ONE-SHOTS (YouTubers x Reader)

Sick {Ethan x Reader}

(Y/n) P.O.V.

I shake violently, the little contents of my stomach churning. I sweat profusely, but I'm freezing cold. Everything aches, yet there's also no pain. I'm dizzy, and the light hurts my eyes. It's been like this for three days now. Yet through it all, I still insist I'm fine. I walk out of the bedroom for the 5th time today, every step shaky and unbalanced. Ethan kept putting me back to bed, but I kept getting back up. I make it to the kitchen, but I end up leaning on the doorway for support.

"Goddammit (Y/n), again?" Ethan says from behind. "So many colors." I mumble. "If unicorns are rainbow...are unicorns gay? Is that why they're extinct?!" I exclaim before laughing uncontrollably. "Babe, you're delirious. Come on." He lifts me bridal style. I whine a little. "Nooo." I whimper. "(Y/n), relax, let yourself get better." He insists. As soon as I touch the bed, I spring up again.

I rush to the bathroom dizzily, emptying my already empty stomach into the toilet. Ethan comes in a few moments later, holding my hair back and speaking sweet nothings. "Do you want me to make you some food?" He asks once I'm done. I shake my head no. "I'm not hungry."

"(Y/n), you haven't eaten in three days, your shaking and sweating, and your burning up! I'm taking you to the hospital." He tries to lift me again, but I fight him, my tired sluggishness forgotten. "Ethan! Ethan, please no! Don't take me there, please! I don't like hospitals!" I cry, trying feebly to break from his grasp. He sets me back in the bed. I've started crying. Even normally, I didn't like hospitals, but in this delirious state, I'm terrified. And Ethan picks up on it. "Okay, okay, shh, calm down, it's okay. I won't take you as long as you listen, and rest." He says sternly. I nod, and allow him to wrap me in the blankets.

Ethan P.O.V.

I brush hair about of her slicked face. I feel so bad for her. She hates it when she's sick, and this is the worst I've ever seen her. She grew up having to be independent too young, and hated needing help. She was always trying to do things on her own, continue to work, pretend she was fine when she's sick. I admire it sometimes, but sometimes I hate it. Times like this specifically scare me because it reminds how shaky she can be. If something was seriously wrong, it might be impossible to know.

"I'm going to take your temperature, and get you something to eat, okay." She's shaking violently again, but nods with her eyes closed. I sigh quietly, but go find the thermometer anyway. I put some soup on the stove before going back to room. "You have a fever of 101 degrees." I say worriedly. "See, I don't need to go. Not until it's over 103." She protests. "That's not that far off." I remind.

"Still not there." She sasses. "I already said I wouldn't take you to the hospital."

"Just making sure." I bring the soup back to the room. "Can you sit up?"

"I really don't want to eat." She insists. "But you need food." I lecture. After fighting her for the next few hours, I manage to get her to eat, take medicine, stay in bed, and sleep. At the end of the day, I lay in bed next to her, watching the rise and fall of her chest. "Get well soon, (Y/n)." I whisper.