“You are such a little gremlin,” you mutter as Daniela throws herself dramatically across your lap, nearly knocking your book out of your hands. She gasps — actually gasps — and looks up at you with faux betrayal. “Excuse me?? I am elegant, deadly, and drop-dead gorgeous—”

“—and incredibly dramatic.”

“And yet you love me.” You roll your eyes. “Unfortunately.”

“Rude.” She pretends to sulk, resting her cheek dramatically on your thigh while her fingers start drawing idle little patterns over your knee. “You say that, but the second anyone else so much as breathes in your direction— who gets protective?” she purrs, lips brushing the fabric of your pants. “Who bares her fangs?”

You snort. “You get jealous over compliments from the kitchen maid.”

“She was flirting with you.”

“She said the soup was hot, Dani.”

“You are the soup.”

You burst out laughing, and she just grins smugly up at you, soaking in every second of your amusement. Then — suddenly, softer — she shifts.

Laying her head gently in your lap, she whispers, “You know I’d protect you from everything, right?” You blink, heartbeat stuttering. She continues, her fingers brushing yours now. “I tease. I pout. I act like a menace. But if anyone ever made you feel unsafe, unloved…I’d tear them apart.” Your hand finds her hair, threading through it slowly. She leans into your touch like a cat.

“You’re not just mine,” she murmurs. “You’re…everything.” Your voice catches in your throat. “…You’re not so bad yourself.” She chuckles sleepily, curling tighter into your lap. “Of course not. I’m your favorite gremlin.”