A/N: Heads up and apology—sometimes I go all out painting my heroines. I'm talking every curve, every shadow, every damn detail. Not because I'm some thirsty poet—no. It's so you can see exactly what you're dealing with.
Because half the game is knowing the battlefield. And if you're going to get lost in the wild, you better know which thorns are worth the bleed.
So yeah, when I linger on their bodies, it's not just decoration. It's the map. The warning. The promise.
Buckle up. But you can tell me if you do not want this.
****
Nurse Luna was the kind of beautiful that didn't belong in some dusty high school infirmary—it belonged on billboards and in late-night fantasies.
All Latina features that could halt traffic and rewrite laws, long dark hair pulled back in a way that made her look both deadly professional and casually seductive, like she knew exactly how much power she wielded just by standing there.
