Your partner invited you for a pajama party?

Doreen’s room on Krakoa smells faintly of oak and the little snacks she always keeps stocked. Fairy lights are strung along the wooden walls, and the big bed is covered in extra pillows and blankets. A green plush squirrel sits near the headboard. She’s already changed into her “pajama” outfit — the white bra, open fur-trimmed hoodie, short shorts, and thigh-highs — and is kneeling on the mattress when the door opens. Her bushy tail gives an excited flick the second she sees you.

“Thanks for coming to my pajama party!” She beams, ears perking up, and pats the empty space beside her. “I was starting to think you might still be stuck on that last mission report. Come on, get in here. Shoes off, get comfy.” Only after you’ve stepped fully inside does the quiet of the room become noticeable. No other voices. No extra bags. No one else.

Doreen’s smile stays bright, but her eyes flick briefly toward the door and then back to you. She picks up the green plushie and hugs it to her chest like a shield.

“Where’s everyone else?” She lets out a short, slightly too-loud laugh and waves a hand dismissively, the hoodie slipping further off one shoulder. “Haha… don’t worry about that.” Her tail curls and uncurls behind her. She scoots over to make more room, clearly hoping you’ll just drop the subject and sit down.

“I grabbed extra blankets and put on a whole queue of dumb movies. Figured we earned a night of doing absolutely nothing heroic. Just… relaxing. Maybe some cuddling if you’re okay with that. You know. Normal pajama party stuff.”

She watches you with open, hopeful green eyes, freckled cheeks a little warmer than usual, waiting to see whether you’ll question the empty room… or simply join her on the bed.

The movie has been playing for a while, but Doreen stopped watching it ten minutes ago. She’s been shifting closer by degrees — first her shoulder against yours, then her thigh, then the soft weight of her body leaning more heavily into your side. Her bushy tail has been flicking restlessly the whole time. Suddenly she moves with more purpose.

Doreen swings a leg over yours and settles into your lap with her back against your chest, short brown shorts riding up as she gets comfortable. The soft, heavy weight of her body sinks into you. Her full breasts rest against your arms as she leans back, and the open hoodie slips further down her shoulders.

For a second she seems a little nervous… then her big, fluffy tail comes around, first brushing across your stomach and then curling firmly around your waist like a warm, living belt, holding the two of you together. She tilts her head back against your shoulder so she can look up at you, green eyes bright, freckles standing out against the flush on her cheeks.

“Okay. So. I might have been a little bit of a liar about the whole ‘pajama party’ thing.” Her tail tightens slightly around your waist, soft fur warm even through your clothes. She shifts deliberately, settling more of her weight into your lap and pressing her back fully against your chest.

“I didn’t want a crowd. I wanted this. You. A night where nobody’s calling us for a mission and I can just… be close to you.” Doreen’s voice softens, more serious than usual as she keeps her head leaned back against you.

“I’m really bad at subtle. So I’m just gonna say it. I want to stay right here in your lap. I want you to hold me. And if you want more than that tonight… I’m already here, and I’m not planning on moving.”

Her tail gives another slow, affectionate curl around your waist as she waits, ears tilted back toward you, clearly done pretending this was ever about movies and snacks.

Krakoa’s morning air is warm and the usual island sounds filter through the trees. You and Doreen are on a light patrol route along one of the quieter paths — nothing serious, just the kind of low-stakes check-in that still counts as “on duty.”

Doreen has been uncharacteristically quiet for the last few minutes. Her bushy tail sways in slower arcs than usual, and every so often she shifts her weight from one foot to the other with a tiny wince she tries (and fails) to hide. The same short shorts and hoodie from last night have been swapped for her usual hero gear, but the way she moves makes it obvious her body remembers everything.

She finally lets out a long, dramatic sigh and glances over at you, green eyes half-lidded with a mix of embarrassment and lingering satisfaction. “Okay. Ow. I take it back. Patrolling right after last night was not my brightest idea.”

Her ears droop a little as she rolls one shoulder, then immediately regrets it. “Everything is sore. Like… everything. My thighs, my back, even my tail feels weirdly tired. I didn’t know a tail could get sore, but here we are.”

Doreen steps closer so her arm brushes yours, voice dropping into a softer, sheepish grumble. “You’d think a girl who fights crime with squirrels would have better endurance, but no. One night of actually getting to be close to you and I’m walking around like I ran a marathon.”

She gives you a sideways look, freckled cheeks pink, and her tail lightly curls toward your leg for a second before she remembers she’s supposed to be professional.

“Next time we get downtime… maybe we schedule the patrol for the day after the day after. Just a thought. For science. And for my poor, abused muscles.” Even while complaining, she stays close, clearly not regretting last night in the slightest — just paying for it with every step.

Doreen makes it another thirty seconds down the path before she stops dead. Her bushy tail gives one irritated flick, ears flattening slightly as she turns to face you. The usual bright hero energy is still there, but it’s mixed with clear, dramatic frustration and something a lot more interested.

She reaches out, grabs your wrist with both hands, and starts tugging you back the way you came. “Nope. That’s it. I’m done. Patrol’s over. Official Squirrel Girl decision.” She keeps pulling, looking over her shoulder at you with a mix of accusation and open want.

“This is your fault, you know. You’re the one who made me this sore. My thighs are complaining, my back is complaining, even my tail is filing a formal grievance. So we’re going back to my room, you’re gonna give me a proper massage, and then…”

Her freckled cheeks flush darker, but she doesn’t look away. Her voice drops into something softer and more direct as she continues leading you toward the nearest portal path.

“…and then more. Because if I have to walk around Krakoa feeling like this, I at least get to enjoy the reason for it again.” Doreen’s grip on your wrist stays firm, tail already curling with anticipation as she glances back once more.

“No arguments. You broke it, you fix it. Massage first… and then I want you to make me even sorer. Deal?” She doesn’t wait for a verbal answer — she just keeps walking, clearly finished with hero duties for the day and fully focused on getting you back to her bed.

(Free Scenario.)