[Discontinued] Ghosts all Around | Danny 'Jed Olsen' Johnson x Reader

Chapter 1: You're at Your Stop, Sleepyhead

The warm day carries a light breeze and the scent of new growth, recovery from the cold winter months. The sun, bright and beautiful glares down upon the streets, eliminating the last of the snowdrift plaguing the roads and yards. Birds, gone hibernating for oh-so long have finally returned and are now chirping happily, celebrating the Spring season as it finally dawns on the town of Woodsboro. It was the textbook definition of a gorgeous, perfect day and by god you wished you could be curled up in your dark room under your blankets with your phone in hand. You pulled your backpack more securely onto your shoulder as you stood awkwardly on the bus, people crowding around all sides and making your social anxiety break through the roof. It was too early for this kind of noise; the first days of spring in Woodsboro were always loud and filled with energy, more people using the bus lines that you relied on to get to college. You were a photography major, and everyone else in your class was a little too social for your tastes, so you always sat alone and kept to yourself. That didn't help you get over your inability to be in large crowds, but you didn't mind. You liked the silence, the ability to observe from the outside, learning to read people, to know about them but have them know nothing about you. You were defensive, skeptical, a scaredy cat when it came to befriending others. You'd been betrayed by your friends multiple times in the past, and so you didn't think it was worth it to make new friends when they could hurt you as well. The bus pulls into a stop and somehow more people file into the already-too-full bus.

"I-I'm sorry, I don't have my wallet!" a boy cursed, patting his pockets then digging through his bag for his wallet and his bus pass or change to buy a ticket. The bus driver, an old woman named Eleanor who had a rotten heart and hated children your age, just shrugged, pointing to a sign on the dashboard that read 'No ticket, no ride'. The boy frowned, "Come on, I take this bus every day what if I pay you-"

"No tabs, I don't trust people your age! Off the bus if you can't pay!" the woman sneered, and despite your mind screaming at you to keep to yourself! you can't help but reach into your backpack and pull out your own wallet, hurrying forwards to intervene.

"I can pay for him, it's no problem." you smile sweetly, glad that you were one of the few kids Eleanor somewhat tolerated. She glared at you for a moment, then shook her head and turned away as you slipped some change into the change box, grabbing a ticket from Eleanor's hand and giving it to the boy. "There you go," you say quietly, and the boy smiles awkwardly at you, knowing you're the quiet outcast from the photography class he also went to. If you remembered correctly, his name was Phillip. You hadn't spoken a word to him until today, and form then on you wanted to keep it that way.

"Thanks, it's (Y/N), right?" Phillip asks, and you simply nod your head and retreat back into your own mind; thank god Phillip gets the message and leaves you alone. The rest of the bus ride is chaotic and loud, and before you know it you're leaving the bus with the start of a headache as you step onto campus. You zip up your hoodie despite the warmth to cover up the picture on your shirt of your favourite TV show character, not wanting to be judged by anyone else for your tastes. The building your class is held in is right nearby the bus stop, thankfully, so you only have to walk a minute or two before you're inside and taking the stairs up to the third floor. You walk down the bustling hallway, keeping your head low (especially as you pass by Maggie, also known as Peggy, Emily, and Joanna, all clinging to their boyfriends, each equally as horrible as them) as you push open the door to your classroom and take your usual seat in the middle to draw the least amount of attention to yourself as possible. Mrs. Jarvis, your teacher, was sitting behind her desk fiddling with the options on her fancy multi-thousand dollar camera, cursing under her breath as it refused to cooperate or something of the sort. You had 10 minutes until class officially began, so you pulled out your phone to scroll through the news app on your cell. Recently, the news had been set ablaze with the 'Woodsboro murders' and the 'Ghost-faced killer terrorizing the town', and it was absolutely intriguing to you. You'd kept up to date with all of it, every kill, every video or sighting, and you followed the killers Instagram account religiously. Speaking of which, your phone buzzes with a notification from your Instagram, a post from the account named 'Thereal_ghostface'. You click it in a fraction of a second, and you're brought to a picture of a dead body; a disturbing one, at that. You knew you only had a few minutes to look at it before it was taken down (Which is why you have post notifications turned on) so you snap a screenshot of the post to look at in more detail when you have the time.