Drew Starkey Imagines

Die With A Smile

A/N: Okay warning this is very different from what I usually post but I still hope you guys love it!

The storm always found him — even when the skies looked clear.

Rafe stood by the bedroom window, staring out at the private tarmac, lips pressed into a grim line. The jet was already fueled and waiting. He hadn't said much, but you could read him like the back of your hand by now — something was wrong.

He claimed it was work. "Just a meeting, a quick trip." But Rafe Cameron didn't do normal work. Not really. And ever since you two got together, he had been trying — truly trying — to leave that twisted, violent world behind. Every slip-up haunted him more than it hurt you. But this wasn't a slip-up.

It was a storm. And he was walking right into it.

"I'm going with you," you said, arms crossed, daring him to argue.

Rafe turned, his blue eyes flickering with fear — not for himself, but for you. "You're not. It's not safe."

"I don't care," you shot back. "If you're walking into danger, I'm walking with you."

He clenched his jaw, the internal war visible across his face. Rafe was stubborn — but not more than you. Eventually, he caved.

⸻

The Jet

The hum of the jet engine filled the silence between you. Rafe didn't speak much during the flight, just sat there, fingers tapping against his knee, lost in thought. You didn't push. You'd learned not to — not when he was preparing for something.

"Day one," you joked lightly. "We do nothing. Day two, we fix everything."

He gave you a tight smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes.

⸻

The Meeting

The next day, Rafe pulled up in front of a quiet, broken-down house — the kind that looked abandoned but was very much alive in the worst ways. He looked over at you, hesitated, and said, "Stay in the car. Don't move."

You nodded. But the pit in your stomach grew.

Minutes passed. Then more.

That's when you saw them.

Two men — one with a scar over his brow, another chewing toothpicks like a vice — appeared at the car window. Before you could scream, they yanked the door open and dragged you out.

⸻

The House

The room smelled like smoke, sweat, and regret.

You were shoved through the door and the world slowed when you saw him — Rafe, on his knees, a gun to his head, eyes wild with panic when they dragged you in.

"No!" you cried. "Stop! Please, don't hurt him!"

The man with the gun snarled, "This piece of shit thinks he can buy his way out with chump change. This ain't charity, sweetheart."

"Take me, take whatever — just don't hurt him!" you yelled, struggling in the grip of the men holding you.

But the gun didn't move. Rafe's voice broke: "Let her go. She has nothing to do with this."

"She's yours, ain't she?" the man snapped. "That's everything."

Moments later, you were both thrown into a side room — dark, locked, quiet, except for the thunder inside your chests.

⸻

The Room

Rafe leaned back against the wall, jaw clenched. "I told you to stay home. I told you it wasn't safe."

You turned to him, angry tears in your eyes. "I don't give a shit about safe, Rafe. I give a shit about you. If I didn't come, who knows if you'd already be dead."

He didn't respond. Just sat there, breathing heavy, shaking, staring at the cracked ceiling like it held all the answers.

"Do you think we're going to be stuck here for a while?" he asked eventually, voice low.

"I don't know," you replied. "Someone will realize we're missing. A couple days, tops."

"No one knows where we are. I didn't tell anyone."

You blinked. "What about your location thing? On your phone?"

"I turned it off," he muttered bitterly.

You stared at him, then slowly smiled, tight and almost amused. "You idiot."

"What now?" he said, confused.

"My location's on. Those idiots didn't take my phone." You reached into your pocket, pulling it out. "Still here."

Rafe's eyes widened. "Then call someone!"

"No signal," you whispered after checking. "We're out of range."

"Shit."

You reached for his hand and squeezed. "Hey. I'm not giving up. We'll get out of here."

His eyes met yours. And in them, there was love — deep, bruised, desperate. He nodded, saying nothing, just holding your hand tighter like you were the only thing anchoring him to earth.

Eventually, your head found his shoulder. You fell asleep like that — in a prison with no bars, heartbeats syncing in silence.

⸻

The End

You woke up to shouting.

Hands grabbed you. Screaming. Rafe fighting.

They dragged you both out — this time to a different room, concrete floors, peeling paint, cold steel everywhere. The men stood across from you. Guns raised.

You looked at Rafe. He looked at you. No words were needed, but still, you both said it.

"I love you," he breathed.

"I love you more," you whispered, your voice trembling.

You hugged him like it was the last thing you'd ever do.

Because it was.

Two men. Two guns. Two targets.

Two shots.

And in the end, you died in each other's arms.

Not with fear.

Not with hate.

But with love on your lips — and a smile carved in your soul.

Because even in death, he was yours.

And you were his.

Forever.