Archie tended to rise from his slumber before you did, and it was rare for you to wake up before him. He loved to run his long calloused fingers over your bare back, pulling you from your Utopia. A small whine would soon escape your lips, your tiny hands reaching up to rub the sleep from your (e/c) eyes. Your toes would curl suddenly, your back arching to meet his tone chest. Your silken legs would rub up against Archie’s and your (h/c) hair would fall into a soft halo around your head. His muscled arms would refrain from wrapping around you, and instead, he would tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. He would nip at the bare skin that connected your neck to your back, running his tongue over the bite to soothe it. “Goodmorning bubs..” he would coo in your ear, tickling you. You would giggle, turning around to meet the gaze of your red-headed boyfriend. You would press your lips to his hungrily, your hands tangling in his unruly ginger hair. “Goodmorning.”
In the depths of the night, you found yourself flush against Jughead’s bare chest, his large hands running through your untamed (h/c) hair as you fell into a deep slumber. However, as you awoke, you were nowhere near his warm embrace, but instead, on the other end of the plush mattress. Your eyes were still fighting to stay open, a blanket of sleep still washing over you. They shifted to your sleeping boyfriend, his read resting on his crossed arms. Your heart ached in desire, and you pulled your hands through your knotted hair to tie it up into a messy bun. You whimpered quietly, tugging down your cashmere sweater. You slowly lifted his arm, burrowing your head under it and into his neck. Your legs wrapped around his torso, and your arms followed suit. “Wake up Juggie.” You whined, tickling his bruised neck with your nose. He groaned as a response, his eyes fluttering open. He pressed a sweet kiss to your temple before closing his eyes once again and growling, “You interrupted my dirty dream.”
You were a girl who craved warmth and absolutely hated the wintry cold. However, in the starry night, you found yourself being the opposite. After bidding each other a loving goodnight, you would lay on the opposite ends of the bed. Any physical contact between the two of you would send unnecessary bolts of heat through your small frame. But in the morning you found yourself in a different situation. Shivers racked throughout your entire body, and you absolutely desired warmth. Immediately. The only main heat source that you could think of was Betty, and you let out a small mewl. She was facing you, her signature blond ponytail let loose, her curls framing her face in a perfect way. You wiggled your way over to her until she opened her eyes to reveal their startling green. She wrapped her arms around you and you reacted positively to her actions. You trailed your fingers over her frame as you let every worrying thought slip from your overactive mind. “Goodmorning dollface.” She giggled, pulling your hair back so she could kiss your forehead lovingly. “Yeah yeah. I’m cold.”
Veronica Lodge classified herself as a badass in every way possible, and you would never fail to agree with her precious words. However, you would watch her challenging demeanor crumble as she embraced you with open arms. The entire night, you would stay close to each other, whispering sweet nothings until you both feel into a dark abyss called sleep. Your loving girlfriend would purposely set up a quiet alarm in the morning, with her being a light sleeper, so she was able to watch the everlasting rays of sunshine cast down onto you. She would adore how the sun would shadow your long eyelashes onto your perfect, porcelain cheeks which would be dusted with a light pink. A small frown would adorn her features as she watched your (e/c) eyes focus on her face. Then she would crack a happy grin, pulling you in for a morning kiss. Even though you failed to fathom how she woke up earlier than you, you complied with her wishes, capturing her lips in yours. “Well good morning to you too.”
You never failed to notice the way Cheryl distanced herself from everyone around her. As you both stared up at the vast darkness of the sky, however, her pale hands were always reaching, touching, groping for something to touch. There was always a need for physical contact. In the morning, there was no difference. You always arose before her, and your (e/c) eyes would cast down on her sleeping form. It was always a sight to see when she had no makeup, it was like she was removing that wall that separated the two of you. You’d press a tender kiss to her forehead, running your fingers through her ginger locks. Her long arms would wrap around your torso in a clingy manner, whining out as you tried to pull away. She’d reach out, prodding your legs with her toes before entangling your legs with hers. She would nuzzle her nose into your cheek, her brilliant brown eyes meeting yours. “If you don’t stop for five minutes, another one of my loved ones will be dead. Jason, and the freaking person that’s waking me up!”
A/N: I’m only going to start doing only the Core Four, and then after, I will do Cheryl, Reggie, Jason and others if you want me to.
Back to Critical Role fan art! In Episode 31, Stoke the Flames, the party is attacked at night by vampires. Scanlan wakes mid-battle, relieves himself in cursive while simultaneously shooting the three vampires with a Wand of Magic Missiles, over the shoulder.