#dr. egon Spengler x reader

[notquitecanon]

Tell 'em bout the Twinkie // Dr. Egon Spengler x extroverted!Reader

Summary: Egon takes care of you after a long night on the town with the other Ghostbusters. While somethings are always the same, you surprise him yet again.

I found this hand written in a notebook from two years ago while I was cleaning so I figured id type it up and post it since there wasn't much new stuff in the tag. Dinner is served.

Warnings: alcohol use, drunk reader, sober Egon (obvi), descriptions of scraped knees and cut hands, blood mention, and first aid. Lots and lots and lots of fluff. Possible cringe. shameless use of Twinkie as an emotional allegory

Dr. Egon Spengler was enjoying a rare night of quiet in the firehouse. Janine had scheduled the whole week around the entire group being free tonight. Peter had insisted a little R&R was due in spades. And for Egon that meant spending a quiet night in, lackadaisically charting his mold and fungus, and catching up on relevant literature at his leisure. 

But for the rest of the Ghostbusters staff, it meant going out to a nearby bar for drinks and music. That included you, the Ghostbusters resident research analyst (as you were listed on their payroll). 

You had been hesitant to leave Egon alone, especially on one of the few nights you wren’t working to the wee hours of the morning or having dinner interrupted by what Winston had dubbed the "bust alarm". Still, the scientist encouraged you to join the others, knowing deep down you wanted to go. 

One of the many reasons he admired you was your easy and outgoing nature, your desire to be out in the world. Due to his introverted and nose in his book habits (even worse when he was in college), your extroverted demeanor was probably the only reason you had managed to befriend him. And because he admired it and profoundly enjoyed your company, he never Egon ever wanted to be the reason you didn’t do the things you wanted to. 

However, that didn’t mean he had the slightest inclination to join you in a Friday night crowded bar: packed with sweaty people he didn’t want to touch, drinks he didn’t want to drink, loud music he didn’t want to hear, smoky air he didn’t want to breath, and sticky countertops he didn’t want to sit at. And that’s just the reasons he got out before Peter gave up trying to convince him. 

So, he was content to gently push you towards the door with the assured promise he’d be happily waiting with for your return with leftover takeout- both of your favorite ways to end a late night since meeting each other as Grad Students. Nothing better than cold noodles after coming home little drunker than you meant to- and well, Egon didn’t drink but did enjoy an excuse for a late night snack (and an excuse to be close to you).

And with the firehouse still and quiet, Egon was enthused, seeing how ectoplasm interacted and affected the growth of his molds, making mental notes to show you. 

Aspergillums wouldn’t grow at all, actively decaying at ectoplasmic contact. Cladosporium both grew and decayed erratically with Ecto contact, creating a cascading starburst affect. Alternaria first grew at unprecedented rates but wouldn’t produce spores. Penicillin frew at normal rates but produced an odd smell. Fusarium grew rapidly and abundantly at first but died off just as rapidly. 

"Spengie!" A recklessly loud shout, Peter no doubt, echoed from the main entrance, "You gotta marry this girl!” 

And thus his quiet night was suddenly over- con. But it meant you were home- pro! Venkman's shout was accompanied by the sound of quick footwork stomping and scuffing above him, and Egon could imagine him doing a little spin around the fire pole. It was Winston’s voice that following in scolding. 

"Peter if you don’t shut the hell up, I will leave you at the bottom of the stairs for the night. We both know you won’t make it up by yourself.” His voice was a warning, but Venkman’s voice was cheeky. 

"After all we’ve been through, Zeddemore?” 

"Especially after all we’ve been through.” 

Egon smirked at his friend’s antics, shaking his head as he removed the Trichoderma slide from the microscope, encapsulated it, labeled it, and sorted it into his hobby file base. A well practiced move as a set of footsteps clunked down the stairs to him. His eyebrows twitched. 

Those weren’t your footsteps. 

And while he loved his friends dearly, they had gotten your company and attention all night. Despite his insistence on your outing, he was feeling uncharacteristically territorial about his night time traditions with you. 

"I’d knock but I don’t have a hand." Ray’s voice called out, sounding three quarters of the way down, chipper tone underplayed by a touch of strain. His steps were unaccompanied and you hadn’t called out to him yet- not even a good night. Had you decided to skip takeout all together in favore of crashing on the upstairs couch? If anything, the couch he had in the basement would be better for your REM cycle. Not to mention Egon was also in the basement.

Nonetheless, Egon answered, inviting him into the lab as he rose from his work stool. Finally, Ray turned the corner, silently answering all the scientist’s questions. Because there you were, wrapped around Ray’s back like a proton pack, your own jacket hanging behind the both of you like a cape, your purse on Ray’s shoulder, and shamefully useless shoes in his hand. Rays arms looped under your lax knees, and your arms were loosely around his neck like the worlds drunkest scarf. Meanwhile, your face had tucked into Ray’s neck, between your arm and his collar, now smudged with your lipstick. 

There was a momentary flash of jealousy until it was squashed by Egon’s sudden attention to your knees. He tensed, seeing a patch of blood on both knees, staining ripped tights and dripping to your ankles. There was a more subtle smudge of injury on both of your palms. 

"What happened?" Egon’s voice was clipped, zeroing in on your wounds as he crossed the lab, suddenly much more worried that you hadn’t even twitched. You were breathing deeply, but hand’t made a sound…

Ray had been expecting this reaction and kept a calm face, "Just took a little tumble, Spengler, see?” 

With that, he shook one of the arms holding your legs, jostling you enough to rouse you a little. Without looking up, one of your bloody hands weakly formed a thumbs up before going limp again. Egon looked between your hand and Ray’s face in a mix of disbelief, worry, and irritation. Stantz swallowed thickly, shifting from foot to foot under his friend’s discerning gaze. 

"That didn’t answer my question, Raymond.”

It only took one more cold look for Ray to start rambling the truth.

"Awww, don’t Raymond me, Spengs, it was all Peter’s fault, honest! It was like graduation weekend all over again. Venkman wanted a rematch, and, you know, (Y/N) had just enough to drink that she was feeling competitive. They agreed to the same stakes as last time and since you weren’t there (Y/N) placed a bet on your behalf." Ray explained quickly, not managing to hide his happy smile as he moved to gingerly deposit you on the couch. Egon was following like a shadow, taking great care to keep your head from falling back uncomfortably. Graduation Weekend had been the last time you had been carried home like this, only Egon had done the carrying that weekend, after going shot-for-shot with Venkman. After that and the subsequent hangover, you had vowed to 'grow up' and never get too drunk to walk for yourself. Until tonight apparently, Egon mused, brushing some hair out of the dried sweat on your forehead and noting your breathing, heavy but shallow. Not unusual after alcohol consumption. As Ray unlatched your knee from his hip, he perked up, "On the bright side, Peter’s cleaning the soot out of the Proton packs’ exhaust vents for a month! Lost on a technicality.”

"Hmmm." Egon hummed, adjusting you into a more comfortable sitting position as you slowly started to wake up, "Get the first aid kit for me?” 

"Sure thing." 

Egon watched your slow, scrunched blinks and how you slowly lifted your head to look at him, squinting before deadpanning until the blurry shape came into focus. It was hard to be irritated with you when your flushed face broke out into an unabated, silly grin, half lidded eyes brightening as you called in sleepy excitement, "Egon!" 

Spengler took the opportunity to analyze the dilation of your pupils-  glassy and dilated, but responsive. Good. He offered you a dry smile to appease you as Ray put the first aid kit beside you. In his other hand were three bottle- another college tradition. A non-FDA approved electrolyte and mineral enriched drink, formulated by Egon when he lived with Peter who was insufferable when hungover. Venkman called it "Liquid Rewind" and begged Egon to patent and copy right it, only after convincing him to add flavoring to mask the terribly bitter taste. 

Spengler nodded a thank you as he plucked the red one from Ray’s hand, giving it to you. Ray watched you pressed the chilled bottle against your warm cheek. This left the already opened grape to Ray who sported a purple ring around his mouth and orange for Peter.��

"Egon, red is Pete’s favorite." Ray pointed out as Egon started unpacking the first aid kit.

"I know." 

"He hates orange." Ray reminded him. 

"I know." 

Ray nodded slowly, he knew how petty Egon could be when he was irritated, and he didn’t plan to attract the scientist’s wrath. Instead, he cheerfully patted Egon’s shoulder and moved towards the staircase, "Alrighty then, she’s all yours now. G’nite, Spengs." 

"Goodnight, Ray. Thanks for getting her home.”

"Well, she sure didn’t make it easy. For a research analyst, she’s pretty slippery." Ray laughed, mostly to himself as he shuffled up the stairs most likely to the bunk room while Spengler pulled on a pair of medical rubber gloves. Egon also knew this from experience- Graduation Weekend he had also done the chasing when you pulled honestly impressive feats of escapism. Now, alone in the lab, Egon was kneeling in front of you in record time. 

He took the first aid scissor and made quick work of ripping off your already shredding tights with such an efficiency that if you were in your right mind you probably would have been too flustered to think straight. 

Egon ignored your little noise of protest, attractive scientist or not, those had been your good tights. The scientists offered you a cocked eyebrow as he rolled the tights down your legs. You simply sighed as he started gentle strokes to clean the blood off you now bare skin.

"Did you have to give Ray such a hard time?” 

The scolding was playful even though delivered with his usual level of directness, still, even drunk you knew him well enough that it made you smile. 

"Well, I was actually giving Peter a rough time, Ray just happened to be collateral damage." Sleep was starting to wear off, leaving your words only a little slurred, as if you were taking great efforts to make sure they were clear. 

"And what did Peter do to deserve your ire this time?" Egon dousing some gauze with antiseptic. He didn’t flinch at the acrid scent, and usually you wouldn’t either, but this time your nose scrunched as Egon moved in even closer. However, you didn’t flinch in the slightest when he started dabbing at the shredding parts of your knees. Instead, you took the chance to appreciate the view of the good doctor kneeling in front of you, overhead lights casting a halo on his dark curls. It would be the perfect distance to lazily run gentle fingers through those curls. You seriously contemplated, but decided not to. You didn’t want to get blood in his pretty, soft hair. Wait- you were supposed to be answering his question… 

"Made an uncouth comment." You sniffed as Egon moved to the next knee to clean the scrape. He hummed again noticing your non answer but not commenting- one problem at a time.  

"Most of his comments are uncouth." He pointed out, pausing to smirk up at you, sighing in relief when you giggled. The was a comfortable pause as Egon focussed in on the deepest gash, but not for long.

"How is the ectoplasm variant going?" You asked after going quiet long enough that Egon wondered if you had fallen back asleep. 

"I’ll have to show you tomorrow. I want your thoughts." Egon informed, a slight smile and point of pride that you had inquired after his work even in your current state as he dabbed antibiotic cream on your knees, "The Cladosporium is behaving particularly erratic." 

"Ugh, my bet was on the Asparagus." You sighed, prodding at the edge of one of the deeper cuts at the top of your knee. Egon gently, but sternly, nudged your hand away, giving you a warning eyebrow before taping large bandage on over one knee. 

"Aspergillus." He correct, almost sounding amused as he moved to the next knee, applying the bandage with just as much care, "Hands." 

"Yes, doctor." You teased, offering both your palms. Egon gently took your left in his larger hand, using his other to repeat the same process. These scrapes were much less deep, mainly superficial, a product of catching yourself before your head hit the pavement, your knees had taken the brunt of it, but Egon was nothing if not thorough. It was quick work to clean and bandage both palms. 

"There, that should prevent an infection." Spengler informed you, holding both of your treated hands in his after disposing of his gloves, he gave them a quick, tender squeeze before pressing the bottle of red ~liquid rewind~ into your grasp, quickly cracking the lid off for you, "Drink that." 

"You know I’m not even that drunk." You scoffed, giving him a playful glare but obeying anyway, taking a long pull of the bottle, only stopping to swallow and breathe before going back in. This time both of his brows were raised as he stood, taking the trash from his impromptu clinic to the nearest bin. 

"How much have you had to drink, exactly?" 

You thought to yourself for a second, raising your eyes to the ceiling and mouthing numbers before tallying them on your fingers while you mentally replayed the night. Egon waited expectantly as he removed his lab coat, getting increasingly more concerned the longer the tally went on. 

"Lets see…. approximately pi cubed divided in half times 1.5, minus six." 

Egon didn’t even have to think about the calculation, instead being bewildered by the sheer amount of liquor you had managed to imbibe. His voice raised just a bit, mostly in disbelief and concern, "17 drinks?! (Y/N)." 

His disbelief sounded more like frustration to you, and your lip wobbled a bit as you lurched forward, regretting the sudden move but powering through as your eyebrows knitted up, looking up to the scientist pleading, voice a whine, "Don’t be mad." 

Egon shook his head with a deep sigh, catching your hand as you reached for him.

"I’m not mad. Surprised you’re coherent? Yes. Impressed at your current equational prowess? Definitely."  He listed as you weakly pulled him back towards you. Egon nudged the forgotten red stained bottle, "C’mon, a little more." 

After a long swallow, you nodded, "Well, after I slipped the boys, I made it pretty far uptown before they found me-" 

You had started almost sheepishly, this time expecting Egon’s crinkled eyebrows and interruption. 

"They lost you?" He repeated lowly, but you just shrugged, squeezing his hand as you continued your tale. 

"Only for an hour, but it was a long walk back home. Well, it was for Ray at least. So I had plenty of time to workshop my math, Ray doublechecked it for me. And I still had time for a nap." You seemed pretty proud of yourself. Egon opened his mouth, eyebrows raising then falling as his mouth closed. 

"I see. Is there a particular reason you needed to escape?" 

"Noooo…."You dragged out, using his hand to pull yourself out of you slouched sitting, using him to keep yourself steady. Egon didn’t budge, allowing the contact. His head cocked ever so slightly to the side, looking at you over the rim of his glasses. You crumbled instantly, "Yes." 

With an innocent smile, you fished into your jacket pockets, patting yourself down with increasing franticness, "I kept going until I could find a 24 hour bodega." 

"You ran off inebriated by yourself in the middle of the night to a late night convenience store in New York City? This neighborhood is basically a demilitarized zone. We’re definitely going to have to discuss that." He muttered, checking you over for any injuries he or Ray might have missed. You were undeterred by his scolding because you had found whatever you had been searching for.  

"Well, where else was I gonna find these at this hour?" You asked earnestly, revealing two only slightly squished Twinkie's. It was your turn to quirk an eyebrow, "What? Did you think I would forget about our late night snack?”

You were interrupted by a overpowering yawn, eyes suddenly drooping, "Gonna be honest though, don’t think cold Thai food is a great move for me at the moment. 

Egon took the slightly squished confection out of your hand, giving it an appraising gaze, before breaking into that signature sideways smile as you leaned into his chest. With all the secrets of the night in the open, you didn’t have much else fighting to keep you awake. Egon his arms around your back, using one hand to rub soothing circles on your back. The good doctor allowed you to stay like that, his cheek pressed against the top of your head. As your breathing slowed, more and more of your weight slumped against him. 

Egon didn’t mind, finally getting that close contact he’d been waiting all night for. Instead, he stared down at the twinkie in his hand. The cream was squeezing out of the sponge cake and smearing onto the crinkled plastic wrapper, but you had ventured countless blocks out of your way, escaping three of New York’s ghostbusters, just to pick up something you knew he’d like.  Even with 17 drinks actively shrinking your neurons, you were always so thoughtful. 

Egon was well aware of how much his friends loved him, and he would always be grateful for finding each of them. But there was always just something different about your love. If Egon possessed a more artistic disposition, he might describe it as a warm ocean wave washing over a beach. Gentle, yet unstoppable. All encompassing. He wasn’t quite sure what he had done to deserve someone like you to love him like you did, but whatever it was he’d do it a thousand times over- even if it meant cleaning you up after a long night out on the town. 

"Did you have a good time tonight?" He asked quietly, feeling you nod into his chest . His sweater was soft against your cheek and he smelled as wonderful as always: earthy yet clean and the slightest hint of something smoky like a full trap or lab experiment gone wrong. After a deep inhale you nodded again through another yawn. 

"Mmmhm. ‘missed you though." Your voice had slowed back down to its sleepy, slow tone that Egon would never admit to loving as much as he did, the warmth of him and quiet lulling you. You were fighting to stay afloat, but Egon’s thumbs working slow circles into your back were winning as he answered. 

"I missed your company as well." 

-

And it was later, when you had fallen into a deep unbothered sleep on the lab’s couch after stealing one of Egon’s t-shirts- the ones he would wear under his jumpsuit-, and using his lab coat as a blanket, that Egon thought about all this, taking a slow bite of his slightly squished gift.

Peter was right. One day, he needed to marry you.

-----

so I tried two somethings new. 1.) tried writing this more from his perspective, which isn't something I really do with any character. 2.) Paired him with a more extroverted out going reader, because I feel like we usually see him paired with more introverted types

anyways I typed this up at 3 am after crying for five hours so please excuse any typos.

[egonspenglerectoplasm]

That smile... 🔥

[rianemorgan]

DR. STONE X GHOSTBUSTERS CROSSOVER

Title: Paranormal Science

Ishigami Senku x Reader

Summary: Reader, the granddaughter of Egon Spengler, teams up with Senku, Taiju, and Yuzuriha to revive the Ghostbusters, blending science and the supernatural to capture escaped spirits. Despite Senku’s skepticism, he helps develop advanced ghost-hunting tech. Just as they begin mastering their roles, the world is petrified, putting their mission on hold until Senku awakens to rebuild civilization.

.

.

.

The first time Senku Ishigami met her, it was at a university science exhibition. He had gone to showcase a prototype for a new energy-efficient chemical reaction model, while she was there demonstrating a high-powered containment unit for capturing unstable particles—technology based on her grandfather’s research, though she never outright said it was for ghosts.

Senku had been intrigued at first, analyzing her work with genuine curiosity, until he saw the blueprints of a proton pack tucked into her folder.

“Wait a second,” Senku said, snatching up the design paper with a raised eyebrow. “This looks suspiciously like those Ghostbusters from thr 90s schematic. You’re telling me you’re working on paranormal research?”

(Y/N) grinned, tilting her head. “Not just research. Practical application.”

Senku scoffed, crossing his arms. “Ghosts don’t exist. Everything has a scientific explanation.”

(Y/N) arched a brow. “You sure about that, scientist boy?”

The debate had gone on for over an hour, drawing in a small crowd of amused onlookers. Taiju and Yuzuriha had shown up halfway through, watching in equal parts awe and exasperation as the two geniuses launched into a verbal sparring match about the nature of the supernatural.

“The human brain is predisposed to hallucinations under certain conditions,” Senku argued. “What people call ‘ghost sightings’ can be explained by electromagnetic fields interfering with brain activity. Simple as that.”

(Y/N) smirked. “Then explain why your electromagnetic interference theory doesn’t account for full-body apparitions, objects moving independently, or recorded thermal fluctuations.”

“Tch. Misinterpretations and coincidences. There’s no empirical proof of spectral entities.”

(Y/N) leaned closer, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Then you won’t mind visiting a haunted site with me to test that theory?”

Senku hesitated, and that moment of doubt made her grin even wider.

That was the beginning of their strange friendship. They respected each other’s intelligence, even if their views clashed. For months after their first meeting, they continued their rivalry, testing theories, challenging each other’s perspectives, and eventually working together when an unexpected event forced them to.

Everything changed when the Entity escaped.

It was a powerful ghost—one of the most dangerous spirits Egon Spengler and his team had ever captured. Decades ago, the Ghostbusters had sealed it away in a reinforced containment unit, hidden from the world. But time had weakened the barriers, and the Entity had broken free, bent on finishing what it started—destroying the world.

As Egon’s only descendant, it was now (Y/N)’s responsibility to stop it, permanently.

Unfortunately, Senku, Taiju, and Yuzuriha accidentally got involved. One moment, they were in the lab, making a machine that can turn plastic bottle caps into a usable petroleum, senku was currently working on a mew project(he can't just be a ghostbuster forever, he wants to go to the moon after all) the next they were running for their lives from a rampaging spectral nightmare.

“Okay, I’ll admit—this is terrifying!!” Taiju panted, dodging a flying chair.

“SENKU, Can you do something about this?!” Yuzuriha shrieked as a spectral claw swiped inches from her face.

“…Tch. Fine. I think I can” Senku gritted his teeth. “Ghosts aren’t supposed to be real, but this thing is obviously something.”

He had no choice but to throw his logic out the window and help (Y/N) trap the Entity before it could cause more damage. Together, they reassembled the old Ghostbusters’ equipment, upgraded it, and became an unlikely team. Senku, against his better judgment, became the team’s chief scientist, helping (Y/N) develop even more advanced ghost-catching technology. Taiju, with his sheer strength, handled the heavy lifting, and Yuzuriha provided agility and strategy.

Thus, the New Ghostbusters were born.

It was chaos. It was thrilling. And, much to Senku’s dismay, it was real.

For months, they worked together, tracking down supernatural anomalies, recapturing rogue spirits, and sealing away the Entity’s power.

Their first real ghost capture as a team didn’t go as smoothly as they had hoped.

(Y/N) had managed to track down a rogue spirit haunting an abandoned warehouse, and they knew they needed transportation. It wasn’t hard to find it—the old Ecto-1 was still hidden away, gathering dust in an old storage unit that (Y/N)’s family owned.

“Are we really doing this?” Taiju asked, looking between the rusted car and the gleam in (Y/N)’s eyes.

“Of course we are,” Senku said, already prying open the hood. “But first, we need to make sure this thing actually runs.”

Hours of fixing later, they had the car up and running. But there was just one problem.

“We don’t have a license,” Yuzuriha pointed out.

“No problem,” Senku smirked. “I already hacked into the system and forged us IDs. Yuzuriha, congratulations—you’re officially eighteen with a valid driver’s license.”

“…Senku, that’s illegal.”

“Tch. I've been doung that since I'm what? less than 7 years old?” Senku said with snake like tongue. "There's no illegal in science as long as we move forward!!"

Decked out in the original Ghostbusters uniforms (refitted to their sizes), they hit the road, siren blaring. The thrill of driving an iconic car, breaking multiple traffic laws, and going after a ghost made their adrenaline spike.

Once inside the haunted warehouse, they activated their proton packs. The ghost, a poltergeist with a nasty attitude, shrieked and threw debris at them.

“On my mark!” (Y/N) shouted, dodging a flying crate. “Three, two—NOW!”

Senku and (Y/N) fired their proton streams, locking the ghost in place while Taiju leaped in, tossing the ghost trap beneath it.

“Hit it!” Yuzuriha stomped on the pedal, and the trap sucked the ghost in, snapping shut with a satisfying click.

Silence. Then, laughter. or in rhis case, Senku slumpung out of exhaustion, I don't think he's build for this tyoe of work, he's a scrawny guy, a stick... literally.

“That was awesome!” Taiju beamed.

“No Taiju kun, that was dangerous,” Yuzuriha huffed. “And highly illegal might I add”

(Y/n) smirked. “Heh. Welcome to fhe world of supernatural I guess, as a scientist this gadgets and traps is really awesome”

Meanwhile, Senku narrow his eyes at (Y/) "though i doubt this is what a logical scientist should do".

"Oh just drop it already and accept this new part of your reality, you leek".

As they drove off into the night, siren wailing, they had no idea that their adventures were only beginning.

Through it all, Senku found himself drawn to (Y/N) in ways he never expected. She was his opposite yet his equal, a scientist at heart but a believer in the unknown. They argued constantly, debated endlessly, and somewhere along the way… fell for each other.

Their relationship was slow, a natural progression of intellectual admiration turning into something more. Late-night research sessions turned into long conversations about science and the supernatural, which turned into playful banter and stolen glances. Senku, ever the logical mind, found himself enjoying her company more than he anticipated. (Y/N) found comfort in someone who challenged her but never dismissed her entirely.

...well that is until a bright green light decided to swallow the entirety of earth, turning every human to stone.

~End

[strangesthirdeye]

✨HAPPY 300+ FOLLOWERS TO ME✨

Me: *open my account door hall gently with a sweet smile on my face* ok, kiddos.. I have good news to share.

Doctor: ohh, good news. I love hearing good news. *glances at Donna excitedly*

Donna: you always love everything, Doctor.

Crowley: *sprawling on my massage chair in the corner of the hall* nguhh- damn.. this massage chair is something. *fiddling with the remote control for the massage chair*

Aziraphale; *snatches remote control from Crowley's hand* Crowley! It's not good to play someone's stuff, like that. What if it's broken?

Crowley: *shrugs* just want to increase the speed.

Aziraphale: *sighs before helping Crowley increase the speed on the massage chair* So.. what is the good news you want to share?

Stephen: *crossed his arms against his chest while leaning against the wall* Don't tell me that you have new ideas for other fanfics while you haven't finished the old ones yet.

Wong: Is it the continuation of Snape's fanfics that you promised him a few months ago? because as far as I know you have made two fanfics for him. That's why he seems in a good mood lately.

Severus: I've been in my own mood for a long time... what makes you sense that I've been in a good mood lately?

Wong: *shrugs* maybe because you don't always make a few snarky remarks the moment Dhani enters this noble hall.

Severus: who says if I don't make a few snarky remarks to Dhani I'm in a good mood? Tell me, Mister Wong.

Me: guys, settle down ler.. just chill out.. we don't need history to repeat itself..

Sherlock: With what you say first, old things will be repeated without having to be told because your mouth is the type that likes to talk without thinking about the consequences.

John: *massage his nose* Sherlock.. just.. let Dhani tell what the good news is so that this meeting will not be long.

Me: John's right.. if you don't want this meeting to be long, you need to let me do the talking. While y'all.. Listen to me.

Them: *grumbled before agreeing with what I said*

Me: *nods* good.. now *press the button to open the projector* This is the good news I want to share.

Doctor and Donna: *raise their eyebrows to show they are impressed*

Sherlock: *narrows his eyes*

John: *mouth agape*

Severus: *keeps his stoic face*

Crowley: *opens his black tinted glasses slightly to see clearly*

Aziraphale: *stunned*

Loki: *blew his lips* that's growing fast.

Stephen and Wong: *disbelieving*

Stephen: that's very fast because a few months ago it was only 200.. now it has increased to 300

Me: 322 actually.

Donna: Well, if 22 unfollows you, it will be 300 exactly.

Doctor: no no.. don't do that

Me: woi! don't jinx it!

Aziraphale: but- but you don't post any fanfics these days.. how come it can be so many?

Me: i did posted something a few days ago, okay.. two incorrect memes and Chapter 13 Unspoken Love..

Stephen: of course it's about their fandom *nods his head at Aziraphale and Crowley*

Crowley: Did I sense jealousy, Doctor? *smirks*

Stephen: *glares at Crowley* I don't need those kind of incorrect to make me jealous.. At least I have a full chapter

Crowley: *rolls his eyes, annoyed with Stephen*

Sherlock: plus about the two of them too *gesture towards Doctor and Donna* something about Y/n making dad jokes.

Donna: don't remind me of that please *groans*

Doctor: it's funny.

Donna: for you, yes.. but me? no.

John: Well at least she doesn't make dark jokes right?

Doctor and Donna: ...

John: right?

Me: *write notes* that's a good idea, Johnny boy.. Might make dark jokes for incorrect Sherlock too *grins*

John: for God's sake!

Sherlock: I don't have any comments to make.

Stephen: whatever.. as long as my lists will be full of fanfics only.

Me: who says your lists will be full of fanfics only? Your Unspoken Love series alone has taken time to complete and you want your list to be full of fanfics only? Huh! in a dream.

Stephen: you-

Severus: did i get new fics?

Me: let me check.. *open my notes app* hmm.. Supreme Strange imagine.. Little Star miniseries, Sherlock's.. Ahh not yet

Severus: pardon?

Me: *glance at Severus* not yet lah.. sorry.. but don't worry, Sevvy, I will do it.

Severus: she always says the same thing but won't do it.

Me: oh! don't let me not do it

Loki: Am I getting new fics too?

Me: same goes to you.. i still have a few paragraphs for Too Many Secret part 2 which is not ready yet. It's a long fic. So it will take time to prepare.

Loki: not ready yet? I thought it was ready?! it's been what? a few months!.

Me: oh! you have to remember that I use my phone to write all these fanfics okay! that's why it takes time!

Loki: i sense deception! she has a new laptop which she didn't use for writing instead she uses it to read fanfics!

Me: I'm still not used to writing using a laptop because I'm so used to using the phone to write, you snake!

Loki: This is ridiculous. *cross his arms*

Donna: seriously, what is our purpose for gathering at this meeting? to roast each other? I thought it was to celebrate 300+ followers.

Aziraphale: I must say that, although Dhani is the type who is slow to update or post something but in the end her work will finish in no time.

Severus: she has really bad writer's block.. that's why she's a bit slow to write fanfics.

Me: is that judging or a compliment? because I'm gonna take it as a compliment even though it's a bit harsh.

Severus: none of the above

Me: okay, compliment then.

Doctor: Well, at least she writes, right?

Egon: that's right, but judging by some of the abandoned fanfics in her notes apps says something.

Them: *turned their heads to look at the source of the voice*

Stephen: who are you?

Sherlock: new character crush i suppose.

Doctor: She added character crush again?

Egon: I don't know how I can be here actually. All this started a few months ago where Dhani got bored and decided to watch Ghostbusters. My name is Egon Spengler

Donna and Wong: *look at each other*

John: *raises eyebrows* she sure has a taste for men who are introverted and high functioning and intelligent and cold..

Me: it's not my fault that they are all fine.

Aziraphale: so you're going to start making fanfics for him?

Me: I'm still thinking about that, actually.

Crowley: great! more abandoned fanfics *clapping his hands*

Me: why are you all being so cruel this day? you all should raise my spirit to write so that I will write diligently..

Aziraphale: oh, Dhani.. don't be sad.. Just.. you don't need to rush for time to write.. You have plenty of time to write and do other things.. Just take your time and relax.

Donna: yes, just sit and relax.. having tea and sleep..

Sherlock: gosh that's kinda boring

John: *smack Sherlock on the back of the head* shut up

Egon: I don't mind if I don't have fanfics about me.. I mean.. I'm still new so only 'seniors' have fanfics, right?

Me: oh, don't worry! I will try to do it.

Loki: well let's just don't rush. I mean you have a lot of time to write.. so there's no need to rush.

Donna: yeah, Loki's right.. I mean.. we are just Characters.. so we can only entertain you.. all our dialogue and actions are in your hands.

Stephen: and you kind of use us to motivate you to write or do other things.

Wong: that's right.

Crowley: Ngh- don't stress too much.. Everything will be okay in the blink of an eye.

Me: *tears up* oh guys... thank you!

Them: no problem

Wong: so.. is there anything else you want to talk about?

Me: nahh.. I think this is enough.. you can go.

Stephen: *stands up* right.. if you say that *open portals* in you go, gentleman and lady.

Crowley: *points his index finger at me* remember what I said. *enter portal*

Aziraphale: it was nice to see you all again.. thank goodness we don't have to argue before going home.

Severus: at least we all got what we wanted.

John: yeah.

Aziraphale: i think i should go, see you guys later! *enter the portal and the portal directly vanish*

Sherlock: *nods in farewell before entering the portal*

John: see you guys later *enter portal*

Severus: i must go before all those dunderheads do inappropriate things.. Farewell *enters the portal*

Egon: it was nice to meet you all.. I hope we can get to know each other more.. goodbye *enter portal*

Loki: I think this is the time for me to withdraw.. until next time. *disappears*

Wong: I should go then *enter the portal*

Stephen: *look at me who is watching they all go in front of me* Dhani. ..

Me: hmm?

Stephen: *walks closer to me and stands in front of me* as a first fictional character that you like, I must say that.. you grow up fast.. mentally.. physically you look like a 12 year old girl although your age is more than 18 years old.. so it's a bit different from the others because you can remember all the plots and stories even though they've been left for a long time. Consider you have short term memory but you can still remember all the stories and plots for your stories that you abandoned.. That's why you are always slow to update because you always follow the mood to write.. not because you have no ideas...

Me: so you mean that I'm lazy to write? Even though I have an idea to write.

Stephen: more or less like that..

Me: wha- what the hell! i thought you wanted to give me advice instead you just want to tell me that i'm lazy.. sheshh...

Stephen: it's not my fault.. I'm just telling you in a way that's not straight forward.

Me: wouldn't it be nice if you just told me straight forward.. haiyaa

Stephen: well I don't want you to be offended.

Me: of course I will be offended if you said like that.. but I just accept it because it's true. Heh..

Stephen: *nods and pat my head* good.. well, i shall go back to my realms.

Me: right, bye bye! *closes my account hall door loudly*

[kawaiisakura143]

I made a Ghostbusters OC & she has a crush on a...certain scientist😗

[agaypanic]

hi omg i got so excited when i saw you were doing egon spengler x reader aaaa! could you do egon and an personality opposite reader? he's all serious and deadpan while she's happy and upbeat (it'd be cool if she was the new girl in the team and had a crush on him). sort of like a "she fell first, he fell harder" situation?

The Sunlight On My Spores (Egon Spengler X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: The new addition to the ghostbuster’s team is a ray of sunshine, and she has her sights on a scientist with an interest in fungi and the supernatural.

A/N: AHHHHH ive been waiting for an egon/ghostbuster request!!! since i havent written for egon before, i hope i get his character right lol also idk shit about science/paranormal jargon. and idk if eegs is spelled the way it should but it’s pronounced ee-gs, like egon but s instead of on

***

Joining the Ghostbusters definitely brought amusement and hecticness to your daily life. Although you handled more of the office work, you had seen your fair share of the paranormal action. Namely Slimer, who would get ahold of your lunch every now and then.

Ray was the first on the team that you had met, being the one to interview you. You liked to call him ‘Sun-Ray’ for his bright and positive personality.

You were pretty much hired on the spot, mainly because Janine had been complaining about the lack of extra help. But as long as you had a steady paycheck, you didn’t mind. Ray had immediately showed you around the firehouse. You met Peter and Winston on the main floor, the former being flirtatious and the latter being more polite in his welcoming. 

Then Ray took you up to the second floor, where the dining area, sleeping quarters, and lab were.

That’s where you met Egon Spengler. His tall frame was hunched over one of the lab’s many workbenches, doing some soldering work on a proton pack.

“Spengs!” Ray said with a wide grin, bringing you over to the scientist. The man in question set down the soldering iron and straightened up, adjusting his glasses as he turned around.

“What is it, Ray?” He asked in a somewhat monotone voice. He glanced at you, furrowing his brows slightly before looking back at his friend. “Who’s this?”

“This is Y/n, our new recruit!” Ray replied enthusiastically, patting you on the shoulder. 

“Ah, so you’ve filled the new receptionist position.” He said, giving you a once-over. “Janine will be happy to hear that.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Spengler.” You greeted with a smile. He outreached his hand, which you grasped firmly and gave a few shakes. His hand was slightly calloused, probably from his work, but still felt nice.

“Egon’s fine.”

“I’ve read a few of your papers on paranormal studies; I think the whole thing’s fascinating.” 

Some of his research papers weren’t the only thing of Egon’s you’ve seen. Ever since the Ghostbusters had gained some popularity, you couldn’t help but find him quite cute, spending an extra few seconds looking at him whenever a picture of the group was in your newspaper or on your television screen. 

And he was definitely even more handsome in person.

“Well then, you’ve definitely come to the right place.” Ray grinned, but your focus was still on the spectacled man before you.

“Thank you, that’s very flattering.” Although his voice was a bit monotonous, the response was genuine. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to check on my spore samples.”

“Spore samples?” You asked with curiosity.

“Yes. I collect spores, molds, and fungus.” 

“That sounds like fun!” Egon was a bit taken aback by your response. That wasn’t a reply he was used to hearing. And the fact that you sounded genuine and peppy was even more confusing to him. 

Ray, wanting to show you the rest of the firehouse, started to pull you away. You gave a quick goodbye to Egon before bounding down the stairs after Ray. Meanwhile, Egon needed to take a second to get his befuddled thoughts straight before he could tend to his samples.

***

You fell into a routine pretty quickly. The job was mainly making appointments and ensuring the boys were ready for a call, scheduled or unexpected. Occasionally, you filed paperwork or got coffee for everyone at odd hours in the day. But because the job was shared between you and Janine, you often had at least a little bit of free time.

“Got another one!” Peter announced as he stepped out of the Ecto-1 that had just rolled into the firehouse, holding up a slightly smoking trap. As Winston and Ray emerged from the car, you wondered if Peter had been wearing a poncho because he was the only one not covered at least halfway in goo. “He was a real slimy one, too.”

“I can tell.” You laughed as Ray and Winston peeled out of their uniforms with a grimace. 

“You’re back.” Egon’s voice almost made you jump; you hadn’t realized he had come down from the lab. He walked until he was standing next to you, holding his hand out towards the ghost trap. “I’ll take that, Peter. Ray, come with me, I want to discuss the containment facility with you.”

“What about it?” Ray asked as he closed his locker. Egon brushed past you to walk down to the basement, Ray close behind.

Not wanting to be caught staring at Egon’s leaving form, you whipped back around to the car. It seemed that Winston and Ray weren’t the only ones who got slimed. Poor Ecto.

“I think I’m gonna clean the car.” You thought aloud. “You guys don’t have any more calls until tomorrow.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, Y/n,” Winston said. 

“Well, someone’s gotta do it,” Peter interjected. “We gotta ride in style, after all.”

“Really, Winston, I don’t mind.” You insisted. “I don’t have anything else to do.”

“Suit yourself.” He said with a shrug.

Patting you on the shoulder, Winston went upstairs to take a shower. While Peter hung up his jumpsuit, you looked around in a storage closet for car washing supplies.

“Y/n?” You looked towards the sound of the voice, seeing Egon peeking out of the basement entrance.

“Yeah, Eegs?”

“You, uh-” He cleared his throat, cheeks going slightly pink, and you wondered why. “You can wear my jumpsuit, if you want. So your clothes don’t get dirty.”

You grinned, straightening up from your slightly bent position. Peter raised a brow at Egon, although you couldn’t see that because you were also looking at the tall man.

“Thanks, Egon!”

He nodded once before going back downstairs, Peter hot on his tail. 

“You sweet on her or something, Spengs?” He asked quietly, not wanting to gain your attention.

“Shut up, Venkman.”

***

Music blasted as you washed the soap suds of the Ecto-1. You were pretty sure everyone was out of the building, either getting lunch or just not wanting to be in the firehouse. You had taken Egon up on his offer, his jumpsuit fitting very baggy on you. You had to roll up the sleeves and pantlegs, but you didn’t mind. Especially when seeing the patch with his last name on your chest.

Over the music and your own voice singing along to Whitney Houston, you didn’t hear Egon walking down the stairs. When he reached the bottom step, he watched as you jumped around to the beat. 

“I need a man who’ll take the chance, on a love that burns hot enough to last.” You sprayed the last of the soap off the front of the car before turning the hose off. “So when the night falls, my lonely heart calls. Ohh- Oh!” You yelped in surprise as you turned around, seeing Egon, who was still looking at you. His eyes trailed up and down your form, but it was so quick that you didn’t notice. “Hey, Eegs! I thought you’d gone out with the others.” Even after turning down the radio to hear his response, you still danced a bit. Although, your movements were a bit more subdued.

“I was up in the lab, checking on my fungi.” 

“Oh! Was the music distracting you?” You asked, already sounding apologetic. “I can keep it down if you-”

“No!” Egon answered quickly, taking the both of you by surprise. He cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. “No, the music’s fine. I wanted a snack and found that we were out of Twinkies, so I was going to get some.” 

You nodded in understanding, moving to put away the car cleaning supplies that you were no longer using. And then you noticed that Egon hadn’t made any move to leave. You looked over your shoulder, seeing that he was standing in the same spot with eyes darting around the room, and turned back around to face him. You tilted your head with a questioning look.

“Would you, ahem, would you like to come with me?” He seemed a bit shy to ask, and it made you smile brightly. “Wouldn’t want to leave you here all alone and all.”

“Sure!” You answered enthusiastically. “Lemme just put all this away.” 

Without asking, Egon helped you gather everything and put it in the storage closet. You unrolled the limbs of Egon’s uniform, and he couldn’t help but admire you in his attire, despite how much the fabric consumed you. It was hung back up in his locker with care before you grabbed your purse from your desk and skipped over to him.

“Ready?” You nodded, and the two of you walked out of the firehouse. Without thinking, you looped your arm through his. But before you could pull away and apologize for not asking, he was already pulling you along the sidewalk, the tiniest hint of a smile on his serious face.

[queenariesofnarnia]

Honey {e.s}

Egon Spengler x f!Reader

this is my first time writing anything for the ghostbusters! so it'll probably suck :) gif not mine

The wind tickled your face as you walked to work clutching a box of doughnuts and holding a tray of coffee. The click of your heeled boots faded into the morning sounds of the city. You worked with the ghostbusters helping Janine out with phone calls and paperwork. You were the one who kept the cabinets and fridge stocked at the station. As you walked in you could hear the music coming from Ray’s radio, the shuffling of Janine’s paperwork, and the sound of Egon tinkering with his pack.

“I have arrived with coffee and donuts my darlings” you call out as you use your foot to shut the door. There was now a shuffle of footsteps heading for you and yells of excitement.

Janine took the box of doughnuts from your arms as you handed them each their specific coffee.

“You are truly an angel amongst this lot” Peter praises accepting his coffee. You laugh rolling your eyes at his antics. Winston patted your shoulder as he sipped his coffee.

“You get it right every time” He smiles at you. Ray gives you his usual good morning hug taking the hot cup from your gloved hands. Janine is grateful to accept the drink before the phone begins to ring. You grab Egon’s favorite doughnut from the box and his coffee heading for his lab.

“I have your breakfast Dr. Spengler” you announce entering the lab. Little did you know Egon would get flustered each time you called him by his title. You were the type of person that called people pet names when you truly care for them. Whenever you call him ‘honey’ he melts, but you don’t know that. Seeing you in a stylish yet warm outfit with a bright smile on your face holding food for him made him feel something he couldn’t describe.

“How many times must I tell you calling me Egon is fine” he jests taking the doughnut and coffee from you.

“As many times as it takes for me to get it right honey. Enjoy your food I’ll be back shortly” you disappear into the station to go about your daily tasks. After a few hours of tackling your more demanding tasks you decide to check the pantry and fridge taking note of everything they need. Asking everyone to pick their own personal snacks. As you head out you pop into the lab after softly knocking to alert Egon of your presence.

“Honey, I’m going to get some groceries for the kitchen. Do you need anything while I’m out?” asking as you stroll over to his desk with your pen and notepad. “I already put a box of Cheez-It’s on the list for you. I saw that you were low” you add.

“I think that’s all then. Are you going alone?” he asks as you get ready to walk away.

“Yup, I’m going to walk there, shouldn’t be too bad” replying with a light shrug, at that he stood up discarding his lab coat, replacing it with his suit jacket. “Egon, honey I can go alone” you try to convince him.

“I’m overdue for a break anyways. I can carry the bags for you.” He places aa hand on the small of your back walking you out the lab. You receive curious looks from the rest of the team.

“We’ll be back darlings!” you inform them, before realizing you left your purse in the kitchen. “I have to go grab my purse. I’ll be right back hon” Peter had a shit-eating grin on his face looking at Egon. Janine was giggling trying to cover it up with her magazine. Ray and Winston just looked smug.

“You got it bad Spengs” Peter grinned at his friend.

“Almost as bad as she has it” Winston adds.

“Just ask her out, I promise she wouldn’t say no” Ray says popping a cigarette between his lips. Janine makes a noise of agreement as you return to the room.

“Come on honey let’s go” you grab Egon’s large hand lightly pulling him out the station.

“Take your time honey! We’ll miss you” Peter hollers behind you two as the door closes. You expect Egon to let go of your hand as you exited the station, but his grip tightened instead. Holding you closer through the crowd as he leads you both to the store. Grabbing a buggy once you arrive he offers to push it as you collect everything on the list. Just taking the store aisle by aisle since Peter said take your time, you’ll use it to your advantage. You added some groceries you needed for your apartment as well. As you searched for the items needed, Egon just admired you. He helped you when you needed to get things from a higher shelf. That’s when you took your turn to admire him. Winston wasn’t wrong that you had it bad for Egon. How could you not? You may not be into science as much as he does, but you loved to hear him talk about his findings and his interests. You would let him talk to you about anything, and he even listened when you would talk about your interests. He never made you feel like you were less intelligent, he thought you were brilliant and provided stimulating conversation. As you tried to reach a box of your favorite cereal, Egon chuckled watching your attempt before reaching right past you to grab it.  

“You two look like such a sweet couple” a pair of elderly ladies gushed. Instead of ruining their vision you flash them a sparkling smile, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Thank you so much! He’s the absolute sweetest, just like honey” you gush looking up at him for a moment before looking back at the ladies.

“I bet he is. You two enjoy yourselves. Love is a wonderful thing” the shorter of the ladies say grabbing the taller one’s hand looking at her like she hung the stars in the sky.

“Have a wonderful day lovelies!” you wished them as they headed past you. You haven’t let go of Egon yet. His hand rested on your waist keeping you between him and the buggy. He only let you go to grab the items on the list until it was time to pay. Once everything was bagged and paid for he took hold of your hand as you walked back to the station. He’s been quiet since the conversation with the ladies, but not in an uncomfortable way. More like the gears were turning in his brain trying to figure out what to say. When the fire station was in sight he began walking faster pulling you along to keep up with his long strides. A chorus of ‘hello’s or welcome back’ rang through the station, but he was on a mission, so your ‘hi darlings’ trailed off quickly.  Placing the bags he carried on the counter he gestured for you to do the same. However, he stopped you from putting away the groceries.

“What’s wrong honey?” you asked concerned, you haven’t seen him look this flustered since you gave him a hug for the first time.

“Why didn’t you correct the ladies in the store?” he asked as he started pacing around the kitchen.

“They looked so precious Egon. The way they looked at us. I couldn’t tell them otherwise. Besides why would I want to disagree with them?” you rhetorically asked. Pausing in his pacing, he stares at you like you said something crazy. “Don’t give me that look Spengler” you huffed leaning against the counter, crossing your arms looking away from him.

“You wouldn’t mind being seen with me?” he asked in a low tone. It was your turn to look at him crazy.

“Are you kidding?” you pause taking in the look on his face, he was genuinely asking. “Egon, honey why would I ever mind being seen with you? It is an absolute honor in my eyes to be seen with you” you reach for his hands. “How are you so smart, yet so oblivious?”

“I am not oblivious” he retorts with a pout.

“Egon, I love you but you’re oblivious. How upfront do I need to be to get you to understand?” you ask gazing into his warm eyes. You let his hands go breaking the moment. “I’ll start putting the groceries away, we can continue this later” turning away quickly dismissing your admission. Despite what you were trying to do, Egon had different plans. He gently grabs your hand turning you around pinning you between his body and the counter.

“Can you say it again?” his tone was almost desperate, as if he didn’t believe you could possibly feel that way for him.

“I love you” your voice was soft, but your tone was firm which left no room for arguing. Throwing your arms around his neck you pull him down for a kiss catching him by surprise. One of his hands stays gripping the counter behind you as the other holds your bodies close together. His lips were quick to match the rhythm of yours, he pulls back your noses touching.

“ I love you too by the way” he breathlessly chuckles.

“I would hope so with a kiss like that Dr. Spengler” you tease.

“I quite enjoy when you call me doctor” his grip tightened on your waist.

“Okay lovers no making little science babies in the kitchen” Peter interrupts before Egon has the chance to kiss you again.

“I’ll just take Dr. Spengler home then Venkman. We’ll see you tomorrow darlings” you grab Egon’s hand dragging him out the station. “Also whoever puts the groceries away for me gets a home cooked meal of their choice” you shout back into the station before shutting the door. Egon had a goofy grin on his face as you dragged him through the busy sidewalk.

[augiewrites]

“psychic” - ray stantz

summary: ray invites a psychic to help them on a job

pairing: ray stantz x psychic!reader

word count: 1.8k

a/n: this turned out so long and is kind of niche but dr. ray stantz if you read this im free on thursday night and would like to hang out. please respond to this and then hang out with me on Thursday night when i’m free.

Spooks and specters aside, Ray liked to think that he was a reasonable, level-headed man.

His friends, however, tended to disagree.

“C’mon, Ray, you can’t believe everything this crack says just ‘cause they’re a smokeshow,” Peter chastised him from the passenger seat.

“I consulted with multiple colleagues before I even thought about using their services. I will have you know that—”

“Ah, and I’m sure those colleagues had a plethora of scientific backing.”

“You weren’t even there,” Ray scoffed, “if you would just set your biases aside for one second, one second—”

“OH, please!”

“—you might actually learn something valuable!”

“You know, this is getting ridiculous, Ray.” Peter shook his head, looking out the window.

“Ridiculous, I’m being ridiculous, that’s rich.” Ray muttered to himself.

Egon’s monotone voice broke through from the backseat, “The accuracy of the reading was quite impressive.” He didn’t bother looking up from the gadget he was toying with.

“Thank you!” “Not you, too!” Ray and Peter exclaimed in unison.

“Look, Ray,” Peter turned in his seat to face his friend, “a few lucky guesses doesn’t mean someone’s qualified.”

“Last I checked, you didn’t have any better ideas.” Ray retorted.

“Just because I don’t have any better ideas doesn’t mean this is our only option.”

Ray cut the wheel sharply into a parking spot, narrowly avoiding the other parked cars as Ecto-1 jerked to a stop.. “Pete, our equipment isn’t giving us accurate readings, the spirit is non-communicative, and there are too many objects to know which one it’s attached to. This discussion. Is. Over.”

Three car doors were flung open—only two slammed shut.

”What happened to ‘I’m not stepping foot in that scammer’s lair’?” Ray threw over his shoulder.

“If you think I’m letting you go in there alone to get manipulated by a con artist, you’re even crazier than I thought,” Peter scoffed, “especially now that Spengler’s compromised.”

“I can assure you that I am not compromised.”

“Whatever, Pete,” Ray pushed open the door to the apartment complex, “just…don’t be yourself.”

————————————————

Peter lectured Ray the entire way up to the fifth floor, and was about to octuple down on his argument when the plain door opened, cutting him off.

The psychic smiled warmly at the trio.

”Dr. Stantz, Dr. Spengler, welcome back,” they moved aside, gesturing them into the apartment, “and you must be Dr. Venkman. Welcome, my name’s Y/N.”

Y/N extended a hand, and Peter gave it a brief shake.

“Yeah, pleasure’s all mine.”

If looks could kill, Ray would’ve killed Peter a long time ago.

”Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, Y/N.” What Peter gave in sarcasm, Ray made up for in sincerity.

”It’s no problem at all—please, take a seat.”

Ray promptly sat in the plush chair closest to Y/N, and Egon took the other, leaving Peter sitting on a low cushion on the floor.

Y/N gave them another smile, “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

”Well—“ Peter began, but was promptly cut off by Ray.

”We have a job, you see. A client recently inherited his great-uncle’s estate, but there’s this poltergeist—real nasty one. We think it has an attachment to something in the house, but we can’t figure out what.”

Y/N nodded, “Hm, I see.”

Peter butted in, “These goofs were hoping you’d come to the house and be their ghost hound.”

”Peter.” Ray gave him a warning look.

”And I take it you don’t want my help?” Y/N raised an inquisitive brow.

”I mean, don’t get me wrong. I appreciate that you need to make a living. I’m just not buying it.”

“I am so sorry about him, Y/N,” Ray started.

Y/N just laughed, their focus still on Peter.

“Last week. You were on a date—she was a little too young for you, by the way.”

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but Y/N cut him off.

”You thought you were going to get lucky, but she got cold feet, kicked you out of the car and drove off with your pants. Left you there, hanging in the breeze.”

”How did you—“

”There’s a man with you, he saw the whole thing. Says his name’s Bill. He couldn’t wait to tell someone about it.”

Peter gaped at Y/N, speechless for possibly the first time in his life. Images of his late uncle Bill flashed in his mind. He had always found humor in other people’s misery.

Y/N turned their attention to Ray, who was already looking at them in awe. “I would be happy to help,” they briefly looked over his shoulder with a warm smile, “your mother says hello, by the way. Lovely woman.”

“Th-thank you.” Ray stammered a bit.

“You were actually my last appointment of the day, if you would like to go now.”

Peter shot up from the cushion, heading toward the door. “Great, let’s go.”

He just wanted to get Y/N out of his life before they could reveal anything else about him.

”Don’t mind him.” Ray smiled at Y/N apologetically.

“Oh, trust me, I won’t.” Y/N beamed back, grabbing their things and following Ray out the door.

————————————————

Ray guided Y/N into the passenger seat, much to Peter’s chagrin.

He was back to his usual self, leaning up from the backseat and gripping the back of Ray’s seat as he questioned their new addition.

”So these people—spirits—are just watching us at all times.”

”Well, yeah,” Y/N laughed softly, “unfortunately, they don’t have much else to do.”

Peter sat back in his seat, looking mortified.

”Really makes you reconsider how you act, right?”

Peter thought for a moment.

”Nah, nothing Casper can do about it, anyway. Bunch of creeps.”

Ray scoffed. “Very inspirational, Pete,” he snuck a glance at Y/N, “I know I’ll be thinking twice the next time I pick my nose—figuratively speaking, of course. I do not pick my nose.”

“Of course,” Y/N laughed, “but really, you can’t stop living just because you might have a few spectators.”

”See, they get me.” Peter lightly slapped Ray’s arm before he turned into the driveway and put the car in park.

Y/N exited the car, looking up at the house.

”Are the owners home?” They inquired, glancing at Ray.

”No,” he lightly jingled his keyring, “they gave us the spare key while we figure this out.”

Y/N looked back at the house.

”Oh…well, there’s a woman upstairs. She looks upset.”

”Yeah, they must be pretty angry. Keeps throwing things around and killing the power.”

”No,” Y/N frowned, starting toward the house, “she looks…sad.”

Ray followed Y/N, unlocking the door and guiding them to the staircase.

”I think you may have this ghost misunderstood. The energy here is…” Y/N paused, thinking, “low…but I don’t think there’s anyone here that means harm.”

The pair moved through the house, Peter and Egon left down in the foyer.

”Activity has been most concentrated in the master bedroom, the door to your left.” Ray nodded at the slightly ajar door. “We think that what we’re looking for is in there.”

Y/N wordlessly nodded and walked to the bedroom, pausing abruptly in the doorway.

”Oh, hello,” they greeted the air in a soft voice.

Ray craned his neck from the hallway, seeing nothing in the room. Y/N, however, had their eyes trained on the vanity.

”I see…” They shot a solemn look at Ray. “She’s been here for a long time.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Ray rubbed his chin, “our clients said this activity was new.”

”The activity may be new, but she isn’t.” Y/N now stood by the vanity, lightly trailing their fingertips across the assorted beauty products, jewelry, and papers strewn across the surface. “She stayed back to be with her husband, at first…but now that he’s gone…”

Ray nodded sympathetically, “she doesn’t know how to move on.”

Y/N opened a small drawer with a sigh, picked up an envelope, and gently pulled out a yellowed piece of paper.

”She wrote it for her husband.” Y/N’s eyes scanned the letter. Before long, a tear fell down their cheek and they folded the letter up before reaching back into the envelope and pulling out a small ring.

Y/N slipped both the letter and the ring back into the envelope, wiped the tear from their cheek, and turned to Ray, handing him the letter.

”Here,” their voice sounded small, like they were taking on the pain of the spirit, “you’ll have to burn it…hopefully she can find him.”

Ray silently followed them out of the room, out of the house, and back into the car. Peter was asking Y/N and Ray a new question every other second, but Ray simply brushed him off as Y/N rested their head on the window, looking drained.

The rest of the drive was quiet, and Ray offered to walk Y/N to their apartment upon arrival. He shot Peter a look, silently letting him know to not follow.

The silence continued the whole way to their door, where Y/N cleared their throat and looked at Ray. “Thank you for walking me.”

”It’s no problem,” Ray smiled and stuffed his hands in his pockets, rocking slightly on his heels, “it really affects you, doesn’t it?”

Y/N sighed, looking down at their hands, suddenly very interested in the rings adorning their fingers.

”Only sometimes,” Y/N sighed again, “when I’m too empathetic for my own good. I just couldn’t imagine…being left behind like that.”

Ray reached out to lightly grasp their upper arm. “Well, hey…at least there’s folks like you here to help those left behind, right?”

”Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Y/N met his gaze, “thanks, Ray, really.”

”Anytime.” Ray gave their arm a light squeeze and dropped his hand to his side.

Neither of them moved to retreat.

”Well…I’ll let you get back to your work.” A slight blush powdered Y/N’s cheeks, and they suddenly felt embarrassment blooming in their chest.

Before the door could close between them, however, Ray stepped forward.

”Wait!” He blurted, feeling an embarrassment of his own creeping in. “Can I…see you again?”

Y/N gave him that warm smile that made him feel like they were the only two people on Earth.

”You know where to find me.”

Ray lingered at their door for a moment after it closed, feeling light, before retreating back to the car.

”Oh, no!” Peter cried out as Ray slid into the driver’s seat. “I know that look! Don’t tell me you’re gonna start bringing them around on a regular basis—I do not need any more spirits airing out my business.”

Egon cut in from the backseat, “I, for one, would enjoy hearing more of what Bill has to say.”

”Well I never want to hear from Bill ever again,” Peter gave Ray a serious look, “Oh, don’t smile, Ray. It’s a serious breach of privacy. You can’t expect me to—“

Ray turned up the radio, drowning out Peter’s wailings.

He drove into the night, the smile never leaving his face.

[notquitecanon]

Not Quite Canon's Masterlist:

Just another multifandom imagines blog. All works are dated- so you can date my progress and track as my ADHD brain jumps from one hyper-fixation to the next

** Indicated NSFW. 18+ MDNI

Do Not Repost! Please and Thanks <3

Requests/asks are always open, the rat in my brain likes receiving little messages and notes of inspiration :)))

Works & Playlists below the cut!

Criminal Minds x Marvel crossover 2019, unfinished (masterlist)

Marvel: 

Spangled Stars || Steve Rogers x Reader (2019)  Whiplash || Peter Maximoff x Reader (2019)  Like a Good Neighbor || Bucky Barnes x Reader (2019)  Chance Encounter || Spiderman x Reader (2020)  Look at You || Moon Knight system x reader (2023) **  Call Me… || Matt Murdock x Reader (2024) 

See Also: Miguel O' Hara Playlist on Spotify 🎧 Criminal Minds / Marvel Crossover listed above ^^

Criminal Minds:

Christmas Vacation || Spencer Reid x Reader (2019)  Fun Facts || Spencer Reid x Reader (2020) Thief! || Spencer Reid x Reader (2020)  Missing || Spencer Reid x Reader (2020) 

See Also: Criminal Minds / Marvel Crossover listed above ^^

John Wick:

First Impressions || John Wick x Reader (2020)  With & Without || John Wick x Reader (2021) 

DC Comics:  

Zero Stars || Adrian Chase x Reader (2022)  Beverage Napkin || Adrian Chase x Reader (2022)  Stop Worrying || Adrian Chase x Reader (2022)  Ghosting || John Constantine x Reader (2023)

See Also: Adrian Chase Spotify Playlist 🎧

Ghostbusters: 

Here, Let Me || Dr. Egon Spenger x Reader (2021)  Mandatory Attendance || Dr. Egon Spengler x Reader (2021)  Happy Golden Days || Dr. Ray Stantz x Reader  Snow || Dr. Egon Spengler x Reader (2022)  For Emergencies Only || Dr. Egon Spengler (2022)   >Part 2   (Metaphorical Rescue Eggroll) >Part 3  (The Love Hypothetical) Dust and Motor Oil || Dr. Ray Stantz x Reader (2022)  Stardust & Fungi || Dr. Egon Spengler x Reader (2022)  Tell ‘em bout the Twinkie || Dr. Egon Spengler x extroverted!Reader (2023)  Hypno!kink headcanon (2022) (plotbunny free to good home) ** See Also: Ray Stantz Spotify Playlist 🎧 I Wanna Be Ghostbuster Playlist 🎧

That 70s Show:

First Dates || Steven Hyde x Reader (2020)  Snowed In || Steven Hyde x Reader (2020)  Comfort || Steven Hyde x Reader (2020)  Slippery & Cold || Steven Hyde x Reader (2020) ** 4 Things Steven Hyde Agreed To & 1 He Didn’t || Steven Hyde x Reader (2020)

Star Wars: 

From the Start || Kylo Ren/Ben Solo x Reader (2019)  Strings || Obi-Wan Kenobi x Politician!Reader (2020)  Disappointment || Kylo Ren x Reader (2020) ** Sacrifice and Devotion || Din Djarin x Reader ( 2023)  See Also: Din Djarin Playlist on Spotify 🎧

Twilight: 

Cowardice || Jasper Hale x Reader (2020)  Bad Moods || Jasper Hale x Reader (2020)  Attitude Adjustment || Jasper Hale x Reader (2020)  The Moment Before Eternity || Carlisle Cullen x Reader (2020)  Firsts || Carlisle Cullen x Reader (2020)  Spiked Punch || Jasper Hale x Reader (2021)  GTA || Jasper Hale x Reader (2021)

Baldur’s Gate 3: 

Insufferably Admirable || Astarion x Reader (2023)   > Part 2 (Foolishly Admirable - 2024)   See Also: Astarion || The Pale Elf playlist on spotify 🎧

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare: 

Keep Talking || Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader (2024) ** Warmth || Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader (2024)  Dense || Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader (2024)  A thought about Poly!141 x Reader (2024) ** >>Search History || Poly!141 x Reader (2024) ** >> Virtual Breadcrumbs || Poly!141 x Reader (2024) (Part 1.5) ** >> IRL Plug and Play || Poly!141 x reader (2025) (Part 3) ** ~~~~Any additional asks or headcanons are posted under the #searchhistory on my blog!

Familiar and Whiskey || Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (2024)** Some clever sleep pun title || Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader (2025)

See Also: POV: ur in love with Johnny "Soap" McTavish playlist 🎧

POV: ur in love with Simon “Ghost” Riley 🎧

[wifetomanyfictionalmen]

can i request Egon Spengler x reader where reader is a scientist and has a ghost in their lab? Reader talks very technical (similar to Egon) and maybe the other ghostbusters struggle to understand what they are talking about, but reader ends up correcting Egon on something and he’s just smitten? (i have a head-cannon that Egon loves it when he’s challenged scientifically)

Hehehehehe YES

“What. Just. Happened-“

Egon x scientist!reader

Warnings: eh it gets a bit…suggestive.

A silent groan escaped your lips as you looked up. The phantasm was still persisting with its tricks. You picked up the phone and dialed the Ghostbusters number, answering the receptionists questions. When assured you they were on their way, you put the phone down and took a few samples of the sticky residue that dripped from your book shelf. Maybe this could be useful.

You set the sample in a safe place and straightened your jacket out. Being a Doctor of Parapsychology and Science you knew this was atleast a class 4. You picked up your copy of Tobins Spirit Guide and began looking through, though it seemed the phantasm wasn’t in said Guide. You hummed as a knock on the door grabbed your attention. You opened the door and there they were, The Ghostbusters. You stepped aside to let them in and rolled your eyes at Peter Venkmans poor poor attempt at flirting. You brushed him off and turned to Ray Stantz. You’d seen his work before “The phantasm isn’t in Tobins, I checked. It seems to be a class 4. It has all the traits of a class 4, slightly more aggressive bordering on a class 5”

Ray and Peter looked at eachother with raised eyebrows then back at you. You’d turned your back to them, looking for something in a drawer. You pulled out a Geiger counter and ran if I’ve the slime as Egon Spengler was going over your office with a PKE meter. You hummed and took a mental note of the readings on the Geiger counter. Ray cleared his throat “have you seen the phantasm miss? Could you describe it?” You hummed and looked at him “I have seen it, a large, red mass of ectoplasm and anger. It has no facial features as far i saw, it had no legs but shoe stubby arms and it squealed like a pig” you out the counter down and looked at Egon who was currently scanning you.

“She’s right Ray, if the readings on the PKE are anything to go by, it’s definitely a boarding on being a level 5 phantasm, a nasty one at that” Egon looked at Ray then the others. Peter looked at them confused “Egon…for one moment pretend that I don’t know anything about parapsychology and dumb it down for me?” You rose a brow and snapped Tobins spirit guide shut making all four of them jump. “Well Dr Venkman, as you are so clueless, let me enlightened you. The big red blob is causing havoc in my office. It is disrupting my work and research, now I am a fellow doctor of Parapsychology and Science. So I’m sure you can share the sentiment of hating being disturbed!”

Peter flinched and looked at Winston and Ray before shrugging “we can’t guarantee that your office will still be in one piece when we have caught said phantasm” Ray told you and you rolled your eyes “okay” you grabbed your research and Tobins, leaving the room. A few hours later the boys walked out holding a smoking trap .

“You were right. A level 4 bordering on 5” Egon nodded at you and you didn’t even look up “I know. Is that it? How much did you destroy?” Egon looked at Ray and rolled his eyes “luckily your office is unscathed your coworkers offices however…not so much” you stood up and snapped your book shut. “How much do you want? And make it quick I have research to be doing” Egon looked at Peter and he gave his signature poor flirty smile. “How does 4,000 sound hm?” You pulled out your cheque book and wrote it for 4000 before ripping it out and giving it to Egon. “I was wondering if you would like to work together, you said you’re a Dr of Parapsychology. The ectoplasm is seemingly negatively charged so I would like to run some tests”

You rose a brow and looked at him “Well it’s actually neutral until exposed to outside elements such as my anger toward Dr Venkman and I’m going to suppose Dr Venkmans annoyance at his poor flirting tactics” the room went silent and Egon pushed his glasses up gently. He looked down hiding his bright red face, god you were perfect.

Winston looked between you, Egon and the other two and rose a brow “What. Just. Happened-“

[egonspenglerectoplasm]

The real Ghostbusters / edit 👻

[belles-non-wallpapering-content]

It's a date E.S x FEM! Reader

Overture- Working in the paranormal section of the university library wasn't the best job, but the one person who came down there did manage to brighten your day, even with his needlessly formal demeanor.

CWs- Creepy basements, mention of loss of job

A/N- Day 12! Only like a half hour late, too! Need to celebrate the little things, I guess. Also I have no idea why I like Egon with a librarian reader so much. But this is what I imagine Egon was off doing while Peter and Ray were deciding to start the business.

The paranormal section of the university library was your favorite spot to work. Mostly because it was rarely ever visited. Tucked away in the basement, near the files, you could mostly listen to music and do sorting and shelving work. You really weren’t supposed to listen to music while you worked, but who was going to stop you? Your boss didn’t even come down here, he said it was ‘too creepy’. 

Half way through your shift, and your music was as loud as your headphones would allow. It was the only thing keeping you going in the —admittedly creepy— basement for this long of a shift. That was, until you turned around to grab another box of files, and there he was. The only person who came down here with any consistency, Dr. Egon Spengler. 

He wasn’t a teacher; but the university paid him to do paranormal research, so whenever he needed text to supplement his work, he came down to visit you. You wondered why he never sent a lab assistant, but you figured he must just prefer to do it himself. You weren’t expecting him though, so he definitely startled you, standing with perfect posture while carrying an overwhelming stack of books. 

“God! Sorry, I didn’t hear you come up, we really need to put a bell on you Dr.Spengler.”

“I told you that you can call me Egon, if you prefer.” It's so hard to try and separate your little crush on him from your work if you call him by his first name, though. Nevertheless, you did want to respect his wishes.

“I know, but you’re so formal I feel like I should address you formally.” 

“Well, thank you.” 

“Of course—Egon.” You nodded your head once to show that you were making the correction. 

“So are you looking for anything in particular? Or just returning?” 

“Just returning these.” He gently set down the stack, which was admittedly impressive. If you’d tried to set them down, it would’ve been a lot–louder. 

“Alright.” You gave him a smile and started grabbing the books one by one to get them checked back in. He could’ve easily put them in the return bin upstairs, it was far less out of the way. But you figured it was the same attention to detail that got him to come pick up his own research materials. 

“So what’re you listening to?” 

“Oh—uh, it’s just my work playlist, I’m really not supposed to have headphones in down here, but it gets so quiet. You’re kind of the only one who comes down here.” 

“Well I promise I won’t tell.” 

“Thanks, Egon, I do appreciate it. If you don’t mind me asking why are you returning all of these anyway? It must be everything you have checked out.”

“Yes, myself along with Ray Stantz and Peter Venkman were fired earlier today. So I had to return the books.” 

“Oh my god I’m so sorry! That’s rough, isn’t that like, your whole department?”

“The university is no longer interested in pursuing the furthering of scientific development through the paranormal, I suppose. But Peter and Ray seem to be coming up with a plan for us to continue our research.” 

“Well it’s good that you guys have something, I’m going to miss you down here.”

“Well thank you, I think that this will be the part of this job I will miss the most.” 

“Ok, you’re all set.” He gave you a short nod, and you finally let yourself speak before overthinking. 

“Just one more thing Dr. Spengler.” It was too late to take it back now, your mind had caught up, but you’d already started. You were going to ask him out. 

“Um–I haven’t really said anything just because, I try not to do that for the people who are like, in my workspace, but I–like you. So if you would like to go out for coffee or something sometime, here’s my number.” You handed him a sticky note you scrawled your number on while you were talking. 

“Oh, well thank you. I will definitely do that.” He took the sticky note and left, a little piece of you felt deflated at his reaction, he looked a little confused and once he started to leave he quickly walked back over to the counter.

“You did mean as a date, right?” You couldn’t help but laugh, just a little bit. That was the one part you thought you’d been pretty clear about. 

“Yes, like a date.”

“Alright, good. I’ll call you tonight.” “Cool! I’ll talk to you then.” When he did leave, you were grateful that no one else was there. That way no one could see the little dance party you threw yourself for finally asking him out.

[darkness-and-books]

Not Invited

Egon Spengler x fem!reader

⚠️: none

word count: 734

Egon had blanked out quite some time ago, utterly entranced by the girl in a booth at the other end of the chinese restaurant. She was sitting by herself reading a book as she waited for her food to arrive. He had seen her smile brightly as the waiter came to take her order, and that smile was breathtaking.

“Dude, what are you staring at? It’s been five minutes,” Ray asked, snapping Egon out of his trance, “Uh, what?” Egon asked, tinting pink at having been caught. Peter followed Egon’s gaze to the girl and smirked. “Not a what, a who,” He teased, Peter and Ray exchanged a knowing look.

“It’s nothing, I was just thinking,” Egon rushed to explain, “Yeah, I’d be thinking about her too, she’s real pretty,” Winston said as he glanced over to the girl who was now getting her food. “You should go talk to her,” Peter encouraged him, “Yeah, what’s the worst that could happen?” Winston tacked onto Peter’s statement.

“She could hear me,” Egon muttered to himself, shaking his head. “Okay,” Peter said in what seemed to be a surrender. Everyone at the table sat in shocked silence for a minute at how quickly Peter dropped it. 

Peter excused himself to use the bathroom before standing up and leaving the table. What no one at the table knew was that he was actually making a beeline for the girl in the booth. On his way over he stopped a waiter, “Hey could you tell the people at that table that there’s a call for Winston and Ray?” he requested and the waiter nodded curtly and made his way to their table. He continued on his way.

“Hello,” Peter greeted the girl kindly, “I’m Peter,” he introduced himself. She looked up from her book, “Oh, hi, I’m Y/N,” She replied quietly. Peter looked over his shoulder to see Egon alone at the table, “I was wondering,” He started, pointing in Egon’s direction, “You see my friend over there?” He asked her, “Well yes,” She said skeptically. “He thinks you’re really pretty and I was wondering if you’d like to switch seats with me and sit with him,” Peter explained in a hushed tone.

Y/N looked up at Peter with a raised eyebrow, “There are other people around, it’s not like I’m asking you to the back alley,” He pleaded with her. She seemed convinced by this reasoning, “Okay,” Y/N agreed and picked up her plate, “Thanks, you won’t regret it,” Peter assured her, “That remains to be seen,” she said before leaving the table.

Y/N walked nervously to Peter’s friend, who upon further inspection, was really quite handsome. “Hi,” Y/N greeted as she came to a stop in front of him. Egon’s eyes widened and looked as though they might actually fall out of his head, “Erm, hello,” he managed, looking around to see that she indeed had to be talking to him.

“I’m Y/N,” She said as she put down her plate and sat across from Egon in the booth. “Hello Y/N, I’m Dr. Egon Spengler,” He said, putting out his hand for a handshake and feeling like an idiot in the process. It’s not like this some formal event, why couldn’t he just be normal? He asked himself.

“Oh, a Doctor, fancy that,” Y/N said with a giggle, “Glad you think so,” Egon smiled and began looking for a waiter. As one walked by, he gestured him over to the table, “May I have a glass of water and whatever she has?” Egon asked the waiter, who briefly looked at Y/N’s dish before scribbling it on his notepad and walking away.

Ray and Winston walked back out to see that their place at the table had been taken by the girl Egon had been eyeing just a few minutes before. “Good for him,” Ray muttered while Winston looked for Peter. Peter was waving them over to the table where the girl had been sitting when they left.

“This,” Winston started, pointing at the table where Egon and the girl sat, “Was your doing, wasn’t it?” Winston accused more than he asked. “Of course,” Peter said, smiling proudly as he sat up a little straighter. “Go on have a seat, I have a feeling we aren’t invited to dinner,” He commented cooly as he opened up a menu.

[ladamedusoif]

Rockford, P.I.

Or: the one where Tim Rockford is a ghost hunter

Inspired by the incredible PPCU AU moodboards by @almostfoxglove!

Pairing: Paranormal Investigator!Tim Rockford x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Content notes/warnings: 18+ MDNI; F!Reader; no physical description of Reader; Tim Rockford AU; Reader is Tim’s occasional partner in the business; established working relationship and friendship; friends to lovers; spooky shenanigans; implied smut; fluff; ghosts; references to death; references to alcohol use; references to drug use; strong language; cliches and most likely a lot of stuff that’s not correct about paranormal investigations.

Author's note: I loved @almostfoxglove's PPCU AU moodboards so much and I've been thinking about this story for a while, so when better to finish and post it than Halloween? I know I haven't written in a long time - since the summer, I think - and at the weekend certain discourse made me want to just give up completely and delete every word I'd ever posted. But this was nearly done, and I feel like at least some people might like to see it. So here you are. Happy Halloween, Oíche Shamhna shona daoibh.

And thank you to @mescalpascal for beta-ing this and not letting me get away with just giving up - with writing, fandom, everything.

To find more of my work and get alerts when I post new writing (which will hopefully be more frequently!), follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications.

Ghost divider by @wethairjoel

“Rockford, PI - Tim speaking. How can I be of assistance?”

Tim spins in his battered desk chair, phone tucked against his shoulder and box of leftover takeout still in hand as he listens to the person on the other end of the line, nodding and “uh huh”-ing every so often.

He stops spinning. He puts down the box of cold lo mein. He grabs a pen, and frantically begins taking notes. He asks the caller to send as much information as they can via email.

And then he calls you.

Other little girls at school wanted to be princesses or singers or models or movie stars. You? You wanted to be a Ghostbuster. Forget clean-cut TV stars or the latest cookie-cutter boyband member, your first love was Dr Egon Spengler.

Fast forward a few decades, and your dream had become reality - kind of. Your doctoral thesis on the interplay between reported paranormal activity and its representation in popular culture had produced a few well-received articles and earned you a positive reputation in the admittedly rather specialised world of paranormal and psychical research. It had not, unfortunately, led to a glittering academic career.

Instead, you made a living with a part-time teaching gig at a university combined with a little freelance consultancy work for movies and TV shows, almost all of which ditched your nuanced advice and produced yet another cliched depiction of “ghost hunters” screaming on camera.

And then there was Tim. You’d met a long time back, after a talk you’d given in the city about change and continuity in the concept of the “haunted house”. He was sitting in the front, diligently taking notes and nodding along as you spoke, eyes warm and encouraging - and he immediately made a beeline to ask you for coffee as soon as the Q&A wrapped up. 

Before you parted that evening, he handed you his card.

”Rockford, PI. You’re a private investigator?”

Tim shook his head. “Paranormal investigator. Helps to have most people think it’s the other kind of PI, though.” He called you from time to time, asking for your help on specific cases, sometimes enlisting you as a partner for the duration of an investigation. You always welcomed the extra income, but in truth you helped him out for the sheer love of it - for the chance to feel like a real Ghostbuster, even if Tim worked in business attire instead of boiler suits, and to spend time with one of the few people in the world you felt really got you.

You peer out at the English countryside from the window of the car Tim hired at Heathrow, straining to see something of the allegedly “green and pleasant” land through the miserable grey haze and sheets of rain. The navigation on your phone announces the final turn for your destination. Tim, still getting used to driving on the other side of the road, approaches cautiously and takes the left turn onto the long driveway.

“Whoa.” His voice is awestruck as the car arrives at the enormous country house, now a luxury boutique hotel catering to the rich and famous in search of an exclusive retreat. “We’re a long way from poltergeists in Poughkeepsie.”

You shrug as Tim drives into the small, discreet parking lot to one side of the building. “I’ve done some work on a couple of Gilded Age mansions. This isn’t going to be all that different, right?”

“True,” he muses, climbing out of the car and setting to work unpacking your luggage: a suitcase each, plus several hard-sided cases of vital equipment for conducting the investigation, labelled ‘Scientific Instruments’. “And they did say they think it’s only one manifestation.”

You chuckle as you help him wheel the cases from the car towards the hotel entrance, where a man in elegant livery is already rushing to greet you with a brass luggage trolley. “One manifestation? Please. We got this, Rockford.”

That evening, unpacked, freshened up, and after a dinner meeting with the hotel owner, you and Tim decamp to the library - now a comfortably-appointed lounge with its own bar - to compare notes. The two of you are the only residents, the hotel having temporarily suspended operations in order to deal with the spectral guest.

He hands you a glass of whiskey and settles beside you on the Chesterfield sofa, hair still damp from his earlier shower and his customary attire replaced by a long-sleeved Henley shirt and a pair of jeans. He looks more boyish, the grey patches in his beard notwithstanding, and you find yourself smiling softly at him.

“So: first impressions?”

You take a sip of your drink and reach for your notebook. “First impressions: they must be pretty freaked out to temporarily close down a hotel over one spirit, don’t you think?”

He shrugs. “Maybe? Or maybe it’s unusually troublesome - they mentioned strange things appearing on bedroom walls, guests waking to the sound of a voice shouting for help, weird stuff turning up on TV channels... And they do pride themselves on the whole ‘idyllic rural retreat’ brand, which a ghost doesn’t exactly fit with.” He sips his whiskey and thinks. “Did you find out any more about the death here a couple of years ago?”

”I did - it was weirdly under-reported, given that a celebrity was involved, but I guess people had much bigger things to worry about during the pandemic.” You flip to a different page. “Nothing I found out seemed to contradict the owner’s version of events, though I’m sure they’d be careful to control the narrative if there was anything to hide.”

Tim sucks his cheek, deep in thought, and nods. “I guess we can’t proceed until we see how this thing is manifesting for ourselves. You have everything you need for the surveillance in your room overnight?”

You nod. “And we’ve got the kit set up in the other parts of the hotel the owner mentioned. I think we’re good to go, Timothy.”

He grins, eyes sparkling, and clinks your glass.

Jetlag doesn’t stop you waking as soon as the first rays of sunlight begin to peek around the heavy drapes that adorn the windows of your large bedroom. You’re checking the recordings and readings taken in the room overnight, looking for any indication of paranormal activity, when your phone buzzes with a message from Tim.

Nothing in my room overnight. Anything in yours? 

Not that I can see. You want to check the other equipment before breakfast?

Sure thing. Race you to the Full English.

“Oh, it’s on, Rockford,” you murmur to yourself, reaching for leggings and an old hoodie. You slip on a pair of Crocs, already bracing yourself for Tim’s inevitable comments about your choice of footwear, grab your keycard, and slip out of the room.

It’s quiet in your absence, save for the gentle sound of birds singing outside, the wind occasionally rattling your windows - and the increasingly steady beeping now being emitted from a little device Tim had given you, designed to measure sudden shifts in psychical energy. 

None of the other devices set up elsewhere in the hotel had registered anything out of the ordinary. Tim, typically, is philosophical.

“We just have to wait, do some more research in the meantime, speak to the staff. How’s that breakfast?” He sips his coffee, mug looking comically small in his large hand, and gives you a mischievous look.

“The bacon’s delicious, the mushrooms are great, the eggs are perfect… but I don’t think Cumberland sausages are for me.” You poke at the thick, half-eaten link sausage on the plate. “Not least because ‘Cumberland sausage’ sounds like a fuckin’ euphemism if ever I heard one.”

Tim laughs, the warm sound resonating in the empty dining room. He tops up his coffee and reaches for another slice of toast, and you realise that he seems…different.

“Rockford?” He looks up at you, toast crumbs in his moustache. “What’s going on with you? You aren’t normally this, uh, jolly on a job.”

He swallows his toast and drinks his coffee thoughtfully. “It’s a fascinating case, and I guess I’m just really happy that we’re working together again. Even if you’re wearing those.”

Tim gestures with mock scorn towards your brightly-coloured Crocs, before giving you a sly wink. 

“Are you absolutely sure you want to comment on my sartorial choices, Rockford? Or do you want me to talk about your rotating selection of striped ties from Sears?”

After breakfast, Tim decides to take advantage of the on-site pool and you return to your room for a quick shower before beginning the first round of interviews with hotel staff. The beeping noise is audible before you’ve even reached the door.

You steel yourself and gently enter the room, slowly moving in the direction of the little device on its tripod, various alert lights flashing in sync with the rhythm of its insistent beeps. You transcribe the codes on its screen into your notebook and take a quick video, ready to show Tim as soon as possible. Cross-legged on the floor, you close your eyes for a moment, steadying your breathing.

“I can’t believe they let in someone else wearing Crocs. So much for their fuckin’ dress code.”

Your eyes snap wide open at the sound of the male voice behind you, on the other side of the room. American. West coast, you think. A little…affected? 

In other words: that’s probably not a member of staff.

You get to your feet and turn, slowly, in the direction of the voice.

There, on the other side of the room, sprawled on the sofa, is a man you think must be in his early 40s. His hair is wild, wavy, dark; his eyes obscured by a pair of vintage Ray-Bans. He’s wearing a brown teddy coat, which has slipped open to reveal a shirtless torso and a flash of tummy. A pair of loose grey shorts, wooly socks, and fucking Crocs complete his outfit. 

Definitely not staff.

Though your heart is pounding out of your chest, you find the strength to speak. “Are you a spirit?”

The man slips his glasses down his nose and gives you a withering look. “What the fuck else do you think I am? And while we’re here - why is that…thing making so much noise?”

“It’s to read changes in psychical activity,” you explain. “So it’s probably picking you up.”

The man thinks about this for a couple of moments, as if chewing it over. With a jolt, you realise two things: firstly, that in all your years of working with the paranormal, you’ve never actually seen a ghost, at least not in this form; and secondly, that you recognise this figure.

“So you do know who I am,” he drawls, pushing his glasses back up his nose and lying back on the couch. Shit, he’s more powerful than you suspected - he can pick up on what you’re thinking.

“It’s…it’s you. The dead guest.”

He exhales dramatically and flops his arm over the side of the sofa. “I have a name.”

You rack your brains, afraid to look away to grab your notebook in case he disappears.

“You’re…you’re Dieter Bravo.”

Tim Rockford is on his twentieth lap of the pool when a slow, steady buzzing noise catches his ear, coming from the direction of the tote bag he’d left poolside with towels, a t-shirt, and shorts. He hauls himself out of the water and roughly dries off his face, hair, and hands before rummaging in the bag. “Fuck!”

He’s half-wet and breathless when you open the door to your room, his fist still raised as if ready to continue the frantic hammering that had signalled his arrival. 

“Jesus! You okay?”

He’s turning and twirling around the room, glasses on and fogged up from the residual humidity of his body, holding up one of his own psychical activity detectors. “You…fuck,” Tim hisses as he tries to catch his breath. “You saw it? Where is it?”

“So I’m an it now?”, Dieter drawls, now hovering - literally - in the area of the large bay window. 

“He’s there,” you gesture, calmly, as if being in a room with the spectral manifestation of a dead Hollywood actor was an everyday occurrence. “By the window.”

Tim stares directly at Dieter, but doesn’t register anything. Dieter roars with laughter.

“Oh, babe! Looks like you’re special.”

“I’m special?”

Tim swivels at the sound of your voice, confusion written all over his face. Dieter sidles up to the other man, resting his head on Tim’s shoulder, and you’re struck by a kind of resemblance. Tim shivers.

“He can’t see or hear me. Most people can’t, which makes haunting the fuck out of this place hilarious,” the actor explains. He takes a seat on a vanity table near the window and looks a little wistful. “Annika was the last person who could see and hear me,” he sighs. “Kinda nice to be…” - he wiggles his hands in the air - “visible again.”

“He…he says I’m special because I can see and hear him, and you can’t. Most people can’t. Is this…normal? Am I normal?”

Tim crosses the room and puts a hand on your shoulder, gently caressing it in a gesture of reassurance. “I mean, none of what we do is normal. But yes, this is not unusual.”

Dieter immediately launches into a Tom Jones impersonation, gyrating in exaggerated fashion towards Tim, and you roll your eyes involuntarily. Tim looks hurt.

“Oh! Oh, Tim, no, I was rolling my eyes at him. Not you. Shit, this is going to be confusing, isn’t it?”

The crinkles that form around Tim’s eyes when he smiles make a welcome appearance, and his dark eyes twinkle behind his glasses. “I’m sure we can work out a system for keeping communication clear. Usually, when a manifestation is only visible to one or two people, it means they have some kind of need, or something unfulfilled. And, I guess, they think the witness can give it to them.”

You glance over at Dieter, who is still gyrating. He lowers his sunglasses and grins at you lasciviously.

Over the next couple of days, you and Tim interview hotel staff and examine some of the areas affected by the haunting, to establish a pattern for the manifestation’s - for Dieter’s - behaviour. 

“The random murals appearing overnight aren’t that disturbing, I suppose,” you muse, noting down the details of the artwork Dieter had left in one guest bedroom.

“Depends on what you consider disturbing, though.” Tim rubs a finger against the paint, examining the powdery residue. “I wouldn’t like to wake up to an extra-large rendering of Hieronymus Bosch’s ‘Garden of Earthly Delights’ on my hotel room wall.”

You giggle and nod in agreement. “Well, fair. Though it’s weirdly good, for a ghost.” 

Your psychical activity detectors start to beep in unison and you turn to each other before you spy Dieter, lounging on top of a wardrobe. He’s clad differently, today, this time sporting a green robe, a baggy purple t-shirt, and striped lounge pants. 

And the Crocs.

“I am good. Honestly, if they’d got my heart going again I think I’d have quit Hollywood, y’know? Jacked it all in, got clean, got into art properly. Make sculptures, paint, run a gallery or some shit.”

“He’s talking to me,” you explain to Tim, before turning back to Dieter. “So you’re hanging around here because you didn’t get to make the art you dreamed of?”

“Ugh. I don’t have to explain myself to you people.”

And he’s gone.

In the evenings, the hotel insists on serving you and Tim dinner as if you were ordinary guests, not paranormal investigators tasked with eradicating the ghost of an Oscar-winning Hollywood enfant terrible from the property. The lone waiter serves your five-course meal with the kind of exaggerated formality you had only ever seen in films or TV shows about royalty, respectfully pointing out the various cutlery and accoutrements needed for each course in a low, somewhat fawning voice.

“And voilà, Mr Rockford, your seabass.” He lifts the dome from Tim’s plate and does a little bow. 

Tim is chewing the inside of his cheek and turning pink as the waiter leans closer to his ear.

“A reminder, sir, should you require it, that the fishknife is that delicate little marvel on the right. Bon appétit.”

Tim says nothing as the waiter makes his way across the vast, empty dining room, watching for the door to the kitchens to close properly before he lets out a belly laugh so huge it almost rocks the table you’re seated at. You raise an eyebrow and pour him a fresh glass of water.

“Are you quite well, Tim?”

He’s taken off his glasses and is rubbing tears from his eyes, unable to control his laughter. “Why did he say that about the fishknife? And the fucking dome? I shouldn’t laugh but…”

“You mean you didn’t need to be reminded that the fishknife is a delicate little marvel?” 

Your attempt to replicate the waiter’s tone sets the two of you off this time, and you’re still laughing about it by the time you retreat to the lounge with a gin and tonic each. 

This was the longest you’d ever spent in Tim’s company, you realised one night, sitting with your feet tucked under you on the large leather sofa. There was a lot that you didn’t know about each other, but being stuck in a haunted hotel is nothing if not an ideal opportunity for getting to know someone better. 

You are listening to Tim animatedly telling you about one of his strangest cases. His face lights up when he talks about his work, big hands gesturing for emphasis, eyes bright and focused on you. He listens to you with the same commitment and interest, keenly asking questions and taking in your every word.

When you lean in for a goodnight hug before parting ways, he seems surprised - but pleased, somehow, as he returns your embrace.

Your TV is on when you return to your room. The tell-tale beeping from the psychical activity monitor gives him away immediately.

“Dieter.”

He’s lying on your bed, propped up on one arm, green robe wrapped around him. “Heyyyyyyy. Hope you don’t mind. Wanted some company and I’ve haunted the fuck out of everyone else around here.”

You shake your head and pour yourself a glass of water. “I don’t mind. But if I let you hang out with me you have to answer my questions.”

He groans and flops back onto the bed, though his body makes no indentation in the bedclothes. “FINE. But you have to answer mine.”

“Fair.” You settle beside him on the bed, trying not to overthink the fact that you were literally hanging out with a dead man. “What the fuck are you watching?”

He runs his fingers through his hair in irritation and points at the 90s sitcom he’s watching on some random-ass cable channel. “Allegedly this is a British remake of Who’s The Boss but like, it’s fucking shit. No Danza, no party.”

You pause for a moment. “Speaking of party…can you do drugs, if you’re a ghost? All the evidence would suggest you can’t, but I’ve never actually heard from someone with first-hand experience.”

“I tried.”

“And?”

Dieter grimaces. “I literally threw a couple of tabs of acid through my stupid fuckin’ ghost body, didn’t I. Just…whoosh.” He gestures with his hand. “I feel so real, y’know? All corporeal. But then you try to get high and bam. No can do. I can’t eat or drink, either.”

“You didn’t answer my question earlier.”

He stares at you. “Why do you get to ask two questions in a row? My turn.”

You roll your eyes and take a sip of your water, noticing Dieter staring longingly at the glass.

“Fine.”

He cackles and claps his hands together. They make no sound.

“Are you and Magnum P.I. fucking? You’re fucking, right?”

“Um, no?” You take another sip of water and swallow hard. “No, we are not fucking. We’re colleagues.”

Dieter mimics you, note-perfect, and cackles again. “Bullshit. He’s down so fuckin’ bad for you.”

“Tim is not ‘down bad’ for me, as you put it.”

He sits up, moving into a kind of lotus position. “He is.”

“He’s not.”

“He is, and I know he is because I can literally sense this shit. And I can definitely sense that you’ve got a crush on ol’ Columbo down the hall. Which is fair, I guess. He’s pretty hot.”

You can feel the heat rising to your face, but maintain what you hope is a neutral expression. 

“Oh, Scully is trying so hard not to let her crush on Mulder show.” He smiles a smug, satisfied grin.

“Is he Magnum, Columbo, or Mulder, Dieter?”

“All three, baby.” He hovers about a foot above the bed, pointing at you accusingly. “And you should put him out of his misery. Want me to go check on him for you, see if he’s thinking about you right now?” Dieter wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“If you don’t shut up I’m going to get a ghost trap and put you in it.”

“Like in Ghostbusters?!” Dieter seems unreasonably excited. 

“Do you want to be sealed up in a little trap, or would you prefer to continue having free rein?”

He sighs and descends back to the bed. “Ugh. Okay. I’m sorry. But I’m not wrong.”

Dieter fucking Bravo. He was haunting your brain, as well as this hotel.

His insistence that Tim had a thing for you - and vice versa - now coloured every interaction, every conversation between you and your colleague as you tried to discern any evidence that Dieter was right, or that disproved his theory. To your horror, you began to unconsciously hope that he wasn’t just winding you up.

He quickly got in the habit of appearing in your room just before bedtime: staying for a little chat, dodging any of your questions that veered too close to the essential truth of why he hadn’t completely passed over to the great beyond, and asking repeatedly if you and Tim had “got around to fucking” yet. 

“It would be kinda hard for us to get around to fucking with a fucking ghost in my room, don’t you think?”

He laughs his wheezy rasp of a laugh and crosses his hands over his tummy. “Listen, the more the merrier, babe.”

A few moments pass before you break the silence. “Why are you so obsessed with us, with me and Tim, with us getting together?”

He pouts and stares into the middle distance. “I guess…hmm. I want people to get what they want, love-wise.” Dieter discerns your incredulous glance. “What? I mean it! I’m a big fan of romance and happy endings.”

“You can’t blame me for being sceptical, Dieter.”

Tension crackles in the air. When he speaks again, he’s very quiet. 

“Just because I didn’t get a happy ending in life doesn’t mean I can’t believe in them.”

Dieter’s big, dark eyes - or the spectral impression of his big, dark eyes, now trapped in some in-between place, neither here nor there - look at you with absolute sincerity. 

“Is that why you’re still here?”

He turns away. 

“I don’t know why I can see you, Dieter, or what you need me for, but there’s got to be a reason for it. And I can’t help you until you talk to me.”

He huddles deeper into his green robe, and you exhale. 

“Fine. You’re not wrong. You’re right, in fact.”

He doesn’t move, but you can almost feel his ghostly ears pricking up.

“I’m right?”

You close your eyes and bite your lip. “Fuck it. You’re right, I… I think I do have a crush on him.”

This time, you swear you can hear Dieter smile.

“On who?”

“You know who.”

“Say it.” He chuckles to himself.

“Oh, fuck.” You bury your head in your hands. “Why do I need to say it, when you can sense what I’m thinking?”

Dieter rolls over and props himself up, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Because it’s very fucking satisfying. For me.”

“Fuck you, Dieter Bravo. Fine. I - I have a crush on Tim. Happy?”

He nods, and points in the direction of Tim’s room, down the hall. “Mmm. And now you need to tell Timmy so that he can tell you he has a crush on you and then you can go off and have lots of weirdo paranormal-obsessed babies. If that’s a thing you want, of course.”

“Okay.”

Dieter’s eyes widen. “Okay? So, you’re just gonna tell him?”

“I’ll tell him… but only if you let me help you.”

“No deal. Fuck you two, keep on being idiots.”

“I thought you loved happy endings, romance, all that?”

“Nope.” 

You shift on the mattress to face Dieter, and speak more gently this time. “Do you want to be stuck here forever, Dieter?”

He hesitates. “Nope.”

“So, should we make a deal?”

He talks and talks all night, floating around the room, resting on the vanity, on the armchair, on the bed, and at one point drifting in and out of the bathroom - even with the door closed.

And you listen. You listen like Tim listens to you: engaged, curious, open, kind, even, trying to get to the root of what’s keeping this man trapped in between worlds in a luxury hotel in the English countryside.

Unfinished business is a common explanation for why ghosts hang around, you’ve realised. A desire for vengeance, too. Sometimes spirits just want to stay around their families and friends. Once, a long time ago, a client of Tim’s described the work as being like a kind of doula, for ghosts. 

“You help them get out of the in-between,” the lady had said, after Tim had solved the ongoing hauntings in her family’s ranch house. “They just need someone to hold their hand, I guess. Well, maybe not literally.”

Watching and listening as Dieter talks about his life, his death, his successes, his failures, you become ever more keenly aware of how right she was, and more focused on getting him to where he needs to be. To peace.

He descends gently to the ground in front of the TV set. “I can’t deny that the whole Beetlejuice shtick has been fun, most of the time,” he says, sadly. “But you’re right, I don’t wanna be stuck here for the rest of my life. I mean, the rest of my death. I mean -”

“The rest of your afterlife.”

He grins. “Exactly.”

“Dieter… do you think you might just be afraid?”

“Afraid?” His eyes are wide and frightened, giving you his answer without a word.

“Afraid to let go. Afraid to move to the next stage, whatever that is.”

“But that’s just it.” Dieter stares at his Crocs. “You said it. ‘Whatever that is.’ I don’t know what’s there.”

“No one does, though. And most spirits don’t end up haunting entire hotels, they just…pass through.”

He nods. “I guess I always had to stand out, huh?”

“Nothing wrong with that,” you agree. 

He takes a couple of moments to compose himself. “I… I saw whatever the fuck comes next when my heart stopped. Bright light, all that shit. Fuckin’ near-death experience, except I was actually dead.”

“But you didn’t pass through?”

“I feel like my entire self just went ‘fuck this, I’m not done’. But I couldn’t come back, y’know?” He tugs at an errant curl. “I guess…fuck. I didn’t want to be forgotten. Wanted to know I could live on, maybe.”

“You don’t have to stay in the in-between to live on, Dieter. The work speaks for itself.”

He groans. “Some of it does. Never got to rebuild properly, though. Whole lotta shlock in there and one fuckin’ Oscar.”

You bring yourself to the ground beside the spectre. “That’s one Oscar more than most of us will ever have. And plenty of people who died before their time still live on in their work.”

“If you mention the 27 Club to me I will actually haunt you for the rest of your life.” 

“Noted.” You smile at him, cheered by the sight of a little grin on Dieter’s lips. “But you know it’s true.”

“I just never got the happy ending.”

He looks so sorrowful in that moment that you wish, more than anything, that you could hug him - make him flesh and blood, just for an instant again, so he could know the comfort of a warm embrace.

“Maybe the happy ending is off there in the hereafter.”

Dieter arches an eyebrow. “Do you actually believe that?”

You grin and chuckle. “Honestly? Fuck knows what’s after all this. I think I’d rather not know. But even if it’s just a bright light and bam, that’s it - you’ll live forever, Dieter Bravo.”

Tim is bed-headed and bleary-eyed when he opens his door to you at 6.30am, but he smiles widely when his vision focuses and he recognises your face. 

“Have a seat, have a seat,” he gestures to the bed, before blushing a little. “Or I can move my clothes off the armchair, if you’d prefer.”

You perch on the edge of the mattress and shake your head. “It’s perfect here, thank you. I just wanted to tell you that I think Dieter’s…”

Funny how, in spite of doing this job and researching these phenomena for so many years, some cases just get to you. A sob catches in your throat as you try to find the words.

“I think the haunting problem is solved, I guess.”

Tim’s eyes widen in amazement and he sits beside you on the edge of the bed. “Your doula skills, right?”

You nod, tears still threatening to fall at any moment. His strong arms wrap around you and hold you close, keeping you safe as you cry against his broad chest.

“Please do feel free to stay for the next couple of days, of course.” The hotel manager is effusive and grateful as you wrap up the debriefing session later that morning, standing up to shake your and Tim’s hands in turn. “The rooms are booked, we won’t be reopening to other guests until we can redecorate the affected bedrooms. It’s on us, an extra little thank you for dealing with our, uh, friend.”

After lunch, the two of you walk through the property’s walled gardens and admire the various topiaries and water features. All the while, your promise to Dieter lingers at the forefront of your mind.

You said you would tell Tim how you felt, if Dieter let you help him. And he did. And now…

Fuck. And you wouldn’t put it past Dieter Bravo to somehow find his way back from the hereafter, just to haunt you out of spite.

You look over at Tim, who’s taking a photo of the hotel buildings from the gardens, and feel a surge of affection, mingled with anxiety. What if Dieter had got you right, but Tim wrong?

He catches your eye and grins at you. “Hey, come in for a photo?”

You pose beside an ornamental fountain, Tim concentrating as he sets up the shot. He beckons to you. 

“How about a selfie, maybe?”

His arm snakes around your shoulders as he angles the phone towards the two of you and captures the moment: he, suit on but tie loosened, eyes twinkling; you, smiling broadly into the lens.

He brings you a gin and tonic, settling in beside you on the Chesterfield sofa and clinking his glass of whiskey to yours. In the last few days the ritual has become familiar and comforting; and with a jolt you worry that this might be the last time you enjoy it together.

Tim sips his drink in contented silence, watching the flames of the large, open fire. 

“You’re quiet. Is everything okay?”

His dark eyes meet yours as you turn to face him. “I’m…”

Dieter Bravo is going to haunt you if you don’t do this.

What if this is your happy ending?

A large swig of G&T, to fortify your resolve.

“Um, I’ve really enjoyed this whole case, working with…being with you.”

Tim smiles softly. “Me too. It was nice to get the chance to get to know each other better.”

Another fortifying sip. 

“I was wondering…uh. Shit. Maybe, when we get back, would you -”

Your voice dries up in your throat. The next words are barely more than a whisper.

“Would you maybe like to get a drink or dinner sometime? With me?”

For an instant, you can see that Tim is on the verge of brushing it off, of asking why you're being so strange about this, of saying that you regularly meet for coffee if you’re both free, talking about that diner you sometimes go to.

And then the realisation sinks in, and his face softens into a huge smile.

“I would love to take you for dinner. And drinks. Whenever you want, wherever you want.”

He puts his glass down and moves closer to you. Your fingers reach for the end of his tie as your bodies shift ever closer, until he’s holding your face in his hands and his mouth is on yours, kissing you with warm intent.

You’re about to pull him down to the couch, his hands already snaking up under your blouse, when a stern cough makes the two of you jump.

The hotel’s only waiter casts a disapproving glance in your direction and shakes his head as he processes through the lounge to the main bar. 

Your hand reaches for Tim’s and you lead him towards the hallway and the main staircase leading to the bedrooms.

The morning is grey and dreary, rain already pelting against the windowpanes as the dawn light struggles to break through the dark clouds. You press a kiss to Tim’s bare chest as you slip out of bed to use the bathroom, padding swiftly across the deep-pile carpet so as not to wake him. 

The green robe hanging from the hook on the tiled wall of your bathroom is unmistakable, but even so you have to pause for a moment to be sure it’s real. You run your fingers over the textured weave and fabric, noting how (surprisingly) good it smells - faint whiff of weed notwithstanding.

Tim stirs as you close the bathroom door and walk back to the bed, blinking awake and greeting you with a delighted smile.

“Good morning. Nice robe.”

“A movie star gave it to me,” you explain, shedding the soft green garment and pulling Tim’s naked body to yours before he can ask any further questions.

(Sorry, Dieter. Love you.)

[kawaiisakura143]

Love Ain't a Science (Egon Spengler x Sakura Rosas)

(The inner kpoppie in me wants to use this song & I don't know if it's just me, but this feels like a confession song towards the stubborn yet oblivious scientist.)

✿

It was a regular day at the firehouse; calls kept flooding in & out, but it didn't stop Sakura from enjoying the little bit of peace she had for herself. While Peter, Ray & Winston are out on a bust, Janine is having a date with Louis. All that is left in the firehouse is Sakura in the main lobby, organizing files & Egon tinkering down in the lab. Sakura had her headphones on listening to music as her way to motivate her to work. A song started playing that reminded her of a certain scientist. She hums through the song as she walks toward the filing cabinet to file some paperwork.

Why do you keep studying me?

You are no Einstein

Why do you measure angles?

This is no sine or cosine

She begins to sing along to the song as she continues to organize heading back & forth to the desk to pick up manila folders & paperwork swaying her hips to the rhythm of the song.

Pushing and pulling

That's not quite my style

If you're gonna give up in the middle

You'd better stay away from my heart

Sakura was having the time of her life singing & dancing to herself, giving herself a mini-concert; after all, there was no one there to judge her...or maybe she spoke too soon.

You think too much, that's your problem

Being stuck in your head will do no good (no good)

Quit wasting time measuring angles, finding answers

Better make a move

Down at the lab, Egon became a bit frustrated at his work of trying to upgrade the PKE meter, so it could pick up even higher levels of psycho-kinetic energy. Egon sighed in frustration, he lifted up his glasses & pitches the of his nose trying to calm himself down from the frustration. He began to look around the lab then a tiny idea popped up in his head as he starts to crave for something sweet...'Maybe a Twinkie won't hurt' he thought as he left the lab to head upstairs. As Egon finally reached upstairs he spotted the empty reception desk that confused him for a minute then saw Sakura coming back singing with her headphones on while holding a folder in her hand like a prop, he just stared at her in confusion but then confusion turned into amusement as he quietly stared at Sakura "performing" to what supposedly an imaginary audience.

🎶Love ain't a science, don't need no license

The more you sit there thinking, it's a minus

Don't try to be a genius, why so serious?

Follow your heart (Ooh-ah)

Let your heart lead you, what you, what you waiting for?🎶

Egon's eyes widen as well as a sudden shade of pink appears on his cheeks as he hears Sakura singing he was shocked on how magnificent her singing was, but something else caught his attention 'Is this song about me? Is she singing about me?' He immediately became observant as he watched Sakura dancing to the song, he seems so mesmerized of what’s happening in front him.

🎶You got a crush on me

You're gonna fall for me

Theory is no good when it comes to love

It's all useless, uh-huh🎶

As Sakura still had her headphones on not even noticing that Egon was just standing there watching her sing & dance to the song just having the time of her life when she thought that she was all alone in the lobby.

🎶Rather than Mr. Know, all Genius Einstein

More like a bulldozer Curious Frankenstein

Charge forward, clumsy yet fascinating

Straight away, push hard rush, got a crush on me🎶

Egon quietly leaned himself against the filing cabinet as he continued to watch Sakura sing & dance in front still unsure if the song is about him or not. He was distracted on what’s happening in front of him, he forgot why he came up upstairs for.

🎶Why don't you know it's fun 'cause the answer's missing

Why don't you know it's exciting 'cause the answer's unknown

Let our love be like having a screw loose (Let our love be like having a screw)

Like a fool who knows only one and nothing else🎶

As Sakura was singing the bridge of the song she gracefully spun from the corner of her eye she spotted a figure standing there. She quickly stopped her movements & took off her headphones seeing Egon watching from the filing cabinet, her eyes widened in shock & the color immediately drained from her face of embarrassment…was he watching her the whole time? “D-Dr. S-Spengler…uhhh what a surprise…I didn’t hear or see you come in, s-sorry f-for m-my unprofessionalism. I thought I was alone &…umm I’ll get back to work I-I’m so sor-” "You have a very nice larynx & ethnochoreology, you seem like you enjoy the act of performance." Egon interrupted Sakura's stammering as he tried to calm her down from her almost having a breakdown by complementing her singing & dance moves. "O-Oh...w-well...thank you, Dr. Spengler, anyways I should finish up with these files...umm...is there anything I can help you with? Since you're up here.." Sakura spoke up as she grabbed a stack of manila folders left on the front desk & took them to the filing cabinet. Egon stared at Sakura still trying to figure out if the song she was singing was about him, but he didn't want to bring it up since it would add more embarrassment for her...the clear image of Sakura singing & dancing was now stuck in his brain that he would never forget. "Umm...Dr. Spengler? E-Egon? Is everything oki?." Egon quickly snaps out of his trance & looks down at Sakura with a sly smile "My apologies for spacing out, just wanted to check if you're doing well that's all. I'll be in the lab if you need anything." Egon slowly turns around then heads back down to the lab as he continues to process what he has witnessed.

Love ain't a science (Mm-mm) (Ah)

Need no license (Mm-mm)

Learn more about me, 'bout me (Ooh-ah)

Already enough, you know 'bout me (Oh, woah)

Egon smiles then lets out chuckles as he can't get over how Sakura danced & sang that song that is now stuck in his head, the whole ordeal that happened made him find Sakura quite adorable. He sighed as he slowly went back to tinkering with the PKE meter, back upstairs Sakura was now sitting down with her head down at the front desk contemplating her existence of embarrassing herself in front of the scientist. She sighs as she slowly pulls her head up & took a glance at the clock, she begins to replay what just happened then something stuck out to her...that smile...was he smiling at her? She blushes furiously as she screams on the inside, this is the first time she ever saw Egon smile let alone at her...does this mean something...I mean the song kind of fits the vibe of the oblivious scientist. She lightly slams her head against the desk then slowly picks her head up then slowly stands to continue finishing her job at the now quiet firehouse.

Love ain't a science, don't need no license (Oh baby)

The more you sit there thinking, it's a minus (Minus)

Don't try to be a genius, why so serious? (Ooh yeah)

Follow your heart (Ooh-ah)

Let your heart lead you, what you, what you waiting for?

✿

(Well that was fun & I guess a little out of character for Egon, but still fun I had fun writing this^-^)

[tuliptired]

hi! ive read so many fics where egon's love interest is super smart and a scientist just like him but i kinda wanna reader the opposite at least once :') may i request an egon x reader where his s/o isnt super smart like him, doesnt have an interest in what he studies but is supportive, never went to college, and they're a high school drop out who got their GED through GED classes? maybe one day they're feeling self-conscious about their intelligence compared to him but he assures them that he loves them no matter what?

Please Stay with Your Own Kind (and I'll Stay with Mine)

Pairing: Egon Spengler/Gn!Reader

Warnings: Accidental cut while cooking (stay safe friends :[ )

Sorry this took ridiculously long, life caught up to me and I had to do this ask justice by unpacking all my junk from when I was struggling with school ( ╥ω╥ )

Better formatting on Ao3!!

 You wiped your cheek with the heel of your hand, dust left in its wake. You pushed your couch back into place with a grunt, trying your best to tune out the noise coming from your kitchen table. Normally, if anyone barged in while you were trying to clean and insisted on using your apartment for experimentation, you’d be more than ticked off. But, you were used to it by now, especially at this point in your relationship with a certain atypical scientist. How could you resist him, when he7 was muttering something about elevation and better work environments?

They say cleaning is the best way to get rid of unwanted guests, but Egon was far from colloquial, only ever sneezing as you dusted the space around him. There were bolts and screws littered all over the wood, but you couldn’t bring yourself to mind. He was so busy lately, either at the firehouse or the university he had a fellowship with, that any visit was one to cherish. Even if it meant your centerpiece had to be relocated to the floor.

You stood, hands on your hips as none of your under-the-sink rummaging rewarded you with the little purple spray bottle you were looking for. “Egon?” You turned, the man zeroed in on the mechanism taking up such a small spot on the table.

He hummed, referring back to a large notebook without looking at you. “Could you check the bathroom for my window cleaner?”

Another hum as he kept working. This guy.

“Egon.”

He finally lifted his head, glasses slightly askew. “Right. Sorry.” he nodded once, before disappearing down the hall.

 Your eyebrows twitched upwards as you let out a light sigh, peering down at the contraption delicately, like your gaze could shatter all of his hard work. It was barely the same size as your landline, appearing almost miniscule when in your significant other’s large hands. How could such a tiny thing hold so much of his attention? Or require all the other machinery and calculation around it? Upon further inspection you could see intricate wiring woven throughout its insides. You clicked your tongue. This was all beside you- or above you, if you were being honest. You supported Egon, you really did, but Egon was physics, electromagnetism, degrees and doctorates in studies you’d never even heard of. And here you were, worrying about which set of patterned throw pillows fit the season more. 

The phone rang, stealing you from your moment of introspection, laced with contempt for whatever it was on your table. You took a breath before answering, voice uncertain about who would be calling so close to dinner. “Hello?”

“I’m calling from Columbia- Institute of Advanced Theoretical Research. Is Dr. Spengler around? This is one of the numbers he left for us.” The caller sounded boyish, and eager, rushing through his words.

You were a bit flattered at the idea of your line being an after-hours contact for him. “He’ll be just a second,” you apologized, leaning over to look into the darkness of the unlit hallway. Maybe you forgot to pick up another bottle at the store after all.

There was a staticky silence on the young man’s end, the excited murmur of voices when you picked up now lulled. You could hear him clear his throat before he spoke again. “If you don’t mind me assuming…you’re his partner, right?” he questioned.

“Oh! I am. He passes through here from time to time with work.” Your face heated up in such a silly way in spite of how long you’d been together. 

Surprised murmuring. Did he have company? “That’s great! Dr. Spengler’s a pretty big deal around here,” he boasted enthusiastically.

“Is he?” you smiled to yourself. “I don’t doubt he’s a decent scientist.”

“Of course! We’re all admirers, here.” he gushed. “I dream of being half the scholar he is. Dozens of degrees, 2 doctorates- he’s essentially a genius.”

You shuffled on your feet, amused at his vigor, but reaching that part of conversations surrounding intelligence and tertiary education that prodded at a nastier version of yourself. “Don’t I know it.”

He continued. “We study his journals like they’re gospel. He’s made such big progress in paramagnotheric study that we’re here working for him like drones. Grateful drones.” The student took a pause for air. “That’s why I called- we have big news for him.”

“It’s great- that you’re all so dedicated,” you squinted back down the hall.

Another scratchy moment without words. “I’d be so embarrassed, if he heard me raving like this. What about you?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, Dr. Spengler must have pretty refined tastes. What’s your doctorate in?”

Your throat tightened as you involuntarily clenched your jaw. You really thought you were over this question. Where was Egon? You could live with printed-stained glass if he’d save you from the incoming conversation. You drew in another breath. “Didn’t get that far.” 

“Oh! Sorry for assuming. Your master’s? We had bets on chemistry or neuroscience. Maggie had $20 on you being Dr. Abrams from engineering.”

Does he know that’s not a thing you say to a stranger? God, this was giving you a headache. “Only a GED,” you divulged painfully, snapping in speed but not in tone. What followed was what always followed, most frequently in the early days of your relationship. It was the stunned moment of disbelief from friends and family who knew your academic history. The lingering internal question of: “how’d they get with Einstein?”

“I see,” the caller finally stammered, most likely to be polite.

“Different things…it got away from me. If I could’ve, I would’ve,” you trailed off, not finishing your thought as you cringed at the idea of trying to explain your lack of a traditional diploma to someone who didn’t sound old enough to be far into their graduate schooling.

He cleared his throat. “I get it.” Did he? He’s got handfuls of degrees to add to his name. In the bitter respite of dead air, a venom uncoiled inside of you that was reserved to classmates in the gifted and talented program. But it wasn’t his fault, really. He was only a young adult going down the path that was open to him. And fangirling over your boyfriend, you thought to yourself as you wordlessly rewound it.

Finally, finally , Egon returned, with a clear liquid that wasn’t your window cleaner. But his presence didn’t make you feel any sort of reassurance. “Cladosporium growing in your grout. I made a fungicide for it.”

You furrowed your brows, pressing the phone into his chest and stalking off, leaving him to nearly drop the landline and whatever solution he was holding.

You resigned yourself to stewing in your misery and chopping carrots. You weren’t an exemplary chef, but you both needed to eat. Feelings that you’d be harboring in the back of yourself were boiling inside of you like oil, hotter than water. Egon appeared in the kitchen, having hung up.

“That was Lucas, from the university,” you heard behind you.

“I gathered.”

Egon must’ve failed to pick up on your tone. “He’s a bright young man. He manages the lab well when I’m gone.” You grabbed another vegetable before he settled at your side. “What’re you making?”

“Stew- rice- something. Could you get the stock out the fridge?” You cut awfully close to the tip of your pointer finger.

He tried handing it to you gently, and you grabbed it without looking, ducking into the cabinet by the oven for your measuring cup. Holding it up to the light, you cursed at the odd units of measurement. “ 15 fluid ounces,” you read the chipped red lettering, “how many cups-”

“1.87.” You didn’t turn to face him, letting a puff of air escape your nostrils. “Or 1.9,” he added quickly.

You poured it into the pot, steam rising into your face. Egon was quiet, until he leaned against the counter, taking up a much duller knife to help you get through all the vegetables before the broth burnt out. “About the mold in your bathroom,” he started. “I can remove it for you, but I’m worried about your respiratory health. Untreated fungi that you can see means untreated fungi that you can’t.” Wasn’t that reserved for roaches? Your skin crawled at the thought- of mold and an infestation. “Pathogenic diseases from mold are nothing to play around with.”

“It’s fine,” you uttered, checking on a pot of rice, fingers carefully holding onto the protected part of the hot metal handle.

“Killing it? I have sodium bicarbonate and trisodium phosphate back at the firehouse, it’ll only take-”

You grip the wooden spoon in your hand tightly, nails digging into the flesh of your palm. “No, I mean- don’t do anything! To my bathroom. Or my house. Please.” you nearly pleaded, shutting your eyes and stirring the contents of your dinner. 

Egon complied, wordlessly giving you a bit of space as he added the last potato. You chewed your lip.

“You usually ask for all the details from school.” his voice was barely audible.

A deep weight settled in your stomach. “It slipped my mind.” You spotted a bundle of thyme that never made it in, mindlessly plucking it from the countertop and going back to chopping. “What happened?” you breathed out.

His eyes were on you. “They’re making good strides. Lots of excitement, since they got the cells they engineered to detect psychokinetic energy in electromagnetic conditions. I don’t like leaving them alone, but this was nowhere near an actual challenge- it’s simple trigonometry.” Any other day, the “respected professor” thing would be hot. If you weren’t so focused on finely dicing the herb, you’d have seen his smirk to himself. “They were so happy- to get through the easier part of research.”

“Shit,” you hissed. The knife must’ve slipped, probably from how tense your hands were, or how thin you were slicing, or from how your vision clouded with tears of frustration. Regardless, it nicked into your flesh, quickly drawing blood. You brought the junction between thumb and pointer finger to your lips, before Egon seized your wrist. 

Egon herded you to the sink instead, his talk of “700 different types of bacteria” and “immunocompromised from mold inhalation” lost on you. You drew your wet hand back, lifting both to your eyes, now squeezed shut as you turned away. This whole thing was so, so stupid. It had been so long, and you still felt so angry. The outside world was tuned out from the rushing of water out of the faucet, until Egon’s voice broke through, even if it sounded far- as if he was on the other side of your apartment. 

“I’m sorry. You’re upset, and I don’t know how to help you.” 

A quivering air left you after you shut the sink off. He didn’t deserve your bad mood- or years worth of a bad mood. If you weren’t mad at the boy over the phone, or Egon, the only person left to scorn was yourself. Your vexation crumpled inward, turning into sadness. Self-pity. Resentment. Guilt. 

A thick swallow. “No- I’m sorry that I’ve been short with you today. It’s just- I’m- I don’t-”

Egon’s hands were guiding you to your table before you could break. In between joining you in the kitchen and taking the phone, he must’ve packed up what was left of the work he brought over, something you silently thanked him for. You sat in silence, not knowing how long you must’ve taken to steady your breathing and clear your head. Regardless, he sat with you the entire time, never once pushing you as his hand rested in yours, thumb laid clinically over your pulse point. He’s a creature of habit.

You looked to him, eyes a tinge red. “We’re getting older.” You lifted your gaze fondly to a familiar notch in between his eyebrows. It was only faint, something you’d teased him about because of his lack of efforts to stop or delay aging, but it wasn’t always there. “Much, much older.” Egon’s expression was neutral, something that brought you comfort when it should’ve worried you. “I admire you. So much. And so does everyone else- which you deserve. You’ve worked so hard, for so long, and you’re somebody, Dr. Spengler .” You gave him a weak smile that melted away as you blinked . “ And I’m awful for thinking it, awful for feeling it, but you don’t deserve an idiot who couldn’t even make it to graduation.” Hot tears gathered in your eyes again as your voice was shaky. “I’m holding you back from something bigger.”

His face was softer. “And, I feel like garbage. Utter and complete garbage because so much has happened since then and it still feels like I failed.” You could remember the first time Egon urged you to let him know how you felt, after every confession of unpleasant feelings felt like an unbalanced apology. He was allowing you to feel, without guilt. “It’s this nagging and incessant idea that I’m nothing.” You let your chest fall and rise. “Dr. Abrams wouldn’t do this.” a pitiful attempt at a joke. 

The ghost of amusement. His thumb gently caressed your pulse point, the heartbeat that was once in your throat resigned back to being a dull throb in your chest. He took a moment before speaking, voice small. “It’s not untrue that I value education.” Egon’s eyes rose to your own. “But I’d be closer to an idiot than you’ll ever be if I valued it over you, and your presence in my life.”

 “I’m sorry if I failed to notice how you’ve been feeling.” Egon took your other hand, the one that laid limply on the tabletop. “Do you think I’d be with anyone else just because they had a doctorate? A PhD?”

You shook your head, growing red under his sudden passion. “Egon, I-”

“It doesn’t matter to me, because they wouldn’t be you. You are so much more than an abbreviation.” Tears flowed freely from your eyes, and he gently wiped them away every time, hands cradling your wet cheeks. “Besides. Dr. Abrams isn’t half as interesting as you are.”

Egon smiled at you, eyes crinkling as you returned it. 

There was a hiss of smoke from the kitchen that made him flinch, the threat of fire making you scramble back to the stove. As you cut the heat, you winced at the sight of liquid and vegetables burnt black and stuck to the bottom of the pot. 

“Ah, man. I’m sorry,” you frowned, switching on the fan.

“Things get away from us,” Egon held your shoulders, smiling as he pressed a kiss into your hair.