ONE-SHOTS (YouTubers x Reader)

Cross Country Meet {Markiplier x ChildReader}

Okay, the first few chapters are going to be child readers. This one is about the reader's cross country meet. I personally run cross country, and feel it is underappreciated x_x

So anyways, I'm not in anyway as good as I'm writing in here, but it's called fiction for a reason.

Also if you have a request just PM me or comment it.
(Hey, future me here, just wanted to note that this book was one of the first few I wrote. Its not all great. There are plenty in here that I'm not proud of, some I'm pretty sure we're written as 3AM fever dreams, and some that are emotionally fueled. Good luck :p)

(Y/n) P.O.V.

High school cross country is rough. Running almost everyday, running 3.1 miles at every meet, people constantly talking about how it isn't a real sport when they probably couldn't get past the warm-up. (Sorry about my little rant XD) Even so, I love it. It's good, healthy exercise, and it's fun to run with a team. It helps that my father, commonly known as Markiplier, is very supportive of my running. This is my second year, and I've made it tot the top of the team. Our number one varsity runner. The year has just begun, so our first meet is this weekend. I'm excited, but also really nervous. Practice is fun, but meet are scary. It's a lot of pressure, but it feels good to cross that finish line knowing that you just survived running 3 miles. Luckily, Dad will come to this meet to help with my nerves.

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I finish the pre-race warm up with the rest of the varsity girls, and see my dad talking to the coach by our team's camp. A couple of the girls start talking about it, but I'm used to hearing, "Is that Markiplier?" I walk up, and tap him on the shoulder. "Hey kiddo! Ready for the race?" He asks. "Yeah. I'm nervous and excited at the same time. I hope I don't throw up while running." I joke. He laughs a little, but I can tell he is also a bit concerned that I might actually lose my breakfast. "Don't worry. I'll be fine. I'm going to put my spikes on real quick. We have to go to the start line soon. "Okay. I'll be cheering you on kiddo." And with that, he heads towards the starting line. I quickly put on my spikes, and head to the line with the girls. We do a few strides, do our cheer, then listen to the flag person. "When I shoot the gun, go. If I shoot it twice, then come back to restart." (I'm getting nervous as if I was actually at a meet writing this.)

I stand at the front of our box back at the start line. I hear the whistle indicating to get ready. I pause in a ready position. A few seconds go by, that feel like hours, before the gun goes off. I sprint forward, trying to stay ahead. "GO, (Y/N), GO!" I hear Dad shout. His cheers make me run a little faster. It isn't long before I pull ahead of everyone else, but being in first is stressful. You can never slow down knowing the person in second is waiting for a chance to push past you. The girls in second pulls up next to me, but she doesn't pass. "Come on, (Y/n)! You can do it! Push past her!" I hear the shouts of my father, coach, and the JV team. I run ahead of the girl next to me. I keep running, and never slow. My breathing becomes shallow and rough, and my insides feel like they're burning, but I don't slow down. I can do this, I can do this, I can do this. I cheer myself on. Finally, I pass the 3 mile mark. Meaning I have .1 of a miles to go. The girl in second starts to creep up on me, but I refuse to let her pass. I speed up, sprinting, going as fast as I can to win. "GO, (Y/N), GO. YOU'RE ALMOST THERE! YOU CAN DO IT! BEAT HER! PUSH IT, PUSH IT!" People shout. (I actually do sprint at the end of the race like this, and sound like I'm dying when I finish. I have had people help me stand, and people have had to help me control my breathing. And yet I'm still one of the lowest JV people x_x)

I can't feel my legs anymore, but I don't slow down. My breath is ragged, but I cross the line in first place. Immediately I collapse to the ground, but I'm proud of myself. I'm breathing very hard, and one of the officials has to help me up. My legs wobble, and I still breathe with a struggle. My dad comes up to me and the official with water. "(Y/n)! I'm so proud of you! Are you okay? Do You sit somewhere to sit down? In and out slowly. Try to breathe in through your nose, and in through your mouth." Dad says hurriedly. I move away from the official into my father's arm. He hands my the water, which I gratefully down. "In through the nose, out through the mouth." He tells me. I follow his instructions, and eventually regain my breath. "Thanks." I finally say. "I'm so proud of you (Y/n)! You did so good. Did you see your time? It was 17:57!" Dad tells me excitedly. I smile proudly. I hug him tightly. "Thanks for being here for me, Dad." He pulls me closer. "Of course, kiddo. I love you so much." "I love you too."