#OC: Joey

[processed-meat]

[cathartic-crypt]

guys. guys say hi to joey :-) my courier six (also known as the sunflower courier) he is SO silly!!!!and stupid.and naive.but very very nice

[volertile]

oc and friends oc

hope this doesn’t flop

[cataclysmic-writer]

Katastrophie: The Brothers

For the Welcome to Writeblr Feast of Fright event! Day 1: write a character study scene about the protagonist//Day 2: Introduce the story's major relationship(s). Katastrophie is an adult sports romance set among professional wrestlers. Ask to be added to the tag list!

Kas barely recognized his apartment. He tossed his keys to the side where he thought a side table was. It was impossible to tell for sure in the dark. He stumbled over something, catching himself on the wall. He blinked, trying to orient himself as pain pulsed down his side.

He should unpack, start a load of laundry. He’d be back on the road again in a day or two and he really needed to switch out his wardrobe. Instead, he collapsed back onto his mattress, so exhausted that he didn’t even plug his phone in before his eyes closed. Fuck the laundry.

Kas jolted awake to panicked banging on his door. He grabbed his cell phone, but the screen was black—completely dead. Swearing under his breath, Kas edged towards the entryway. The microwave clock blinked at him from the kitchen and his heart crawled into his throat. Barely three AM. He remembered his dad’s advice: nothing good happened after midnight. 

Sophie also insisted that nothing memorable happened before 11.

Another round of banging shook the wall. Kas took a deep breath, steeled his nerves, and opened the door. 

Joey immediately dove into the apartment, wrapping his arms around Kas’s torso tight enough that Kas wondered if he was getting Heimliched. His hair stuck up in manic tufts, somewhere between a lion and a cockatiel. Despite the frigid temperature, he only wore basketball shorts and a baggy hoodie, and Kas shivered as Joey absorbed his heat. 

Joey buried his face in Kas’s shirt. His shoulders rose unevenly and he struggled to get a word out, putting more and more of his weight on Kas, like he couldn’t carry his weight. Kas staggered back to regain balance and immediately settled a hand on his brother’s back, holding him up. “Joey? What’s wrong?” Kas tried to shake the sleep out of his voice, but if Joey heard it, he didn’t seem to care. 

Joey opened his mouth, but a whimper was all he managed to get out and he slammed it shut again, clinging tighter to his brother. Kas’s blood ran cold. Sure, Joey was a quiet, artistic person, but he was still a 16-year-old boy. He didn’t whimper.

Kas’s fingers gripped Joey’s shirt as he pulled his brother away, crouching so they were eye level. Joey turned away. “What happened? Are you hurt?” He scanned Joey’s body for broken bones or cuts, but his baggy clothes hid his body. “Joey, look at me.” Kas grabbed his chin, forcing his brother to return his gaze.

Dried blood crusted Joey’s lip. He habitually chewed on his supplies; had something cut him? Had he torn the skin as an anxious habit? Or—

A darker thought drowned out the others. Who hurt his baby brother?

Rage boiled in his stomach, acid thrashing in his throat and burning his veins. He didn’t realize he’d tightened his grip on Joey until the younger boy winced. Kas dropped his hand, muttering an apology. 

Joey pulled the sleeves of his sweatshirt down to cover his hands and leaned his forehead back against Kas’s chest. “Can I—” He couldn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to. 

Kas wrapped his arms around Joey and led him deeper into the apartment. “Yeah, you can stay here tonight,” Kas said. “Take the bed.”

“Did I wake you up?” It was the first full sentence Joey’d managed since he came in. 

Kas waved a dismissive hand. “Nah. I was doing laundry.”

[creepymarshmallow3]

Ask 1: Some cute/funny Raven x Legion content

Ask 2: Springy prank anyone, but be careful so you don't die if you pick like the wrong person to scare-

Ask 3: Chris is gonna give Raven a gift in secret but sees Raven and Legion together and probably would eye twitch and nearly attack from being so frustrated but probably is caught off gaurd my Springy and acts like nothing happened and he is clueless to Chris's whole deal.

Ask 4: Merfeld(Spelled it wrong) and Joey spend time together and meet captain(oc), Probably both scream

Ask 5: Love you friend/Platonic

(Phew, sorry for too long buddy, was a bit busy etc.)

Ask 1-3: :> cute third frame

[Springy :3]

Ask 2: Lol :>

Ask 4: Melfi, Joey and Captain :>

[on le distance...]

Ask 5: ^^ 💜💜💜

[mtgc858]

Trollge moodboards

All images from Pinterest(some were edited but mostly with the color)

Tw for body horror, fake blood, fire, eye contact,eyestrain, deep sea,medical themes and horror

Raven + Raven's second form + Raven's true form

Pyro

Gabe

Twister

Joey+Mandy

Tin art by @creepymarshmallow3

1/?

[alltimefail-sims]

Joseph "Joey" Harris-Ruiz Submission for @wrixie's Juliana!

The Basics: -> Human; He/Him (and Trans!) -> Bisexual Disaster -> Born in Moonwood Mill, but his parents divorced when he was like 5, so he floated between there and Selvadorada. Currently he's just vibing, not settled to any one place. -> Young Adult (irl probably like 28 y.o.)

Details below the cut! ↓

Joey's traits are: Loves the Outdoors, Loner, and Hotheaded. He has also has two additional traits (from self-discovery): Good + Maker.

I used CC pretty sparingly; most of the stuff he wears is from the horse pack. I have the Wonderful Whims mod as well, and his preferences have been set with that! Just clarifying, for funsies: his mom lives in Selvadorada and his dad is from Moonwood Mill.

-> His current aspiration is: Outdoor Enthusiast. He has completed the Master Maker aspiration already and currently works as a freelance crafter.

-> Education: He dropped out of high school and has yet to finish... he might never go back. Who knows!

-> His likes include: Alternative and Retro music (he has the music taste of a middle-aged dad). His favorite color is orange. His hobbies include handiness, cooking, fishing, gardening, singing, and playing guitar. He likes hearing people's deep thoughts, complaints, and joking around (he is a huuuuuge smartass who copes and deflects with humor and sarcasm, unfortunately). His favorite kind of sims are argumentative, cerebral, nature enthusiasts.

-> His dislikes include: DJ Booth, Electronica, and Disco music. If it's related to school or academics, you can guarantee that he hates it lmao: i.e. writing or research and debate. Small talk makes his skin crawl. He doesn't like deception, gossip, or long-ass stories. Super spirited or high energy sims stress him out.

-> Some fun facts include: Joey is an only child. He's a really good cook, which surprises people! He hates his smile (his mom used to call him "Bunny" because of his front teeth, so closed-mouth smiles only unless he's super comfortable around you). The real story behind how he lost his eye and got some pretty heinous scars is that he had a bad run-in with a wild fox when he was a kid working on his dad's farm - he gets annoyed when people ask unsolicited though, so he usually makes up stupid stories before telling them the truth. He started transitioning when he was 13: his mom was very supportive but his dad...not so much (they're still amicable though). Despite growing up in Moonwood Mill, he barely knows anything about occults lmao. He's very observant and has been told he's a good kisser!

Note: He has some bonus traits from gameplay and an array of skills. His current desire for having a child is set to "Neutral." If Lumpinou's LGBTQ+ mod is being used his settings are bisexual/biromantic, alloromantic/allosexual, and transgender: did voice therapy, did hormone replacement therapy, had top surgery (has not elected to have bottom surgery).

Private DL if chosen!

[ninethirtynine-pm]

this is joey shes a loser

[simiaysa]

Yosef Pattinson; 27, ( He/Him) Aspiring Graphic Designer

Yosef is Ashayaa’s first real relationship. They met while Ashayaa was out with Stevie running errands. They hit it off pretty quickly, which led to Yosef being around more and introduced to the family.

Yosef grew up in San Myshuno with his grandparents because his parents were too busy to raise him. Yosef never had to want for anything or even work to hard because his parents took care of that. Anything he ever wanted was handed to him on a silver platter. No matter what he was given, he was lonely missing his parents love and their presence. As he got older, Yosef started to talking to Joey an imaginary figure who kept him from being lonely. As the years went by Joey became more than just a figment of Yosef imagination. Joey started to take over Yosef body and mind, making him do things that Yosef would never do himself.

When Ashayaa and Yosef met, it was never a coincidence. Yosef and Joey have been watching her on campus for months before approaching her. Joey wanted her for himself and constantly would take over Yosef’s mind to be able to interact with Ashayaa. Yosef didn’t mind because he liked Ashayaa and thought she was beautiful but everything changed when she gotten pregnant.

Joey decided that she was his and she needed to be with him 24/7. This created a battle between Joey and Yosef because he knew joey was plotting something dangerous. Yosef started to act like an assholee to Ashayaa trying to keep her away from him because he knew joey would do something crazy. What Yosef doesn’t know is Joey has been taking over his mind right before he goes to sleep, and stalking Ashayaa around campus, watching and plotting.

@astoldbychae pray for my girl 😩🙏🏾

[ocs-res]

Pages from my zine, 《君不知》 (eng title: "You Don't Know")

Bonus (cover art):

[processed-meat]

my friends sonas. i couldnt think of anything to draw so now this page exists. waves to you four

@bone-collection @arcaedex @solarxeno @coppercatz

[cathartic-crypt]

Your courier facts NOW 🔫

OKAY!!!!!!!!

he is THE number one sunset sarsaparilla fan. literally he drinks it religiously. he literally based his new identity on a sunset sarsaparilla ad when he left goodsprings

like he saw that ^ and went "o_o he is literally me" and decided to be a cowboy

he has the animal friend perk.he loves animals. hes illiterate but he loves to draw and he carries around a sketchbook filled with drawings of all the animals hes ever met. he likes to use watercolour the most b/c it stays dry in his bag and its super compact and easy to carry

he loves shiny things. shiny ANYTHING, in fact. notices something sticking out of the ground thats vaguely interesting??hes picking that bitch up and taking it with him

have i mentioned he went from courier to cowboy? b/c yea. woke up from goodsprings not remembering anything, being a nobody, and decided to build himself up from nothing into a something :)

he also cuts his own hair..which is why he has a bunch of longer strands just sticking out. not the neatest thing in the world, but thats ok

[jacobsneed]

Thank you sm for tagging me, lovelies! @josephseedismyfather @inafieldofdaisies @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @clicheantagonist ! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

So Big news - Started doing some drawing again!! Not much just working on files I already had opened, but I did start a new Cricket drawing because I really wanted to draw them in the gta style :D

Aah, the hardest part of any Monday.. Picking out ONE song for Music Monday, lmao. Adding two because I can, and I listen to a lot of music when I'm doing creative projects :P

And for the last line tag! I've decided to call this lil piece, 'Zašto'

slight tw for violence/gore in case anyone needs it!

A total of twelve shots rang through the area as Niko towered over Darko's lifeless figure. The blood-soaked tableau before him was a testament to their shared anguish; rain melding seamlessly with the crimson horror—a haunting masterpiece of brutal indifference.

Niko sneered at his fallen comrade: "You piece of shit!" Hot anger burned through him like molten lava. "That was for everyone!" Niko exhaled vehemently, the world swallowing his anguish whole:

"THAT WAS FOR ME."

Taglist (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ | @socially-awkward-skeleton@cassietrn@inafieldofdaisies@voidika@afarcry5fromstraight@vampireninjabunnies-blog@captastra@v0idbuggy@derelictheretic@poisonedtruth@florbelles@detectivelokis@beeutifulllov3r@fly-amanitaa@oreo-orca (Like this post to be added to the taglist! 💙 )

sorry for double tags!! (Ｔ▽Ｔ)

[rottenpozzum]

A whole buncha OC doodles 💙

[cedarspiced]

woe! joey be upon thee

[goldfades]

HOTTEST COUPLE IN THE ROOM ───JB⁹

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2.5k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | requested! -> "Joe x Dallas cowboy cheerleader reader"

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | reader is kinda perceived as bitchy, and not a cookie-cutter dcc. lots of a banter, leads to relationship.

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | my new fav thing EVER

The bass shakes the floor beneath your heels, the scent of top-shelf liquor and expensive cologne thick in the air. The postgame party is exactly what you expected—too many people, too much noise, and a lingering sense of competition that doesn’t quite fade even after the game’s final whistle. Cowboys and Bengals players mix like oil and water, good-natured jabs tossed between sips of whiskey, the occasional laugh laced with something sharper.

You don’t want to be here.

But when the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders make an appearance, it’s not optional. It’s PR. It’s “team camaraderie.” It’s smiling through gritted teeth while some dude in a suit with more money than personality tells you how impressive it is that you can do a perfect high kick in full glam.

You adjust the hem of your dress, shifting against the leather couch tucked in the VIP section. It’s not that you’re bad at playing the part. You just don’t fit the mold the way you’re supposed to. The other girls—prim, polished, always camera-ready—glide through the room like they were born for this. You, on the other hand, are already toeing the line of “too much.” Too opinionated, too unpredictable, too unwilling to be anything other than exactly who you are.

And yet, you’re still here. Because when you dance, they shut up about the rest.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show,” a voice drawls beside you, cutting through the music.

Your gaze shifts, locking onto the last person you expected to seek you out tonight. Joe Burrow.

His suit jacket is slung over his arm, the sleeves of his crisp white button-down rolled up just enough to give him that effortlessly put-together look. He’s got that half-smirk that’s made him a social media obsession, and yet there’s something else in his expression—curiosity, maybe. Amusement.

You raise a brow. “Didn’t think you knew who I was.”

“Oh, I know who you are.” His eyes flicker, something sharp and knowing in them. “Hard to miss the cheerleader who doesn’t play by the rules.”

You tilt your head, feigning offense. “I play by the rules.”

Joe huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Nah. You don’t. You just make it look like you do.”

And there it is. The first crack in the game, the unspoken understanding settling between you like a drawn line in the sand.

It should be nothing.

But somehow, it doesn’t feel like nothing.

You lean back against the couch, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other toying with the rim of the drink you don’t actually want. The ice clinks softly as you swirl it, eyes flicking back to Joe, unimpressed but not entirely disinterested.

“Wow,” you deadpan. “Joe Burrow knows my reputation. I guess I can retire now.”

Joe huffs a quiet laugh, the kind that barely shakes his shoulders. “Just saying, you don’t blend in.”

You lift a brow. “Neither do you.”

His smirk deepens, just a little. “Difference is, I’m supposed to stand out.”

You roll your eyes. “God, you’re worse than I thought.”

Joe blinks, feigning offense. “Worse?”

“Yeah.” You tilt your head, taking him in. “I figured you’d at least let me get a word in before pulling the ‘I’m Joe Burrow’ card.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

The smirk on his face falters just a fraction, like he’s recalculating his approach. He came over here thinking he’d charm you with minimal effort, just like he probably does with every other girl in this room. You can’t blame him. You’re used to guys like him—ones who assume that a few smooth lines and a good jawline will be enough to win you over. It’s exhausting, really.

Joe, to his credit, seems to pick up on it quickly. He shifts his stance, dropping the easy arrogance just a notch, watching you like he’s trying to figure out a new play mid-game.

“So, you don’t like football players,” he guesses.

“I never said that.”

“You don’t seem impressed.”

“I’m just not easily impressed.”

Joe clicks his tongue, shaking his head like he’s been personally challenged. “Tough crowd.”

You let out a short laugh, finally taking a sip of your drink. The warmth spreads through you, smoothing the edges of your already sharp tongue. “Look, I get it. You’re Joe Cool, media darling, golden boy, future Hall of Famer, blah, blah, blah. But none of that tells me who you actually are.”

Joe’s quiet for a beat, like he wasn’t expecting you to cut through the bullshit so quickly. Most people don’t.

He studies you. “You wanna know who I am?”

“I wanna know if you can hold a conversation that doesn’t involve your highlight reel.”

Joe grins, shaking his head like you’re more trouble than he bargained for—but not the kind he wants to walk away from.

“Alright,” he says, leaning in slightly. “Let’s make it fair. Since you’re so uninterested in my career, how about I ask about yours?”

You narrow your eyes. “Go for it.”

He tilts his head. “You always wanted to be a cheerleader?”

You pause for a fraction of a second. It’s not a bad question, but it’s not the usual small talk either. It’s got an edge to it, like he’s actually curious.

“No,” you admit. “I wanted to be an astronaut.”

Joe snorts. “Serious?”

“As a heart attack.” You smirk. “But apparently, NASA frowns upon people who talk back to their instructors.”

Joe laughs now, really laughs, and it does something to his face—makes it lighter, less perfectly put-together. It’s a nice look on him.

“So, you settled for the next most intense program?” he asks.

“Something like that.” You glance around the room, at the Cowboys players, the other cheerleaders, the high-profile guests all schmoozing and clinking glasses. “DCC is its own version of NASA. Just with more hairspray and stricter calorie counts.”

Joe hums, considering that. “And yet, you don’t seem the type to take orders.”

You shrug. “I don’t. But I’m really, really good at what I do.”

His gaze lingers for half a second too long. “Yeah,” he says, low and thoughtful. “I bet you are.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes your breath catch for just a second—not because you’re flustered, but because it feels like he actually sees you, past the sequins and forced smiles and PR obligations.

You tap your nails against your glass, breaking whatever was starting to settle between you. “Well, congrats,” you say, all light and teasing again. “You managed to hold a conversation without bringing up your own stats.”

Joe grins, lazy and triumphant. “And?”

You take a slow sip, watching him over the rim of your glass. “You’re not completely insufferable.”

Joe laughs, leaning back into the couch. “I’ll take it.”

The first date wasn’t supposed to happen.

At least, not in your mind.

But Joe had this way of slipping through the cracks of your carefully built walls, catching you off guard in a way that wasn’t annoying, but intriguing. So, when he had looked at you across that crowded party and said, “One drink. No football talk,” you had rolled your eyes, but ultimately, you had agreed.

One drink turned into three. A post-midnight drive through downtown. A completely ridiculous bet over who could name more obscure 90s songs (you won, obviously). And then, somehow, a second date.

And that was the real surprise.

Because by then, you figured you had him pegged. Star quarterback, smooth operator, probably used to women falling over themselves to impress him. But the Joe you saw away from the cameras, when it was just the two of you in a dimly lit hole-in-the-wall bar or sprawled out on his couch, eating takeout straight from the boxes, was different. He was easy in a way that felt familiar, like a song you hadn’t heard in years but still knew all the words to.

And he got you.

Most guys would tense up when you made some sarcastic comment, unsure if they should be amused or offended. Joe just smirked and shot one right back, quick and sharp like one of his passes. The banter was effortless, the chemistry undeniable, but it never felt forced.

It felt like you’d known him forever.

Which was dangerous.

Because you weren’t supposed to like him this much.

But a few months flew by before you could think too hard about it.

One minute, you were rolling your eyes at him in a Dallas bar. The next, you were sneaking glances at your phone in the middle of DCC rehearsals, trying not to smile at whatever nonsense he had just texted you.

Then came the flights.

You found yourself booking tickets to Cincinnati more often than you’d ever expected, trading in your Texas sunsets for the sharp chill of Ohio air, showing up in his city like you belonged there. And the crazy part? It never felt inconvenient. You had never been the type to rearrange your schedule for a guy, but with Joe, it was different. He made the effort too—catching flights to see you between games, showing up unannounced just to grab dinner, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

It should’ve been overwhelming, but it wasn’t.

Because nothing about Joe was ever boring.

You’d expected the excitement in the beginning—the flirty back-and-forth, the teasing, the lingering looks that stretched longer than they should. But what you hadn’t expected was the way he made everything feel lighter. How he made you laugh when you were dead on your feet after an exhausting game day. How he somehow always knew when you needed to talk and when you just needed to sit in comfortable silence.

And yeah, the tension was there. Always.

You weren’t blind, and Joe sure as hell wasn’t either. There were moments—when his hand lingered on your lower back a second too long, when you caught him watching you with that unreadable expression, when he pulled you into a hug that felt like it meant something more.

But neither of you pushed it. Not yet.

For now, it was enough to just exist in whatever this was.

And, for the first time in a long time, you weren’t in any rush to define it.

The New York City skyline stretched high above the venue, lights twinkling like they were in on the secret that tonight was something different.

Joe didn’t hide you.

He hadn’t from the start, really, but there was a difference between showing up for each other in private and standing next to him now, his hand resting low on your back, his fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress like he wanted everyone to see exactly where you belonged.

And you?

You looked good enough to ruin a man’s career.

Your dress was the kind that turned heads—sleek, with just enough edge to remind people that you weren’t the typical quarterback’s girlfriend. Joe wasn’t intimidated by it, wasn’t the type to shrink when his girl demanded attention. No, if anything, he was thriving on it. Walking into the party with you on his arm, chin high, like he knew for a fact that you were the hottest couple in the room.

And you were.

It didn’t matter that the place was full of some of the most famous athletes in the league, that models and influencers and A-listers milled around with expensive drinks in hand—no one looked as good as the two of you together.

Joe left you only once, leaning down to murmur, “Gonna get us a drink, don’t go too far.”

You weren’t worried about being left alone. You’d been in these rooms before, could handle yourself just fine.

But apparently, someone didn’t get the memo.

The moment Joe was out of earshot, a presence settled beside you—too close, too confident.

“Damn, haven’t seen you in a minute.”

You already knew you were going to hate him before you even looked.

And sure enough, when you turned, there he was. A Cowboys player, one you’d interacted with just enough to know he was exactly the type you had no patience for. Cocky in a way that wasn’t charming, self-important in a way that made your skin itch.

You barely had time to open your mouth before he bulldozed on.

“So, what, you finally got tired of playing in the kiddie pool and upgraded?” He grinned, not even waiting for you to respond. “Figured it was only a matter of time. The whole ‘untouchable cheerleader’ thing was getting old.”

You smiled. Smirked, really. Because this? This was amusing.

He thought you were flustered. Thought you were scrambling for a way out.

Like you hadn’t been shutting down men like him since the first time you ever put on that DCC uniform.

“Oh, yeah,” you said, voice smooth as silk. “Joe’s an upgrade, alright.” You tilted your head, eyes dragging over him in an exaggerated once-over. “But considering what I was working with before, it really didn’t take much.”

His smile flickered, but he was too stubborn to let it go. “C’mon, you don’t have to pretend with me. I know you, remember? Back when you were just another Dallas girl trying to play hard to get?”

You actually laughed at that.

Not a fake, polite one. A real one. Because this was just sad.

“Wow,” you mused. “I’ve gotta give it to you, you commit to the bit. Most guys would’ve tapped out by now, but you? You’re still going. That’s dedication.”

His jaw tensed just slightly. “I’m just saying, no need to act all high and mighty. We both know you used to—”

“Used to what?”

Your voice was still sweet, still playful, but the underlying steel was there. And when you took a slow sip of your drink, watching him over the rim, it was clear you were letting him dig his own grave.

Before he could figure out how to claw his way out, a shadow loomed beside you.

Joe.

But not in the swooping, Oh no! My girl is in distress! way.

No, he was calm. Casual. Like he had all the time in the world. His presence alone was enough to shift the energy in the conversation, but you didn’t even acknowledge him yet. You wanted to see just how long it would take for the guy in front of you to realize he’d lost.

Turns out, not long.

Joe didn’t say anything, just leaned slightly against the bar, watching with mild interest. But the weight of his presence alone did something to your uninvited guest—made him shift uncomfortably, made his easy confidence crack just a little.

And that? That was satisfying.

“I was just catching up with your girl,” the Cowboy muttered, backtracking so fast you almost wanted to laugh.

Joe didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah?” He glanced at you, finally acknowledging you with a knowing smirk. “You having fun?”

You took another sip, grinning. “Oh, loads.”

The guy beside you tensed. “I was just—”

“Leaving?” you supplied helpfully.

His mouth opened. Closed. Then, without another word, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Joe chuckled, finally handing you the drink he had left to get. “You were having way too much fun with that.”

You shrugged, taking a sip. “Can you blame me?”

He shook his head, draping an arm lazily around your waist, pulling you in just slightly. “Guess not.”

And the night went on.

Just you and Joe. The hottest couple in the room.