#hank lawson x reader

[wild-lavender-rose]

So...I'm trying to empty my inbox (hence all the content lately) and I just finished writing a fluffy Hank Lawson fic. I have one more request I'm working on next, but I'm feeling very inspired to write for him and would love to have my inbox flooded with more inspiration for Hank and any Dr. Quinn characters in general. I know my fellow Hank lovers are far and few between, but if you happen to see this, lovelies, please send something my way!

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Captain Marvel: Part Eight

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: canon violence and angst

Author’s Note: For the sake of the rewrite, Howard and Maria Stark dies on December 16, 1997 instead of 1991. Tony is 23 when they die.

x

You leave her side and find the 'T' section for Tesseract. If they have knowledge about it, what else do they have about it? The box is pretty empty since there isn't a lot of information on it, but you go through it with a fine-tooth comb. The only thing they know is that it's a box with an insane amount of power that can create portals. They got it from Howard Stark after Steve went into the ice. They tried testing it as a weapon, but it had a mind of its own, so Dr. Lawson took over and used it for her light-speed tech.

You're about to put the box back when you notice something at the very bottom. Interdimensional Republic. That's the company Markus owned. There isn't much on the company except that when the Tesseract opened a portal, they saw that name on a huge building before the portal closed. You sigh in relief and put the box back knowing that Markus will never find this place... if he's even out there.

You leave Vers to keep researching while you walk into the hallway to give yourself a breather. You're alone for maybe ten minutes before the sound of shoes clicking on the glossy floor sounds. You look up and see a man in his fifties walking toward you. You make the mistake of looking him in the eyes as he passes by you, and he stops and walks back over to you.

"I recognize you."

"Excuse me?"

"1945. Your face is plastered all over the newspapers from that time, and you even have your own section in the Smithsonian. You fought with Captain America."

"I'm sorry, you must have the wrong person."

"Well, then you won't care if I tell the authorities you're here."

"No!" you say too quickly. "What do you want?"

"I'm here to give you an opportunity. SHIELD is made up of dicks who only care about money and the power they hold. If you want to do something good in this world, join my side." He takes out one of his business cards and hands it to you. "I could use someone like you."

The mysterious man walks off without another word, and you look at the card he gave you. Dr. Hank Pym with Pym Technologies. You're not sure what he's up to, but you already have a big problem on your hands. Still, you put the car in your pocket and head back inside the archive's room.

Vers is over by the phone on the wall with her wrist device attached to the wires like she did when you first landed on Earth.

"Vers, what are you doing?"

"The only way we can know for sure about what happened is to talk to Maria. We need to contact Yon-Rogg. He will know what to do."

"Why? We've already gotten so much progress here ourselves because he's not here to screw it up. Do you see what using your powers can do? He's trying to manipulate you like every other Kree does."

Vers is confused about who to believe and who to trust, but she goes ahead and makes contact with Yon-Rogg despite what you've said.

"I know Lawson was Kree," she says before he has a chance to say anything. "She was here on C-53 and died in a plane crash. Do you know anything about this?"

"I just discovered a mission report sent from C-53. There's only so much I'm cleared to tell you Vers and Y/N, but Lawson was an undercover Kree operative named Mar-Vell. She was working on a unique energy core and experimenting with tech that apparently could help us win the war."

"Does it say anything about me? Or us?" you ask.

"Anything about you two? No, of course not. Why would it?"

"I found evidence that I had a life here," Vers confesses.

"On C-53?" he stutters.

"Mar-Vell is who I see as the Supreme Intelligence. I knew her, and I knew her as Lawson."

"This sounds like Skrull simulation, Vers."

"No, don't try and spin this off as some twisted delusion of your own," you growl.

"I remember I was here!"

"Stop! Remember your training. Know your enemy. It could be you. Do not let your emotions undermine your judgment."

"Go to hell." You hang up the phone. "Do not listen to him, Vers. He's manipulating you!"

"Where's Fury?"

"He's probably lost or captured. Come on."

You two leave the records room and head for the stairs. Just upon reaching the landing, you hear voices coming from above. You pull Vers into you and cover her mouth with your hand to let her know to be quiet.

"Fury's colluding with the target."

"Then why did he call us in?" a man that sounds like Agent Coulson asks.

"All I know is that we take him in too. Dead or alive."

Fury might have called them in, but you can't leave him here to get captured by who he thought was on his team. You wait for the two men to leave before heading back to the archive's room. Inside is Fury and his director fighting each other. You don't think someone's boss will pull a gun on their employee, which can only mean that the director is a Skrull looking for you and Vers. Vers blasts the director away from Fury, and he looks grateful for the save. She blasts the ceiling to use as a quick escape, and this is where you come in. You grab both of them and fly them through the hole Vers made.

"You called them in?" you scold.

"My bad!"

You find the staircase and yank the door open only to see Agent Coulson with a gun pointed at you. Vers' fists glow orange, but you put a hand to her hand to stop her from hurting Phil. Fury and Coulson have a silent conversation with their eyes, and Fury begs him not to give you away.

"Coulson, do you have eyes on them?" an agent says from above.

He takes five seconds to speak.

"They're not down here. Let's try another floor."

You three pass him on your way down to the hangar where all the airplanes are. Vers grabs a long metal pole and shoves it through the handlebars so that if someone were to try to use the door from the other side, it won't open. Once she knows it's safe, she holds her hand out as if she expects something from Fury. When he makes no move to acknowledge her, she hits his arm and holds out her hand again.

"What?"

"Give me your communicator. You obviously can't be trusted with it."

Fury sighs and hands over his pager to her just as agents slam into the locked door next to you.

"Come on!" you urge.

There isn't much to hide behind, but you manage to hide behind some large boxes that are ready to be shipped out. Agents break the door down to get inside the large room, and you weigh your options of escaping this unharmed. Vers spots one of the planes that can be used as a quick escape, and she nudges you and Fury.

With a mutual agreement, you stay hidden as you make your way over to the plane. Vers got behind the wheel, Fury took the passenger seat, and you got in the seat behind Vers. She begins messing with the controls as if she knows what she's doing. If what her memories show is true, then flying something like this is second nature to her.

"Do you know how to fly this thing?" Fury asks.

"Uh... we'll see."

"That is a yes or no question," Fury gasps. 

Whatever Vers is doing is right because the engine roars to life and the doors close behind you. She pushes the lever forward which causes the plane to hover in the air.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Fury laughs.

When the agents below hear the plane take off, they start shooting at it aimlessly. It does nothing and allows Vers to fly out of the underground tarmac area, and over the open desert before gaining altitude very quickly. Suddenly, a small meow comes from the back of the plane where a meow shouldn't be. All three of you look back and see Goose pushed against a crate.

"We've got a stowaway," Fury says.

"Hang on, Goose."

Vers straightens the plane, allowing Goose to push off the crate and onto the ground. She happily walks over to Vers and jumps onto her lap, and your girlfriend moves her over to Fury.

"Who's a good kitty huh? Huh, Goose? Yes, that's right. Who's a good kitty, Goose? You're a good kitty," Fury coos.

Vers reaches into her pocket and takes out the photograph she stole of Wendy, Maria, and her in the background, and hands it to Fury.

"Do you see anyone you know? Six years ago, I arrived in Hala, near dead with no memory. I think I'm the pilot that went down with Dr. Lawson, and if not, then the last person to see them both alive is Maria Rambeau."

"How do we get to Louisiana?"

"Due East and hang a right at Memphis," Fury jokes.

"You must have taught Agent Coulson right because I appreciate the way he stuck up for us."

"Yeah, he's the new guy. I guess he doesn't hate me yet."

"Give him time," you joke.

"I guess he had a feeling and went with his gut against orders. It's a really hard thing to do. That's what keeps us human."

"I get in trouble for that. A lot," Vers sighs.

"Yeah by an ignorant asshole who gets off on manipulation," you comment.

"I can see that about you, and even you too, Y/N. Rescuing the guy who sold you out to the Skrulls. I guess that's not standard Kree operating procedure."

"Well, I won't tell your boss if you don't tell mine."

"He won't be hearing about this from me," you smirk.

Vers flies the aircraft all the way to Louisiana where Maria Rambeau is. She is very isolated from most of the population, but it's nice to see such big trees and open fields around her house. Next to her house is a shop used to fix cars, or in her case, planes. When you get a closer look at the shop, you can see a woman tinkering on a two-seater plane. This is Vers' moment since she knew Maria back in the day.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for Maria Rambeau."

The woman jumps in surprise and a little girl identical to the older woman jumps out of the plane. She runs over to Vers with an excited look on her face as if she knows who she is.

"Aunty Carol! Mom, it's Aunty Carol. I knew it! Everybody said you were dead but we knew they were lying."

The little girl hugs Vers who is apparently named Carol. Your girlfriend stands awkwardly, unaware of who this child is. Maria walks closer to Vers with an unsure look on her face like she can't believe what she's seeing.

"I'm not really who you think I am," Vers says.

Maria isn't sure if this is her friend or not, but she wants to hear what Vers has to say. Monica, Maria's daughter, and Maria are sitting with you, Vers, and Fury in the living room so you can explain to them what happened after the plane crash. Vers' name isn't even Vers. It's the name that the Kree gave her to help conceal her identity.

Her real name is Carol Danvers.

"That is the craziest shit I've ever heard," Maria chuckles once you're done explaining.

"Green-transforming aliens? There's no such thing," Monica says.

"I'm an alien," you shrug.

"You're absolutely right, young lady. There is no such thing because if there were, we would want to keep that to ourselves," Fury says and looks at you accusingly.

"You want proof?"

Carol gets up and walks over to the tea kettle on the stove in the kitchen. She grabs the sides of the kettle and uses her powers to heat the tea inside. You raise your hand and use your air powers to open the cabinet and float one of the tea cups over to where Carol is. Maria and Monica stand up in fascination and curiosity.

"No way. That is so cool," Monica grins. 

"They can do a lot more than just make tea with those hands," Fury scoffs.

"Like what? Show us."

"Maybe later," Carol chuckles.

"I kept all your stuff, I'll go get it," Monica says and rushes out of the room.

"You want to give her a hand with that?" Carol asks Fury who nods.

He leaves the room to give Carol and Maria some time alone together, and you get up to leave when Carol grabs your hand. This is all so new to her, but you're her safety net. She trusts you with her life, so she needs you here in case something goes wrong.

"So, her name is Carol?" you ask Maria.

"Yeah. You don't remember anything?"

"I see flashes of little moments, but I can't tell what's real. If I could just piece together what happened that morning, maybe it'll all make sense."

"You were banging on my door at dawn and woke me up. I didn't think anything of it because that's what you normally did. Back then, we had to get up so early. The Air Force wasn't letting women fly in combat, so testing Lawson's planes was our only shot at doing something that mattered. That morning, you wanted to race to the base but your old Mustang was nothing compared to my Camaro. You cheated and took a shortcut," Maria laughs at the memory.

There are tears in Carol's eyes at the thought of her stolen life, but she doesn't let them fall.

"Since when is a shortcut cheating?"

"Since it violates the predetermined rules of engagement."

"I definitely don't remember those."

"Mmm, of course, you don't." They both laugh like old friends. "When I got to the hanger, Lawson was agitated, because she had lives to save. She was trying to take the Aces up herself, but you said—"

"If there were lives at stake, I would fly the plane," Carol finish for her.

"Yup. Big hero moment. The kind of moment we've both been waiting for. The Doc was always unique. That's why I liked her, but now you're saying she's from another planet."

"I know this must be hard for you," you comment.

"What, this part right here? No. Do you know what's hard? Losing my best friend in a mission so secret they act like it never even happened. Hard is knowing you were out there somewhere, too damn stubborn to die. Now you come up in here after six years with your super-charged fire hands and magical friend, and you expect me to call you... I don't even know what... 'Vers'? Is that really who you are now?"

"I don't know," Carol sighs.

x

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[wild-lavender-rose]

Sorry, first time requesting anything im not sure if im doing this right haha. But can you do a gender neutral reader with hank lawson. Where reader gets shot, dr mike does surgery, and we wake to up hank there. Fluff please!!:)

I've been waiting for inspiration to write this, anon, and it finally arrived! I hope this is fluffy enough for you :) Please feel free to send me another Hank request, I'm pretty sure we're the only two on here who love him and I'd love to grow my Dr. Quinn master list!

My Fault - Hank Lawson x reader

Warning- Cannon-typical language

It had been your own fault. One second you were between Hank and the black-clad stranger, trying to keep the two from killing each other over a misunderstanding about a horse. You had focused on the stranger, knowing Hank would listen to you and stand down the moment you intervened. You thought that the matter was settled and had turned around, walking back to where Hank waited, broody and silent.

The gunshot had sounded practically in your ear. You had fallen forward, pushed by the bullet. More gunshots. People were screaming. You tried to get up and fight. Hank was shouting but you couldn't understand him. You felt numb and cold all at once. The dirt was wet under your hands. Blood. But whose?

"Get Michaela, now!" Hank was on his knees next to you, keeping you from getting up. You had looked at him, vision blurred. You called to him, your voice sounding hollow and distant. His blue eyes were the last thing you remembered, frantic and helpless. He picked you up and the world went black.

The next time you woke you were in Dr. Quinn's office lying on her examination table. The pain was white hot, coming from your right shoulder. You cried out, trying to move, to escape. You were calling for someone over and over again. Hank. Hank, please. It's my fault, I'm sorry. Please.

Dr. Mike appeared over top you, pressing a white gauze to your nose, calming you with a soft voice and worried eyes. You sank back into darkness.

The next time you woke you were in one of her recovery rooms, the sunlight highlighting the cream colored quilt you were laying under. You were naked from the waist up but were covered by the quilt. A thick bandage was wrapped around your right shoulder. You felt stiff and hazy, but the pain was gone.

"Hey," a familiar, husky voice sounded by your head.

You looked to find Hank sitting by the bed, his oversized form hunched over in a chair too small for him. He smiled, his eyes even more bleary and red-rimmed than usual. It looked like he had been crying.

"Hank," you tried to talk but your tongue felt thick and fuzzy.

"Here," Hank hurried to pour you a glass of water from a basin sitting by the bed. He raised your head, helping you to drink.

Finishing the glass, you cleared your throat, trying once more. "Did he, am I," you glanced at your shoulder.

"Shot you in the back," Hank shook his head. "Bastard."

"You get him?"

"Jake did. Right in the head."

"Shoulda had a trial." You muttered, pretending that you weren't glad that your attacker.

Harry gave you a half smile. "Talkin' like Michaela now."

You smiled back, the gesture lessening as the memory of earlier washed over you. "M'sorry, Hank. I should have kept out of it. I just, I didn't want you hurt."

"Hey, shh. Don't worry about it," Hank leaned forward, brushing at your cheek with a soft and uncertain touch. "You just focus on resting up, all right?"

"Hank,"

"You'll be back to bothering me in no time." Carding his hand through your hair, Hank blinked a few times, smile wavering.

"Hank," you reached up, fingers tangling in one of the locks of hair falling in his eyes. You caressed his grizzled jaw with the back of your hand, your touch causing his eyes to close.

Hank leaned into your touch as if starved, like he was trying to memorize the moment. You felt yourself drifting off once more but fought to hold on, touching his face, conveying the thoughts you were unable to explain. I love you, you thought. I couldn't live without you.

Your hand grew weak, falling back rest on the quilt as your eyes fluttered shut. Hank pressed his hand, warm and steady, over yours. He whispered something you probably weren't supposed to hear. Something you would never forget.

"I love you, sweetheart. Don't leave me."

Fanfic Masterlist

[wild-lavender-rose]

Hi! Could I possibly request a Hank Lawson x Female Reader (from Dr Quinn Medicine Woman) where the reader is really shy and into reading and poetry and begins slowly introducing Hank into the world of literature. After a while, he surprises the reader with a novel she loves. Thank you!

Okay...I really got into this prompt. This fic definitely has series vibes because I feel like reader's backstory got pretty developed and I loved seeing the dynamic of Hank with a shy, quieter love interest. Hank lovers, let me know if I should continue developing this story!

A Simple Gift

Warning: Mention of alcoholic parent. Brief, cannon-typical swearing

"Hey, Loren," you tipped your head to the silver-haired man as you entered his store, a basket of eggs heavy on your arm.

"No, no, no. Get those things out of here." Loren shooed at you like you were an unwanted puppy. "I'm not trading anything else for books."

"But you said last week that-"

"Never mind what he said."

You turned around to find Jake and Hank walking into the store. Hank's eyes danced when he saw you, while Jake regarded you with his usual cold smugness.

"Women folk need to be focused on stuff like sewing or cooking for their men." He said, looking you up and down. "Not a book full of words that don't make sense."

"It's poetry." You said, heat flushing your face. Your skirts swished about you as you turned back to Loren. "Please,"

"I just can't do it, miss." Loren shook his head, expression going from annoyed to soft. "Maybe Dr. Mike has some, or Colleen,"

"I've already read all of them." You tucked your basket protectively against your side, feeling silly and embarrassed at the idea that Loren would trade dime a dozen eggs for one of his precious books for sale. "Good day."

You turned to go, meaning to slip past Hank and Jake.

"Woah, hold on," Hank took hold of your arm, stopping you in your tracks. "Thought you were dying to have that Emily book."

"Don't tease me," you whispered, trying to pull out of his grip.

"M'not teasing," Hank let you pull free. "Why don't you just pay for it?"

"I can't." Your head ducked down, unable to look him in the eye. "Pa's gotta have his drinking money, there's nothing left after."

Jake snorted. "At least he's putting it to good use."

Tears stung your eyes as you ran out of the store.

# # # # #

Bible hanging loosely in your hand, you walked alone towards your wagon after church. Your Pa was off drunk somewhere, again. At least you knew it wasn't at Hank's saloon. Ever since you and Hank had become friends, Hank had been cutting your Pa off and sending him home earlier than usual. Only Pa wasn't coming home. He would crawl away into some hole with a bottle of rot gut for hours on end, leaving you alone as usual.

Hank. You hated the way that the thought of him made your insides tingle and your face flush. You knew that he only ever talked to you because he thought you were pretty, but deep down you wanted it to be something more. Even though doing anything remotely close to courtship would guarantee being shunned by the community. But you were used to living on the outskirts. How much worse could it get?

"Hey,"

You jumped, startled to find Hank waiting by your wagon. He was dressed in his Sunday best but you definitely did not see him in church.

"Hey," you bit your lip and looked down at the ground.

"How, uh, how was the service?"

"Fine." You put your Bible on the seat and grabbed the wagon side, preparing to climb up.

"Here," Hank came up beside you, boosting you up into the seat in one swift movement.

You glanced around, noting the people exiting the church and the way they stared at you and Hank. Embarrassment flushed your cheeks. Then you looked down at Hank, only to find his clear blue eyes staring up into yours.

"Here," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small green book. "Got ya' something."

You accepted the book from him, fingering the beautiful gold lettering along the front cover. "Dickinson's poems." Your breath caught.

Hank shrugged. "Seemed like ya' needed it."

"I can't,"

"Sure you can. Hell, I used your money to buy it." Hank smirked. "Called in on some money your Pa owes me."

Your mouth opened, closed, opened, and closed again. You were speechless from the gift. It was the most beautiful book you had ever seen, and certainly the only book you had been given to keep.

"It's mine?" You managed to say, stomach twisting at the foolishness of how your voice sounded.

"Of course, darlin'," Hank grinned, sending your heart racing. "All yours."

With that, Hank backed away from the wagon. "See ya' next time you're in town."

"Yeah." You nodded, your shock turning into giddy joy as you bent to take up your horse's reins. "See you next time."

And with that, the two of you parted ways, each with a big smile on your face.

Fanfic Masterlist

[wild-lavender-rose]

Can i request a Hank Lawson x Gender Neutral Reader?

Reader is new in town, and the town is somewhat against Hank at the moment for something that isn't his fault. We see through the rumors and get close to him! Fluff!! and maybe smut? I saw your poll asking about that, its fine if you arent able to do that though.

- 🎭 Anon

Anon, you requested this ages ago and I just now got around to writing this. My apologies for the delay, and I hope you enjoy <3

The Truth

Warnings: Canon typical violence and swearing, smoking, brief mention of non-consensual sexual acts (in past tense and not in reference to Hank x reader relationship), sexual innuendo

You stepped off the stagecoach and into the middle of a fight. Not literally. But close enough.

A short, stubby man was doing his best to fight a tall man with long blond hair in the middle of the street. However, the stubby man was doing all the work. Yelling, cussing, and swinging his fists, he came at the tall man again and again, only to miss as his opponent simply laughed and stepped out of the way.

"Welcome to Colorado Springs." said the stagecoach driver, a grim smile on his face as he leaned over from his seat to hand you your bag.

You smiled up at him. "I've seen worse." You accepted your bag, hoisting it over your shoulder by one of the straps. "But not much worse."

"You good for nothin', lily livered, son of a bitch!" The stubby man screamed, after he had fallen for the hundredth time. "You sullied my sister's good name, Hank, and I'm gonna kill ya' for it!"

"I didn't do no such thing." the tall man called Hank threw a grin to the crowd. "Can't sully a name that a scumbag like you already drug through the dirt, John."

"Bastard!" the stubby one, John, came charging again.

You walked closer to stand among the gathering crowd, watching the show. People threw looks at you, but you paid them no mind. Without meaning to, you ended up being in the front row closest to the fighting.

John kept on trying to fight, and you could tell that Hank was getting bored. That's why his back was turned the next time John fell, which meant he didn't see the quick flash of silver when John pulled a knife from inside his boot.

But you did. Your heart skipped a beat when John stood, noting that Hank's back was still turned. "Hey, watch it!"

Hank spun around. John attacked, but you were faster. You pulled your gun and fired straight in the air. Everyone jumped. John froze, turning around to find your gun aimed straight at his forehead.

"Drop that knife." You ordered.

John's expression went from scared to disgusted. Behind him Hank was watching, his blue eyes piercing you in a way that made your insides flutter.

"What authority you got, stranger?" John drawled. Clearly he was drunk.

"You're lookin' at it." You nodded to the gun.

"Well, I don't know," he began to saunter forward. "I don't think you'll shoot an innocent man."

It happened in an instant. John rushed you, with Hank close behind. You took aim and fired, hitting John in the shoulder. Hank grabbed him and took away his knife before throwing him to the ground.

The crowd rumbled in shock and fear. John was screaming in pain. You lowered your gun, locking eyes with Hank.

"Someone get Dr. Mike!" A red-haired woman yelled.

"Thanks." Hank muttered. "But I had it under control."

"Sure ya' did." You slipped your gun back into your holster and tipped your head to him before turning around.

Hank's gaze lingered as you disappeared back into the crowd.

# # # # #

The next time you saw Hank, it was past midnight. You were walking down main street, heading towards a friend's house for the night. He was standing outside his saloon, lanky figure reclined against a wooden support as he smoked a cigar. He blew a cloud of smoke into the air and nodded to you. "Nice night." You could hear the smirk in his voice. "What's a pretty thing like you doin' out so late?"

You paused, regarding him in the moonlight. "Had things to do."

Hank's chuckle was low and soft, the sound making a pleasant shiver run through you. "What kinda things?"

"I've heard things about you." You crossed to him without thinking, watching the moonlight reflect off his golden hair as he shifted out into the light to meet you. "About what you did to John's little sister."

"Oh, yeah?" Hank's face hardened. He took another long drag of his cigar, blowing the smoke in your direction. "Don't believe everything you hear, darlin'."

"Then tell me the truth."

"What's there to tell?"

"Did you take advantage of his little sister?"

"Everybody says I did."

"But did you?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because," you came closer, stopping when there was hardly any room between you.

Hank loomed above you, his head tilted down so your eyes met. His hardened expression had softened into one of confusion. He looked even better this close, especially in the dangerously seductive moonlight and the way a cool wind blew across your heated skin. Your heart fluttered.

"Because," you repeated. "I wanna know if I wasted a bullet defending a rapist."

"I ain't a rapist." Hank's eyes sparked in indignation at the word. "His sister wanted to do things with me as much as I wanted to do things with her. It was just a little fun, was all. She told her brother that, too, but that bastard didn't believe her and came after me."

"And that's the truth?"

"God's honest."

"I knew it." You exhaled a breath of relief.

Hank's expression was even softer, as if he was relieved as well that you believed him. "How?" he whispered. "How'd you know?"

"You're a saloon owner in a Bible fearing town. No matter what you do, the town'll be against you. Also, you're not the type." You look up into his eyes. "Your eyes aren't the eyes of someone like that...I'd know better than anyone."

Hank dropped his cigar but didn't crush it under his boot. He pushed off the wooden support and shifted closer, seemingly enveloping you with his stature, his presence, him. "Has someone hurt you?"

"It's in the past. Don't wanna talk about it." You didn't step back, instead soaking up the closeness. It had been an ungodly amount of time since you had been attracted to someone like this. Since you wanted someone this close to you, and closer. Of course, the fact Hank was a saloon owner was sure to draw some stares. But then, you had gotten used to stares and whispers a long time ago.

"Is this girl and you. John's sister," you swallow hard as Hank gently brushes a strand of hair from your face. "Is it, are you,"

"Just a one-time thing, honey." Hank inhaled, seeming to breathe in your smell. "I'm an unattached man."

And the next thing you knew, the two of you were crashing into each other kissing desperately. It was the beginning of what would turn into a very long, very enjoyable night.

Fanfic Masterlist

[wild-lavender-rose]

That’s My Girl

Pairing: Hank Lawson x sheriff!fem!reader 

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: After accidentally shooting an unarmed man, you wander into Hank’s saloon for a drink, bloodied and done with life despite the fact Hank is your enemy. However, for one night the walls between you come down and you see a side of him you’ve never seen before. 

Warnings: Drinking, description of violence, language, mild injuries 

A/N: I don’t know what happened. My brain cooked this up in the shower and I need to get it out of my thoughts to make more room for the other wips I have in my brain. 

     The saloon doors creaked as you pushed them open and stepped inside. It was dark and quiet. Quieter than you had ever seen Hank’s saloon. You looked around at all the empty tables and upturned chairs, gaze landing on a tall, familiar figure working behind the bar. 

     “We’re closed.” Hank grumbled, a look of annoyance evident in the soft light of a single, flickering oil lamp. 

     You cleared your throat and took off your hat, allowing your hair to tumble down to your shoulders. “It’s only four in the mornin’, Hank.” You started forward. 

     “Sheriff?” Hank’s eyes widened as you stepped into the light, voice growing soft. “You look like hell.” 

     “I...I need a drink.” You tossed your hat aside and leaned against the counter, gripping the edge so that your hands didn’t shake. “Don’t have any over at the jailhouse. Thought maybe you could set me up.” 

     Hank stared at you. In the three years of working as sheriff, never once had you come to the saloon for a drink. In fact, never once had the two of you met under any pretense other than business. Hank ran a dishonest saloon and you were the only one who could make him set it right. And for three years you had given it your best, but nothing short of prolonged jail time could stop Hank from running things how he saw fit. Beyond this, if you had even set foot in the saloon any other time Hank would be shooing you out with his customary “no ladies allowed” line. 

     But tonight it was different. Tonight, Hank took in your bloodied face and bruised knuckles and reached for the nearest bottle of liquor to pour you a glass. “What happened?” He asked, setting the glass in front of you. His blue eyes had no trace of the cold, mocking, cynical Hank you knew. He looked soft and open in the lamplight. He looked worried. 

     You looked down at the glass, setting your jaw in a vain attempt to make your insides stop shaking. “Killed a man.” You reached for the glass, irritated as the dark, murky contents rippled from the tremors of your fingers. 

     “And? That’s just another day on the job, ain’t it?” Hank watched as you downed the liquor without flinching, refilling it without you having to ask. 

     “He...He was unarmed.” You downed the second shot and set the glass down with a thud, shoving a hand across your mouth and the stinging in your eyes. “I thought he was reaching for his gun so I, ya know, I fired first.” You shook your head. “He didn’t have one.” 

     “Did he do this to ya’ too, sweetheart?” Hank nodded towards your bloodied face. 

     The term of endearment, usually something used to anger you, instead caused much needed warmth to spread through your tired, aching bones. “His brothers did.” You winced at the memory. “They attacked me from behind. I’m lucky Matthew was there to help.” 

     “Will you hang ‘em?” 

     “They’re just kids, Hank.” You sagged your weight against the bar and folded your arms tight across your chest. “It’s my fault. If anyone should be hanged-” 

     “Hey, don’t talk like that.” Hank grabbed the bottle of liquor and pulled out the bandana from his back pocket before making his way out from behind the bar. “You were just doin’ your job, all right? Accidents happen.” 

     “Shut up, Hank, shut up.” You shook your head and covered your eyes, embarrassment and shame threatening to swallow you whole. “Shouldn’t be here,” 

     “Darlin,” Hank touched your arm with a gentleness you’d hardly ever known. 

     You looked up at him, your eyes glassy. Hank set the bottle down and pulled you into a hug. You wanted to resist, to insist that you were fine. But the moment his warmth enveloped you the dam inside you broke. You clung to him as you cried. Hank kept you upright, rocking you, running a hand through your hair, rubbing circles against your back. Twice you felt his lips press against your head, but as emotions swirled around your head you dismissed the sensation as illusion. 

     Hank waited until the crying slowed before moving, guiding you over to a chair and sitting down with you on his lap. 

     “Hank,” you squirmed. 

     “Let me take a look at ya’.” Hank’s smile was soft, the flickering lantern light illuminating the worry in his eyes. “You’re okay, honey. It’s just you and me.” 

     You looked back at him, tired and hurt and desperate to stop thinking. You had thought a drink at the saloon was what you wanted, but now, as your hands slid around Hank’s shoulders, you realized that what you wanted was him. For better or worse, Hank knew you. He was your strongest opposing force. Three years of fighting, and now here you were in his lap, needing his strength. 

     You nodded consent, causing Hank to smile. “That’s my girl.” He reached up and brushed your hair back, cradling your face and neck in his hands. 

     You gave a small smile as he brushed the tears from your cheeks. “Thank you.” You whispered. 

     “Any time.” Hank let his hands linger for a moment longer before picking up the bandana and beginning to clean your wounds. 

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