You’ve been an omega for as long as you’ve been alone (…unfortunatley correlated), so every heat or sickness you’ve just had to deal with. Your typical set up once you feel the early onset of whatever ailment is to sequester away into your nest and just rot there until the problem is gone.

Is that pleasant? No. But what else could you do? Heat is all-consuming and inescapable and everyone knows omegas don’t deal with sickness well. You can barely stand let alone get yourself food or medicine. So sitting alone, curled up, whimpering away, is a very familiar feeling for you.

That is until you join the 141.

It had snuck up on you, a little twinge in the back of your head slowly spreading into a crown of pain. Slow enough that you were like a frog in boiling water, didn’t realize untill it was too late.

The fatigue threw itself on you all too quickly after that, and then the sniffles. You knew it would happen eventually, new environment and all, but you were hoping you might get away with it. Not your heat—thank god you still had some months before that was due—but a flu. Having to explain why you were down for the count to your new captain sounded like worse torture than how you currently felt, so you were more determined than usual to hide away.

As quickly and subtly as you could, you grabbed a whole box of granola bars and a jug of water, knowing that was the only way you were going to be getting sustenance, before hurrying into your room to go die for the next week. Price would just have to deal with you absence and you would explain later.

By the time you got yourself semi-set up, food and water within reach and tucked tightly into your nest, the pain was a living thing. Fever bloomed beneath your skin, causing illogical shaking and chills despite the mountain of blankets that surrounded you. The headache was pounding now, twinging your temples with every beat of your heart, and you couldn’t breathe through the sniffles anymore. Who could really blame you for the sad, keening whimper you let out?

You didn’t give it a second thought, par for the course in your mind, but you must’ve been way louder than you though because it wasn’t even a minute later when there was a pounding on your door.

It made you let out another whimper with the way the vibrations made your head pound. That wasn’t the right move, though, because it just made the pounding get more frantic.

“Sergeant?” You could barely make it out between the pounding in your head, the pile of blankets muffling your ears, and the real life pounding, but it sounded like your Captain. Or maybe Lieutenant Riley? Actually, were there multiple voices outside your door?

Whatever, it didn’t matter, you weren’t going to answer. You just burrowed yourself deeper under the warm comforter and tried to muffle your whines better. Maybe they’d leave you alone.

You were almost able to ignore the pounding and chatter, but the sound of wood cracking was a little less subtle.

“Hmmrph?” Your whimper transformed into a sound of confusion as you tried to lift your head to investigate, but the pile of blankets interrupted your view.

You understand what happened when the voices suddenly got much louder, like right outside your nest loud. They broke down the door.

“‘Mega?” A soft, sweet, Scottish voice cooed, gently pulling away the layers from your eyes.

He looked incredibly hesitant—as he should given how improper and frankly dangerous it can be to enter an omega’s space uninvited. Luckily for him, you were in no shape to fight him on his presence. You weren’t even mad. Some part of you was just incredibly happy to see him—the part of you that was aching for someone to take care of you and knew he would do a great job.

When you made eye contact and he saw your wet eyes and trembling lip he swore he could feel his heart crack.

“Ohhh, sweetheart, why didnae you say something?” He lets go of any inhibitions, his instincts overriding it all with the absolute desire to take your pain away.

His big arms sweep under you, picking you up, blankets and all, to slide under you and then plop you back down on his chest. You take a second to soak in his heat and scent, which both immediately cut through some of your pain somehow. Causing your body to relax as your mind sends out ‘safe’ signals. Only with this new angle do you see that it was not only Soap who was concerned. Rather, the rest of your team is eagerly awaiting your reaction, like it will be the go-ahead for them to join too.

You can’t form words, you just melt deeper into Soap and let out another whine, this time a more satisfied one which seems to be all the cue they need.

Suddenly, they’re all there. Swiping sweat from your forehead, speaking sweet words, climbing into the mess of blankets, bringing water for you to sip. Normally, maybe, it would make you overwhelmed or feel coddled, but it had been so long since anyone gave enough of a shit to take care of you, that you couldn’t help but preen under their care.

“Right, let’s get you fixed up, love, hmm? How’s that sound?” You’ve never heard your captain’s voice so soft, nor have you known his hands to be so gentle as he pulls your hair off your slick forehead. You immediately miss his hands when he pulls away to grab medicine, but you figure he’s doing the right thing.

Simon somehow wriggles himself next to Johnny, equally cradling you and him both and adding to the warmth of the nest. It feels like the perfect heating pad.

“Don’t hide when you’re hurt,” Simon whispers to you, sounding wounded. “Trust us to help you. Please.” You’ve never heard him ask something so desperately before.

You can’t even bring yourself to mind Kyle’s chastising.

“Thought you’d try and be tough and handle it alone, bug?” He places a cool cloth on your forehead, thumb caressing your cheek, “you don’t gotta do that with us around. Let us take care of it, alright?”

Sick Ghost who is so sick he has to take off. In the years you have known him he's only been sick a handful of times and never once has he taken off work, actually Simon only takes off one day per year and any other time is only if Price forces him. So you and your fellow sergeants are reasonably worried, but still you're all laughing and joking about it. It's mainly so you guys don't worry about it too much, but you can't stop thinking about it.

You were the newest sergeant and Simon isn't always the nicest lieutenant, he still tests you a lot but he also looks out for all of you. You feel shity every time you think about him, all alone at home, he has no one to get him medicine, he has to keep track of his medicine intake himself and he has to get out of bed to fix it. He has no one to fix food for him, and you know he’s either ordering in or fixing 3 minute ramen, that's if he even has the energy to get up. And what if he needs a doctor, there is no way he can drive himself, otherwise he would've came into work. And you know Price checked on him, but Simon isn't exactly open, even with the captain, you wouldn't be surprised if he lied downplayed his symptoms to Price. 

So you make a decision, one that might result in you running laps for hours when Simon is back but you take the risk, if you later find out Simon was incredibly sick and you did nothing about it you wouldn't forgive yourself. You drove over to Simon's house after stopping at the grocery store to get some medicine, you wouldn't be surprised if Simon had none or if it was super expired, and you grabbed some ingredients you're sure Simon doesn't have, planning to cook Simon something homemade. You stopped in front of his door, this was your last chance to back out and not risk whatever punishment Simon saw fit.

You knocked and there was no answer, Simon was in the living room, he heard the knock loud and clear, probably even louder than it actually was due to his raging headache. Simon had no clue who was on the other side of the door and he didn't care, he just assumed it was the neighbor or maybe someone had the wrong apartment. He fully planned on ignoring it, but he got up after the fifth knock, whoever was there was annoyingly persistent, and it made sense after he opened the door and saw you. 

“Wot the fuck do ya want” you looked Simon over, you hoped you hadn't woken him up. He looked rough, his face was red, you could practical feel the heat radiating off of him “I came by to help you” Simon tried shutting the door on you “don’t need ‘elp” you pushed open the door easily, it's clear Simon wasn't trying very hard "You're sick, you need someone to care for you. I am here to take care of you and I'm not leaving till I do that. I don't care if you make me run laps for hours. You need this.” part of Simon wanted to argue but the other part kinda wanted someone to care for him, he really didn't feel like doing shit himself, so he moved to the side and let you in.

You placed your bags on a chair “Simon, why are you sleeping on the sofa?” you asked as Simon plopped down on the couch, there was a blanket and pillow that clearly indicated he had been sleeping there, you're not even sure he can fully fit laying down on the sofa. “Bed is too hot, and the room is too bright”  You're guessing the living room is the only room that actually has full window curtains. You sighed, taking out the medicine you had bought. “When did you last take medicine?” Simon rubbed a hand over his face like your voice was irritating him “took pain killers 2 hours ago” you looked at him confused and a little worried “Simon, did you take medicine for sick symptoms, not for pain?” Simon looked at you like you were crazy before blankly saying no. now you were the one rubbing a hand over your face, you started opening up the medicine you bought when Simon pointed to the pantry “I ‘ave some” you went look, somehow his pantry was full yet empty at the same time, ramen, chips, protein bars, canned foods, and behind all of it you found an almost full packet or medicine, you checked the date, it expired 5 years ago. 

“Simon when did you get this” he shrugged “I don't know, when I moved in” you placed the medicine in the trash, going back and opening him the medicine you had just bought “swallow this and then lay down, I’m gonna fix you some food” Simon didn’t argue with you he just complied. Simon laid down while you went into the kitchen

You started making Simon the classic, tomato soup. You were semi making it from scratch, it wasn't from a can but you did get canned tomatoes to make it easier. Simon didn't even bother paying attention to what you were doing, he was already laying back on the couch. While you were letting the soup simmer you went to Simon's bedroom.

His room was a mess, he had clothes thrown on the ground, his blankets were on the floor, his sheets were coming off his mattress, for some reason his weighted blanket was bunched up in the corner. You started picking up his sheets and blankets, you placed them into the wash. You looked everywhere to find more sheets but you couldn't, you could go wake Simon up to ask but there was always a chance he didn't have any, and you didn't want to wake him up for nothing. So you called Kyle, he could secretly leave base and buy you some new sheets and blankets for Simon, you didn't trust Soap to be able to do it quietly or discreetly and you really didn't want to tell Price you practically pushed your way into Simon's house.

Kyle agreed of course, he didn't even really ask any questions, he showed up less than 20 minutes later with lightweight sheets and blankets, he even refused to take the money you were offering. He just handed the bag and left, he knew Simon was sick and needed someone to take care of him, he also knew Simon didn't need a bunch of people in his house, Kyle knew you would take good care of him. You fixed Simon's bed with the new sheets and blankets, you grabbed his weighted blanket from the floor and did your best to clean it off before placing it on the bed. Then you went and grabbed the fan, placing it right next to Simon's bed.

Then you went back into the kitchen and fixed Simon a cheese toastie (aka grilled cheese) to go with his tomato soup, you shuffled through his cabinet full of tea to find some chamomile tea, once all his food was ready you brought it to him. Your noise in the kitchen had already woken him, he took the plate with a look you couldn't quite place, you heard him whisper a quiet thanks when you walked away. While he was eating you took off the curtains he had in the living room and moved them to his bedroom. 

I was pretty sick last week and STILL getting over all the congestion but it got me thinking about....

Awkward!Ghost who comes back from a long deployment looking forward to being a hermit with you at home. Only to walk in and find you sniffling and sneezing on the couch, tissues scattered with your favorite cuddle blanket pressed over your nose to help you breathe.

Awkward!Ghost who just stands there looking down at you as you smile at him, "It's just a little cold, I think this is the worst of it, don't worry Simon." It was not the worst of it. For two more days you ran a low grade fever and your sinuses decided to torture you with excessive mucus and as a bonus - clogged ears giving you bouts of vertigo.

Awkward!Ghost who never considered himself the caretaker type and genuinely doesn't know what to do. So he'll just follow as you shuffle from bed to the bathroom, or to the kitchen to make a warm tea to drink. He'll watch as you collapse on the couch clutching a box of tissues and your blanket. When you fall asleep he'll keep watching you, making sure your chest keeps with the steady rise and fall of breathing.

Awkward!Ghost who carries you to bed because he can't sleep well without your body present. So when you wake up confused in the dim light, he shifts to let you know. "Simon I don't want you getting sick too!" You plead all hoarse and stuffy nose. It makes his lips tick up in a small grin, "Don' worry bout me lovie. 'Mnot goin' anywhere soon."

Awkward!Ghost who is gone when you wake from a dead sleep finally feeling like a human again. As you emerge from the shower he's standing there with a paper bag of sandwiches from your favorite deli. No fanfare, no 'feeling better?', just his giant frame blocking the door, eyes scanning you over.

Awkward!Ghost who might not be a caretaker or great nurse, but he's a steady presence, always watching and observing. A sentinel standing nearby, protecting what he loves most.

poly!cazriel x sick!reader who is 'too good' to Cassian [780 words]

CW: fem!reader, sick fic, Cassian trying to crack jokes cuz he's worried and teasing is his love language and reader indulges him, mostly fluff

“Cassian?”

“Yeah?”

“Please stop touching me.” 

The large male makes a wounded sound, but you find that you’re too tired—too hot, too sick—to feel anything but relief when he finally, blessedly, removes his hand from your back. 

You manage to stifle a pleased groan as cool air hits the nape of your neck and leaves goosebumps in its wake when the now-warm, damp cloth is removed, but it comes tearing out of you when it’s immediately replaced with a new, cold one. 

Azriel’s breath ghosts across your shoulders in a puff of amusement. “Is that better, love?” 

The fever must be melting the part of your brain where the pride you usually hold onto so tightly lives because the care in his voice brings tears to your eyes. You keep them closed and make a sound of agreement, but apparently, the tears are obvious in your voice. 

“You’re killing me, gorgeous,” Cassian groans, rolling onto his side—closer to where you’re lying on your stomach in bed—and daring to brush his hand along your shoulderblade. 

“I’m the one melting from the inside out.”

“She doesn’t want you touching her, Cassian.” 

so dennis had to get creative. that’s where the sexy nurse outfit comes in. he felt so stupid putting it on the first time but it actually fucking worked

as soon as robby saw him, he stopped dead in his tracks. he was cleaning around the house while sniffling and coughing, until his red, wet eyes landed on dennis. his skin was already flushed from the fever, but dennis swears robby’s cheeks became redder.

his obviously flustered boyfriend made dennis feel more confident. he stepped close, took the dustpan and broom away from robby and set them on the wall, and robby just let him, speechless.

‘dennis… what-‘ he coughs, ‘what is this?’

dennis bit back a smirk. his boyfriend could be adorable sometimes, trying to act like the short skirt of the dress and the red lace peaking out isn’t affecting him. dennis doesn’t have the volume to fill out the cleavage, but it doesn’t seem to matter to robby, as his eyes are clearly fixated on dennis’ chest area.

‘i just wanna take care of you, same way you always take care of me,’ dennis say, voice as soft as he could muster. he didn’t try make his voice breathy and porn like, as his costume would suggest, because his main concern was still his boyfriend’s well being.

‘are you gonna let me,’ dennis adds, taking robby’s hand.

robby just nods and lets dennis lead him to their bed.

‘if you’re good and let yourself recover from your illness, you’ll get a treat, mmh ?’

‘okay,’ robby breathes out. and he is good, the rest of the day. lets dennis spoon feed him soup, naps when dennis tells him too, accept medication, stops lying about his pain levels…

so he doesn’t say anything, to anyone.

for some odd reason the people closest to him have this ability to sniff him out like a dog, so he has to be extra careful. he keeps any physical discomfort to a minimum. he will smile straight through the stabbing headache, and stand like a heavy post through dizzy sways. dennis will brave through the day, everyone none the wiser to the boiling inside of him.

but at night he sinks into his bed, just so tired and so heavy. through feverish dreams his mind conjures up fake dreams of his mothers hands carding through his hair. or maybe even his dad at the edge of his bed holding a spoonful of medicine.

“open up denny. it won’t taste good but i promise you’ll feel better.”

but it’s not real. none of that was. there was no time to be sick back in his childhood house. no excuse.

he remembers crying through sunday morning, getting ready for mass. feeling so so sick and too ashamed to say anything, knowing what consequences would follow.

dennis would hold his hurting belly like it could keep the hurt from pouring out. only late at night would he let it spill out all alone hunched over the toilet, trying to contain his cries.

he’s a doctor know. he can rationalize it. the bacterial contact, the contaminations, the lowered immune system fighting out whatever’s in. he knows fevers are just like a compass pointing north, a signal that says something is wrong. he should know he’s not magically doing it on purpose, and dennis should know it doesn’t make him pathetic or weak.

but it doesn’t work like that, not really.

so he continues licking his wounds in private.

when he wakes up still feeling the same, if not worse, he cries silently staring at the mirror. he’s trying so hard to keep it all inside but he can feel it staring to bubble up inside him.

he swallows around the lump in his throat and gets ready for his shift. he doesn’t eat, he can’t stomach it, and hides that fact from trinity.

in fact he hides everything, from everyone.

he starts avoiding everyone like the plague. this odd game of if i can’t see them they can’t see me. it’s childish. but at least it keeps him busy from the fact that his symptoms are worsening.

dennis really avoids robby. it’s hard, obviously, that’s his boss and now boyfriend. but he knows the man can catch a lie like a blood sniffing shark.

he’s grateful, for the first time, that jack is on night shift. there’s only so much hiding he can do from one of his boyfriends, imagine two. so dennis tends to his patient, doesn’t let anything get in his way. but deep down he’s so miserable. he doesn’t really know what he wants, but he just wants it to go away.

the end of his shift is approaching and dennis can’t help but be glad that soon it’s over. he knows he’s not at his best, and if he continues at this rate his coworkers are definitely going to notice something is off.

just when he’s about to head out, already longing for his bed and four tylenols, he feels a heavy hand land on his shoulder.

“whitaker. a word please.” robby’s smooth voice cuts through the silence. and dennis doesn’t know what the older man sees in his face for him to continue with a sharp “now.”, but he follows anyways.

and now he’s cornered. jack has apparently materialized next to them, and dennis is now standing between his two partners being stared at like an alien.

jack doesn’t say anything as he stares him up and down, nor as he brings up a hand to dennis’ forehead.

“hey!” dennis says as he swats jacks hand away. which is the wrong move, as the jerky movement causes his stomach to lurch like a wave. he clamps his mouth shuts and wills the nausea away.

the older man simply ignores his little tantrum and continues on, “you’re hot. not warm dennis, hot. you’re pale, breathings larbored, and even a little green.”

“i’m not.” dennis says petulantly like a child, the phantom feeling of his leg stomping coursing through him.

jack tsks. “yeah and i’m batman.” he scoffs. “you’re sick, and you’re pretending you’re not. which is worse than just admitting that you’re sick.”

dennis turns his head away. “i’m not sick. i’m fine. and i’m going home.”

a hand shoots out to grip his wrist. “not alone, you’re not.” robby interjects. “you’ve been sick all day. i’ve noticed. others noticed. let’s get you home okay? you need to rest.” he ends softly.

and dennis feels his stomach turns again, out of nausea or shame he can’t tell. but it twists a knife inside of him, the thought that he wasn’t able to hide it well enough. not just because he was found out, but because it means he failed. he failed at the simplest thing, to keep the hurt to himself.

tears pool in his sad round eyes. his shoulders square up for something, he just doesn’t know what. he knows robby and jack would never hurt him. but just because they haven’t, doesn’t mean nobody else ever has.

“no. no, i’ll go to apartment. im fine.” dennis says quietly, trying to pry his wrist from robby’s grip.

“den come on, are you gonna keep lying to us? to yourself?” jack says, and despite the words sounding harsh they’re delivered with hurt.

but to dennis this isn’t easy. saying he’s sick is like admitting defeat. it’s like pulling teeth.

saying he wasn’t feeling well as a kid only got him hurt, and he won’t let that happen to him ever again. doesn’t matter whatever he has to put himself through to keep people from finding out.

the tears rear their ugly head and fall down the slope of his fever flushed cheeks.

“i’m sorry. im sorry i tried to stop it. im sorry. i dont know. i dont know.” dennis whispers softly between hitches of his breath.

suddenly dennis is wrapped in warm strong arms. “dennis hey, it’s okay. it’s okay we got ya.” a hand makes his way to his head to brush through his curls.

“i don’t know why i get like this.” dennis cries, “im sorry.”

dennis does know. that’s the worst part. he knows how he would get hurt when he was sick. how there was no rest, no comfort. medicine wasn’t something his family kept. he would simply have to ride out the waves on his own and pray to god he would take it all away from him.

he’s shushed softly, “don’t worry about it baby it’s okay. you’re okay. let’s get you home and get some food in you okay? you’re okay” a kiss lands on his temple.

the ride to jack and robby’s house was quiet. dennis was laying on jacks lap in the back seat, feeling calloused hands tuck curls behind his ears, missing the concerned glances robby was sending through the rear view mirror and the silent conversation with jack robby was having.

“i thought you worked tonight.” dennis says, muffled against jacks strong thigh.

“not today sweetheart, don’t worry about it.”

when they arrive at the house jack leads him to the couch and helps him lay down. he removed dennis’ scrubs and replaces them with a soft pair of sweatpants and an old college hoodie belonging to robby.

the older pair take turns feeding him spoonfuls soup and re-wetting the damp rag on his forehead.

“i wish you would’ve told us you weren’t feeling well.” jack says softly as his hand finds his way to dennis soft hair? subtlety checking if the fever has gone down. “i know it’s not easy, but you haven’t said why.”

“not that you have to, not now.” robby interjects, setting the almost empty bowl of soup on the coffee table.

dennis shrugs and hides more into jacks lap. “it’s stupid.” he murmurs into the warm skin.

“it’s not stupid if it makes you rather hide and be miserable than accept help.”

dennis sniffles, “let’s talk about it later alright? just focus on resting.” robby says as he bends to lay a soft kiss on dennis flushed cheek.

the younger man obeys and shuts his eyes. he will open up tomorrow, right now he can soak up all the comfort he never got as a child. he’ll appreciate the hand in his hair, the thigh under his head, the soup in his stomach, and the constant fever checks. he’ll let the older pair mother hen around his sickness, even though it’s hard to wave that white flag around.

you never thought you’d see the day the terrifying beast of a man, the ‘king of curses’, reduced to a coughing, sickly mess.

you already knew something was off when sukuna was still sound asleep even after you woke up. he always insisted on starting his day before the sun rose, something about his coffee of choice being “the screams of innocent souls”. you knew better than to judge his morning routine.

it was honestly hilarious, watching him curled up in three layers of blankets, a pout etched on his face. his eyes are bloodshot, face paler than the corpses he left lying around. he kept grumbling as you spoon-fed him hot soup, which was basically seasonings and water thrown into a pot.

“don’t patronise me, woma–ACHOO!–”

you stifle a chuckle, which only intensified his glare, before his face scrunched up to let out another sneeze. he sent a warning glare before he opened his mouth to accept another spoonful from your hands. 

his voice was gravelly, throat like sandpaper as he spoke again, “i can tell you’re enjoying watching me suffer. you’ll regret thi-ACHOO!”

you’re unable to hold back your laughter this time, throwing your head back as a fit of giggles wrack your body at the absurdity of this situation. your arm shakes so much that soup spills into the crevice between your thighs where your knees are touching. a soft “tsk, messy girl” is muttered from his lips, but the edges of his lips betray him by curling upwards ever so slightly. 

“it’s really hard to take you seriously when you can’t even finish your sentences, y’know?” you’re near breathless from laughter, the soup forgotten, spoon still clutched in your hand.

sukuna growls, pouncing on top of you, causing the both of you to tumble back onto the sofa. your back hits the plush pillows behind you as he attacks your face and neck with a flurry of kisses. his chapped lips are rough on your skin, large hands keeping your head in place as his muscular thighs entrap yours. 

“shut up,” he mumbles between kisses.

“ryo, stop– i’m going to get sick, mmph–” your voice is quietened by sukuna pressing your lips together. even though you know it’s a bad idea, you kiss him back, chasing the taste of his probably infected saliva.

when he pulls away, you shoot him a nasty glare, “if i get sick after this, i’m going to kill you. i’m not going to make you soup anymore.”

“the soup was terrible anyway. what the hell did you put in that thing?”

“that is NOT the point. fine, you can sleep on this couch from today onwards. can’t have you passing on your disease to me,” you huff, turning your face away from him in defiance.

a hand forces you to look at him again, a teasing pout growing on his face.

“aww, come on, i didn’t mean that. i would drink your soup no matter how bad it tastes,” when you don’t respond, he continues, “pleaseeeeee, don’t you want to make me feel better? google says sleeping next to you is the number one medicine.”

you highly doubted the credibility of his claim.

“well…if you beg me for it, i may let you into my bed,” you were going to milk the most out of the dreary situation he was in. maybe the viral particles would cloud the better of his judgement.

you were expecting a plea or two, but you sure as hell didn’t expect to see him get off your lap and kneel before you, putting on what seemed to be his attempt at a puppy dog face.

“i beg you, my beautiful, beautiful wife who makes the best soup, to let me sleep with you. look deep into my sorry state and accept my humble request.”

you tapped your finger teasingly against your chin, pretending to consider even though you knew you were going to end up saying yes to him anyway. 

“hmm…i don’t know, can you?” after a long pause, you relent, “fine, you can sleep with me.”

sukuna lets out a wolfish grin, “knew you couldn’t resist me.”

you fight the urge to roll your eyes as he nuzzles his head into your thighs, seeking your warmth as a shiver still manages to pass through his thick layers of blankets.

two days later, you fall sick. but you can’t even bring yourself to complain when sukuna takes care of you, cooking up your favourite food (that tasted a lot better than your sad attempt at soup) and wrapping you in the softest od blankets.

who knew a little flu would make sukuna so soft-hearted?

pairing: spencer reid x reader

word count: 1.7k

summary: you have a bad cold, and spencer comes over to take care of you :)

includes: sick fic, fluff, comfort, caretaking, cold symptoms, fever, coughing, mention of contagion/germs, spencer being a lil soft cutie

from this request (love you mari🌷)