Bughead Oneshots

||You're safe now||

• Jughead protecting Betty, despite not having talked to her in a while
• references/implied abuse
• violence
• Past Bughead & Barchie
• Parent Betty

Jughead was still working at Pop's when his phone buzzed against his thigh.

He almost ignored it.

Almost.

The last two hours of his shift always dragged, sticky with tiredness and the smell of coffee grounds and fried grease. He was halfway through wiping down a table that didn't really need wiping when he finally reached into his pocket and pulled the phone out.

The screen lit up.

Don't answer #1 is calling.

His thumb hovered.

For a second, he just stared at it, like the name itself might explain why his chest suddenly tightened.

Then, quietly, he exhaled through his nose and accepted the call anyway.

"Jug?" The soft voice almost undid him on the spot. He hadn't heard it in two years and now...

He swallowed, trying to get his voice back.

"Betty? What- What's going on?"

"I- I need your help, Jug."

Jughead glanced at the diner. Four tables full, two at the counter.

Betty on the other side.

"Uh, sure. What do you need?"

"Do you remember that ex I had? Before you?"

"The abusive one? Yeah, of course. You had nightmares about him all the time," Jughead replied, picking up on cleaning the table with a rag.

"He's here."

He paused.

"What do you mean?"

"He's here. In my apartment. I- He came and- and he asked to talk but then he-" Betty stopped before continuing in a quiet whisper. "Jug, he has a knife. I'm scared."

The rag in Jughead's hand stopped moving again. For a second, everything in Pop's felt too loud — the clatter of dishes, the hum of the lights, the low murmur of other people's conversations. Like the world had decided to keep going at full volume while something inside him went completely still.

"Betty," He said, and his voice came out flatter than he meant it to. Controlled. Careful. "Are you locked in somewhere?"

"Yes," She breathed. "Bathroom. I- I pushed the closet in front of it but it's- it's only covering it halfway. I think- He might be able to get in and jump over it if he breaks the door down."

"Okay-" Jughead took a shaky breath, nodding. "Okay. Betty, I want you to call the police now."

"Are you- Are you sure?" She whispered.

"Yes. If you haven't done so, please call them. They'll be able to help you."

"But- you're coming, right? You're not- not leaving me."

"I-" Jughead glanced at the clock for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, I'm coming. Where are you?"

"At the apartment. I haven't moved."

"Okay. I'll need about half an hour. You still need to call the police." Jughead said, already abandoning the task of cleaning the table. He walked back to the counter to drop the rag in the sink and the spray bottle next to it. His coworker looked at him while he went to grab his jeans jacket.