#Clay miller | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

saltcxrcle · 2 days ago

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best friend's brother ── . ✶ c. miller

summary: you weren't one for clichés, but you ended up falling into one anyway

pairings: clay miller x reader, clay miller x fem!readerノ: wc: 4.4k warnings: set after the events of the movie, no use of 'y/n', falling for your best friends brother trope, slight enemies to lovers, smoking (both reader and clay), mentions of the events of the movie, flangst, shot gunning, some sexual tension, kissing, making out, fluff at the end, kinda edited; all mistakes are my own a/n: RAHH CLAYY MILLER MY LOVE!! my first fic for this final boy (and it certainly won't be the last) also i had to make up a lot of shit for bc we get crumbs of clay's backstory and the timeline of the movie, so is this canon? absolutely not! but that's what fanfiction is for :p so enjoy me writing for a jarpad character that isn't sam winchester <33 clay miller masterlist

GOD THIS WAS SO CLICHE.

Sitting on the porch with Clay and sharing a cigarette while your heart was beating so fast at how close he was, your shoulders were touching as fingers brushed against one another as you passed the dwindling cigarette between the two of you. You thought that you would be the exception to the rule of falling for your best friend’s older brother.

You had been best friends with Whitney since you moved to New Jersey when you were four years old, and your mom made your small family of three introduce themselves to their next-door neighbors.

You remember you hid behind your mom’s leg when the door opened, and a woman with brown hair and kind eyes answered the door. You hadn’t wanted to move from your old house in California. But your dad had found a better job across the country and moved despite your complaints, dismissing you because you were a kid and didn’t know any better.

But the woman at the front door managed to coax you out from behind your mom when she mentioned that she had made cookies the day before and asked if you wanted one. You lit up at the prospect of getting a sweet treat before dinner that day. The woman introduced herself as Miss Jenny and called for her kids to come and meet the new neighbors while she grabbed a cookie for you.

You could hear the thundering of footsteps from the open door, and a boy who looked to be around two years older than you and a girl your age came into the doorway. Your parents introduced themselves to them while you stared at the floor, shyness creeping back into your system, and all you wanted to do was dash to your new house.

But the girl was bright and bubbly and didn’t seem to mind your shyness.

“Hi! I’m Whitney!” She greeted you cheerfully.

You murmured your name in response, just barely being able to meet her hazel eyes.

“Here you go sweetie.” Miss Jenny had come back from the kitchen and handed you the cookie on a napkin from behind her kids.

“Thank you.” You said quietly as you sent her a small smile.

The boy scowled. “Mom! That was the last cookie!”

“Clay.” Miss Jenny's tone sounded like your mom’s when you didn’t listen to her. “We can make more later.” She promised him.

The boy you now knew as Clay looked slightly happier, but his eyebrows were still scrunched as he stared at the cookie in your hands. Clay huffed before ducking back into the house.

Your lips were pursed. “He can have it if he wants.” You went to hand the cookie back, but Miss Jenny shook her head.

“It’s fine sweetie, I planned to make some more tomorrow anyway.”

Whitney looked at your parents. “Is it okay if she could come over and play with me tomorrow?”

You stared at Whitney in surprise. You hadn’t expected to make a friend this quickly.

You looked behind you to see your parents nodding.

“Of course!” Your mom said with a smile.

From that day on, you and Whitney stuck beside each other like glue. You were the more introverted one out of the two of you, while Whitney was the social butterfly. But she never once left you behind and always tried to get you out of your shell. Whitney was the sun to your moon; the two of you balanced each other perfectly. Meanwhile, you and Clay never seemed to get along with each other. It wasn’t like you did anything to him, but he took you getting the last cookie personally and made it known.

He was relentless in his teasing of Whitney and you if you were over at their house, which was quite often. And it didn’t stop when you guys grew up, if anything, Clay acted more like a dick when he was a teenager. He went through his “bad boy” phase, as you would like to call it. You heard all about him ditching class, getting a motorcycle, smoking, and going to parties from Whitney as you and your parents helped her with their mom.

Eventually, Clay left your life when you were fifteen and he was seventeen. Your parents took Whitney under their wing, and the two of you grew closer than ever as you supported her while her mom went through her chemo treatments. But you guys slowly drifted apart when you guys got into different colleges.

Whitney wanted to stay local to help with her mom while you tried to go to school in New York. Although you wanted to stick by Whitney and apply to schools in the state, she encouraged you to apply to your dream schools in New York. You remember the day you left for NYU, which was bittersweet, filled with tears and promises that you’d call often and come back home for the holidays, which you did.

Your world turned upside down a few years later, and you were finishing your last year of undergrad. Whitney had gone missing, her mom died, and Clay came crashing back into your life.

You remember the day of Miss Jenny’s funeral and seeing him for the first time in years at the podium, speaking about his mother. You managed to make it to the funeral, letting your professors know about the family emergency and taking the first flight to New Jersey back to your hometown.

You vaguely remember Whitney telling you about calling Clay and getting into a fight about not helping and being there for their mom.

You lingered in the cemetery long enough for Clay to approach you.

“Whitney’s missing.” Clay’s voice was slightly thick with grief as he stared at you hard.

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

“Are you kidding? Did you not notice her absence here?” He gestured to the nearly empty graveyard.

“Of course I did!” You scowled at him. That was all you could think about, but you didn’t want to question him when he was being bombarded with his own family members and receiving condolences from others.

“When was the last time you talked to her?”

“I can tell you it was more recent than you had.” You couldn’t help but snark at Clay, crossing your arms over your chest.

Clay glared at you, his jaw clenching in frustration. “When?”

You sighed. “Right before she hit a dead zone. Whitney told me about the camping trip with her boyfriend and his friends.”

“And you haven’t checked in on her?”

“She said she wasn’t going to have service.” You said through gritted teeth. “Besides, I've been a little busy with school.”

“So school is more important than your missing best friend.” Clay nodded in mock understanding. “Got it.” He flashed you a sarcastic grin before shaking his head, his hair falling in his eyes.

“Oh, fuck you! Says the guy who ran off doing god knows what and refused to come home to help his sister care for their dying mother.” You pointed a finger into his chest. “Do not accuse me of not caring for your family when it's clear you didn’t in the first place.”

Clay’s eyes flashed with anger as his nostrils flared. He stared down at you with a clenched jaw but said nothing.

The two of you stared at each other in tense silence. Your eyes took in Clay for the first time since you saw him earlier. If it was possible, he grew even taller since he was seventeen, and he definitely filled out his lanky frame—the broadness of his shoulders wasn’t something you could overlook. Clay’s hair was the longest you’ve ever seen, but his eyes kept the intensity he had since he first laid eyes on you. The hazel color swirled and shifted into a stormy grey like the overcast sky overhead.

Clay was attractive—you weren’t blind. There were times when you thought he was cute in your youth, but his callous attitude towards you never failed to remind you why you never tried to befriend him.

“Help me look for her.” Clay whispered into the silent afternoon, breaking the tense atmosphere.

You closed your eyes as you took a step back, putting a distance between you and Clay. “I can’t.” You murmured, your heart cracking at your admission.

“Why not?”

“I don’t have time.”

“What do you mean you don’t have time? Your best friend is missing!” Clay looked at you incredulously. The person that Clay knew would have said yes to him in a heartbeat.

You could feel the tears that you kept suppressed all day, threatening to spill over. “I’m going back tonight.”

Clay scoffed. “Back to New York right? To some big fancy school in the big city while Whitney is out there missing? Some best friend you are.” The venom dripped from his voice as he shook his head, disappointed.

You had no idea that Clay even knew where you were going to school or that he apparently kept tabs on your life. But his remark about going back to school instead of looking for Whitney got under your skin, but you’d never admit to it, never to his face.

“Fuck you, Clay Miller.” You spit out, fury coating your words. You walked away, shoving at his shoulder with your own. You didn’t want to be there any longer than you had to with Clay.

About a month later, after graduating, you were back home for the summer, having applied to grad school in New Jersey, and you would stay at your childhood home until you found a job and an apartment. You had gotten a call from an unknown number, which you almost didn’t pick up, but there was a pull in your gut that compelled you to answer.

The woman on the phone asked for your name, which you confirmed. She called to inform you that Whitney was in the hospital, and you needed to come in and check in on her.

The phone call was soon over at that point; you quickly grabbed your bag and left the house hastily. You vaguely remember your parents asking where you were in a rush for, spitting out that Whitney was in the hospital and that you’d call them once you saw her in the flesh.

The drive was short, almost breaking all the traffic laws to get to the hospital as fast as you could. Anxiety twisted at your stomach as you walked through the lobby; your voice was wavering, asking the nurse at the desk about Whitney.

The nurse had a reassuring smile on her face as she looked up your information, and once you confirmed your identity, she led you to Whitney’s room.

You practically sobbed in relief at the sight of Whitney, bringing her into a fierce hug as the two of you cried in each other’s arms. You guys had a tight grip on one another as she shoved her head into the crook of your neck.

You guys only pulled apart until no more tears were running down your faces. You wiped at your face with your jacket as you pulled back and took in Whitney’s appearance.

She looked a little thinner from the last time you saw her, and you knew Whitney had some cracked ribs and a few other bruises, but other than that, she was fine. But you had a feeling that what she saw or experienced was worse than how she looked right now. You had so many questions fluttering around in your head but kept them to yourself so as to not overwhelm her.

You went to open your mouth to say something, but before you could, the door opened and cut you off before you could speak.

Your head snapped to see Clay entering the room. His clothes were covered in dried mud, and Clay’s shirt was stained beyond recognition. Your eyes zeroed in on his face. There was a large gash on his cheekbone that looked to be cleaned since butterfly bandages were covering the wound.

The two of you locked eyes, his eyes were filled with relief but you could see the lingering fear within his hazel gaze. They flashed with something unfamiliar, but it looked akin to fondness before it was gone.

“Hey.” You murmured, the corners of your lips twitching slightly.

Clay swallowed thickly. “Hey.” He responded with a nod of his head, his dirty hair falling in his eyes. Your eyes followed his hand as he brushed it back, noticing how big they were.

You cleared your throat before you turned back to face Whitney. There was a knowing smirk on her face, and you rolled your eyes at her.

The cold concrete seeped through the thin pajama pants you were wearing as you blew out the smoke from your mouth, the tenseness from your shoulders relaxing as the nicotine flooded your system. Smoke curled around you as moonlight lit the street, and the small porch light you were sitting underneath illuminated the path up your porch as you sat on the steps leading up to your childhood home.

You glanced at the house right next to yours before taking another drag of your cigarette.

It had been over a year since Clay found Whitney. That night you came to the hospital, Whitney and Clay filled you in on what happened hours before they made it to the hospital—being kidnapped at Camp Crystal Lake, Clay finding Whitney, and killing the guy that kidnapped her. You were in shock as they recounted the experience, seeing how Clay could barely get through his story without stumbling over them. Your heart broke when he mentioned how he met Jenna and how she was killed.

They had to spend the night at the hospital for evaluation, and you picked up Jenna the next morning. Clay followed behind you on his motorcycle back to their house. Clay was surprised that the house hadn’t been claimed by the bank, but you explained that your parents helped pay it off, and it was all theirs if they wanted to stay.

You looked away from the house and back down to the cigarette in your hand. It was on its last legs, so you stamped it out and let it rest on the ashtray that you had brought out before taking out your last one of the pack.

“You know those things that wreck your lungs?” The familiar timber of Clay’s voice broke the serenity of the late summer night.”

You huffed, looking at Clay approaching your porch and walking up it. “You’re one to talk Mister ‘I started to smoke in high school’.”

Clay let out a low chuckle, shaking his head, knowing that you were right. “Yeah, but I stopped a couple of years ago. Besides, I thought you hated smoking.”

“Things change.” You murmured as you looked up at Clay. “But I only smoke if I’m stressed or really drunk.” You didn’t know why you felt the need to explain, but seeing Clay in grey sweatpants and a tight v-neck shirt was loosening your tongue.

Fuck, it should be illegal to have shirts that tight. You thought as you saw how Clay's sleeve was snug around his bicep. You swallowed thickly as he sat down next to you, Clay’s scent filling your nose, notes of pine, amber, clean linen, and something that was distinctly him.

“Right, so I’m assuming that you’re stressed then?”

“You’d be correct in that assumption.” You grabbed the lighter from beside the ashtray that was in between you and Clay and lit your cigarette, inhaling as you did and letting your lungs feel the slight burn from the process.

“Can I bum one off of you?” Clay was silently glad that you kept your gaze in front of you, his eyes zeroing in on how your lips wrapped around the filter.

“Thought you stopped smoking Mr. Paramedic?” You asked with a smirk, blowing the smoke from the side of your mouth as you turned to look at him.

“I like to indulge from time to time.” Clay couldn’t help but smirk back at you.

If someone told you that you could hold a conversation with Clay without wanting to strangle him when you were a teen, or better yet, a year ago—you would have laughed straight into their face.

In the past year, there were bumps in the road after Clay and Whitney came back home. There were a lot of late nights staying up because of nightmares from both of the Miller siblings (whether Clay wanted to admit it or not), and it was clear that they were struggling with them.

You remembered how Clay’s face twisted when you handed him a business card with your mom’s practice on the front of it.

“Mom can’t take you as her client because of conflict of interest and whatnot, but she has a few other people that you can be referred to.” You explained after seeing Clay stare hard at the card in his hands.

“I don’t need-”

“Nope, you do need it, don't deny it.” You quickly shut down any protests coming from him.

You saw how much he pretended to be okay, to be strong for his sister, who suffered from nightmares as well. But Whitney was proactive and started therapy after one terrible nightmare that plagued her for days after she had it.

Ever since the siblings moved back into their childhood home, you were there almost every night to help and comfort Whitney. One night, Whitney was sleeping soundly, but as you were walking back from the bathroom, you passed by Clay’s room and heard murmuring, followed by a quiet shout of Whitney’s name.

You opened the door to see his head jerking side to side, his eyes shut tight, and tiny no’s falling from his lips.

You made your way to the edge of his bed. “Wake up! Clay!” You called his name out in a whispered shout as you shook his shoulder.

Clay’s eyes snapped open, and he woke up with a sharp gasp. He sat up quickly. The blanket that was covering him fell from his chest and pooled around his waist. His eyes were frantic as he looked around his room before they met yours.

Clay visibly relaxed when he realized that he was at home and rubbed at his face. “Sorry if I woke you up.” His voice was rough and thick with exhaustion as he mumbled his words

You shook your head. “You didn’t.” You replied with a whisper.

You realized that your hand was still on his shoulder—Clay’s bare shoulder. Your eyes flickered down his body, he wasn’t wearing a shirt and you could see his tanned skin being illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight peaking through his curtains. You almost choked on your breath at the sight of his sculpted body, so you immediately averted your gaze and ripped your hand off of his shoulder.

You locked eyes with Clay again, and something passed between the two of you. When the Miller’s came back, Clay was still cold towards you but after this night, things changed between you. There was this unspoken tension between you, but a tentative friendship started to develop over the months.

You remember how he came to you and told you about planning to be a Paramedic and that he had started the process of being trained. Something in your chest warmed when Clay revealed that you were the first person he told.

“Besides I’m not a paramedic yet.” Clay shook his head. His hair was getting long enough to where he could tuck the wayward strands behind his ears.

“Right but you'll be one soon." You waved his words off. "It’s my last one.” You told him, waving around the now-lit cigarette. “But I’m feeling generous.” You passed it over to Clay.

“I’m honored.” Clay joked as he took it from you, his fingers brushing against yours, and the brief contact sent a shiver down your spine.

You practically had to tear your eyes away from Clay; seeing his lips wrapped around the cigarette and taking a drag was making you feel warm, and you stared out into the street.

With the friendship that you built with Clay, you learned a lot more about him from him rather than from Whitney. He was witty, kind, caring, and fiercely loyal to the ones he cared about. Somehow, along the way of developing this friendship, you started to fall for him. But I pushed it down because there was no way that Clay wouldn’t see you as more than Whitney’s best friend.

“I’m sorry.” Clay said after he exhaled the smoke, passing the cig back to you.

Your eyebrows furrowed before taking a drag. “For what?” You asked, blowing the smoke away from him and tapping the excess ash in the tray.

“For being a dick to you at the funeral.”

“Oh.” You were slightly surprised that he even brought it up. You guys hadn’t really rehashed any problems that had occurred before you guys became friends.

“And for being an asshole to you growing up.” Clay added when you didn’t say anything else.

You chuckled. “At least you’re owning up to the fact that you were mean to me when we were younger.” The cigarette was a little halfway done, and Clay took it from your outstretched hand.

Clay huffed a laugh through his nose after he inhaled some of the smoke. “Yeah, well you took the last cookie so we had gotten off on the wrong foot.”

“I get that." You snickered quietly. The cookies that Clay's mom used to make were delicious. "But you continued to tease me even when we grew up. Especially when we were teens.” You pointed out with a raised brow after you calmed down, looking at Clay with a knowing look.

He shook his head. “That was because I thought you were pretty and I didn’t want to find my little sister’s best friend pretty.”

You swallowed hard as you felt your heart start to pound against your chest. “Ah.” your voice was slightly hoarse before you cleared it. “So, you decided to be mean. God, you were such a teenage boy.” You teased as you shook your head.

Clay laughed. “Yeah, well it's not like I knew how to talk to girls all that well. The ones I really liked at least.” Clay corrected himself when he saw the sharp glance you shot him.

“Do you still find her pretty?” You asked boldly.

“Who?” Clay’s eyebrows furrowed, and there was a wrinkle in between them that you wanted to smooth out with your thumb.

“Your little sister’s best friend?” You bit your bottom lip as you met his gaze, nerves ratting your senses.

The wrinkle between his brows became more prominent before it smoothed out, and a smirk pulled at his lips. “Yeah, she’s gorgeous now.”

You couldn’t help but smile at him. “That’s good. You still like her?”

“Yeah, even after all these years, I don’t think I ever stopped.” Clay leaned in closer to you, his scent getting more potent and more intoxicating, with smoke lingering around the two of you.

“That’s good to hear.” You murmured in the tiny space that was left between you and Clay.

“Want to finish this off?” He tapped off the excess ash of the almost-finished cigarette.

“Sure.” You went to pluck it out of his hand. But he brought it up to his lips instead of taking the last drag of it—the orange glow of the cigarette illuminated the amusement that filled his eyes. You looked at him in confusion.

Clay extinguished the now-finished cigarette into the ashtray, his mouth and lungs filled with smoke. He took your chin in between his thumb and forefinger and tipped your face up towards him.

Your mouth parted instinctively as his lips got closer to yours until there was only a sliver of space between the two of you, and you knew what he was trying to do. It had been a while since you shotgunned anything with someone, but doing it with Clay was making a heat pool in your lower belly.

Clay started to blow a steady stream of smoke into your mouth as you inhaled it, your eyes locked on his increasingly darkening ones, his pupil eclipsing the hazel color of his gaze. Your hands itched to grab his face and pull his lips towards his, but let him shotgun the remnants of your cigarette with you.

You blew out the smoke once you had inhaled it all, and the two of you were left staring at each other. Clay's fingers on your chin moved to extend and encompass your jaw, and his thumb was resting on your bottom lip.

Your noses were brushing against each other as your hand hesitantly rested on his clothed thigh.

You blinked up at him, eyelashes practically fluttering against his cheek. “Kiss me.”

Instead of a response, Clay’s lips descended onto yours, and fireworks sparked behind your eyes as Clay kissed you passionately. His other hand came to rest on your free cheek as you moved closer to him, the hand on his thigh coming to rest on his waist.

You couldn’t think about anything else but Clay, the flavor of nicotine and mint flooded your taste buds as Clay’s tongue danced with yours. You hadn’t felt like this with anyone else before, the world faded as you lost yourself in the feeling of Clay’s soft lips against yours. It was overwhelming in the best way possible, and you could feel arousal zipping through your body as Clay dominated the kiss.

The two eventually broke apart, unfortunately needing air that was in your depleted lungs. But you didn’t stray far, resting your foreheads together as you took in sharp breaths together. You opened your eyes to find Clay already looking at you, his gaze filled with adoration and lust.

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” Clay asked, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“Shouldn’t you have asked me that before you kissed me?” You had a teasing smile on your face. But you felt giddy at the idea of Clay taking you out.

Clay rolled his eyes. “I didn’t hear you complaining about it.”

You giggled at his words, riding the blissful feeling that flooded your veins from the kiss the two of you shared. “You’re not wrong. But I’d love to.”

Clay sent you a bright smile that filled your stomach with butterflies. “Good.” He murmured before leaning in again and pulling you into a gentle kiss, making you melt into it.

Yeah, falling for your best friend’s brother was cliche, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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lacydollette · 5 months ago

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CRYSTAL LAKE ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

pairing: clay miller x fem!reader

warnings: reader replaces the character “Jenna”, stangers to lovers, love at first sight (kinda?), mentions of death, blood, kissing, slight gore, heavily inspired by the original storyline of the movie, wc: 5.4k

notes: since I’ve rewatched I couldn’t stop thinking about him. God, pls gimme a big boy like clay.. excuse the length, i literally did the whole plot of the movie lmao 😭

It was late afternoon as you and your friends pulled into a gas station on the edge of Crystal Lake, the excitement for the weekend buzzing in the car. You were heading to Trent’s family lake house, a place he always bragged about for its secluded beauty, though you were really only going along because of your friend, Bree. While Trent’s constant flirty remarks were more irritating than flattering.

As Bree and Trent went into the gas station to grab some snacks, you stretched your legs and wandered over to a nearby notice board filled with missing persons’ flyers. One in particular caught your eye—“Whitney Miller, Missing” was plastered in bold letters over a picture of a woman. Your gaze lingered on it, a strange feeling settling in your chest, she was so young.

As you turned away, you nearly bumped into a guy who looked around your age, wearing a worn leather jacket and carrying a stack of similar missing person flyers. He had the same warm energy radiating off him as the girl in the photo.

“Oh, sorry!” You stammered, stepping back. “No worries,” he replied, his voice calm but tired, glancing at the poster you’d been looking at. “That’s my sister. Whitney.” The heaviness in his voice made you pause. “I’m really sorry. How long has she been missing?”

“Six weeks,” Clay replied, trying not to let the emotion crack his voice. “The cops stopped looking. Said she probably just ran off. But I know her. She wouldn’t just leave like that.” There was a spark of determination in his eyes that struck you. “If you think there’s something more to it, you’re probably right.”

He nodded gratefully. “I’m Clay, by the way.”

“Y/N.” You smiled softly. “I hope you find her.”

Just then, Trent and Bree emerged from the gas station. Trent noticed you talking to Clay and immediately shot him a distrustful look, stepping between you. “Y/n, come on, we gotta go,” Trent said, casting Clay a dismissive glance. He didn’t seem phased though, only offering you a polite nod before heading into the gas station himself.

You all loaded back into Trent’s SUV and made your way to the lake house, the mood in the car lighthearted. But you couldn’t shake the thought of Clay and his missing sister, something about his story sticking with you. The lake house was a massive cabin nestled among towering trees, with the lake just visible beyond the dense brush. The rest of the group settled in quickly, and Trent started showing off the place, clearly trying to impress you, though you were hardly listening. Bree caught your eye and smirked, mouthing, “He’s so into you.” But you just rolled your eyes in response.

The afternoon melted into evening, with the group grilling food and hanging out by the lake. But while everyone else was laughing and relaxing, you found your thoughts drifting to the strange guy you’d met at the gas station.

Just then a knock startled you out of your thoughts, opening the door just to find Clay standing there, holding a stack of missing-person flyers. The look of surprise on his face mirrored yours, though his was tinged with relief. You glanced back over your shoulder and quickly stepped out, letting the door close behind you to shield him from the others. “Hey, uh, Clay,” you said, still a little taken aback. “You… you made it out here.”

“Yeah, I figured I’d try one more time,” he replied, offering a tentative smile. He held up the flyers. “I’m still looking for my sister.” Your expression softened as you glanced at the paper in his hand, Whitney’s face staring back at you. “You two have the same eyes.” You smiled softly, trying to comfort him as much as you could, knowing how exhausting it must be for him to still be searching, still not giving up hope.

“Thanks.” he muttered, feeling the ache in his chest deepen. You were trying to comfort him, and it wasn't much, but it was enough to make him feel a little less alone. “You should come in,” you said. “At least warm up and grab a drink.”

Clay hesitated, but the invitation was genuine, so he nodded. As you led him inside, Trent looked up from the kitchen, his smile dropping the second he saw who it was. “What’s he doing here?” Trent asked, folding his arms and eyeing Clay suspiciously. “Trent, chill,” you said, rolling your eyes. “He’s just handing out flyers for his missing sister.”

“Yeah, and he’s been here all week. Just give it a rest already, man.” Trent’s eyes narrowed, his annoyance almost palpable. Clay clenched his jaw but kept his voice steady. “I’m just trying to find my sister. And I don’t need some big town jerk telling me what to do.”

You could sense the tension building between them, and before it could escalate further, you stepped in. “Alright, enough. Trent, could you just give us a second?” You took Clay’s arm, gently steering him toward the door.

Trent huffed and threw his hands up, muttering something under his breath. Ignoring him, you led Clay outside, feeling the tension dissipate as soon as you stepped away from the house. “Sorry about that,” you sighed, shaking your head. “Trent’s… well, a little possessive.” Clay chuckled, though it was laced with frustration. “I get it. He’s not exactly subtle.”

You shared a small, knowing smile, both of you a little thrown by the strangeness of it all, yet there was something about Clay that put you at ease. And after the way Trent had acted, you felt more determined than ever to help him, if only to spite your obnoxious “friend”.

“Listen,” you said, turning to him, your expression softening. “I’ll help you look for her. I could use a break from Trent anyway.” Clay blinked, a little taken aback by your offer, his face lighting up with gratitude. “You… you don’t have to do that.”

“No, I want to,” you replied, voice firm. “I could use some air, and it’s the least I can do after the way he acted.“ Clay nodded, clearly thankful for the company, and together you two headed into the woods, following the worn paths and looking for any sign of Whitney.

You dared to ask some questions as you walked, finding out more about the kind of person Whitney was—her interests, her plans for the future, her stubbornness that matched Clay’s in many ways. Clay found himself talking more freely than he had in days, feeling the weight of the world lift just a little.

“She sounds like an incredible person,” you said with a smile. “And you’re an incredible brother for going through all this just to find her.”Clay shrugged, but you could see a hint of pride in his eyes. “She’s all I have. My mom isn’t around anymore, and I don’t really have anyone else. I can’t just… stop.”

The sun was dipping low, casting long shadows that made the woods feel both beautiful and haunting. You found yourself sneaking glances at Clay, noticing his quiet strength and determination, admiring how he didn’t seem fazed by Trent’s earlier hostility or the weight of his own desperation.

“So… you’re not really into Trent, huh?” Clay asked, a hint of teasing in his tone as he looked over at you, his gaze steady. You laughed, shaking your head. “Not even close. I mean, he’s… okay, I guess. But he can also be a huge dick.”

“I can see that,” Clay said, grinning as he relaxed a little, clearly happy that you didn’t buy into Trent’s charm. Clay was guarded though, you could tell, but there was a spark in his eyes whenever you exchanged those small, quiet smiles.

After an hour or so of walking, you came across an abandoned campsite littered with empty beer cans and shredded tents. You wrinkled your nose at the sight, feeling a chill creep up your spine.“This… this place gives me the creeps,” you murmured. Clay’s expression grew serious, his eyes scanning the area. “This is around where the last person claimed to see her. The police looked here, but they didn’t find anything.”

“Well,” you said, breaking the tension with a small laugh, “if there’s one thing I’ve learned from all the horror movies I’ve watched, it’s that creepy campsites are never a good sign.” Clay chuckled, though he kept his eyes on the surrounding woods, his laughter fading into a quiet alertness. “Good thing I’ve got someone with horror movie knowledge by my side.”

You quickly moved on, picking your way through the dense trees, occasionally stopping to examine broken branches or overturned rocks. It felt strangely comforting to you, being out there with him, feeling like you had a common goal and something real connecting you, even if it was born out of tragedy.

But as the evening shadows deepened, a sense of unease grew between you. Yoy glanced up, realizing you’d wandered far from the main path. “Let’s just check out the last cabin and then we’re out of here.” Clay said, voice low. You nodded your head. “Yeah, good idea.“

You and Clay pushed open the creaky door of the last cabin, your flashlights illuminating the dilapidated interior. The place was more unsettling than any of the others you’d checked. Everything looked like it had been frozen in time decades ago, only to rot and gather dust. Old toys littered the floor, porcelain dolls with cracked faces staring at you from dusty shelves, the air thick and suffocating.

“Who would even stay here?” You whispered, feeling a shiver crawl up your spine. As you stepped further inside, you felt the wooden floor creak ominously under your weight. You barely had time to gasp before the rotted wood gave way beneath you, and you started to fall, your flashlight slipping from your grasp as you felt yourself plunging into the darkness.

“Y/N!” Clay’s voice was panicked but steady. In an instant, his arms were around you, his grip tight on your waist as he hauled you back up, his strength catching you just before you could hit the ground.

For a moment, everything was still as you clung to him, heart pounding. Your faces were only inches apart, your hands gripping his muscular shoulders as he held you close. You felt the warmth of his breath, saw the tension in his eyes softening into something like longing. His gaze flicked to your lips, and you felt yourself drawn in, the fear and unease momentarily giving way to a connection you didn’t expect.

But just as your lips were about to meet, a strange, metallic scraping noise echoed from outside the cabin. The tension snapped, replaced by a sudden and intense need to get out. You two shared a look of alarm, all thoughts of your moment forgotten as you turned toward the door, Clay taking your hand and leading you quietly but quickly outside.

That’s when Clay’s flashlight began to flicker, making him curse underneath his breath. “Let me change the battery real quick.” Clay whispered urgently, tugging you toward the edge of the camp, before kneeling down.

Clay fumbled with his flashlight, frustrated as he tried to swap out the dead batteries. You kept glancing nervously over your shoulder, your nerves on edge after everything you’d seen at the cabin. Just as Clay finally clicked the batteries into place, a rustling sound echoed through the trees, followed by the slow, heavy crunch of footsteps.

Your breath caught, and without thinking, you grabbed Clay’s arm, pulling him behind a massive tree. You pressed yourself close to him, barely daring to breathe as you peeked around the rough bark. Your heart raced, pounding hard against your ribs as yoy felt the warmth of Clay’s solid frame behind you, his arm protectively wrapped around your fragile body, trying to offer what little comfort he could in the middle of nowhere.

The footsteps grew louder, closer. In the shadows, a hulking figure loomed—a massive man with a blank white mask obscuring his face. He was dragging something behind him, a limp, unmoving shape that glinted in the faint moonlight. You two watched, frozen, as the figure approached the cabin you’d just left, his slow, deliberate footsteps making the ground seem to tremble. He stopped, his attention shifting as he spotted something lying just outside the cabin door—Clay’s backpack, lying just outside the door.

The manly figure dropped the body he was carrying, and you had to stifle a gasp, clapping your hands over your mouth as you realized it was a corpse, the lifeless face staring blankly toward you. You couldn’t look away, horror and shock pinning you to the spot.

You exhaled shakily, heart pounding as you turned to Clay, your voice barely a whisper. “What do we do?” Quickly Clay’s hand found yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze, grounding you in the chaos. He glanced around, his face pale but determined, “Run.”

As the stranger bent down to pick up the backpack, you moved, slipping silently through the trees, keeping low to the ground as you put as much distance as you could between yourselves and the terrifying figure.

The moment you were far enough away, Clay didn't hesitate. He pulled you closer and you broke into a full sprint, running through the dark forest, hearts pounding, breaths coming fast and panicked. Branches whipped against your arms, roots threatened to trip you, but you kept going, the sheer adrenaline of survival driving you two forward.

Finally, the lake house loomed ahead. You and Clay bursted through the door, slamming it shut, your breaths coming fast and panicked. Everyone inside looked up, startled by your sudden entrance. Trent’s face twisted with annoyance and confusion as he watched you rush to lock the doors.

“What the hell is going on?” he demanded, standing up, his hands on his hips. “We have to lock everything,” You panted, eyes wide with fear. “There’s someone out there, Trent. He’s… he’s killing people!”

“Wait, what?” Bree’s voice was a mixture of shock and disbelief. Clay nodded, his jaw set, his expression deadly serious. “We saw him. He’s real, and he’s dangerous. You have to believe us.”

But Trent’s face contorted with anger as he looked from Clay to you, suspicion and jealousy flaring in his eyes. “You two were out there for hours, some ‘Dora The Explorer’ shit, or what?” He laughed bitterly, crossing his arms. “Did you get what you wanted, Clay? Sure looks like you did.” Clay's jaw clenched. He didn't want to argue now. He just needed everyone to listen.

“Trent, stop it,” you snapped, glaring at him. But Trent’s anger only grew, and he stepped toward Clay, his fists clenched. “What were you two doing out there?” he demanded. “Is that why you ran off with him? So that he could fuck—“

Before he could finish, you slapped him hard across the face, eyes blazing with fury. “Are you serious, Trent? Do you even hear yourself right now? People are dying out there, and you’re worried about… this?” Trent’s face reddened with embarrassment and anger, but he backed off, muttering under his breath. Clay took a step closer to you, relieved that you were standing firm, before you turned to the others.

“Look, you guys, this isn’t some prank. We saw him. We saw him carrying a body,” you said, voice wavering with the horror of it. “He’s got a mask, he’s huge, and he’s not going to stop. We need to stay together and keep the doors locked.”

Bree and Trent exchanged a worried look, their faces pale, while Lawrence shook his head, clearly still processing what you were saying. “Wait, wait,” Lawrence said, holding up his hands. “Where’s Chewie? He went outside a while ago.”

The realization hit all of you at once. Your heart sank as you all glanced toward the dark windows, the unease settling even deeper.“We can’t just leave him out there,” Lawrence said, grabbing a makeshift weapon from the fireplace. “I’m gonna go look for him.“

“Lawrence, wait!” Clay tried to stop him, his voice desperate. “You can’t go out there alone. He’s… that guy, he’s still out there.” But Lawrence shook his head, determined. “I can’t just leave him. I’ll be right back.” With one last determined look, Lawrence stepped out the door, disappearing into the darkness. The door clicked shut behind him, and silence fell over the house.

You all sat in silence, waiting, every second stretching into an eternity. You clenched your hands, barely breathing, mind racing with everything you’d seen. Clay was next to you, feeling the tension radiating off you, so he reached over and took your hand, pulling you into his embrace. You clung to him, grateful for his presence in the midst of the horror.

Minutes ticked by, and then—suddenly—a blood-curdling scream pierced the night, echoing from outside. Everyone shot to their feet, eyes wide with horror. “Lawrence!” Bree gasped, her hand covering her mouth.

You rushed to the window just as Lawrence came into view, sprinting toward the house, his face a mask of terror. “Open the door!” he screamed. “Help!” But before he could reach the veranda, an axe flew through the air, embedding itself in his back with a sickening thud. Lawrence staggered, his scream cut short as he crumpled to the ground, just feet from the door.

“No!” You shrieked, hands flying to your mouth as you backed away from the window, your heart pounding. Clay wrapped his arms around you, your body shaking uncontrollably in his grasp, trying to shield you from the horror outside. “Oh my god,” Bree whispered, her voice barely audible. “He’s right there. He’s… he’s right outside. Where’s the fucking police?”

You all backed away from the window, breaths shallow, fear hanging thick in the air. No one dared move as you heard heavy footsteps approach the house, the sound slow and deliberate, each step like a death knell. Trent, his face drained of all color, looked around wildly. “We have to do something! We can’t just sit here.” But Clay held up a hand, his voice barely above a whisper. “Stay calm. Everyone shut up.”

As the killer's footsteps circled the house, Clay could feel the dread creeping up on you all. He wasn't sure how much longer you could stay hidden, but for now, he needed to keep you safe. You could feel yourself trembling as you leaned into Clay’s embrace, his arms wrapped tightly around you. The sense of safety you felt with him was barely enough to keep your fear at bay, but it was something, and right now, that was all you had.

After what felt like hours, the footsteps faded into silence, leaving only the distant, eerie sounds of the forest. The room was quiet, each of you knowing that the danger hadn’t passed—not really. Without warning, the window shattered, and the killers massive figure loomed in the broken frame. Bree screamed, stumbling backward, her face pale as the masked man climbed inside, his machete gleaming in the dim light.

Bree was frozen, too terrified to move as the figure advanced on her. Your heart sank as you watched your friend, knowing what was coming but powerless to stop it. With a swift, brutal motion, he brought down his machete, and Bree’s scream was cut short.

You choked back your own scream, feeling Clay’s hand grip yours even tighter as you two stumbled back, desperate to escape. He felt his stomach drop, but he couldn't let that fear consume him. Not now. Not when your life was at stake.

Before any of you could move, Trent lunged at the killer, yelling in a mix of fury and terror, swinging a lamp in a desperate attempt to defend himself. The killer, unaffected, grabbed Trent by the collar, lifting him as if he weighed nothing. With horrifying ease, he drove his machete through Trent, pinning him against the wall as the light in Trent’s eyes faded.

“Run, y/n!” Clay shouted, his voice hoarse with urgency. Without another second to think, he pulled your hand, and you dashed toward the back door, your bodies propelled by sheer survival instinct.

The night air hit you like a slap as you sprinted into the darkness of the forest, not daring to look back. Trees blurred past them as you ran, each step fueled by pure adrenaline and the knowledge that the killer was somewhere close behind. Just as you thought you’d run far enough, an old white house emerged through the dense trees, its silhouette ghostly in the moonlight. Clay pulled you toward it, both of you hoping that it might be a place to hide, to catch your breath.

The interior was dark and filled with dust, every shadow seeming to hide another threat. As you pressed further in, a muffled scream reached your ears, coming from beneath the floor. “Did you hear that?” You whispered, voice trembling. Clay’s eyes narrowed, determination replacing some of his fear. “Sounds like it’s coming from down there.”

Both of you moved quietly, scanning the ground until Clay spotted a hatch concealed under an old, moth-eaten rug. With a quick glance in your direction, he pulled it open, revealing a dark, narrow stairway that led into a tunnel system below. Clay went in first, helping you down after him as you ventured into the underground maze.

The tunnels were damp and cold, the flashlights casting shaky beams across the stone walls. You held onto Clay’s hand tightly, the comfort of his touch a lifeline in the claustrophobic darkness. You walked slowly, every creak and drip echoing ominously, heightening your anxiety with each step. And then, at the end of a narrow passage, you saw her—a frail, neglected figure huddled against the wall, her eyes wide and haunted.

It was Whitney, chained and broken, but alive.

Clay’s breath caught in his throat, his face softening with relief as he ran to her, pulling her into his arms. Tears streamed down his face, and Whitney’s voice was a mixture of shock and joy as she clung to her brother, while he tried undoing the chains around her wrists.

You couldn’t believe it—after all the horror you’d endured, you’d found Whitney. For a brief, fleeting moment, hope filled your heart, a glimmer of something beyond survival. But just as quickly as it came, the hope was shattered by a loud, bone-chilling thud echoing from above. He had found you.

“We need to go,” you whispered urgently, glancing at Clay, who nodded, his face pale but resolved as he helped up his sister. With Whitney leaning on him, the three of you moved quickly, retracing your steps through the tunnels as quietly as possible. Every sound felt amplified, every footstep a potential signal to the killer who lurked somewhere nearby.

As you neared the hatch where you had entered, a shadow passed overhead, blocking out the light. Your blood ran cold as you realized the killer was directly above you, his heavy footsteps thudding against the wooden floor. The floorboards creaked ominously, as if he knew exactly where you were.

Clay motioned for you to stay quiet, his finger pressed to his lips as you huddled in the darkness, barely daring to breathe. The tension was suffocating, the air thick with terror as you waited, hoping he would move away.

But instead, the footsteps grew louder.

The floorboards above you suddenly splintered, and with a deafening crash, he broke through the ground, his massive form landing in the tunnel only feet away. His mask was eerily expressionless, but the menace in his stance was unmistakable.

You, Clay and Whitney didn't hesitate—you turned and ran, your footsteps echoing wildly through the narrow stone passage as the killers heavy tread followed close behind. Panic threatened to overtake you as you turned corner after corner, every step feeling slower than the last, knowing the killer was gaining on you.

Suddenly, Whitney stumbled, her ankle catching on an uneven patch of ground. She fell forward with a cry of pain, her body slamming against the muddy floor. You came to a halt, immediately kneeling beside her. "Come on, Whitney!" You whispered frantically, grabbing her arm and trying to help her up.

But before you could get Whitney back to her feet, a terrifying blur of movement appeared in the dim tunnel just ahead. The killer lunged at you all, his enormous hand reaching out and grabbing Whitney by the leg, yanking her back with terrifying strength.

Your eyes widened, horror freezing your in place as Whitney's terrified face met yours. “Run, Y/N! Go!" Whitney screamed, her voice raw with fear and desperation. Before you could react, the killers hand shot forward, gripping his machete with brutal intent. With a sickening thrust, he drove the blade through Whitney's chest, silencing her screams in an instant.

"WHITNEY!" Clay's voice shattered with anguish as he watched his sister fall limp in the killers grip, her eyes glazed, her life extinguished. He staggered forward, reaching out instinctively, but you grabbed his arm, pulling him back as he screamed for his sister, devastation in every note of his voice. "Clay, we have to go!" You shouted, voice shaking but determined. You knew the heartbreak he was feeling, but there was no time to mourn. You had to survive.

Ignoring the horror behind you, you pushed Clay forward, forcing him to leave Whitney behind as you scrambled through the narrow passage, your hearts pounding with fear and grief. You rounded another corner, seeing the faint glow of moonlight from an exit just ahead. You burst out of the tunnels, gasping for breath as you emerged into the cool night air.

Without a word, you sprinted across the open ground, the silhouette of an old barn looming in the distance. It was dark and decrepit, but it was your only hope for shelter. You and Clay ducked inside, slamming the heavy doors shut and barricading them with whatever you could find—rusty tools, loose boards, anything that would hold.

You backed away, breaths coming fast as you listened to the silence outside, hoping desperately that the barn doors would hold. But the peace was short-lived. A loud thud echoed through the barn as the killers brutal strength tested the doors, each blow rattling the walls and shaking the barricade.

As the relentless pounding against the barn doors grew louder, Clay turned to you, his face set with fierce determination. “Y/n,” he whispered, his voice thick with urgency and emotion. He gently cupped your face, his eyes scanning yours as if he were memorizing every detail. “I need you to hide. I need to know you’re safe.”

Your eyes filled with tears, a mixture of fear and sorrow tearing at your heart. You didn’t want to leave him; the thought of Clay facing Jason alone filled you with dread. But before you could protest, he leaned in, pressing a desperate, tender kiss to your lips. You clung to him, your hands on his shoulders, pouring all your unspoken fears into that kiss, a silent promise that this wouldn’t be the end.

“Please, Clay,” you whispered. “Don’t let him take you too.” Clay’s hand lingered on your cheek as he nodded, his own gaze wavering, he needed to come back to you, whatever it took. “I won’t. I promise.” Reluctantly, you slipped behind an old row of machines, crouching low as you struggled to keep your sobs silent. You watched through the rusted metal as Clay grabbed an axe, his frame tense and ready to face the monster that had brought so much horror into your lives.

A moment later, the doors burst open with an explosive crash, and the killer stormed inside. His dark figure loomed large in the dusty moonlight filtering through the barn, his machete gleaming in one hand. Clay didn’t hesitate; he charged forward, swinging the axe with fierce determination.

The clash was brutal, each blow echoing through the barn as Clay and the killer fought with raw strength and desperation. He was a towering force, but Clay was quick and strong, his tall frame unyielding as he met his attacks head-on.

The fight felt nearly balanced, each of them refusing to give an inch. But as Clay swung the axe once more, it lodged into the wall, stuck fast. He tried to pull it free, but the killer seized the moment, his powerful arms wrapping around Clay in a crushing headlock. Clay's heart raced, terror and desperation clawing at him. He couldn't let the killer win—not this way.

He forced Clay toward a wood chipper that sat at the back of the barn, its old blades rusted but still deadly. His gloved hand reached over and flicked the switch, the machine roaring to life, its metallic grinding sound filling the air as it waited hungrily. Your heart pumped like crazy as you watched, terror squeezing your chest like a vice. You couldn’t sit back and watch Clay be pulled to his death.

You knew you had to act.

Grabbing a nearby iron bar, you crept forward, eyes never leaving the killer. Summoning every ounce of courage, you shouted, “Hey!” Your voice was filled with defiance as you swung the bar with all your strength, smashing it into his masked face just as he turned toward you.

He staggered, his grip on Clay loosening for a brief moment as he reeled from the blow. Clay took the chance, scrambling forward to grab a chain lying on the ground. In one swift motion, he looped it around the killers neck, pulling it tight. You watched, heart hammering in your chest as Clay threw the other end of the chain into the wood chipper.

The machine’s teeth caught the chain, beginning to pull it in, dragging the killer closer and closer to the spinning blades. He struggled, his massive frame jerking violently as he fought against the relentless pull, his boots scraping against the ground.

Both you and Clay watched as the killer was slowly dragged toward his end. But in a last desperate lunge, he managed to twist just enough to shove you backward, sending you sprawling to the ground. Your head struck a hard surface, and your vision blurred, darkness creeping in around the edges. The last thing you heard was Clay screaming your name, his voice filled with panic and desperation as he ran to your side.

Through your fading vision, you caught a final glimpse of the killer, his body pulled inexorably into the churning blades. With a final, blood-curdling crack, he was gone, disappearing into the maw of the wood chipper. And as the darkness took you, you felt Clay’s arms wrap around you, his face close to yours, his voice trembling as he whispered your name, pleading for you to hold on.

Soft beeps and the faint hum of hospital machinery pulled you from your forced slumber. Slowly, you opened your eyes, vision hazy as the sterile white ceiling came into focus. It took a moment to remember where you were, but then your hand registered a warmth—a hand holding yours, firm and steady.

Clay was there, his face pale with worry but his eyes intensely focused on you, he’d been watching over you for hours. His grip tightened the moment your fingers moved, and his face flooded with relief, his shoulders sagging as if he’d been holding his breath the whole time. “Y/n… thank God,” he whispered, his voice breaking. He leaned closer, his other hand coming up to gently brush your hair back. “I was so scared,” he murmured, his voice choked with emotion.

You managed a small, tired smile, your heart swelling as you looked up at him. “Clay…” you whispered, voice barely a breath but filled with warmth. You felt safe, the chaos and terror of the last night drifting away as you held his gaze. He squeezed your hand again, his thumb rubbing softly over your knuckles, grounding himself to you, reassuring himself you were really there.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice filled with quiet certainty. “And you’re okay. We’re safe now.” His words were soft but full of determination, a promise that you would never face anything like that alone again. Clay’s smile grew, eyes shining with a mixture of happiness and tears as he bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’m not letting you out of my sight,” he whispered, his tone soft but fiercely protective.

You let yourself sink into the comfort of his touch, your fingers tightening around his hand. You’d both lost so much, endured so much horror, but right now, with Clay by your side, you knew you’d finally escaped. You’d made it through. And no matter what the future held, as long as you two were together, you knew you would be okay.

i feel like acting in a slasher movie would be so fun !!

feedback and requests are greatly appreciated.

tags: @gibson-g1rl @nuemanfilms @beausling @angelicjackles @starkeysprincess @rafesangelita @sammyluvr @nxptvn @samwinchesterswifu @cherrygirlfriend @chevroletdean

#works ₊˚⊹♡#clay miller x reader #clay miller #clay miller x female reader #clay x reader #friday the 13th #friday the thirteenth #clay miller one shot #jason voorhees

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