Drew Starkey Imagines

No Crown Without You

A/N: This image is based off season 4 with the Blue Crown scene but some things are different. Y'all aren't in Morocco and the story about the crown is different. I had to change it a bit for this to make sense. Hope you like it!!

The jungle was thick with heat and tension, every step forward crunching dead leaves and twigs beneath your feet. You and the Pogues had been chasing Groff for miles, trying to corner him before he escaped with the Blue Crown. Rafe Cameron, now surprisingly aligned with your group after weeks of chaotic alliances and close calls, walked just ahead of you, rifle slung across his back, eyes sharp and jaw clenched.

"Groff couldn't have gotten far," JJ muttered, brushing sweat from his brow as he glanced at you, then at Rafe.

"Unless Lightner caught up to him first," Rafe growled, his voice taut with frustration. "That bastard always finds a way to slither out."

You felt the crown's weight in your backpack, the ancient artifact now partially uncovered and retrieved from the sunken wreckage off the coast. It shimmered when touched by sunlight, a symbol of centuries of hidden power—and now the centerpiece of a war between the greedy and the desperate.

"Keep your eyes up," John B said from the rear, his voice low but firm.

Suddenly, movement up ahead. You all froze. Groff stood in the clearing, flanked by boulders, holding a small pistol with shaking hands. His face was streaked with dirt and desperation.

"Give it to me!" Groff screamed. "The crown! Or I swear, I'll—"

He didn't get to finish. The ground behind the boulder shifted—Lightner, silent as a snake, emerged from behind the rock. You were the only one who saw it at first. His gun was already raised.

And it was aimed straight at Rafe.

Time slowed. You didn't think—there wasn't time for that. There was only instinct, the raw, unfiltered pull in your chest at the idea of losing Rafe. You'd fought, sure—plenty. He was reckless, infuriating, and had more emotional walls than a fortress. But you'd also seen something beneath the chaos—something tender, broken, and fiercely loyal.

And you loved him. God, you loved him.

The shot rang out.

You screamed—not from fear, but from the searing pain that erupted through your torso as you slammed into Rafe, knocking him back. The bullet tore through your side and embedded itself deep in your stomach.

Blood soaked your shirt almost instantly.

The world spun. You hit the ground hard, vision blurring as shouts erupted all around you. Rafe's voice broke through them all.

"NO! Y/N!" His arms caught you as you slumped, eyes wide in disbelief and horror. "No, no, no, baby—stay with me, please—please—"

Lightner and Groff were gone. The second the shot was fired, Groff had made a break for the jungle. Lightner, furious that his shot didn't land as intended, had chased after him, their footsteps disappearing into the trees.

None of that mattered.

Not now.

"Y/N—shit, you're bleeding—you're—damn it!" Rafe's voice cracked as he cradled you. His hands were shaking, pressing against the wound with trembling fingers. "You jumped in front of me. Why did you—why the hell did you do that?!"

"I—I saw the gun," you whispered, pain tightening your chest. "I couldn't let you..."

Tears spilled from Rafe's eyes, and he shook his head violently. "No, no, you don't get to do that. You don't get to be the hero. Not for me. Not like this."