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Ask: I love analyzing character, plot, storytelling methods, so if you ever want to talk about those things, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me! I also love hearing other people’s ideas so please, share those as well!
A03: Here is the link to my AO3 account. I have a lot of stories with OCs there if you like reading those. I’ve just started getting into writing the Reader stories.
Tag List: Sign up for your favorite characters here!
Fic Fests:
October 2022 Fic Fest
**All stories are Fem!Reader and are explicit
Dustland Fairytale - Complete
Mariposa - Complete
Pura Vida (An Alternate Ending to Mariposa) - Complete
Los Regalos - Ongoing series
La Chaparrita - Ongoing Series
After We Fall - Ongoing Series
By Land, Sea, and Air - Ongoing Series
How To… - Ongoing Series
The IT Series - Ongoing Series
The Penny Series - Ongoing Series
The Tremont Tempest - Ongoing Series
The Dog - Ongoing Series
The Lens - Ongoing Series
Sacrifice - Complete
Oneshots for Sacrifice:
Otherworldly
Ghastly
La Finca - Ongoing Series
Eldritch - Complete
The Florist - Complete
The Community Universe (in collaboration with @bullet-prooflove)
The Medic Series (Coco Cruz x OFC! Morgan Fox)
The Preacher’s Wife Series (Hank Loza x OFC! Maggie Fox)
The Gin Blossom Series (Gilly Lopez x Reader)
Stand Alones:
Vanishing Act (Kevin Jimenez x Fem!Reader)
Dog Days are Over (Chibs Telford x Fem!Reader)
Strings (Les Packer x Fem!Reader)
The Drowning Kind (Sean Renard x Fem!Reader)
The Seasons Series:
The Fall Series (Porthos x OFC Reader)
The Winter Series (Aramis x OFC Reader)
The Spring Series (Athos x OFC Reader)
The Summer Series (Treville x OFC Reader)
Boss Mare Series (Jamie Dutton x OFC reader)
The Hare (Richard “Ritchie” Jerimovich x OFC reader)
The current discourse around my work at the moment is exhausting. From the Anons that popped up yesterday to the ones that were in my inbox this morning that I’ve deleted because I just can’t be bothered to sit there and argue the toss with them. There have even been a few little snotty comments left on a fic or two that I’ve seen in the notifications before the author of such comments has blocked me.
It really is becoming the wild west out there and it’s really fucking disheartening because all I wanna do is write about these fictional characters that entice me but I can feel that light fucking dying inside of me because fandom has become such a negative space.
It’s a really shitty place to be in right now because people don’t understand there are consequences to their actions, they just want to give you an opinion that no one has asked for. And that’s great for them because they get their issue off their chest but it’s not great for the writer that’s being bombarded by bullshit.
I like to think of myself as having a thick skin but I don’t know… today it feels like it’s getting to me and I can’t tell if it’s because I’m in a shitty mood or if it’s because I’m getting to the point where I’ve kinda had enough.
This right here is why I take frequent breaks from writing fic. I know I write things that break the rules, like naming reader characters sometimes. And I know someone is going to have a problem with it and speak their piece. And it wrecks my nerves. I start to worry about it and that affects the joy that comes from writing. Then I start writing for others, trying to make sure I'm writing something that everyone will like, that will cover all the bases of inclusivity, and suddenly I'm no longer writing for myself; I'm writing for the critics. It's not worth it. So I take a break, step back, and when my anxiety settles and I feel stronger mentally, then I come back to the fic writing.
So if you're new to fandom and reading fan fic, I would encourage you to stick to the golden rule of, if you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all. If you don't like what you're reading, close the tab and find something else. The world has enough going on in it right now that the little bit of joy we find in writing shouldn't be taken away because someone doesn't like a named reader in a fan fic story. There are much bigger things to go to war over today. Leave the fic writers alone.
I can't believe it but my debut novella is going to be published this month, 12/30/25!! You can find it on Kindle Unlimited or even purchase a hardcopy (they are very thin though!).
And if you haven't read Donna Costello's three novellas before this one, check those out as well! They are awesome!!!
The Happy Meemaw Podcast Episode: Writing With Partners
The Happy Meemaw · Episode
It was an absolute honour to be back on Jeron's podcast @thehappymeemaw discussing the Outlaw Royales series!
Hear both me and @the-hinky-panda chat about what it’s like writing a series together and what’s in those weird, random voice messages I leave for Lara to wake up to!
Ahhh! My first ever podcast! Thank you so much to Jeron who invited me onto her show to talk about writing with @bullet-prooflove! She runs a lovely podcast so I definitely encourage you to listen to her other podcasts as well!
Things are moving right along with Queen of Diamonds! This is my debut short MC romance that's book four in the Outlaw Royales series with the fantastic @bullet-prooflove! Just a little sneak peek of what you can expect.
Hey guys!! I know I've been quiet on the fan fic front but that's because I've been working on my first published short romance book! As most of you know, @bullet-prooflove and I are writing a series, The Outlaw Royales, and my book is quickly approaching the line in the publishing dates! If you want, you can follow me over on Instagram for more book and series updates!
A few people have asked about obtaining paperback copies of The Outlaw Royles series so I decided to trial it out. They’re quite thin because they’re only ten thousand wordsish but I actually quite like the look of them.
Each of the paperbacks has an additional short story related to the characters in the book. These stories are also available for ebook readers as a clickable link.
Due to the nature of Amazon’s pre-order process you can only buy the paperbacks on the day of release and afterwards. You can’t pre-order them the way you can with an ebook.
When the books go live I will post a paperback link for those that want to order them. They’ll be going out at $5 per book on Amazon.
So if you follow @bullet-prooflove, you have heard of the Outlaw Royales Short Romance stories that she and I are working on together. She's writing six of the stories, I will be writing four of them. I am super excited about this opportunity and if you want to join in on the excitement, keep following me here on tumblr or over on instagram at Lara Cook.
And I do want to say a heartfelt thank you to all of my followers for sticking with me through all the ups and downs and fandoms. I feel honored by every follow, like, comment, and message. Thank you so much for the support and encouragement through the years! I would not feel ready enough to go out on this venture without you guys!
Inspired by a comment from the lovely @miraclesabound
Summary: John and you take some time to connect.
Companion piece to:
Below Deck - There's only one place that Walker calls home these days...
John’s version of heaven is a small Maine coastal town. It’s living on a boat called Neptune’s Daughter with a woman that puts his super soldier serum to the test with her insatiable desire for him. He’s never met a anyone who has been able to keep up with him the way that you do, who leaves him fucked out and spent in the sheets after spending hours ruining him.
That would have been the first clue there was something different about you if Valentina hadn’t already told him about your ‘heritage’.
You have a lot in common, you and him. Both disappointments to the legacies that were thrust upon you, both cast out by the very entities that made you. He’d found a kindred spirit when he’d been sent to locate you. A lover, a friend, a goddess. All falling exactly in that order.
None of that matters right now, what does matter is the fact he’s in the cabin you share, his calloused palms chasing over the tattoos on your back. Your flesh is a rich tapestry of both minimalist and geometric art depicting the sea, the moon and the stars. He spends hours tracing over every single one of them when you fall asleep tucked against him, his fingertips trailing over the story etched into your skin.
Your thighs straddle his hips, drawing him deeper as you bite his lower lip. The pain mingles with the pleasure as your hands thread through his hair, tugging the gold strands, hard. He surges up into you as the ecstasy erupts underneath the surface of his skin, his balls tightening as your ragged breath echoes through the cabin along with his guttural grunts.
That pretty apricot flush blossoms across your cheeks, your cunt gripping his dick so hard that he sees stars as he tumbles you back into the sheets, gaining the upper hand. He grasps your thighs, fingers digging into the flesh as he hitches them even higher up his waist, plunging harder, faster into your core.
This position, it hits different, it always does.
Your head tips back into the pillow, your nails clawing at his shoulders as you combust underneath him like the prettiest damn star exploding into existence. His mouth covers yours, drowning out his own strangled cry as you send him hurtling over the edge with you straight into the rapture. He erupts inside you in hot white spurts, his hips stuttering as you wring every single ounce drop of pleasure right out of him.
“You are certainly worth waiting for John Walker.” You tell him as his thumb traces over the blush of your cheek. Your fingertips chase over his rugged beard as you smile against his mouth, your kisses tender and lingering.
He sinks into the mattress alongside you, his muscular arm wrapping around your shoulders, gathering you to him. Your legs entwine with his as you drape yourself across his chest like a weighted blanket. The boat rocks gently from side to side and he can feel himself starting to drift off as he listens to the sound of the water lapping against the hull.
He wakes up alone a couple of hours later, his face pressed into your pillow, the soft floral scent of cedarwood and lily of the valley flooding his senses. The rest of the cabin is shrouded in darkness, the only glow coming from the fairy lights you’ve fixed to the ceiling above the bed. He picks up the low thrum of the ships engine, the splash of the water as the boat navigates through the darkness and he huffs a laugh into your pillow.
This isn’t the first time you’ve kidnapped him, he actually quite enjoys these late night excursions into the middle of the ocean. You’re a gifted sailor and tremendous navigator even if you do drive the harbourmaster demented with your antics.
He doesn’t bother to get dressed, instead he wraps the sheet around his waist before he heads above deck. The boat stops before he gets there, the anchor lowering as he climbs the stairs.
The sky, it’s ablaze with colour, hues of green, violet and pink clash together amidst the stars, contrasting against the darkness.
The Northern Lights, he realises.
In town it often appears like a faint splash of light but out here, it’s the closest you can get to heaven on earth.
He spies you by the bow, leaning against the metal railing that separates you from the torrid water below. Your hair is loose, tumbling around your shoulders in the cool, nightly air. You’re wearing the white cable knit sweater from his footlocker at the base of the bed and a pair of leggings.
He comes to stand behind you, folding you up in the sheets as he draws you back against his chest. You sigh contently as you lean into him, his body heat warming you through the sweater. He’s always run hot since he took the serum, it’s like sleeping with a furnace in the winter, you always tease him.
“I just wanted to remind you of what’s waiting here for you.” You say softly as his grizzled cheek rubs affectionately against yours. “No matter what happens I’ll still be here and so will this. You’ll still have a home here with me.”
He realises then that you know about New York, about the New Avengers. He’s spent the entire drive trying to find a way to break it to you, that his life is about to change, that he needs to be more present but you’d known long before he stepped onto your boat. These visits they’ll be few and far between now because he doesn’t have missions anymore, he has a cause, one that requires him to be back out on the front line.
He expected it to end after this, for you to tell him you didn’t sign up for a man who about to give you less of himself than you already had. He should have known it wasn’t in your nature.
“I thought you’d leave me.” He admits, his voice raw with emotion. “I thought you’d decide I wasn’t worth the trouble.”
“No.” You say as you tilt your head up towards him, your eyes sparkling with mirth. “I happen to like your particular brand of trouble.”
He smiles then, his nose nudging against yours. “The two of us, we’re written in the stars aren’t we?”
“Oh John.” You whisper as the Aurora Borealis glimmers above you. “You really do have no idea.”
Love John? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.
Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won’t be added.
Summary: Bob can't help can't help but wonder what happened to you.
When Bob was on meth, you used to fuck.
The two of you would share a little crystal at a party and then shit would really get wild. He’s talking headboard banging against the wall, breaking the bed kind of crazy which is why the two of you had ended up sleeping on a mattress on the floor when you’d eventually stop tweaking two days later. He’d wake up fucked out, dehydrated and with the pieces of his clock radio scattered around him because the thing about tweakers? They love to take shit apart.
Those times he crashed, they were the times he became immersed The Void, where he didn’t feed himself, didn’t clean himself. The only thing that would make him feel better was the meth, and after a while even that wasn’t enough.
He needed something stronger and you were trying to get yourself clean.
It’s why he left you behind and took off to Asia.
It was for the best he told himself because he had no intention of stopping, he was always looking for the next high to counteract the crippling low.
In the months after his release from the O.X.E Vault he dreams about you frequently, the girl with the crooked smile, the one that used to help wash him after a three day bender, who used too feed him soup because his insides were cramping and he was too fucked up to consume anything else. He wonders if you ever did get clean, or if you ended up dead in a flophouse like so many of his other friends over the years.
Part of him wants to know and part of him doesn’t because the truth is your death, it might just be the thing that sends him hurtling back into The Void.
After all he’s the one that got you hooked on meth, he’s the one that popped a couple of rocks into a pipe and offered it to the pretty girl sitting next to him.
He tells Yelina the story one night when he can’t sleep. The not knowing is killing him, he fears the knowing will kill him so he’s stuck like Schrodinger’s cat, trapped inside that box.
It’s a week later he finds himself outside a bookshop in Brooklyn, he’s been on the hunt for new literature and Yelina brings him here, to Bob’s Books. The edges of his mouth turn up at the name because he’s Bob and he’s here to buy books.
The shop has a forest green awning and the window is decorated with snowflakes just in time for Christmas. Warm light glows from within where a cat sits on the counter, staring back at him through the glass. His gaze flicks up to the bookseller, tucking a novel into a black and gold carrier bag as she smiles at a customer and his heart it just stops.
He looks to Yelina, who adjusts the periwinkle scarf he’s knitted for her underneath her chin. “Is that…”
“Yes.” She drawls, tucking her hands into her pockets and stamping her feet to ward off the cold. “I spoke to her yesterday. She says she named the shop after a friend who disappeared a long time ago. He used to read to her when she was ‘sick’.”
The way she says that word… he knows exactly the kind of sick she’s talking about. That time when you were going through withdrawal, when he bundled you up in his quilt, your trembling body tucked against him as he read from the pile of books he kept alongside the mattress to you to take your mind off the symptoms.
“She says that once he got her over the hurdle she was able to stay clean, get a fresh start here in New York. She opened this place a couple of years ago, she hosts book clubs, writing classes…”
“Oh.” He says because now he has all these emotions, all these feelings he doesn’t quite know what to do with. “She looks good… she looks…”
Words fail him because you finally look up from underneath those lowered lashes, your gaze meeting his. Your lips frame his name and he can hear the echo of your voice over all those years, those hitched breathes, the pretty sound you made at the height of the crescendo.
“I…” He hesitates before he looks to Yelina. “I should go in right? Say hi.”
“Yes.” She says gripping the handle of the door, pulling it open. “You should definitely do that.”
Love Bob? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.
Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won’t be added.
Summary: There's only one place that Walker calls home these days...
There’s a bouquet of daisies in John’s hand. Something hastily picked up from the gas station on his way back into town, along with the gum and the wet wipes he’d used to take a whore’s bath in the sink of the restroom.
The life of the US Agent, it’s been far from glamourous since his fall from grace.
He pops a stick of gum in his mouth, chewing it between his teeth before he gets back in the truck, setting the flowers down on the passenger seat. He grasps the rearview mirror, tilting it towards him. He still looks like shit, dark circles under his eyes, his beard growing in too long to be rugged. Usually he cleans up a little before returning home but this last mission…
Well after it all he wanted to do was see you, which is why he’s been driving for eight hours to a small town secreted away in wilds of Maine, to a boat that serves as home as well as a research vessel for a certain marine biologist.
Something in his chest loosens when the harbour comes into view, he can hear the crash of the waves, smell the rich salty air as he pulls in alongside the beaten up truck you use when you’re on land. He spits out the gum into one of the wet wipes, leaving it in the cup holder before scooping up the flowers and trying to finger comb his hair, a gold lock falls over his forehead and he sighs because he’d rather you see him at his best than the exhausted, broken man he feels like today.
He’s relieved to see your boat still moored at the dock you usually reside in, the fairy lights glistening from the end of the pier. He thought you’d be long gone by now, sailing around some of the more isolated islands conducting your seal pup studies. He’d been prepared to bribe the harbour master to get a read on your location so he could follow you out there.
He can already hear the music playing from the small battery powered radio you have perched on the blue cooler alongside your bare feet as he walks towards the boat. You’re sitting on the deck in one of the canvas chairs, sketching something out on the red Moleskine notepad he bought you for your birthday. Your wearing a pair of denim cut off shorts and a navy blue t-shirt, a size too big that you got from the gift shop when you first sailed into town a couple of years ago.
“Ahoy there.” He calls out as he stands on the wooden dock, flowers clutched in his hand. “Permission to come aboard?”
Your head tips up towards him, the edges of your mouth turning up into a smile as you jerk your chin towards the deck. “Get your ass up here Walker.”
He does as he’s told as you pick up another water colour pencil from the artists wrap resting on the wooden foldaway table propped up alongside you. It’s an orange one this time, the perfect shade for the beak of the puffin that you’ve drawn onto the page. John’s palm comes to rest on your shoulder as he looks down at the image, his thumb trailing over the back of your neck as he takes in the burrow that surrounds it. It must be breeding season which makes him realise just how long he’s been gone this time around.
Months, not the weeks he promised you.
“I got these for you.” He says, setting the daisies down on the cooler alongside your feet. “They don’t make up for the length of time I’ve been-”
“John…” You say raising to your feet. He freezes as you approach him, your fingers hooking in the belt loops of his jeans as you draw him against your body. You fit perfectly against him, as if you were always meant to be together, your soft curves against his hard planes. Your fingertips ghost along his jaw, caressing the ruddy gold of his beard his until his cheek is cradled in your palm, his lips perilously close.
“Stop punishing yourself.” You whisper, your mouth grazing his and his breath hitches at the softness, at the taste of raspberry cider on your lips. “And show me why you came back here in the first place.”
His restraint snaps, his hands tangling in your hair as he kisses you like it might just be his last. His tongue teases open the seam of your mouth, dipping inside, teasing your own as you raise upon tiptoes so he can feel your core pressing urgently against his hard cock. He moans at the sensation, his palms slipping down to your ass, kneading it as he ruts against you.
An airhorn sounds, the harbourmaster reminding you of what happened the last time the two of you got a little hot and heavy on your deck. You flash him the middle finger and it sounds again.
“Downstairs?” John asks, his heart thundering against yours as your fingers lace at the nape of his neck.
“Yeah.” You whisper, your forehead coming to rest against his. “Harbourmaster’s rules. All naked shenanigans must now take place below deck.”
He huffs a laugh before he kisses you again, walking you back towards the ladder.
“Alright sweetheart.” He murmurs as you begin to unfasten the buttons of his plaid shirt. “Let’s take this below deck.”
Love John? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.
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I've had a few people ask if the books in my Outlaw Royales series are going to be released in paperback.
Intially my answer was no because each of the books is a short read (10k) words so I felt as physical books people wouldn't feel that they were getting a lot for their money.
However after quite a few people asking I took a tour on Kindle Publisher to review the pricing to see how this could work. I did a mock up paperback and this is what we ended up with:
The thing is due to the amount of pages which would be around 52, if I added the book magnet short story too. You wouldn't get a proper spine, so on your book shelf it would just be a black line without the book title. For Amazon to allow you to have a spine title it has to be 74 pages or over.
On the price point it worked out that I'd be able to charge around $5 per physical book.
So my question is, taking all this into account is a physical copy of the book something that you guys would want available for yourselves?
One of the coolest parts about being a fan of fanfic is you can actually contact the author. And they will respond. And then you can message them nonstop until they allow you into their lives and then you’re becoming their beta reader and suddenly you know multiple authors of all types of fiction books and fanfic authors who will drag out their deleted fics for you to read at a moments notice.
Anyway. Comment on fics and message authors. It’s absolutely worth it.
