Venom (Movie 2018)
Sinatra
Tag · 12 works
Works
Some results are potentially explicit
My Hero Academia
Ol'Green Eyes- A MHA Musical Fic
by El_Gordo3465
Izuku is the man of the hour! Enjoy reading his antics as he tries to adjust to life at the dorms while trying to keep his secret talent under wraps!Spoiler alert: He doesn't and ends up in the most spectacular way.TO BE REDONE: Im glad folks love it but recently I realized I could've done better, this is going to be done from scratch and posted later. I'll keep this up to remind me of my mistakes and work off them for the final draft.I'm also working on another project (a collab) and will post it here as well! Until then! adios!
Once Upon a Time (TV)
Witchcraft
by backupjunk
A fluffy little AU one-shot about Belle's 21st birthday party. She's the heir to her father's successful production company, and Robert Gold came to celebrate with everyone else.
Spider-Man: Spider-Verse (Sony Animated Movies)
Fly Me to the Moon
by sabcandoit
Reader catches Peter singing while his folding laundry :)
Community (TV)
The Way You Look Tonight
by itslikegodspilledaperson
Set after the events of my first fic, this next part in my ongoing series takes place at a Girls Night in a karaoke bar. Annie, Britta, Rachel, and Shirley enjoy galentines day over some drinks and bad renditions of classic pop songs. But little does Annie know, a wall is all that separates her from her boyfriend who is supposedly out with Duncan. Mostly from Jeff/Annie's perspective but Abed, Troy, and Britta get brief POVs too. Title derived from the Frank Sinatra song of the same name. First part found here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/3523049/chapters/7748336
Fallout: New Vegas+1
A potentially explicit work
Star Wars+2
A potentially explicit work
Trophy Wife (TV)
It Feels Like Home
by aerosmiley219
After a long day at work, Pete comes home to find Kate attempting to teach Warren to dance. Pete and Kate share a sweet moment. (Warning! It's pure fluff and can be painfully sweet...) (Written for a friend who *loves* the idea of Bradley Whitford dancing. No smut is new to me so I hope I didn't disappoint!)
Star Wars Prequel Trilogy+1
Star Wars - LoveThemFiercely - Of Bounty Hunters and Ballads, Legends and Lullabies: A First Order Karaoke Crackfic
by LoveThemFiercely
Poe Dameron has been sent to infiltrate a very important strategic meeting of the First Order. Why it's in a karaoke bar, he has no idea, but the information was good. Totally. Right? Of Bounty Hunters and Ballads, Legends and Lullabies: A First Order Karaoke Crackfic **Author's Note:** * For [flypaper_brain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flypaper_brain/gifts), [QueenOfCarrotFlowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfCarrotFlowers/gifts). > So, this is crack. You have been advised. This is utter crackfic. Author shall neither properly explain nor be sorry. Written for April's Pillowfort Rarepairs Challenge, pairing Dopheld Mitaka and Poe Dameron, prompt "include Ezra Bridger". This did NOT seem like the kind of place the First Order would choose for any kind of planning or strategy session, secret or otherwise. But the little Toydarian had sworn up and down that “oh yes, meetings, very regular, very hush-hush, must be something imPORtant”, and he’d very badly wanted the engine parts and fuel that Poe had been carrying; badly enough that there had been a distinct whine to his voice as he babbled about his cousin and some bar and music and...something about scones? And Batuu. Of *course* it was kriffing Batuu. Everyone and their sister eventually did business in this place Poe shrugged, staring at the unassuming mud-brick building from the roof of the building across the street while he thoughtfully chewed on a ration bar. Even bad intelligence gave you more information than you’d had before; sometimes you had to go through a thousand places NOT to find what you wanted before you found it. The meet was tonight, according to Naggi; seemed like a weird choice, but then Poe wasn’t one of the crazed overlords of an organization determined to grind the galaxy into the dirt. How their minds worked was a mystery. Naggi said his cousin had told him they met here all the time. Wings nervously fluttering, he’d begged Poe not to say where he’d got the information, that Ren would crush his poor cousin under his boot, or General Hux would have Phasma cut him in half before he could blink twice. That only really served to underscore the possibility that this was good information. Poe easily promised not to tell anyone; it didn’t really matter where he’d learned about this, and he didn’t want to be the cause of some poor random little bastard being bisected. There was only so much weight you could carry, really. He’d done a little reconnaissance. Apparently tonight was Karaoke Masquerade, a weekly occurrence. There were posters, old enough to be faded. **Dress As Your Favorite Famous Person** , **Get Away From Your Troubles and Sing** , **Your Friends Will Never Know** , they said. Maybe they were counting on that as a distraction from their clandestine weapons planning or strategy session? As a cover, Poe had heard worse ideas. Force, he’d _participated_ in worse ideas; worming (ha!) his way into the good graces of a Hutt female came to mind. He shuddered. That had been a _terrible_ idea. A little singing in a good cause was nothing compared to that; and Poe was willing to admit that he’d probably enjoy the hell out of it. And “masquerade” meant disguise would be mandatory; he’d just have to be careful about his options. A few minutes’ thought, tapping the barrel of his blaster against his chin (a bad habit, that, or so General Organa had told him) and he knew exactly what he needed to do. He and Snap had spent hours, like you did, sitting around the base bored out of their minds between the pinpoints of nova-bright action, playing sabacc and talking, and somewhere in there Wexley had told him about the bounty hunter who’d broken his mother out of her imprisonment in the Jakku Observatory. Dengar was an old-school hunter, the sort most considered a relic of a bygone age; evidently he’d said so himself on a few occasions. He’d been one of the hunters Jabba had sent after General Solo himself; not that he’d caught him, mind you, or been involved in the Sarlacc-ridden mess of a rescue that had followed. Famous enough that dressing like him wouldn’t be noticeably odd, obscure enough that he wouldn’t draw attention; and as a bonus, he’d tooled around in enough armor, cloth, and head-wrappings that nobody was going to recognize Poe. Which was good, since the last thing he needed was the First Order’s concentrated attention. Brow furrowed, Poe contemplated what he’d need. You could get just about anything in this place, for a price. Old-style stormtrooper armor plates, some paint, robes with enough cloth to outfit an entire platoon of overdramatic desert-dwellers, and a headscarf. Shouldn’t be a problem. And a song; he’d need one of those. That definitely wasn’t a problem, he had plenty of songs. Ideally he’d just need the one, to look like he was there for the same reason as most people, before he could sneak away to see what exactly it was the First Order brass were trying to accomplish in this weird little karaoke bar-slash-coffeehouse. A few hours later, Poe was swaggering into the place like he imagined Dengar himself would have done. He smelled a little like fresh paint, but otherwise the outfit was perfect, at least he thought so based on his thirdhand recollection of Snap’s secondhand retelling of his mother’s encounter. He’d swaddled himself in white robes, overlaid with armor plating clearly lifted from some stormtrooper of his parents’ day that he’d painted in a green/brown/gold camouflage that would be functionally useless on this planet, but whatever. As the crowning touch, so to speak, he’d wound the scarf-bandages around and around his head, hiding everything but his eyes and mouth. He didn’t even have to hide the blaster at his hip; frankly, seeing someone without a weapon around here was less likely than seeing them without pants. Poe dropped himself into a seat. There was plenty of drink to be had, but he needed to stay sharp, so he ordered himself some caf and a snack. Hey, he was hungry; ration bars just didn’t hit the spot like they should, and once he’d spotted scones with koyo-fruit on the menu, well, that was a treat from home too tempting to resist. A look around showed a pretty good crowd, dressed as all sorts of fanciful versions of the heroes and villains of various eras, a scattering from Poe’s own childhood but mostly farther back during the Clone Wars. There was someone dressed in the costumes the Hutts used for their slaves; in fact--oh, no, nope, he was not looking, he could *feel* General Organa’s death glare from here, across years and memory and the Force itself, nope, NOT looking. There was a whole table of faux Gungans, that was a nice trick, must have taken some planning, and a Wookiee that definitely wasn’t. Stars, he was sweating enough in this getup as it was, he couldn’t imagine the dedication required for that particular masquerade. A few Clone troopers sat stiffly in their armor; he wasn’t going to question anyone else’s choices (okay, yes he was), but how exactly were they going to sing in those helmets? Wait, there was definitely a theme here. What in the… Poe picked up a discarded flyer from the next table. Theme of the week: **Rebel Heroes Of The Clone Wars!** Well, Bantha dung, a hole in his research, and here he’d been trying be inconspicuous. The sound of muttered squabbling drew his attention to a table in the back. One of them was dressed as...was that Qui-Gon Jinn? It was, and impressive; from what Poe could see they had the height for it, though he suspected the beard was fake. Nice wig, though. Sitting next to the tall, broad-shouldered Jedi was...well, Poe wasn’t sure this table had actually gotten the point of the theme. That was Darth Vader. A bit odd both chronologically and ideologically, but whatever made them happy. Next to Vader was, Force, General Grievous, which made even less sense, but honestly was a truly impressive feat of costuming; whoever was under there had somehow rigged it so that the extra limbs moved along with what must be their real arms, and had achieved the sort of wasp-waisted physique that shouldn’t be possible unless you were mostly not made of people.
Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
I’m a fool to want you
by Zoesiapie
It hurts to understand you so much more than others and not be able to tell the world inside - do you see how silly it is to want you? Because the world doesn't have to know that you walk into a classroom for me in the middle of the night and smile, and it doesn't have to know that when you do, you make me feel special. It doesn't need to know that you're the only thing I want, the only thing that keeps me grounded. That you're the only thing and that's it.