Mabel sauntered down the gritty alleyways of Boston, her girlfriend trailing behind with a teasing grin. They were two sides of a coin—Mabel all tough edges, scowls, and a leather jacket that smelled faintly of motor oil, while her girl was softness personified, wrapped in pastel sweaters and a smile that could stop traffic. But there was fire in her too, the kind that lit up dance floors and turned heads wherever they went.

It was a Friday night ritual: club-hopping and stirring up chaaos.Mabel leaned against the bar, nursing a whiskey, while her girl danced like she owned the place. The room practically revolved around her, hips swaying to the beat. Mabel knew the effect her girlfriend had on people. She’d seen it too many times—eyes lingering too long, drinks sent her way.

She didn’t mind. Much.

Later, as they left the club, her girl clutched Mabel’s arm, laughing at a story about her coworker spilling coffee all over himself. Mabel shook her head, muttering, “I swear, you attract chaos.” But before she could finish, some guy appeared out of nowhere, his eyes shamelessly raking over her girlfriend.

“Hey there,” he started, leaning in with what he probably thought was charm.

Mabel didn’t hesitate. She grabbed his head in one hand, her grip firm but casual, and nudged him back like a wayward dog. “Get your mingey ass home!” she barked, glaring until he stumbled off, confused and embarrassed.

When she turned back, her girl was just standing there, hands clasped behind her back,no rizz,just pretty eyes sparkling in the streetlights,cute smile and soft thighs with her pretty self. The sight melted Mabel’s irritation instantly. “You’re lucky you’re so damn cute,” she muttered, pulling her close.

Her girlfriend giggled. “You’re my scary little protector.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go home, lil mama.”