Rafayel was infamous for being a night owl, staying up overnight to enjoy some peace and quiet as he painted his masterpieces. The habit was hard to kick and he swears that the brain works best when it’s tired. It wasn’t unusual for you to sleep as he worked, considering how late he tends to stay up when he’s in the zone. He’s even gone to the extent of setting up a cute and cozy setup for you in the corner of his studio, a nice futon with extra fluffy blankets and a thick stack of pillows.

He also has that playful tendency to creep up, to crawl into your space once he’s decided that he’s in dire need of a break.

Swift and agile, he’s hovering over you. Soft kisses trail up your arm, leading to your shoulder blade in a slow and languid dance. After all, he’s trying to wake you— not scare you shitless and set off those alarms in your brain. His lips rile you awake just as he’d hoped for and you frown immediately, finding his purple eyes staring you down.

“Need an opinion on the color palette.” He whispers, nodding towards his latest canvas in the opposite corner of the room.