Moon Child ☽

Betty didn’t think anything of it when Cheryl wanted to attend a seance to see if she could somehow contact her brother. She was never one to believe in the supernatural, but from the second that she walked into the dark basement and the medium sent her an odd look that had a sick feeling entering the pit of her stomach, she instantly regretted offering to come along. When she passed out shortly after the ritual started, waking up in Cheryl’s car as the girl frantically drove her to the hospital, she knew something was different - and that her life would never be the same.

It wasn’t until a week later she knew how exactly.

She was sipping on her milkshake and going over articles for the paper at Pop's when she noticed a boy a few tables down from her blatently staring. He may have been handsome, with dark hair, deep eyes, and an aura of mystery surrounding him, but staring was rude and that’s exactly what she told him. 

She had expected him to laugh it off or to turn away, embarrassed. What she didn't expect was for him to gape at her and for the words “You can see me?” to slip past his lips in disbelief, for her hand to pass through his body when he came so incredibly close and she tried to push him away, or for the people around her to look at her like she was insane and talking to herself.

She was the only one who could see him. 

In the conversation that followed, a conversation she wasn't fully sure she wasn't imagining, she learned his name was Jughead Jones, that he lived on the Southside of town... and he’d been reported missing for a week.

With no memory of what happened to him or any knowledge of where his body could be, dead or somehow miraculously alive, the two set out to discover the truth - and so much more.

Betty never dreamed that when she finally fell head over heels in love that it would be with a man she couldn’t touch and no one else could see.

Save Me

He’d been there every day that week as she slipped through the doors and into the locker rooms - running laps around the gym, looking as if he were running from something instead of practicing. And when she’d emerge, wet hair and with enough time having passed before she would have to, unfortunately, start home - he’d be gone.

But today, she was surprised to find him leaning against the wall near the doors, his bag at his feet as he rested his head against the wall behind him. At the sound of the door clicking shut behind her, he opened his eyes and they instantly found hers, watching her for a moment before he spoke, sounding relieved. “I was starting to think you’d already left.”

Her eyes focused on the dark bruise shadowing his left eye and remembered his explanation earlier that day in class as his friends surrounded him with questions. “This is nothing compared to what the other guy looks like.” He’d lied and his friends had patted him on the back, spinning a story from his words that would be around the school by lunch, painting him as a hero. His eyes had found her then across the room, and she wondered how all the people around him were unable to see the pain in their depths.

Betty gripped her bag tight, her stomach in her throat. “Why are you here?”

He pulled in a slow breath through his nose as if working up the courage to speak. “Wanna go for a ride?” Her shocked expression had him continuing quickly after running a nervous hand through his hair. “I don’t want to go home yet.”

Neither do I, the words echoed in her mind, but instead, she replied, “I don’t think it would help either of our reputations if someone saw us together."  

Her heart skipped a beat when he just shrugged, his hands diving into his pockets. "I really don’t care, Betty.”

By Adamant Eve

One-shot

Relationship: Betty/Jughead

Genre: Angst

She was similar to the Betty of his dreams, wrapped in white lace and satin, a bouquet of flowers in her hands. Every detail of her was perfect, from the pointy tips of her elegant shoes to the smooth glossiness of her hair.

Her golden hair, so often gathered in a tight ponytail, was cinched even tighter now in a classic chignon, held by a hairpiece designed to look like a spray of flowers and dotted by Mother of Pearl beads.

Her makeup was impeccable and her green eyes glowed against the view of the setting sun.

Similar.

But not quite.

This was not his Betty, exactly. Perhaps this was Alice’s Betty, or maybe Phillip’s? After all, he was the guy she was supposed to marry.

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