𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊.
❛ I WANT YOU TO
WANT ME AGAIN ❜
With a pleasant return comes unpleasant consequences for Isabelle Nightly as she helps her friends fight for survival.
Did she mention her neighbour was now fit?
teen...
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* * *
( 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖐𝖊𝖉 )
Cora lying deathly still in front of him, Stiles tried to remember mouth-to-mouth. "Okay, okay--tilt the head. Fingers on the chin. Clear the throat."
He gently but nervously pushed Cora's chin up, tilting her head back. Then looked in her mouth, searching her throat. "Nothing. I see nothing. Okay, all right--um--pinch nose and blow."
He took her nose between his fingers and leant down to blow into her mouth. Then pulled back and did it again, each time with more and more urgency. "Come on, breathe. Cora, breathe."
Stiles leant down for another try. But Cora finally pulled in a gasp, her body seizing as she coughs.
With a sigh of relief, Stiles slumped back on the ambulance bench watching her relax, still unconscious but breathing. "Next time I put my lips on someone's mouth, it better be Elle's. And she's enjoying it."
* * *
Staggering, Peter tumbled to the corridor floor. Scott grabbed him by the jacket and yanked him back to his feet. "That shot... didn't last long." Scott, who also had hold of Elle's wrist to stop her running away, dragged the pair down the hall.
Both werewolves were bloodied and beaten, while the blonde was relatively unharmed but had tear tracks down her face and a constant expression of confusion and loathing. The three lurched down the hall toward the only door left, one marked laundry.
Locking the door, Scott turned to look about the room, desperate. Peter slumped down, breathing hard. "Those twins are really starting to piss me off. And don't get me started on your brother, little girl."
Elle growled and made for him, ready to start fighting him when Scott wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her back. "Not now, Elle we can talk about this later."
Scott let go once she didn't move forward again. "How the hell are we supposed to get past them?"
"Personally, I think if we keep letting them beat the living crap out of us they'll eventually tire and give up. Or hand over blonde's here." Peter offered.
He noticed Scott no longer listening, eyeing a laundry chute.
