#joereigns

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hey @idreamofdragons just a casual reminder of these two big Joes

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I’m not writing it at the moment but Suburban Samoan Dads Joe and Roman are the domestic fluff AU i wasn’t looking for and yet hit me like a truck

fluffy domestic life stuff would include:

backyard BBQ with friends and neighbors and the kids, good music playing over speakers, the guys talking about football and where to get the best meat for grilling, making plans for a group hike with the older kids

Roman managing the kids’ morning rush (brush your teeth and put on your clothes, where’s your schoolbag, no you can’t sleep five more minutes) while Joe makes breakfast (lunch is all packed and ready to go - bento-type lunches because he’s really particular about what his kids eat and he takes pride in being the Best Lunch Dad, okay?)

Roman washing the pots and pans by hand, getting suds up to his elbow as he cleans, and Joe kissing the side of his neck in passing as he loads the dishwasher

Roman giving leg and feet massages because Joe’s knees aren’t as strong as they used to be

Joe braiding Roman’s hair while grumbling about the amount of hair he has to clean out from the shower traps every week

both of them giving the birds and the bees talk to their son, who’s like “Dad, Pa, I don’t think you’re gonna be all that convincing about dating and making love to a woman since you two are like, super gay” 

their children being embarrassed (but actually kinda pleased) when both of them show up holding hands at school fairs and praising their kids’ work

when some idiot makes a homophobic remark near one of them, they’d get their husband over and be all lovey-dovey for a good while until the idiot becomes uncomfortable. Once Joe got to the point of having his hand slide up the back of Roman’s shirt before the idiot leaves

both deciding on first moving in that they are gonna get a dog. except they couldn’t agree on what kind of dog. Roman insisted on a cute fluffy bundle of fur; Joe wanted a burly mongrel that needed to regain faith in people. They both got what they wanted - except the dogs prefer Joe (he gives them treats from leftover ingredients when he’s cooking)

so anyway yes to big burly soft suburban samoan dads

[peppermintquartz]

joereigns ficlet because i want to

*

When they first met, Joe was wary, in case Roman turned out to be an arrogant jerk, but the younger man was friendly - if particular - and had fairly good taste in music. Wrestling Roman was, for lack of a better word, fun. Joe didn’t have to check his strength as much, and there was a solidness to Roman that was satisfying to throw about. They didn’t share cars or rooms - Joe preferred driving on his own, and Roman had Seth and Dean - but sometimes, on overseas tours, they’d end up neighbors on the same hotel floor, and they’d go to the gym together.

The first time they kissed was almost an accident. That time, they were in neighboring rooms again. They’d come back after a long night in Tokyo, Roman a little tipsy with the excellent sake Shinsuke, Kairi and Asuka shared out on the bus once the show was over. The younger man was smiling crookedly as he tried to locate his hotel key card, and when he burped, he wrinkled his nose in such an adorable way that Joe instinctively reached up to tug Roman’s face close to kiss him.

It was just a peck on the lips, but then Roman made a soft, unhappy sound, and kissed Joe again, a little more demanding. That was surprising, and also tempting. Still, Joe wasn’t one to take advantage of someone who might not have all his wits about him. 

“Go to bed,” he chided quietly. 

Roman wrinkled his nose again. “Can’t find my card.”

“Check your back pocket.”

“Oh!”  Delighted, Roman held it aloft. “Ta-dah. How did you know?”

Joe smirked. “I was checking out your ass earlier.”

“We can share your bed, you know,” Roman murmured, leaning his left shoulder on the wall, his voice sultry. “I don’t mind.”

“I’m interested,” said Joe with a quick grin, “but I’d rather talk to you when you are fully sober.” He reached up and brushed his thumb over the other man’s jaw. “Goodnight. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Roman smiled, his eyes soft. “Night.”

[peppermintquartz]

minific

*

The only one Roman can really talk to about his current... thing... with Joe is Finn, whom he knows used to have a similar arrangement back in NXT, but phrasing his thoughts isn’t easy.

“So what you’re saying is, he’s not rough enough?” Finn asks, a small frown creasing his brow.

Roman makes an ‘ehh’ gesture. “Not exactly. More like... I don’t know, I don’t mind that he’s nice, but I don’t need nice from him.”

Leaning back in his seat, Finn tilts his head and studies Roman. Then he smirks. It’s annoying how handsome he is when he looks so damn smug, and Roman pinches the Irishman’s thigh for being too attractive. Finn smacks the younger man’s hand away.

“You mean you want him to be more aggressive in his words and behavior,” Finn says.

Roman snaps his fingers. “That’s it exactly. Yes. I like when he’s aggressive, you know, like when he’s in the ring, just throwing people around.” His cheeks grow warm. “I mean, there aren’t many people who can do that to me.”

“I know I wish I could,” Finn teases. His eyebrows flirt upwards. “Or, if you want, you can throw me around a little. I don’t mind.”

“And have Seth throw a hissy fit at me? You’re a goddamn troublemaker.”

Laughing, the Irishman stands and presses a kiss to Roman’s cheek. “Well, I better go find my other half before he starts throwing hissy fits at others. As for you and Joe, just tell him. He’ll like that.”

“Tell me what?” As if by magic, Joe appears in the lounge with two bottles of water, one of which he passes to Roman. “Your boy is being a mean grouch out there in the cafeteria, Balor. Go take that stick outta his ass or something.”

“Or put something up his arse?” Finn offers as he heads for the door.

“That could work, too.” Joe grins and sits where Finn was moments earlier. “So. What’s up? You two in cahoots about something?”

Roman smiles and drinks from the bottle. “I’ll tell you later tonight when we have more privacy.”

[peppermintquartz]

(who’s missing joereigns interaction me)

*

“How’s the hand?”

It’s late, but Joe smiles when he checks the number, and resumes petting the newest foster dog, a sweet, clumsy mutt named Leroy that’s recovering from a broken front leg. Leroy is already adopted - the new family is just waiting for the dog to heal up enough to travel across a couple of states. “Most people say hello first.”

On the other end of the line, Roman laughs. “Hello. How’s the hand?”

“It’s healing,” Joe says. “Where are you today?”

“Right now? Narita. Waiting to board.” Roman hums. “Missed having you here, big guy. Finn, Asuka and Shinsuke showed me around, but it’s not the same, y’know?”

Sighing, Joe leans back. Leroy licks his left hand, tail wagging slowly. “Another time. Beat up Baron for me, yeah? He’s the one injured me.”

Roman snorts. “Done and done. He took last night’s spear like a champ, though, I wasn’t holding back on that one.”

They both know it isn’t anyone’s fault; it’s the nature of their business to risk injury, and it just means they have to be extra cautious when they work. But there’s an understanding that if you do injure someone through inattention, you’re likely to get a receipt, either when they come back or from their road partners.

(No one really expected Joe and Roman to hook up, not even themselves, but they’ve found they enjoy each other’s company, and it’s an unspoken rule that what happens on the road, stays on the road.)

“What’s worse, the wait to be at hundred percent or not being able to play games?” Roman asks.

“The games for sure. But it does mean I get a lot of exercise with my left hand, stroking and petting.”

“Are you-” Roman chokes down a laugh. “Oh god, the hell you talking about?”

“I’m talking about dogs,” Joe says, grinning, scratching behind Leroy’s ears. “The hell you thinking of?”

The other guy just chuckles. “Fuck off.” A short pause later, Roman says, almost apologetic, “We’re boarding.”

Joe smiles. “Safe trip, big dog. Text me when you land, yeah?”

“Will do, daddy-o.” Roman thinks it’s funny calling Joe that, but Joe likes it nonetheless. 

After he hangs up, Joe gives Leroy another good scratch behind his ears. “Both of us gonna heal up faster, yeah? We got people waiting for us.”

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“Stay down.”

Roman squints up at the blurry shadow looming over him. It’s a man, judging by the voice, and a big one at that, but the sun is behind the guy, and Roman’s head is in incredible pain. “Wh-”

“I said, stay down. ¿Hablas inglés?” The guy doesn’t wait for Roman to answer, instead choosing to holler to someone off to the side to call an ambulance.

Roman blinks. His ribs hurt and he thinks something is wrong with his neck. “What happened? Is my girl okay?”

“You got hit by a car,” the big guy tells him. “Don’t worry, I saw the plate. Who’s your girl?”

You’ve got a nice voice, Roman wants to tell the big guy, but his vision becomes dimmer around the edges and he thinks he may just faint from the agony in his head. In fact, unconsciousness sounds like a good i-

*

Joe doesn’t want to be here. He has papers to grade, for fuck’s sake, and he still has to plan the next day’s lessons and a test paper to set for the unit. Still, he feels bad for Jojo, who’s just been transferred into his Math class. Apparently it’s her dad who was hit by that dumbass in the black Subaru. Joe hopes the driver gets their license revoked and that Jojo’s father sues the shit out of them.

“He’s not gonna be paralyzed, right, Mr Joe?” Jojo asks.

Joe shrugs, but in as comforting a manner as he can. “He was able to speak and I saw him move his arms, so he’s probably not too badly hurt. He did hit his head though.”

The door to the ward opens and the girl rushes in. “Daddy?”

“Hey, baby girl, you’re okay,” says her father.

Joe peeks in at the door and, content to know that the man is fine, is ready to leave, except Jojo says, “My math teacher drove me here. He’s the one called the ambulance.”

Now he can’t escape. Joe puts on his best ‘Meet the Parent’ professional smile and walks in. “Hi. I’m glad you’re conscious.”

Jojo’s father has a bandage stuck to the left side of his head where he crashed against the sidewalk, as well as a sling for his left arm which has been put in a cast. His long hair has been left loose, and it falls silkily down past his shoulders. 

“Pleased to meet you, Mr ‘Glad to be Conscious’.” The injured man smiles, and it’s a very attractive smile, wide and almost mischievous. He offers his right hand. “I’m Roman. Roman Reigns.”

“I see you’ve retained Dad Humor in all that concussion,” says Joe, his own grin widening, and shakes the offered hand firmly. Big strong hands, Joe notes. “I’m Joe Seanoa. The kids call me Mr Joe.”

“Do I need to call you that?”

“Only if you consider yourself a kid.”

Jojo makes an exasperated noise. “Dad, you were almost killed. Could you not flirt for, like, ten seconds? Geez.” To her teacher, she says, “Sorry Mr Joe. He’s definitely okay if he’s making stupid dad jokes and flirting with my teachers.”

Despite her breezy demeanor, it’s obvious she’s upset, so Joe just pats her lightly on the back and says, “Well, I can drop you at home if you want.”

“Mr Joe-”

“Baby girl, I know you’re going to insist on staying here,” Roman says fondly, “but I will need to rest, so why don’t you do your homework?” To Joe, he adds, “Single parent. I don’t think it’ll be good for her to be alone at home tonight.”

Joe hums. “In that case, I’ll take my leave. Get well soon, Mr Reigns.”

*

It’s about nine in the evening when Roman wakes up once more. Jojo is curled up in that strangely flexible teenager manner in the uncomfortable armchair, and snoring quietly. 

Roman winces as he tries to get comfortable. Other than the broken left arm, about three of his ribs have been fractured. It’s mainly the concussion that’s keeping him here in hospital, however. They’re monitoring him for the night. He’d have sent Jojo home, but they’re very new in town and he hasn’t really met his neighbors yet, and certainly knows no one well enough to entrust his daughter to their care.

He hears someone at the door. It’s Joe, and he’s come back armed with two bags. The teacher sees Jojo asleep and snorts quietly, retrieving a blanket from one of the bags to carefully drape it over the girl, and the other holds a phone charger, a brand-new electric toothbrush, and a tube of toothpaste.

“I don’t know if you’re right or left-handed,” Joe explains, “and when you can’t get a shower, brushing your teeth will make you feel a little more human.”

“Thank you.” Roman smiles at him. “You’re a good teacher.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to my kids. They all think I’m the devil incarnate.” Joe takes the other chair and sets it down softly. “So. Your girl mentioned you like flirting with teachers. Is that a bad habit?”

“Only if the teacher doesn’t like being flirted with,” Roman answers, keeping his voice as low as Joe’s. He smirks and raises an eyebrow (with some difficulty - his face feels a little puffy and sore). “Are you spoken for, or uninterested?”

Joe sits back in his chair, his bulky frame making the furniture squeak a little. Then he reaches out and touches Roman’s uninjured hand, the caress more tender than any touch Roman has ever felt, and more surprising coming from a man who looks like he uses baby squirrels for target practice. “Neither. But I prefer a walk and a good dinner to a trip to the hospital, so I suggest you get well real damn soon.” 

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“Took your meds? Feeling good?”

“Yeah.”

“How was workout today?”

“It was good. Benched fifty more than last time. Doc was thrilled with how much muscle I’ve regained.”

“That’s good. Don’t overdo it though. You may not like it but you need to rest more now.”

“Yeah, yeah, mother hen. You weren’t saying that the other night though, when you were giving me a workout.”

“Free weights don’t check on you after and make you hydrate properly, dumbass.”

“Free weights don’t make me call them every morning when we don’t wake up together either. See you Tuesday?”

“Sure. Shall we have lamb shank?”

“Sounds great, Daddy-o. Love you.”

“Yeah, love you too, you big lunk. And get your hair trimmed before you get split ends.”

[peppermintquartz]

After dispatching of Sami, Joe storms back to the locker room. The rest of the crew and other wrestlers hop out of his way, lest he takes offense at the way they look at him. When he gets to his bags, he hears the telltale buzzing of his phone, and rolls his eyes. Fishing it out, he barks, “Yeah?”

“You looked scary out there,” Roman says on the other end. He sounds like he’s somewhere busy. 

“I’m always scary. Where the hell are you?”

“Getting dinner.” There’s some pleasantries exchanged with someone away from the phone, and Joe waits until he hears a car door slam. Roman puts him on speaker. “I got us some chicken. You want me to pick up anything else?”

Joe snorts. “Don’t mother-hen me. Also, you shouldn’t be talking on the phone while driving. How did you watch the show while you’re out there anyway?”

“There was a TV in the restaurant. So am I your ‘sweet baby angel’?”

“In your dreams, Reigns.” Joe can’t help a small smirk. “You’re a fucking nuisance is what you are.”

“I’m now your fucking nuisance,” Roman retorts, and laughs, a surprisingly sweet sound. He adds, “See you later, Daddy-o.”

Joe laughs as well, charmed despite himself. “I didn’t think we’re at the point where you call me Daddy, but I’ll take it. See you later.”

There’s a scoff at the door of the locker room. Sami is there, holding his side. “Knew it.”

Joe raises an eyebrow. “You wanna go again, Zayn? Then shut up.”