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#rob gronkowski
hot-sweaty-jocks · 9 months
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🏈NFL Summer Vibes☀️
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malestarssockedfeet · 5 months
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fishing4stars · 12 days
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Shipping up to Boston, a Dwarf Story
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Words: 2,473
Characters: Thorin's Company & gender neutral Reader
Ships: None, this is gen and purely for humor
Warnings: Curse words (many, it's Boston)
Summary: St. Patrick’s Day in Boston (Massachusetts, USA) is the rowdiest, drunkest holiday imaginable. You have always hated it. But when twelve dwarves and a hobbit appear in your kitchen looking for an escort to the parade, can they change your mind?
(If you prefer Ao3, there is a link in my masterlist. I'd love to hear about it if you enjoyed!) Dividers source post.
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Boston, Massachusetts, USA: Saturday, March 16, 2019
On your way to bed, you check your calendar one last time to remind yourself what you need to do in the morning.
“Oh, shit. Right,” you grumble to yourself. Tomorrow is St. Patrick’s Day.
Since you moved to Boston for school, you’d learned to dread St. Patrick’s Day. What was the big deal with this holiday, seriously? Suddenly everybody and their Uber driver was Irish. You realized with dread that you had to go into the city tomorrow for a job interview. Why the hell was it scheduled for St. Patrick’s Day?
“Fuck me,” you growled. You went to bed feeling stubborn and grouchy. Nobody on this earth could make you like St. Patrick’s Day.
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You woke to the sound of your alarm beeping and rolled out of bed with a groan. Well, there was one good thing about today, you thought: your roommate was still out of town. Nice.
Still in an oversized T shirt and your underwear, you walked to your bathroom, rubbing your bleary eyes. On the way back to your bedroom, you heard a voice coming from your kitchen. What the fuck!? You ran into your bedroom, totally freaking out.
“Uhm, excuse me?” a voice called out politely. “Are we in the right place?”
Ok that didn’t sound like a burglar or something worse. You hurried to pull on a shirt and jeans. You almost put your red sweatshirt on but remembered: do not wear red in Boston today. You found a mostly clean black and green plaid flannel and threw it on.
Still in your socks, you crept down your hallway. You had your pepper spray in your hand, just in case. When you rounded the corner, you were astonished at what you saw.
There, in your grubby little apartment kitchen, were twelve dwarves and a hobbit. The twelve dwarves and hobbit. What the actual fuck.
“Pardon us, but we were told you could assist us,” Thorin Oakenshield said to you. “We are looking for St. Patrick.”
“Uhm…….” You were too dumbfounded to speak.
“This is you, right?” Balin asked, handing you piece of paper with your name and address on it in a curling script.
“Well, yes,” you answered.
“We were told you could help us find St. Patrick,” the old dwarf informed you. You continued to look at them all with your mouth open, speechless.
“This is a waste of time, I told you,” Dwalin growled.
“I have so many questions,” you said under your breath. “St. Patrick has been dead for hundreds of years, sorry. Are you looking for the St. Patrick’s Day parade, maybe?”
“A parade!” shouted Kili, excited. “Nobody said anything about a parade.”
“Has someone won a battle?” Gloin demanded to know.
“No, it’s just that today is a holiday. St. Patrick’s Day,” you explained.
“That must be it then,” Thorin said to his company.
“I love a holiday,” said Ori. “Will there be a party?”
“With music?” asked Nori.
“And food?” asked Bombur.
“And drinking?” asked Bofur.
“Yes, ok. There is going to be a big party with lots of music and food and drinking and so, so many people, and a parade,” you shuddered. “I have to go into the city today for a job interview, so I’ll have to go past it anyway. You can come with me if you want.”
Bilbo had a look of disgust on his face.
“Or we could not,” he suggested to his company. But the dwarves were excited. This sounded like their kind of day. They were all in. You agreed with Bilbo.
“What is a ‘job interview’” asked Dori.
“I have to get dressed up like I’m an actual professional person and meet with some people to convince them they want to pay me money to do a job,” you explained.
“Is that fun?” asked Fili.
“No, not really,” you said. “But I need the job, so I really do need to convince them.”
“Show us what you will wear to impress these employers. You must look ferocious. Have you shined your best axe for the occasion?” Dori suggested. If you were going to help them, no reason they couldn’t help you, he thought.
“Uh, sure. Here, I’ll make you all a pot of coffee. Then I have to get dressed and we can take the T into town” you said. This was the strangest day of your fucking life. But you did want that summer job.
“I’m confused,” said Bilbo. “Are you making coffee or tea?”
“No, not ‘tea’. The ‘T’ – look I’ll explain when we get there, ok? I’m going to be late,” you said, rushing through the motions of making coffee. When the dwarves were settled in your kitchen, drinking coffee and destroying your toaster, you ran back to your room.
“I would have preferred tea,” Bilbo mumbled under his breath.
You rushed into your room and threw your interview clothes on. You always wore the same thing. It was easier not to have to think about it. When you returned to the kitchen the dwarves all started talking over each other with opinions about your outfit.
“No, no, no,” Dori finally said and marched you back to your room, followed by Thorin. They proceeded to pick through your entire closet and make you try on different clothes until they were satisfied. Dori made you sit on the bed so he could fix your hair.
“That is better,” Thorin boomed. “Now you will impress these ‘interviewers’ with your attractiveness.”
“Oh thanks,” you said, feeling your face get hot.
Finally ready, you herded the company out onto to Comm Ave to catch the Green Line trolley. Dammit, you thought. I hope I have enough money on my Charlie Card to get them all on the train. You tried to remember what your balance was – you just topped it, it would probably be fine.
Finally the trolley arrived, screeching to a halt at the junction of Harvard Avenue and Commonwealth Avenue.
“That vehicle has not been oiled properly,” Oin shouted. “Even I can hear that. Who is responsible for maintaining this carriage?”
“Huh, tell it to the mayor,” you replied sarcastically.
“Where should we find the mayor?” Balin replied, entirely serious.
“Oh my god. Actually, you shouldn’t go tell the mayor. You have a parade to go to, right?” you said as you herded the dwarves onto the trolley. You gave the driver an apologetic look as you tapped your Charlie Card fourteen times and finally stepped in. Phew, there was enough. Just.
The dwarves were talking loudly and asking you a million questions about the parade and the train and the mayor. The first few times the train stopped, they all bumped into each other and fell over in a tangle on the floor.
Once they got the idea, as soon as the digital voice called out the name of the next stop, Thorin would shout “Brace!”. All the dwarves would grab onto poles, seats, or each other and widen their stances as if they were about to kick the shit out of someone.
You looked around the car, embarrassed. It was starting to get really full.
“Hey, let’s all stand in the back so we don’t lose each other in this crowd, ok?” you suggested, giving the other riders a sheepish look.
Ori was looking over the shoulder of someone knitting in a seat. “What are you working on? I love those cables,” he said. He started chatting with the knitter, totally engrossed.
As you approached Fenway, you realized why there was such a crush on the train.
“Goddamnit,” you groaned. Everyone was gearing up for the Red Sox game. This was the worst possible day to have to go somewhere in Boston.
The dwarves were excited when the trolley went underground. They were all shouting out their opinions to you about how excellent this train system was. Thorin wanted one in Erebor when they got it back. But he planned up maintaining it properly, he noted.
As the doors closed in Fenway Station, someone turned up their phone speaker and started blasting Sweet Caroline, which of course everyone had to start singing along to. It was the famous Sox song, and it was today, so everyone was already buzzed even though it was lunchtime.
“What is this song?” Bofur asked. “I love it! SWEEEEEEET CAROLINE BAH BAH BAH,” he shouted along with the crowd. Soon all the dwarves were joining in. Even Dwalin participated, although the look he was giving suggested he wanted to murder sweet Caroline.
“I want to meet Caroline!” Kili told you enthusiastically when the song was over.
“Great, I hope you do that,” you told him. You were tired of explaining pointless things to them.
Bilbo looked uncomfortable. “Is this a good place to stand?” he asked you nervously, hemmed in among all the taller people.
“There isn’t really a good place to stand anywhere in the city of Boston on St. Patrick’s Day,” you grumbled.
You caught the eye of a curious looking student sitting near you and gestured at Bilbo, whose face was perilously close to someone’s crotch. The student graciously offered Bilbo their seat. The hobbit sat there with his arms crossed, bare feet dangling off the chair.
Finally – thank God – the train arrived at Park Station. You had to keep going on to South Station, so you explained the layout of the park and the parade and were about to wish them well and try to clear your head to go to this job interview. But just before you arrived at the station, Thorin cut in.
“How will we know if you succeeded in your job interview?” he asked, very seriously.
“Don’t worry about it?” you replied. But that was really sweet. “It would be hard to find each other after this. You don’t have a phone or anything, so I think this is it for us.”
“Oh, is this a phone?” asked Balin. He pulled out a cell phone. “They gave it to us when we arrived and said we might need it.”
“What? Who?” you started to ask, but you were almost at Park Street. “Here, text me and we can meet up later,” you said, punching your number into the phone and showing them how texting worked.
“You will surely defeat your interviewers, you are mighty!” Thorin called back to you as the dwarves pushed their way off the train.
You went to your job interview in a very weird state of mind. You were so baffled by what had happened that you forgot to be nervous. As you left, one of the interviewers stopped and shook your hand a second time.
“It was really great to meet you,” they said. “You’ll be hearing from us.”
Hell yes! That sounded awesome! You left feeling fantastic and texted the dwarves.
       You:  where R U
       Dwarf Phone: we r at a party
       You: ok where?
       Dwarf Phone: with the King of Boston
What the fuck? The King of Boston?
Three dots appeared under your chat. Something was loading. Suddenly a picture appeared with Thorin posing majestically in a club with… holy fucking shit. They were partying with Rob Gronkowski.
Somehow they figured out how to text you the address. Within an hour you found yourself at a batshit insane party with half of the Patriots players. You waded in where the dwarves were drinking and dancing, all wearing bright green and gold leprechaun hats. Bifur’s was hanging perilously off the axe in his head.
“We found the traditional holiday attire!” Bofur told you, putting a hat on your head. You had to laugh.
“How was your interview?” Dori screamed over the music.
“I think it was good, actually! Thanks for fixing my outfit,” you shouted back.
“Pound it!” Kili shouted at you, offering you a fist. “I love this gesture. We are keeping this gesture!”
You laughed and pounded his fist back. Fili, Nori, and Bofur all wanted a fist bump too. What the hell, you felt great. Maybe you could get into this. Let’s party.
It was fun until you were out on the dance floor, buzzing and dancing with the dwarves, and Shipping up to Boston, the Dropkick Murphys song came on. Fuuuuck you hated how crazy everybody got around this song.
Everyone started screaming along with the heavy-metal-bagpipes-blasting banger that was playing. The dwarves loved it. You were feeling extremely claustrophobic out on the dance floor.
“Fuck I hate this,” you said to yourself, pushing a drunk Boston sports fan off you. Thorin saw you looking distinctly uncomfortable and began bulldozing his way through the crowd.
“To me!” he shouted at the other dwarves.
“To the king!” they screamed from various corners of the club.
Within a minute you found yourself surrounded by a protective dwarf circle that escorted you safely into the “Vee-Aye-Pee” section that Gronk had gotten them access to. Bilbo was sitting there with Ori, sipping beers and talking about the relative merits of different lace making techniques.
“Are you alright?” asked Bilbo as you sat down in a chair with a loud breath. “This holiday is wild. I don’t think I like it,” he said.
You looked back at the dwarves, who had resumed drinking and dancing – smashing tankards with the best of the Patriots and insane Boston frat bros. A bunch of the players appeared to be teaching the dwarves how to set up a defensive live. The enthusiasm with which Dwalin and Kili smashed themselves into the huge men twice their height was impressive. Thorin and Gronk were in a corner arm wrestling. You grinned.
“You know, Bilbo. I think I’m coming around to St. Patrick’s Day,” you said.
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You woke with a start to the sound of your alarm. You looked at your phone. Right. Now it was really St. Patrick’s Day. That had all just been a wild dream.
Still, you were smiling and laughing to yourself as you got dressed in the outfit you had dreamed Dori and Thorin helped you pick out.
You texted a couple of your school friends.
       You: guys what if this year we actually do St. Patty’s day Boston style?
       That friend from stats: hell yes
       That friend from persuasive writing: gotta do it once while we’re in Boston
       Yes, you thought. Yes, you do.
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The dwarves woke up in Mirkwood Forest, shaking their heads as they picked themselves up off the ground.
“The enchantment in this forest is strong,” Balin said seriously.
“Has anyone heard of Boston before?” Bofur asked. “I think I would like to visit it someday.”
“I dreamed about the great city of Boston, too!” Kili shouted.
“Me, too!” shouted Fili and Nori. The other dwarves were all nodding.
Strange enchantments indeed.
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furiouscrusadeavenue · 2 months
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mikegesicki · 7 months
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the foxb⁰ros with the grand salami (x).
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harveydrawsnsfw · 6 months
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Gronk
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bbfun55 · 1 year
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Thoroughly enjoying the NFL’s Swiftie era 😂
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zachbiller · 6 months
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this is so off topic, but thoughts on gronk? i LOVE him😋
He’s the himbo people want Nick and Travis to be
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hot-sweaty-jocks · 1 year
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☀️Beach Day☀️
Jules, Dola, Brady & Gronk
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hunksover40 · 1 year
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(via The Real Hunks of the Super Bowl)
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I love them your honor.
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mikegesicki · 1 year
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me:
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