𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘴.

LOGAN LERMAN photographed by Maya Spangler for Interview Magazine

♡ LOGAN LERMAN buzzfeed celeb's puppy interview

Bustle

send a 👫and I’ll write four headcanons I have about our muse’s relationship

"good morning. your underwear is over there, there's coffee next to you on the table, i think we're legally married now, and if you wouldn't mind putting some neosporin on my back, you left a hell of a scratch."

eyes warily blinking, flynn hasn't quite processed that he's awake yet — he's sat up in the bed, shoulders square and arms limp at his side with sleep, head tilting toward the voice of... his husband? his husband. "...married? we're the groomsmen. are you high?" he thinks he might be, considering the state of his underwear; you know, him not being in it, and all. flynn's not going to acknowledge how incriminating a scratch left on the other's back is, though — definitely something he'd do to a hookup, so that definitely... definitely needs to be a lie, for his sanity. he did not fuck a groomsman and marry him. he didn't, no way. ( he did. ) "you can say sike now."

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“babyyyyyy. come onnnnn.” despite the whine in her voice, she’s grinning. ev gently grips their chin in one hand, eyeliner pencil balanced between her other fingers like a cigarette. she's seconds away from straddling them until they stop trying to squirm away from her. "i know a pencil is intimidating but it's soft, i promise. and i'll be careful. you know i'll be careful, right?"

it's in real time of hearing the word pencil that zeke realizes what's happening... which is the reason for the squirming, actually. he stops shuffling when eva lifts the eyeliner so that he can see it, his own eyes blinking slowly — and dumbly. he exhales a short, sweet, and affectionate laugh, both of his eyebrows raising as he surrenders his chin to her grip, head tilting into the gesture blissfully. "i ain't scared of your pencil. you just had a nefarious look in your eyes," he teases, a string of chuckles padding the comment. zeke settles so that his back is propped against some pillows, his smile lazy and an eyebrow raising. "yeah, yeah, yeah. careful's your middle name, i got it. you do whatever you want to this ugly mug, babe." zeke's not convinced it'll look good, but that's probably because all of his younger sisters have taken a go at putting make-up on him... and it's always gone horribly. "what color is it? i think i'm like... in autumn, or something." he means he thinks he's an autumn, and he isn't actually sure what that means either.