Always & Forever | Bughead Oneshots

Baby's Got A Gun ("LIK" Part II)

so, this two-shot is centric around guns and gun violence, and considering the recent acts of fatal gun violence in the united states, i didn't want to write a functionalization of a serious underlying issue. in the linktree link in my bio, you can find the link to 'everytown for gun safety', which is an organization dedicated to stopping preventable firearm deaths. please donate if you can and if not, please share. thank you.

CW: guns, murder, blood

Song Credit: "Hayloft II" by Mother Mother

"I shot him."

Betty sat in the corner of Jughead's treehouse, which the two had clambered into after running for what felt like forever. She had a blanket slung over her shoulders and her eyes were teary and staring at her gun in the opposite corner.

"Yeah," Jughead replied in a mumble, taking a break from adjusting one of his pillows. "How are you feeling?" he asked sincerely, sitting beside the blonde. "I aimed...a gun...at him. And I shot it," she answered, a single tear falling from one eye before she was breathing deeply.

"I know, baby. I know that was scary for you," Jughead sympathized. He saw her shaking hands and sighed gently, softly placing his hand on hers. Betty's gaze finally met the Jones boy's as she stammered out, "I almost...stepped on his...s-severed fingers on...the way out."

"But he was gonna kill you," she cried. "So I had...I had to do it." Jughead's hand gently moved to the side of his love's face, replying, "And I know that, baby. I wish it didn't have to happen like this."

He brought her closer with a delicate hand on the back of her neck, kissing the blonde's forehead. She yawned quietly and Jughead smiled only slightly, asking, "Let's try to get some rest."

Betty nodded and laid down, letting the Jones boy put blankets over their figures. He pulled the Cooper girl into the curve of his body, kissing her temple and asking, "Hey, Betts?" "Yeah?" she answered, pulling her head from Jughead's chest to look at him.

"I love you," he responded, taking a second before looking over at the Cooper girl. Despite everything that's happened in the last hour, Betty smiled, a small chuckle proceeding her reply.

"I love you too."

Meanwhile, Hal had pulled himself off the dirt ground of the hayloft, making his way back to the house with heaving breaths. He abandoned his blown-off ring and pinky fingers in the dirt, but brought his shotgun back with him, dropping it to pour peroxide over the wounds.

He yelled in pain and waited for a second to bandage the stump on his hand. He knew a hospital was an hour away at least--he and Betty had always lived rather isolated lives--and he was in no condition to drive.

So instead, the Cooper man brought himself back over to his living room recliner, gun perched on the side as it always was, and some undistinguished expression on his face as he sat in reflection.

He wasn't sure what it was that had turned his own daughter against him so drastically. He'd never been one to be afraid of a gun, but when it was Betty aiming it at him, that narrative changed.

He didn't know much about what had happened, but one thing he knew for sure.

"Well goddamn," he mumbled to himself, taking a swig of his hour-old beer to distract from the pain.

"My baby's got a gun."

Betty couldn't sleep. It had been three hours of laying in silence, Jughead's deep breaths acting as crickets chirping while eyes of green shifted b between the lantern beside the mattress and the gun.

That damn gun.

Slowly, she moved the Jones boy's arms away from her frame, sitting up from the bed and slinging a blanket over her shoulders. She stepped slowly across the wood floorboards, trying her best not to wake Jughead.

"Betts? What's going on?" he asked, mumbly. "I, um," the blonde paused, turning around and sitting back on the edge of the mattress. "I can't sleep. I didn't mean to wake you up, I'm sorry." "Hey, that's okay," Jughead replied, sitting up and pulling the girl to his side gently.

"I'm sorry you can't sleep," the Jones boy added, kissing her temple. Betty only sighed, her eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed. "It's not your fault," she replied, her voice quiet and head on her lover's chest.

"C'mere," he said gently, laying down and bringing the blonde with him. She nuzzled into his embrace and embraced his hand playing with her hair, visualizing his hand dragging away all the bad thoughts in her head.

Jughead managed to fall asleep again, but Betty couldn't, her eyes still open wide as she listened to his beating heart and steady breaths.

When Jughead woke up for the second time, Betty was gone, and so was her gun.

"Oh no," he mumbled before shooting up from the mattress and looking out the window of the treehouse, seeing the blonde walking in the woods. "Betts, what are you doing?" he called out, his voice laced with worry.

"I'm sorry, Jug, I have to. Just stay here, I'll be back!" she replied before turning around and running, the white of her nightgown almost glowing among the midnight darkness. "Oh god," was all the Jones boy could muster, hurrying to get his shoes on.

He climbed down the ladder of the treehouse, running after the blonde. She'd lost him by now, too far for him to catch up to anytime soon. Betty's legs refused to stop running, discarding the dirt on the long hem of her nightgown, her sweating hand still holding onto her handgun.

Her lungs burned with the cold air while her brain screamed at her that this was a must. Hal Cooper was unfinished business. All Betty could think about when she was laying in the treehouse was the notion of Hal finding her.

Of taking her out of Jughead's lifeless arms and dragging her back to the hayloft.

She figured it best to kill him before that notion became reality.

She saw the hayloft before she saw the house, the lights in the windows showing her that Hal was home and awake. She didn't feel the need to run anymore once she passed the hayloft; noticing a small spray of blood on its ajar door and wincing.

The blonde stayed still for a moment, holding her side and letting herself catch her breath. Looking behind her, Betty saw no sign of Jughead and felt relieved, knowing he'd only try to stop her.

She walked staggering steps up to the house, peeking in through the window and seeing her father's figure in his recliner--he was nothing if not a creature of habit. Her hand on the doorknob moved slowly to open it.

The door creaked and Betty silently cursed herself, letting it open the rest of the way. Hal in his recliner turned, shotgun in hand, but his eyes softened when he saw his daughter. "Betty," he said quietly, almost as if he could start crying.

"I knew you'd come back, honey," he said, smiling slightly. His eyes slowly traced down her arm until he saw the gun, his pulsing hand reminding him of what the Cooper girl was capable of. "Betty, is he really worth it?" he asked, condescending as if it would calm her.

"He is," Betty answered, her voice cracking and eyes watering. Her tears never came out, dried by the anger burning through her body. She raised her gun, cocking it and aiming it at Hal. Her jaw was clenched and her hands shaking, telling herself she would never be rid of her fear unless she did this.

So she did.

Her gun released a rain of bullets, shooting Hal around his torso, his legs, his recliner--some bullets going through the windows and TV set. He groaned out in pain until one of the bullets pierced through Hal's chest and eventually, his heart.

He took wheezing breaths for a few seconds before he was no longer taking any breaths. The room was a mess, broken glass and blood everywhere as Hal's corpse slumped in his recliner. Betty's eyes were wide but dull, her chest heaving with deep, heavy breaths as she looked over the room.

And by the time Jughead had come through the front door, he was too late.