a great breakfast and our leader is a lot nicer than I am. She wants to meet you.”

Rembrandt only stared at the warrior. Ajax made a little go on gesture before returning to her watch position. She heard cans rattling behind her and the thud of a backpack hitting the boardwalk, then the hiss of spray paint. She waited a minute before glancing back. 

The graffiti artist had her mask back up over her face but left her hood off. She painted with one hand this time, moving slow, her presumably-injured arm hanging limp at her side. Ajax cringed a little internally. She was right; someone was definitely going after her. She caught a glimpse of Rembrandt’s expression, and despite looking like she’d lost a brawl, the look in her eyes was one of complete, pure, calm joy. She was truly in her element, surrounded by a cloud of spray paint, building the shape of the Wonder Wheel and the parachute tower with layers of a rainbow of colors. She added in tiny cartoon creatures running through the city. Ajax almost laughed. 

She leaned against the tower beside the painting. “You got anyone who’s gonna freak out if they think you’re missing?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” Rembrandt replied without taking her eyes off her work.

“Boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Any family?”

Rembrandt paused. She turned to Ajax, showing the deep bruise on her face, her eyes downcast as the joy faded and the sadness and fear replaced it. Ajax’s heart softened just a bit.

“Got it,” she said, and faced front again.

The sky was barely beginning to lighten by the time Rembrandt packed up her cans and stuck her mask in her backpack with them. Ajax stood beside her, admiring the painting. “Looks nice,” she said.

“Thanks.”

“So…? Will you come meet with the Warriors?”

Rembrandt shouldered her bag. She shifted her weight between her feet like a little bird ready to take off. Ajax was convinced she might run again and prepared herself for another chase, but Rembrandt buried her hands in the pockets of her hoodie and looked up at the enforcer.

“Who’s your leader?” the artist asked.

“Her name’s Cleon.”

Rembrandt blinked. “Like… like Cleon? Like the Cleon?”

“Yep. The Cleon,” said Ajax. God, the fucking ego boost this was going to give that woman would be astronomical.

“She wants to meet me?”

“Uh-huh. You coming or not?”

“But she’s like - wait, hang on! Yes, I’m coming!”

Ajax led her away from the beach, off the boardwalk and into the surrounding streets. Ajax always kept her head on a swivel, always, and apparently so did Rembrandt. She walked a half step behind Ajax, staying just slightly to the right in case she needed to take off and leave Ajax behind. Fuck, she was flighty. This early in the morning, not many people were out and about yet, but Rembrandt kept her hood up and looked down to hide her face. Ajax waved her hand by her side, and Rembrandt moved to walk directly behind her. She kept stepping on the back of Ajax’s shoes on accident, apologizing profusely each time, but she picked her head up, at least.

Ajax stopped Rembrandt outside the door to the apartment. “Stay behind me,” she said, “and don’t freak out. Cochise is a little loud and Swan’s got major resting bitch face but no one’s gonna go after you. You’re safe here.”

“Okay,” Rembrandt mumbled. 

They stepped inside. Cochise stood over the stove, stirring something in a pan and humming to herself. Swan sat on the couch with DJ Lynne Pen’s show playing quietly over the radio beside her. Cleon was on the phone listening to someone talk and scribbling notes in a small journal. Ajax reached over Rembrandt’s head to shut the door and hollered, “’Sup motherfuckers!” Rembrandt flinched.

Swan looked up with annoyance drawn across her face. “Who are you calling a motherfu-…” Her voice trailed. Cochise and Cleon turned to Ajax. Ajax stepped to the side and gestured to the girl standing next to her.

“Everyone,” she announced with a smile, “meet Rembrandt.”

No one spoke. Rembrandt waved sheepishly.

Cleon said into the phone, “I’ll call you back,” and hung up the receiver. 

“Wow,” said Cochise. “She actually exists.”

Swan stood, staring at Rembrandt’s black eye. “Ajax, what did you-”

“It’s not from her,” Rembrandt interjected. “Um, sorry. Hi.”

Cleon approached. Ajax nudged Rembrandt forward, but the artist backed up into the door instead. Cleon stopped where she was, raised her hands, and offered the same comforting smile that she had given Ajax and Cochise and Swan on all their first interactions. Above all, Cleon could get virtually anyone to calm down and listen to her. 

“Hey, nice to meet you,” she said gently. Ajax watched Rembrandt’s tensed shoulders come down just a fraction of an inch. “I’m Cleon. Rembrandt, right?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Want some breakfast?”

------

And that's the end of the first part! Stay tuned because I am going to continue this

[alexihollis]

Mirror Images

Ajax did not mean to overhear the argument. Sincerely, one hundred percent, overhearing the argument was the last thing she meant to do. But she happened to be passing by the room on her way back from the bathroom and the yelling was loud that close to the door and...Well.

Ajax didn't love yelling.

So.

She stopped. For a second.

You know. Just to make sure everything was okay.

It became pretty obvious it was Swan and Mercy - made sense, she was stopped in front of their bedroom after all.

"-don't need to!" Swan.

"He fucking cat-called you!" Mercy.

"Yes, I am well-aware! That did not give you the right to throw a can in his face!"

"You weren't doing anything about it!"

"Nothing needed to be done!"

"Something did! You deserve better than that-"

"You cannot start a fight with every man who disrespects me, that's ridiculous-"

"I'm sorry, is this a regular occurrence?!"

"We live in New York!"

"He's affiliated, he needs to fucking know better. What would Cleon say?"

"That I didn't have my colors on? And I cannot stress how little that is the point."

"Whatever."

"Where are you going?"

"Smoke. We'll talk about this later."

"Wha- Wait, Mercy-"

There was a moment of quiet. Then, Mercy, softer, but loud enough for Ajax to still hear: I still love you."

And Swan, small in a way that caught Ajax completely off-guard and reminded her of someone, though she couldn't put a finger on who: "I love you, too."

Ajax barely managed to rush five steps down the hall before the door opened, throwing herself into the living room in a desperate attempt to not look like she had been eavesdropping. The look of complete bewilderment and exasperation she earned from Rembrandt from almost crushing Cowgirl on the couch told her she did not entirely succeed.

"Jesus, get off me," Cowgirl grumbled, shoving at Ajax.

Ajax settled on the couch when Mercy walked in, shrugging on one of Swan's corduroy jackets and fiddling with a packet of cigarettes.

"Where you goin', Mercy?" Cochise asked.

"Roof. Smoke," Mercy jiggled her cigarettes. "Anyone want to join?"

She shouldn't. She really, really shouldn't. "Yeah. Need one."

"You literally just sat down," Cowgirl said.

Ajax ignored her, though she caught the slight furrow in Mercy's eyebrow. Mercy did not say anything, though, as they left the apartment and hiked up the stairs to the roof. Once there, it was quick work sitting with their backs against the small ledge and lighting up their respective cigarettes, Mercy letting Ajax borrow hers.

"Heard you threw a can at some guy's face today," Ajax said. Because she had no impulse control.

"Where exactly did you hear this?" Mercy asked.

Ajax shrugged. "Around." At Mercy's unimpressed look, "The door is not that thick."

"...Wait, did you hear us from the living room?" Mercy asked. Looking more than a little concerned that-

Oh.

Fucking great.

"No. I- I was standing outside your door," Ajax said.

Mercy blinked. "Why?"

"...Heard shouting. Wanted to make sure everything was okay." Ajax hated this.

Mercy sighed, heavily. "Yes, I threw a can in a guy's face. Go ahead, lecture me, gonna say the same shit that Swan did, probab-"

"Good for you," Ajax said instead.

"What."

Ajax shrugged. "Cat-called your girl. He earned a can to the face. Especially if he's affiliated, Swan's not a nobody."

"Can you please tell Swan that?!" Mercy exclaimed. "She thinks I overreacted!"

"Oh, you definitely overreacted."

"But you just said-"

"I agree with the overreaction, which should tell you something," Ajax said. "It already happened, I'm not gonna sit here and say you shouldn't have done it, but Swan's gonna be pissed about it and Cleon wouldn't be too happy either."

Mercy groaned, slumping against the wall. "This is stupid." Then, "I'm stupid. I didn't even mean to throw the fucking can, it just happened!"

Ajax laughed, low, "Yeah. Definitely been there."

"What if it was Rembrandt?" Mercy asked. "What would you have done?"

"It's been Rembrandt," Ajax said. "And- yeah, I've thrown worse things than cans. And Rembrandt gets mad every time."

That was when it clicked very suddenly. Who Swan sounded like at the end of her and Mercy's argument.

Rembrandt.

"Rembrandt says it scares her when I do that, because there's so much that could go wrong," Ajax said.

Mercy took a moment, before saying, "Swan said the same thing." Then, "Does Rembrandt do that thing where's she's like, its not about your ability to do whatever, but I get freaked out and blah and it makes you want to never do that thing just so she doesn't look at you with that sad, scared, puppy face ever again?"

Unfortunately, Ajax knew exactly what face Mercy was talking about, "I hate that face."

"I do, too." Then, "I mean, it's a cute face-"

"Adorable."

"But it's so sad and makes me feel like a monster."

"Scum of the Earth."

...

"Ajax. Has your girlfriend been giving mine lessons on how to guilt me into not being impulsive?"

"I really cannot think about that right now, I'm too focused on the fact that I have way too much in common with you."

"Does that mean we can talk about that silent agreement you and Swan have that involves you never letting me punch people?"

"Yeah, no, that was a verbal agreement with Cleon, because she thinks you're going to be snapped like a toothpick."

"I held my own against the Furies!"

"...You had a bat."

"...I can get another bat."

"Absolutely the fuck not, that is a terrifying idea, neither of us need bats and fuck you for making me the responsible one."

--------

Here's a bit of a funnier drabble to make up for all the angst lol

[thewarriorshomegirl]

ALRIGHT SO I CANT WRITE ENDINGS TO SAVE MY LIFE, SO YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

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This is just a little some I wrote because I couldn't get the headcanon of Cowboy being afraid of water out of my head. Enjoy :3

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"Let's get out of here and do something fun for once!" Vermin demanded, throwing the cards in his hand on to the table in front of him. Cochise and Ajax gave him a questioning look, but before either could ask what the fuck he was talking about, he finished his statement. "And I think that should be swimming!"

"Not a chance." Cleon spoke up, walking over to the male with his arms crossed. "We can't afford to let our guards down. You know the other gangs have been breathing down our necks lately."

Vermin huffed, pouting a bit. "Cone on Warlord. We can just go to the beach for a few hours and make it back. Besides, no one would even be on our turf. We have scouts all over the place man!" He tried to reason with Cleon, a small pleading look on his face.

"We have been cooped up in here for a while now Warlord," Swan spoke up, everyone going silent at his words and staring at him in surprise. Was this their Swan? "What? I'm just saying that we have been in here for too long, just waiting for something. Tension has been high these past few days anyway. It may be needed."

Cleon clicked his tongue at Swan's words, all eyes going back to him. "I guess you got a point," He sighed, knowing he'll probably regret this. "Alright. We can go down to the beach for a few hours."

Those words sent almost everyone into cheering. Even Snow who only showed emotions during special times cracked a little smile. Everyone was excited.

Except Cowboy.

Cowboy sar there, digging his nails into the palm of his hand to keep himself calm. Who was he to ruin his brothers fun and excitement? His eyes went over to the youngest of the group, Rembrandt, who looked as if he had just taken five cans of flash back to back. Watching him, he couldn't help the little smile that came to his lips. Maybe it won't be so bad after all.

...............

He was wrong.

This was terrible.

Cowboy stared down at the water as it engulfed his feet. Why did he agree to come? He should have stayed back and scouted. He couldnt do this. The memories of his childhood immediately flashed through his mind. The feeling of the water swallowing him whole, taking his air away from him painfully slow. Being alone underneath the water. No one to help him. His eyes had gotten heavy and he finally just accepted it and let his eyes shut. The next thing he remembered was being surrounded by people he didn't know and was coughing up water.

So yeah, the beach wasn't his favorite place in the world.

Thankfully, before Cowboy could completely let his memories devour him, a hand on his back pulled him back to reality. He turned his head, being met by Rembrandt's soft smile. He was wet from head to toe, his once big and tall 'fro, now curly and plastered to his head.

"You can't go swimming with your hat, you know." Rem stated softly, slowly removing his hand from the older one's back.

Cowboy let out a soft chuckle, reaching up to adjust his hat. "Yeah, well.. I didn't really plan on swimming." He admitted, earning a frown from the younger male.

"You weren't? Why not?" Rembrandt asked, a small pout forming on his lips. Why didn't his friend want to swim? Was he ashamed of how he looked without a shirt? Now that he thought about it, Cowboy was one of the three who did wear a shirt under his vest. Before he could stop himself, his gaze fell to Cowboy's chest and stomach for a few moments before he looked back at him, cheeks heating up a bit. "Well... Do you want to go walk down the beach with me? I dont want you to feel left out."

Is Rembrandt checking me out? That was the first thought that Cowboy had when Rem's gaze shifted to his body. He didn't have much time to react to that and he almost didn't process the question before nodding. "Yea-Yeah, sure. Let's go." He said softly.

The two headed down the beach, Cowboy walking along where the water stopped and Rembrandt walking in the water, lightly kicking his feet as he did.

They ended up a good distance away from the group and Cowboy was actually enjoying the peaceful silence from the other guys. He was almost startled when Rem suddenly spoke.

"Are you afraid of the ocean?"

The question made his blood run cold and his face flush. "Wh-What? No! Why would I be? I have no reason to be afraid! I love it! It's amazing! It's-" He was shut up by Rembrandt's hand suddenly being placed against his mouth.

"It's okay if you are, Cowboy."

The softness of Rem's voice made Cowboy begin to relax a bit. He closed his eyes as the hand was removed and then nodded. "I hate it," He said softly. "But I didn't want to ruin anyone's day... Especially yours." He said, opening his eyes to look down at Rembrandt. "You seemed excited to come."

Rembrandt listened to him attentively and shook his head. "Cowboy, you wouldn't have ruined anything," he said. "Everyone would have understood if you didn't want to go. You didn't have to force yourself to come." He looked over to the other guys. "You wouldn't have even had to admit it to them. Just said that you didn't want to. They would have understood. Well... Ajax probably would have called you a pussy, but who cares?"

Cowboy let out a laugh and shook his head. "That's definitely what he would say." He smiled softly as he looked at Rembrandt. He didn't know why, but... He felt compelled to tell him why he hated it. "I almost drowned as a kid. Fuckin' terrifying at first then... it turned peaceful. I would like to be able to go swimmin' and shit again but..." He sighed. "I'm scared." This was the first time he ever admitted that he was scared of something to someone. Sure he's been worried before, like with Cyrus' meeting and all, but thats different from being scared.

Cowboy's thoughts were once again interrupted by Rembrandt's soft hand sliding into his own. He looked down and was met with a soft smile.

"Well, you dont have to be scared when I'm around. I won't let anything happen when we're here." Rem spoke softly, earning a small smile and a nod from Cowboy.

"Thanks Rem." He said, letting their fingers lace together.

Maybe the beach really wasn't that bad.

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Alright, so, the spacing is fucked up. Im sorry. I dont feel like fixing it right now lol.

I went through a lot of thoughts when trying to write this as of whether or not to make CxR a couple through the whole thing or not. Sooooooo let's just say that its up to yall lmao.

[the-warriors-homegirl]

Beach Vibes with the Bois

ALRIGHT SO I CANT WRITE ENDINGS TO SAVE MY LIFE, SO YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

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This is just a little some I wrote because I couldn't get the headcanon of Cowboy being afraid of water out of my head. Enjoy :3

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"Let's get out of here and do something fun for once!" Vermin demanded, throwing the cards in his hand on to the table in front of him. Cochise and Ajax gave him a questioning look, but before either could ask what the fuck he was talking about, he finished his statement. "And I think that should be swimming!"

"Not a chance." Cleon spoke up, walking over to the male with his arms crossed. "We can't afford to let our guards down. You know the other gangs have been breathing down our necks lately."

Vermin huffed, pouting a bit. "Cone on Warlord. We can just go to the beach for a few hours and make it back. Besides, no one would even be on our turf. We have scouts all over the place man!" He tried to reason with Cleon, a small pleading look on his face.

"We have been cooped up in here for a while now Warlord," Swan spoke up, everyone going silent at his words and staring at him in surprise. Was this their Swan? "What? I'm just saying that we have been in here for too long, just waiting for something. Tension has been high these past few days anyway. It may be needed."

Cleon clicked his tongue at Swan's words, all eyes going back to him. "I guess you got a point," He sighed, knowing he'll probably regret this. "Alright. We can go down to the beach for a few hours."

Those words sent almost everyone into cheering. Even Snow who only showed emotions during special times cracked a little smile. Everyone was excited.

Except Cowboy.

Cowboy sar there, digging his nails into the palm of his hand to keep himself calm. Who was he to ruin his brothers fun and excitement? His eyes went over to the youngest of the group, Rembrandt, who looked as if he had just taken five cans of flash back to back. Watching him, he couldn't help the little smile that came to his lips. Maybe it won't be so bad after all.

...............

He was wrong.

This was terrible.

Cowboy stared down at the water as it engulfed his feet. Why did he agree to come? He should have stayed back and scouted. He couldnt do this. The memories of his childhood immediately flashed through his mind. The feeling of the water swallowing him whole, taking his air away from him painfully slow. Being alone underneath the water. No one to help him. His eyes had gotten heavy and he finally just accepted it and let his eyes shut. The next thing he remembered was being surrounded by people he didn't know and was coughing up water.

So yeah, the beach wasn't his favorite place in the world.

Thankfully, before Cowboy could completely let his memories devour him, a hand on his back pulled him back to reality. He turned his head, being met by Rembrandt's soft smile. He was wet from head to toe, his once big and tall 'fro, now curly and plastered to his head.

"You can't go swimming with your hat, you know." Rem stated softly, slowly removing his hand from the older one's back.

Cowboy let out a soft chuckle, reaching up to adjust his hat. "Yeah, well.. I didn't really plan on swimming." He admitted, earning a frown from the younger male.

"You weren't? Why not?" Rembrandt asked, a small pout forming on his lips. Why didn't his friend want to swim? Was he ashamed of how he looked without a shirt? Now that he thought about it, Cowboy was one of the three who did wear a shirt under his vest. Before he could stop himself, his gaze fell to Cowboy's chest and stomach for a few moments before he looked back at him, cheeks heating up a bit. "Well... Do you want to go walk down the beach with me? I dont want you to feel left out."

Is Rembrandt checking me out? That was the first thought that Cowboy had when Rem's gaze shifted to his body. He didn't have much time to react to that and he almost didn't process the question before nodding. "Yea-Yeah, sure. Let's go." He said softly.

The two headed down the beach, Cowboy walking along where the water stopped and Rembrandt walking in the water, lightly kicking his feet as he did.

They ended up a good distance away from the group and Cowboy was actually enjoying the peaceful silence from the other guys. He was almost startled when Rem suddenly spoke.

"Are you afraid of the ocean?"

The question made his blood run cold and his face flush. "Wh-What? No! Why would I be? I have no reason to be afraid! I love it! It's amazing! It's-" He was shut up by Rembrandt's hand suddenly being placed against his mouth.

"It's okay if you are, Cowboy."

The softness of Rem's voice made Cowboy begin to relax a bit. He closed his eyes as the hand was removed and then nodded. "I hate it," He said softly. "But I didn't want to ruin anyone's day... Especially yours." He said, opening his eyes to look down at Rembrandt. "You seemed excited to come."

Rembrandt listened to him attentively and shook his head. "Cowboy, you wouldn't have ruined anything," he said. "Everyone would have understood if you didn't want to go. You didn't have to force yourself to come." He looked over to the other guys. "You wouldn't have even had to admit it to them. Just said that you didn't want to. They would have understood. Well... Ajax probably would have called you a pussy, but who cares?"

Cowboy let out a laugh and shook his head. "That's definitely what he would say." He smiled softly as he looked at Rembrandt. He didn't know why, but... He felt compelled to tell him why he hated it. "I almost drowned as a kid. Fuckin' terrifying at first then... it turned peaceful. I would like to be able to go swimmin' and shit again but..." He sighed. "I'm scared." This was the first time he ever admitted that he was scared of something to someone. Sure he's been worried before, like with Cyrus' meeting and all, but thats different from being scared.

Cowboy's thoughts were once again interrupted by Rembrandt's soft hand sliding into his own. He looked down and was met with a soft smile.

"Well, you dont have to be scared when I'm around. I won't let anything happen when we're here." Rem spoke softly, earning a small smile and a nod from Cowboy.

"Thanks Rem." He said, letting their fingers lace together.

Maybe the beach really wasn't that bad.

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Alright, so, the spacing is fucked up. Im sorry. I dont feel like fixing it right now lol.

I went through a lot of thoughts when trying to write this as of whether or not to make CxR a couple through the whole thing or not. Sooooooo let's just say that its up to yall lmao.