𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒

Jughead Jones | Breaking Point

Summary: you're a professional dancer outside of school. however, these past few weeks you've been pushing yourself past your limits and it finally catches up with you on a live performance

Warnings: Fainting

Word Count: 619

DANCING HAD always been your passion. It was the one thing in your life that made you feel alive, free, and completely in control. Balancing your professional dance career with school wasn't easy, but you managed. That is, until you started pushing yourself harder than ever.

For the past few weeks, rehearsals had been brutal. Long hours, endless practices, and the pressure to perfect every move left you running on fumes. You ignored the warning signs—sore muscles, sleepless nights, and the overwhelming fatigue that settled deep in your bones. This performance was too important, and you couldn't afford to slip up.

Jughead had noticed, of course. He always noticed.

"You've been running yourself ragged," he said the night before your big performance, his voice laced with concern.

"I'm fine, Juggie," you replied, brushing off his worries. "I just need to get through tomorrow."

He didn't believe you, but he knew better than to push when you were in this headspace. "Just promise me you'll take care of yourself, okay?"

"I promise," you lied.

When the day of the live performance arrived, you felt the weight of exhaustion heavier than ever. But adrenaline coursed through your veins as you stepped onto the stage, the bright lights and roaring crowd giving you a temporary surge of energy.

The first half of the performance went smoothly. You moved with precision and grace, the choreography flowing through you like second nature. But as the routine progressed, your body began to falter. Your muscles screamed in protest, your vision blurred, and each breath felt harder to take.

Then it happened.

In the middle of a turn, your knees buckled, and you collapsed onto the stage. Gasps erupted from the audience, and for a moment, the world spun in slow motion.

Backstage chaos ensued as your fellow dancers rushed to help, but it was Jughead's voice that broke through the haze.

"Y/N!" He was by your side in an instant, his hands gently cradling your face. "Hey, look at me. Are you okay?"

Tears stung your eyes as you shook your head. "I... I don't know. I'm so tired, Jug. I couldn't do it."

His jaw clenched, his eyes filled with both worry and frustration. "You've been pushing yourself too hard. You promised me you'd take care of yourself."

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice cracking.

Jughead sighed, his expression softening. "Hey, don't apologize. You're amazing, Y/N. But you can't keep running yourself into the ground like this."

The medics arrived, insisting on checking you over, but Jughead never left your side. He held your hand tightly, his presence grounding you as they determined you were suffering from extreme exhaustion and dehydration.

As the crowd dispersed and the stage lights dimmed, Jughead helped you into his car, his arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders.

"You're taking the next few days off," he said firmly as he drove. "No arguments."

You managed a weak smile. "You're kind of bossy, you know that?"

"Only because I care," he shot back, glancing at you with a small smile. "You're incredible, Y/N. But you're not a machine. You need to rest, eat, and actually sleep. Promise me you'll let yourself recover this time."

This time, you didn't hesitate. "I promise."

And as Jughead brought you home, making sure you were comfortable and had everything you needed, you realized that no performance was worth sacrificing yourself—and you were lucky to have someone like him to remind you of that.