Multi-Fandom One-Shots Part 2

A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night - Stydia (Teen Wolf)

Stiles is walking back from his study group on a random Wednesday night in October when he sees her across the quad, a girl stomping along the path a hundred yards ahead, pale glowing skin clothed in a silvery strapless dress and high heels, no coat, even though it's dark out and so cold he can see his own breath.

It's late, almost midnight, and there's a girl up ahead, walking alone at night and Stiles just knows that something terrible is about to happen.

He thinks of closing the distance between them, of introducing himself, offering to walk her home, but to her he's only another stranger, just another guy with an agenda who's spotted her like prey. So he keeps his pace even, watching as she wanders across the grass, head scanning the empty quad, like she's looking for something.

A man melts out of the shadows from the opposite side of the grass, a man wearing a long black coat and something is glinting at his side -

"Hey!" Stiles shouts, and starts to run. "Run!"

The girl spins around and stares at him and for one second Stiles stops because holy shit this girl is gorgeous - and then he sees the other man getting closer and he screams, "Run! Run!"

She's fast but not fast enough.

The man in the long black coat slams into her. She crumples to the ground and Stiles is screaming, because there's no one else here and he's standing frozen in the grass six feet away from where the man is crouched over the girl. Stiles can't see what he's doing, the girl is so small and the man is so fast.

And then the man leaps up to his feet and their eyes lock and Stiles. Can't. Breathe.

The girl on the ground is still and quiet, and what the hell, did Stiles just witness a murder? How is this his life? All he wanted was to go home, eat the pizza he knows Scott saved for him, because Scott's the best like that, take a hot shower and get five hours of sleep before his Crime and Western Civilization lecture in the morning.

Is Stiles about to be murdered?

The man brings his finger up to pursed lips. Shh. Stiles feels his head bob like it's not attached to his body, hands dangling uselessly at his sides.

The man smirks. "Good boy," he says sardonically, his coat flapping in the wind as he spins around dramatically and starts running in the opposite direction.

Stiles drops to his knees in front of the girl, who's splayed out on the grass like a broken doll, blood spreading across the bodice of her dress. She has red-gold hair pinned back from a very pale face, sweat beading at her forehead. He gets his phone out of his pocket and dials 9-1-1 with shaking fingers, sets it to speaker and places it on the sidewalk.

He tears his sweatshirt off, unbuttons his plaid shirt, gathers it in his hands and presses it against her stomach, wincing, watching her face carefully for signs of life while quietly hyperventilating over her body, one ear pressed against her chest to try and figure out if she's still breathing.

"Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?"

The girl gasps to life, revealing huge green eyes, all white around the iris, unable to focus, mouth open in surprise, like she can't believe she's still alive.

"I need an ambulance," Stiles shouts. "A girl's been stabbed, northwest corner of the quad, one block east of the Cobblestone Avenue and Market Street intersection. Suspect is a white male wearing a black coat, last seen headed west on Market."

The girl makes a horrible choking noise and arches up into his hands, her fingers twisting in the damp grass at her sides.

"Sir," the nameless voice responds. "Sir, do not engage" -