Various Array of One Shots ✔️

Lesbianage >> Charlie Bradbury X Reader

Title: Lesbianage

Paring: Charlie Bradbury X Reader

Warnings: female pronouns. A female reader and a female character. Please don't be homophobic because Charlie is my fave. I have a bi friend who said I don't have any fem!character X fem!reader and I wanted to fix that. Don't like? Don't read.

Spoilers: none. If you're reading this you've already seen Season 7

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The day was hot - the kind of day where all sweat turns to glue, and actual glue turns to sludge, and wearing wigs were more torturous than ever. This was you - a wig-wearing, Danereys Taragen cosplaying San Diego comicon-goer. Everyone around you asked politely for photos, and with your brother (b/n) beside you dressed as Viserys, nobody gave you too much trouble.

Except the fact that under your dress it was way too hot. And there was nothing your brother could fix about that.

"Sucks that the weather decided to screw monumentally today," a voice says beside you.

Turning, you gasp. She most certainly isn't wearing a wig. Her entire being radiates Sansa Stark - from her golden ginger roots to her pearly skin, and her warm eyes.

She's your dream girl.

The girl you'd always pictured yourself with when everyone else was talking about future husbands. She's utter and complete perfection.

"Y-yeah," you stutter, a blush staining your cheeks. Stutter? Khaleesi doesn't stutter. "It does."

The Sansa cosplayer sticks out her hand. "The name's Charlie. Bradbury. I was kinda hoping -,"

Your brother caught wind of what was happening, and turned to her with a dark brow. "Is she giving you trouble?" He asked you.

You shake your head. "No, (b/n), it's cool." An idea came to mind, and you added, "Why don't you go and try to find that Darth Maul lightsaber replica you wanted?"

And that's how you met Charlie.

It's also how you found your way into a place where mythical monsters and unbelievably attractive people seemed to be flocking toward danger. Well, it wasn't until a year after you met, almost to the day when two guys burst into your shared apartment, speaking language straight out of a poorly thought out D & D game.

The Winchesters.

"I'm Sam, this is my brother Dean," the tall one introduced, and you suspected he was slightly taken aback by being faced by two girls, each armed with a replica sword, "Which of you is Charlie?"

Your girlfriend gulped. "Me? Are you cops? I swear, it wasn't me. Well, I did it, but it was for charity!"

You lifted your sword to the short one, Dean. "Why are you two in here in the first place? Wrecking our Harry Potter merch and knocking the DVDs over? We were sleeping!" You protest.

"I'm Charlie Bradbury," your girlfriend voiced, her tone tiny. "This is _______ ________. What did I do?"

Fast forward two years, multitudes of PT-SD causing encounters with creatures ranging from leviathans to pixies, and that's how you and Charlie are where you are now: sitting in the lounge room of the bunker, struggling to keep your eyes open through "one more episode!" of Parks and Recreation.

"Charlie why," you yawn, "is this show so perfect?" You're watching the episode where Leslie is filibustering on roller skates.

She beams. "I'm glad I've gotten you to watch it! It's just like our lives as hunters. We don't always get the credit we deserve for our jobs, but it's worthwhile."

You snort, nudging her slightly. "You got that all from a show about a local government?"

Charlie laughed. "Yeah, and you're basically the Anne Perkins to my Leslie Knope."

You blush. "I'm Anne? I can totally picture you as Leslie, little miss sunshine."

At this, her ringtone blared, the familiar opening bar of Walking on Sunshine. Charlie squinted, and pausing the TV, opened the line. "This is Charlie, rhymes with Harley, I don't own a motorbike, what's up?"

As she spoke the little opening statements that happen on the phone, you began to clean up the couch - fix the cushions Kevin insisted on, pick up the spilt popcorn, straighten out the blanket.

"Okay, sure, we'll be there as soon as we can. Hold on." Charlie lowered the phone, and tapping your knee, blurted, in the most least calm tone, "Sam and Dean need help with a ghost a town over. I said we're doing it."

In your excitement, you throw the snuggle blanket over the couch. "Ghost busting and Parks and Recreation? Gee, you know exactly what my ideal date night is."

Charlie beamed. "Let's go salt and burn and kick a ghost's pasty ass!" She hung up the line, and rushed toward the emergency duffles packed to spontaneous trips and the garage. You knew she would take her sunshine coloured car - even if there were dozens of classics to choose from.

Running in hot pursuit, you added, slightly off beat, "How can you kick a ghost's ass?"

"Lesbionage." Charlie laughed, unlocking the garage.

You couldn't help but frown. "Is that the words espionage and lesbian mixed together? Because I highly approve." You dumped the duffles in the boot, and grabbing extra weapons, whisper dramatically, "We are true artists of lesbianage, something the hotshot Winchesters can never be!"