pairing : dark! ex! rafe x dark! ex! maybank! reader
context : Rafe doesn’t feel his heartbeat, but the Kook king can’t die of an OD. and no one can know. no one but her.
warnings : drug and alcohol use. overdose. rafe being dead for a few minutes. slaps. some things may be unrealistic
if you’re triggered with drugs and mental health don’t read.
hiiii! just a little out of serie, to keep you waiting for my maybank! reader fic. just click here. wishing you the best holidays. love you!
[ rafe pov ] [ playlist ]
One am.
Cradled by the gentle motion of the waves hitting the hull of the Druthers, Rafe stares up at the sky.
Two, maybe three hours had passed since he left the party. In any case, he wasn’t in the mood to have fun.
He had tried, though. Kelce had given him a Xanax to help him relax. Even after an hour and a half, he still didn’t feel lighter. On the contrary, his heart felt so heavy that he couldn’t bear the company of anyone.
Tonight, everything felt unbearable: the music, the lights, the piercing screams, and the annoying laughter of the guests. Even his own inner voice, commenting on everything his eyes perceived, irritated him to the core. There are days when the presence of anyone is a torture. And tonight, even his own presence was unbearable.
His father was right. He was nothing, nobody. Just a little ingrate. He had no ambition, no desire to succeed. He could see it in the people around him: they were shallow, superficial.
He tried to stop thinking about that conversation, but Ward’s words haunted him constantly. It was like they hid in a dark corner of his mind, ready to spring up at any moment.
Rafe had tried to drown their echo in waves of alcohol, but it didn’t work. Those few words remained etched in his mind.
“I can’t believe you’re my son.”
And what did that even mean? That he wasn’t proud? That he was disappointed? That he was disgusted by his own son?
Rafe kept asking himself these questions, unable to form any real negative thoughts about his father. He couldn’t be wrong. Of course, he was right.
Rafe wasn’t responsible, not even reliable. He was just a lost kid, roaming the bars of country clubs, burning through astronomical amounts of white powder. But the problem was, there was never enough cocaine to silence the voices in his head.
Since that conversation, he had this strange feeling that he was being sucked into the surface he was lying on. Gravity seemed to pull him where he thought he should be: six feet under.
The memories with his father were just a prison. Every time he felt the slightest negative emotion, Rafe locked himself in, unable to escape the vicious circle. Ward had been right, after all. He was always right.
Rafe was wasting his life. He wasn’t doing anything. He didn’t deserve to carry the Cameron name.
Ward kept repeating that he was just a disappointment, but Rafe couldn’t really listen. Well, yes. He listened. But he was completely helpless in the face of his own fate.
Ward didn’t accept him taking liberties. Rafe was supposed to follow the path laid out for him, but he only disrupted his father’s perfect plans.
It all started with college. Rafe had enrolled in the same university as his father to study real estate. He had his own apartment, a car.
And somewhere, in discovering a freedom he had desired all his life, Rafe had gotten lost.
Rafe’s eyes were closing without him realizing it. He was too high. Every memory brought up a whole universe of thoughts that blinded him.
He didn’t realize that each breath was becoming heavier, harder. His heart was slowing, but in his mind, everything was racing. The thoughts kept spinning, endlessly.
He thought only of his father and the millions of ways he had disappointed him. Ward was a good father, though. Harsh, sure, but only because he was demanding. He had high hopes for his son. And Rafe couldn’t meet them.
Ward wasn’t that hard to please, deep down. It was Rafe who didn’t try hard enough. His father had told him this many times. He knew Rafe had the potential, but he never tried hard enough.
Yet, Rafe had tried. Tried to be a good son, a good collaborator, a henchman up to Ward’s expectations. But no matter what he did, his father remained eternally dissatisfied.
Rafe grimaced. He had taken the Druthers without asking for permission. He had gone to that party, thinking it might help clear his head. But, as always, he had cracked.
So he had steered the boat to a remote spot, far from ports and settlements, where the almost-pink sun faded into the blue of the ocean. This place… it was where he and Y/N Maybank used to meet.
Ah… Maybank. A dull ache drowned his heart in remorse. His jaw clenched as he looked up at the twinkling stars. She knew the stars like no one else. She could talk about galaxies for hours. She’s such a nerd.
A smile melted on his lips.
For a moment, calm settled in his mind. The drugs had finally silenced some of his demons. He could almost taste the relief, the rare peace of letting go.
In the end, Ward, Rose, Sarah, Maybank… everything else didn’t really matter anymore.
The sound of the water hitting the boat’s hull was enough to soothe him.
When he opened his eyes, all he saw was the ocean stretching to the horizon, erased in the darkness. No problem seemed to be able to survive in the vastness of this expanse.
But a brutal realization shook Rafe’s heart. Am I still breathing?
His eyelids opened again in a painful effort. His lungs filled with air as he realized with horror that, for a moment, he had forgotten to breathe. His limbs trembled. His sweaty hands gripped the boat’s wheel as he clumsily straightened up. He was too close to the edge… and, more importantly, he was way too high.
Every breath was agony. Everything felt so… slow.
Rafe ran his fingers over his neck, desperately trying to feel his pulse. His eyes closed from exhaustion. Nothing. He couldn’t find it. His head tilted, unable to stay focused. His body stiffened, paralyzed on the deck of the boat. He couldn’t even get up to reach the cabin. He was in the middle of nowhere.
With a trembling hand, he slipped his fingers into his pocket. His movements were disjointed, as if his body were out of joint. His arms were heavy, numb. After what seemed like an eternity, he managed to get his phone out.
Every breath became a battle. His mind raced as he realized that his body had lost the reflex to breathe. He couldn’t even imagine trying to speak. His eyelids slowly fell, as though pulled into a semi-conscious state.
He didn’t realize his fingers were mechanically pressing the phone screen. His head tilted against the boat’s wall as he desperately tried to catch his breath.
— What do you want, you kook?
In the dark, Rafe barely perceived a fragment of that voice, like an echo from the depths of time. A deep sense of relief washed over him. He had called the right person. Only she, Maybank, could get him out of here without judging him.
— Rafe? I hear you breathing.
A blissful smile appeared on his lips before fading as he tried, with great difficulty, to speak:
— Mayb’…
— Are you okay, dude?
She seemed almost genuinely concerned… If only she didn’t spend all her time lying and manipulating those around her.
— No.
He sighed and adjusted his phone, his hands trembling uncontrollably.
— Where are you?
— The Druthers…
Rafe barely opened his eyes. His blurry vision offered him a distorted world, fragmented, as he tried to stay awake.
— Our… ’pot…
Rafe’s lips stumbled against his teeth in a painful movement. His mouth was far too dry to speak clearly.
— I’m coming, dude. Just talk to me.
With a shaky and awkward gesture, he lay on his back. His body was convulsing, his leg slipping dangerously off the boat. He knew he should move, but he couldn’t.
— Cameron! she yelled. You hear me?
The broken tone of Maybank’s voice seemed to pull him slowly out of his stupor. His eyelids fluttered. He tried, as best as he could, to find the strength to fight.
— Yeah…
He took a deep breath. He should panic, but he had the strange feeling that his heart was stopping.
— I can’t find my heartbeat…
The phone rested on his chest. Through the suffocating silence of the night, he heard noises around her. Engine sounds. She was driving. She was on her way. Maybank always arrived quickly. No matter the consequences, she didn’t care about getting a ticket. She didn’t even have a license.
— What did you take tonight? Cocaïne?
A groan escaped Rafe’s throat, silently confirming. His eyes closed, and a thick veil of fog filled his mind.
— And… uh… Xanax, he sighed.
— Did you mix? did you drink ?
But he couldn’t hear her. His thoughts overwhelmed him, convincing himself that he had managed to warn someone, that he would make it. He didn’t hear Maybank’s incessant questions, nor her alarmed tone. He let himself be sucked into a spiral, where his anxieties spun in circles around him.
— Rafe? Are you there?
His leg slipped a little more, dangerously close to the water. His body, now almost lifeless, couldn’t bear his own weight anymore.
— Cameron! she yelled again. Wake up!
The fabric of his shorts scraped against the boat’s rough surface. Slowly, his knee followed, his leg drawn into an inexorable descent.
— Rafeeee!
Maybank’s voice was nothing more than a lost cry in the wind, a gust in the middle of a storm, screaming, whistling. And yet, this sound triggered a wave of memories.
He still remembered that broken, pleading voice asking him not to go to college. But that’s what my dad wants.
He had left her behind, without a second glance. Because he knew that seeing her tear-streaked face would have destroyed him. They had parted on mutual terms, but he had made that sacrifice for what he thought was his own good. For his career.
Ward had kept telling him he’d meet other girls, that it wasn’t the end of the world.
But now, unable to hear Maybank desperately trying to bring him back, Rafe sank into a whirlwind of memories.
He could only see the words that had hurt him. The image of Rose, in his father’s office, trying to make him understand that it wasn’t normal for a child his age, suddenly flashed into his mind.
At the heart of this inner storm, he faced only one thing: the furious rage devouring his soul.
He had spent his whole life seeking his father’s approval. Everything he had built was for him, to meet his expectations. Rafe had never realized he had abandoned all control over his own life.
But now, everything seemed clear to him. That’s why letting go had always felt so… soothing.
His life had been nothing but a constant choice: hold on or let go.
And holding on had only brought him burning pain and invisible scars, buried deep within his soul.
No one could understand this. No one could know.
There was only one solution. What if… he let it all go?
— Rafe!
Maybank’s voice isn’t just coming from her phone. Maybank’s shitty boat is slowly approaching. She’s at a standstill, to avoid crashing into Rafe’s. She digs through her bag, pulling out two ampoules of Narcan. She always keeps them on her because Luke has a habit of drinking while mixing it with his meds. She grits her teeth. Rafe does too, apparently.
— Cameron! she yells.
She hears her voice echo through the phone resting on Rafe’s chest. The anxiety she feels from finding her ex in this state is almost palpable.
His lifeless body tilts dangerously close to the water, his foot already fully submerged. Maybank ties her boat quickly but doesn’t take the time to secure the ropes.
She jumps onto the druthers, grips the Narcan shot in her hand, and rushes toward him. Her hands grab his shirt, dragging him away from the edge, placing him flat on his back at the center of the boat.
But Rafe is already far gone. Every cell in his body seems to burn, consumed by a deadly cocktail of alcohol and substances. Several minutes have already passed since his last moments of awareness.
during a moment, he felt the darkness envelop him in warm arms. Every thought that had been tormenting him vanishes. A great emptiness fills his heart, slowly. Rafe sinks.
Maybank, however, has already begun counting while starting chest compressions. She drives the syringe into his chest and looks at his face, for a split second, before resuming her actions.
He’s pale. Dark circles mark his closed eyes, and his cheeks hollow out his completely shut-off face.
She parts his lips and blows to try to trigger a breath.
Her hands reposition on his chest. She knows these movements by heart. Precise, methodical.
Two compressions per second. It’s hard. The tension builds inside her as she struggles to keep calm. She stays cool, but her heart races at the thought that he thought only of her to save him from death.
— C’mon, Cameron… can’t do this shit to me.
Maybank glances at the screen of her phone, where the timer runs, almost like a reminder that she has little time before she needs to call for help. His brain is starting to run low on oxygen; she must act fast.
— 30.
She tilts his chin, blowing between her lips. The moment fractures. She never imagined their lips would be this close. She places her hands back on his chest.
— Rafe, wake up, please…
But he has no desire to. Bathed in void and nothingness, he cannot escape the darkness he’s sinking into. He is nothing now. Not a Cameron, not a son, not an abnormal child. He is no more.
Maybank’s hands keep pressing his chest with fervor. She can’t let him die under her hands. Tears catch in her throat, but she swallows them. He won’t die. The tension in her arms becomes unbearable. They tremble, painful. But she forces herself to believe. She feels like his lungs are finally following her movements. He will come back. He’s not dead. With a trembling hand, she opens the second vial of Narcan to crush it on Rafe's chest. She doesn't wait for any reaction, she rushes to his chest again.
She blows between her lips, takes a breath, and places her hands back on his chest. The movements resume. She doesn’t lose any of her efficiency. On the contrary, she becomes even more determined, as if she knows that every move could bring Rafe back from the dead.
Her eyes fall on the screen. Six minutes. He hadn’t said anything for over six minutes. She sees it through the blur of her tears.
Her hands press his ribcage frantically. She can’t give up. She can’t stop. She will make it. He’s coming back to her. She feels the tears falling on her hands, her head shaking to rid herself of the thought that he won’t wake up after six minutes. His heart has stopped.
But Maybank is in denial. She sees the timer reach the seventh minute and pushes harder, her fury growing. He will not die tonight. He will not die in her hands. No way. Her movements grow more violent. She doesn’t care if she breaks a rib or bruises him. She wants him to breathe again.
Panicked, overwhelmed, Maybank screams in rage. She keeps going, unable to let him go.
Suddenly, his ribcage rises under her hands. His lungs fill noisily. Maybank pulls back, her eyes widen when, in a final surge, he takes a deep breath. His eyes open. He jolts, and his hands fall clumsily onto Maybank. Rafe chokes, coughs, then breathes deeply.
He returns to himself with difficulty. His eyes still shine, as though he’s been sucked into the dark mists of death. Maybank runs a hand behind his head, the other hand resting on his chest to feel his heart. She feels it beating again. He’s breathing. She smiles, eyes sparkling.
Rafe blinks several times, as if adjusting to reality, though the memory of the world he’s just returned from clings to him. He struggles to understand where he is. The movements of the boat rock him, and when he hears the sound of waves against the hull, he seems to calm down. It’s pitch dark. Only the moon, hidden behind thick clouds, illuminates the bay. A cool, light breeze hits his bare skin, causing goosebumps. He’s alive. He hasn’t let go.
— Are you okay? I got ya. You good? You’re awake. It’s okay. You good?
She speaks quickly, frantically. Rafe seems to realize she’s there. His eyes are red, wide open. She watches him with concern. It’s really her who didn’t let go, actually. He blinks several times.
She lifts her legs onto a chair nearby. She covers him with her jacket, which carries her distinct smell, a sweet, burning mix of weed and coconut. Rafe closes his eyes for half a second when that smell fills his nostrils. She was there.
Her heart trembles as she sees him like this. Silent, trembling, pale, vulnerable. He looks nothing like the Rafe she knew. She watches his face slowly regain color.
— It’s okay. Don’t move. Just lay down a bit. You’re here. You’re back. I got ya. You alright?
Maybank hands him a bottle of water and lifts his head to help him drink.
He breathes heavily, his eyes coming back to her. She’s here. She found him. He watches her hand on his chest. With her other hand, she supports his head, her fingers moving delicately through his hair as if to remind him of her reassuring presence.
— Sup’…
Rafe stretches a slight charming grin, his hoarse voice amused by their closeness. He doesn’t have time to react before Maybank grabs him by the collar and slaps him without hesitation. Rafe blinks, tries to sit up, but she shoves him back down to stay lying.
— You scared the shit out of me, Cameron. You were unconscious for seven minutes.
Rafe grimaces, letting his head fall back onto the ground. His breath is short. He struggles to regain his composure, but that slap has certainly cleared his mind.
— You came f’me… he sighs.
Maybank turns to meet his gaze, preparing a vitamin C tablet so he can regain his strength.
— Of course I came. You were fucking dead for seven minutes. Don’t you hear me?
— I thought you hated me.
For a response, Maybank approaches him, lifts his head gently, and hands him pills. Rafe grimaces, his brow furrowed, suspicious.
— What’s that?
— And now you worry about what shit you take? she asks.
She tilts her head, her probing gaze watching Rafe’s reactions. He tilts his head insistently. She just pulled him out of certain death, and now he’s worried she’ll poison him?
— It’s fucking vitamins, dumbass. Do you really think I could poison you after spending seven minutes getting you out of this?
Rafe grimaces, grabs the pills from her hand, and swallows them. She hands him the bottle. Rafe meets her gaze as he drowns himself in the water. She came. He repeats it. The sensation of her fingers in his hair, the sweet smell that had haunted his sheets for weeks, her blue eyes like the ocean staring at him with a genuine concern he’d never seen anywhere else; she was really here. Everything seemed unreal.
— Keep drinking. I’m gonna get you more water.
Without warning, she lets go of his head, and Rafe’s only reflex is to lift the bottle before collapsing on the floor. He watches her enter the boat without looking back to make sure he’s okay. She remains a Maybank. She’s gentle in her strong way.
The next second, she throws two cushions, a thick blanket. She joins him with a full water bottle. She kneels beside him. Rafe grits his teeth, his heart tight.
— Um… I’m sorry… I didn’t know who else to call.
Maybank gives a small pout, avoiding his gaze, her cheeks flushing slightly.
— Nice to know I’m the last thought you had before dying. she smirks.
— Shut up, pogue.
Rafe lifts the bottle of water to drink again. She bites her lip to hide the smile she couldn’t stop.
— So um… Can I ask a quest—
— I didn’t try to kill myself.
Her voice is firm and clear. He holds her gaze, as if asserting he didn’t try to die tonight. Maybank nods slowly, impressed by his clarity.
— Okay, so you’re just dumb.
He raises his chin to meet her gaze. Maybank tilts her head.
— In what fucking reality did you think mixing Xanax and alcohol would do you any good?
Rafe looks down, overwhelmed by shame. She’s right. He was so reckless and dangerous. His mindset was so negative that he couldn’t see reality.
— I don’t know, I just… I wanted to get really wasted and stop thinking.
Maybank nods slowly, not looking judgmental. He knows she won’t judge him. It’s not her style.
— Yeah, I get that. But maybe try to do research, like, bro—
— Ew.. Don’t call me bro.
Rafe grimaces, bringing the bottle to his lips. Maybank gives a slight smile, digs through her bag, and pulls out a pack of donuts still wrapped. She bought them earlier today, for when she’d be alone on her boat tonight.
— You know I would have found you even if you didn’t call.
— Because you stalk me? Big news, freak. I saw you liking my post from 45 weeks ago.
Maybank’s cheeks burn. She shoots a dark look at Rafe, who flashes an amused grin.
— Why did you think I called y—
— Shut up, kook. Now, fucking eat. You look like shit.
Rafe sits up, Maybank adjusts the cushions and stretches the blanket to cover their legs. Rafe gives a slight smile as he bites into a donut.
Maybank feels more at ease now. He’s regained some color, hasn’t vomited, and hasn’t lost consciousness. Still, even though she silenced him, one question still haunts her.
— Why did you call me?
Rafe looks up. That contact makes her heart jump. She takes a deep breath to hide the inexplicable effect he still has on her.
— Who else could I have called? he questions, staring her eyes with intensity.
Cause she was the only one who ever reached his heart. who else could ever save him from death, if it wasn’t y/n Maybank?
dark! rafe after jumping on the man who assaulted maybank! reader when she was younger.
not even bragging about the fact that he destroyed his face, he doesn’t want her to know he did it. actually, she never told him about it, so he just wants to win her trust fairly.
« so you have nothing to do with this ? » she asks, suspicious.
⁀➷ table of contents. ⁀➷ detailed table of contents.
y/n grew up on the cut and therefore she learned young she better uses her head to not end up like her father. gifted kid with no option to get out the shithole, she has to work twice harder than anyone. a compulsive liar, she is a manipulative bitch who will always get what she wants. she is the pogue queen.
she works harder and smarter, she doesn’t care if the job is wrong or illegal or even dangerous. she will do anything to stay away from the monster who is her father. nothing is more important to her than her younger brother Jj. she would kill for him, even if he doesn’t realise what she could be doing for him.
she can never be anything else but a pogue. she is a hard worker that everybody knows and loves. she is always appreciated for her work, her attitude, her intelligence. she earned the respect and the trust of the cut many times, especially when random treasure hunters scared locals. her empire started here, and now, she is the mob boss of an army of pogues who could kill for her.
in the end, Y/n makes so much money she just doesn’t even care about it anymore, she just want to have the most dangerous and risky way.
she started building a OnlyFans to make more and more money. no one knows but her. she doesn’t know her secrets and her lies can push her in a trap she will never escape : Rafe Cameron.
the kook king enjoys having such a big power into his hands when he recognise her tattoos from her videos. she is Crystal Moon, the porn star without a face. the deal is simple, if she wants him to keep his mouth shut, she has to be his. she belongs to him again and there is no compromise.
