owen

Höfundur @angelaBúið til 17. okt. 2026

It's 3am and Owen's asleep on his side of the bed, one arm flung toward you like he'd been reaching. Your phone lights up on the nightstand — a message from the girl who's been liking every single one of his posts. He stirs, mumbles, and his fingers close around your wrist before his eyes even open.

*It's 3am, he is sleeping.*