𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑 • Superboy x FemReader/Insert

Old Faces, New Problems

You wobbled out of the shower, before exiting the bathroom to grab your clothes. You smiled contently, in nothing but a towel, until something squished under your bare foot.

"Ugh! John!" You screamed, staring at your now bloodied foot, and the dead gremlin under it. "What the hell are these?!"

John was absolutely flanked by the damned things, throwing them into walls and smashing them beneath his shoes.

"My own inner demons given a physical form!" He yelled back. "And the only way to get rid of these nasty little buggers, is to take you back!"

John began to chant a spell that was known to be used sparingly. The chant produced a large and rather annoying light. John landed on his knees as the ugly little creatures were sucked back into him.

"I forgot how much I hated you," you grumbled. "I just showered!" You gestured to your foot.

John panted, wobbling up. "Something opened the door between my conscious and unconscious mind and let them out. That's never happened before..."

"I didn't do it," you muttered, unzipping your suitcase.

A loud thudding came at the door.

"Christ... We don't want any!"

"We already have towels, thanks!"

"Open the bloody door, John."

"Chas?"

"Who?"

John grabbed a bent cigarette, and moved towards the door.

"Maybe this isn't a good time..." The man trailed off, taking in John's injuries.

"It's never a good time, mate..."

••

You studied the man from across the table, as John let out a puff of smoke next to you. You took a sip from your water cup, and poked at your food.

So this was Chas? John's long lost best mate who was in some shitty ass band with him?

"You look like shit," Chas smiled.

Oh, yeah. You liked this guy.

"Oh, thanks, mate. And how have you been this past, what is it? Nine years, 10?"

"Since you spewed up all over Renee's aunty at the wedding," Chas replied.

"Ah, she took it well, I thought... The aunty, not Renee."

You put down your fork, crossing your legs.

"And who's this? Um... if you work by the hour, I'm afraid John can't pay for much longer."

You choked on your drink.

"I'm not a stripper!" You said a little too loud.

Chas must have noticed your American accent, because he fell quiet.

"Oh, right," John inhaled his cigarette. "Day, this is my best mate, Chas. Chas, Day. She's my... uh... ward of sorts."

"She's magical?"

"She can talk," you smiled. "Yes, I am."

"What kind of magic?" He asked, rather quickly. "Dark?"

"Uh... depends on the situation. Why do you ask?"

••

"She's in a coma," Chas explained. "Doctors haven't a clue what caused it or how to cure it. But I've spent enough time around you to smell the stink of dark magic."