#can't believe im writing ghostbusters fanfic in the year of our lord 2021

[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.

[notquitecanon]

CAN WE HAVE A PART TWO FOR EMERGENCIES ONLY IT HAD ME SMILING LIKE AN IDIOT FOR AN HALF AN HOUR

Metaphorical Rescue Eggroll // Dr. Egon Spengler

This a part two of For Emergencies Only. It's angstier uglier more so unedited step sister that I wrote at 4 in the morning with no plot direction other than what my stream of consciousness spat out

CW: alc mentions, club atmosphere, making out, ment of sexual frustration

read pt1 here!

You despised these public outings Peter insisted on. Insisting that showing up to whatever clubs the tabloids wrote about that week would boost team morale and work as free advertisements. Insisting that the whole team had to go, a team bonding experience at least once a month. (You had a working theory that he realized he got more often recognized when seen with the other ghostbusters as opposed to going alone.)

You hated them even more when you felt like you were the only sober person in the room, not that Venkman hadn't tried to remedy that. Well, you weren't the only sober Ghostbuster (receptionist in your case) in attendance, Egon didn't drink- or at least never in the time you had known him. Even if a drink or two would make the pounding music and flashing lights more tolerable, you had dealt with the shrill phone ringing, alarm blaring, Ecto's sirens crooning, and customer's belligerent shouting plenty of times after a few too many the night before. It wasn't fun.

Still, at the moment, finding Egon in the crowd wasn't an option. Peter, with that glint in his eyes that told you he was up to something, had stolen Egon away early in the night, and had returned to your seat in a secluded corner booth to update you on the success of his little match. With each new drink in his hands the embellishments got raunchier, and yet they worked.

The largest part of the reason you wanted to go home was that your booth seat, alone in the corner as the buster's had a night out, had a perfect viewing of Peter's handiwork. Egon was sitting at the bar, a glass of water half empty beside him, his large frame absolutely dwarfed the little Swedish-minimalist barstools that accented the bar. That wasn't why you were irritated, no, it was the pretty little thing in Vogue's latest style that had draped herself across your the good doctor. She was pulling out all the stops and, to her credit, if you weren't so jealous you'd be impressed.

The way her long legs draped perfectly over his lap and crossed at her ankles, disadvantaging her balance just enough that Egon had placed a large hand on her waist and one on her leg to keep her steady. The fluttering eyelashes and doe eyes, the giggling and hair twirling, all obvious posturing. You were surprised Peter had passed her off to Egon and not kept her to himself.

Still, Egon had pulled his stone face, you couldn't tell how he felt about this- other than he had wanted to skip the night all together. On one hand, he was touching her more than he did most- whether or not it was simply a balancing act. On the other, despite being out of earshot, you could tell he was bored in conversation.

Maybe it was the fact you couldn't tell that pissed you off so much. Maybe it was the fact that you wanted to be the one draped over Egon Spengler's lap.

You sighed, finger tracing the lip of the cosmopolitan Winston had put in front of you with a sympathetic look, after all it had only been a week and a half since Egon had quite literally swept you off your feet. The silver screen worthy kiss had consumed many of your waking thoughts, and all of your nonwaking ones. Hell, it took a full 48 hours to be able to look at Egon without going crimson. Another 48 to be able to talk to him again without babbling. What had been an innocent crush had turned into a not so innocent infatuation.

And yet, Egon hadn't mentioned it other than asking once if your neighbor had bothered you again. (He hadn't, not so much as looking at you, or even in your direction in the mail room). Other than that, the scientist had gone back to his previous routine. More accurately, he lessened his contact with you. Putting his do not disturb sign on the lab when you were free to help him, asking Janine for clerical assistance instead of you, not having his morning coffee or evening takeout with you...

A jab of rejection threatened streak through you, but you had tempered it all week. It had been an act after all, he wasn't actually your boyfriend, and he was probably avoiding you because you were the one who made it weird- the PDA had probably been a bit much for him and he needed space. Or at least that's what you had assured yourself.

But watching the woman moon over Egon and him let her, not once moving away or asking her to either. That chipped away at your theory, a nagging sense of doubt whispering in your ear- maybe It was just you he didn't want. Still, you were a glutton for punishment so you didn't go home or even take up Ray's offer to dance, you sat and pretended not to care, or at least tried to.

"He looks uncomfortable." Ray had followed your rather pathetic gaze as he slid into the booth slightly breathless and sweaty. You narrowed your eyes as if that would pick up what Ray was seeing, you didn't see anything out of the ordinary- well more so than Egon openly holding and flirting with a woman in a club. Seeing your disbelief, Ray nodded downwards, "I've know Eegs a looong time. Look at his foot, see, he's wiggling it. Only does it when he's anxious."

You frowned, you didn't want him to be anxious. You never wanted him to be anxious. And while you had never noticed this nervous habit of his, it made sense. Egon was a rather still person, the jittery movement was out of character for sure.

Ray watched you watch Egon, eyeing you with a measured sense of scientific observation. He hadn't liked this plan of Peter's, seemed a bit on the manipulative side, too many ways things could go wrong among his friends. He didn't like seeing Egon uncomfortable or you upset, no matter the end result. And just as he expected, your jealousy had manifested in a quieter, more internalized way.

"Looks like he could use saving," Ray stated 'innocently' after a moment, "Gives you a chance to return the favor."

You picked at the hem of your sleeve, part of your favorite outfit- hand picked by Janine to impress Egon, "I don't know, like he said, we're adults, if he's disinterested he'll tell her so."

You had repeated the words Egon had said to you as an excuse before plopping your chin into your palm, "Besides, I don't want to make him anymore uncomfortable than I already did."

Ray didn't say anything else only pouting a bit as you sighed, waiting a beat before grabbing your coat. "I think I'm heading home for the night. Make sure Peter takes an Advil- you have a free repeater with an affinity for bagpipes first thing in the morning" You informed him, laughing a bit at his pained expression before pressing a platonic kiss to his cheek, "Goodnight, Ray."

"Night, (Y/N). Get home safe." Ray was still pouting as you moved towards the exit. Still, what Stantz said stuck with you as you pushed through the crowd. What if Egon was uncomfortable- you knew yourself how hard it was to brush off someone's unwanted advances...

You resolved to walk by ~subtly~ and if he gave you a sign or seemed to need saving you would do so. Offer him an out if he wanted on. If not you would simply wave goodbye and go wallow in self pity at home.

As you breezed past the bar, you kept your eyes forward as you passed them before casting a meaningful stare over your shoulder. To your surprise, Egon's eyes were already at yours and for the first time that night you could read his emotions on his face- first concern at your departure, then the confusion that you didn't quite understand, a flash of frustration and then regret that finally evened out into resignated realization. Whatever he had realized must have turned him off of the woman in his lap.

You watched in confusion as he gently, yet firmly, set girl on her feet, halting her when she tried to close the distance again. Her face was to you, but you could imagine the pout by how her head cocked. She was saying something, first Egon tried to explain something calmly. It obviously didn't work as the woman's demeanor changed from demure and seductive to hostile as her posture straightening. Egon held his hands up, trying to placate her- your lip reading wasn't quite to par but you caught an apology and an 'I didn't know that's what he intended'. That also apparently didn't work as the woman pointed a finger into Egon's chest; then it came, the sign.

Egon's bespectacled eyes flicked to yours, wide and pleading. The same look he gave you when customers were overly emotional, Janine was snappy, or Winston would steal the last prized egg roll and yours still sat untouched on your plate. You always gave him the egg roll, and this was no different.

He needed the egg roll, in this metaphor your egg roll being your help.

You sauntered right past the woman, ignoring her complaints- "Who do you think you are wasting my time all night?!"- as you smiled sugary, syrupy sweet.

"There you are, honey, thought I might find you here." Your acting was perhaps a bit over the top compared to Egon's when he did this for you, but you stuck to your bit, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth before wrapping your arm up and around his back, snaking up to his hair. On the low bar stool, at this angle, Egon had to look up at you as you smiled lovingly down at him. You decided this new angle was lovely, his pretty face looking up at you gratefully and slightly awestruck at your new attitude. Gently, you scooted his glasses back up the bridge of his nose before winking.

Finally, as your finger's delicately twirled Egon's curls, the ones right above his ears that if you were looking had gone scarlet at the light touch, you turned towards the woman with a fake smile, "Egon, love, who is this?"

The girl looked confused, her night had turned sour, "Better question, who are you?"

"The girlfriend." You answered nonchalantly, maneuvering so you could lean backwards between Egon's long legs, half sitting in his lap as your back curved into his chest. For both of your balance, he had to wrap both his arms around your stomach, holding you close. You had moved you arm so you were lackadaisically reaching towards his hair, running gentle fingers through what you could reach.

"You're the girlfriend? She's your girlfriend?" The woman, with her chique electric eye makeup and perfectly teased hair, was in disbelief before she snapped her mouth shut again, squaring her shoulders, "Then you should know- I was all over him all night and he didn't say a word."

She had you there, you faltered going still as you pulled your hand away. She smirked as though she had caught you. In your floundering to keep the lie, you didn't notice Egon try to follow the touch after it left.

What would Peter say, you thought quickly-

"Of course, just a little game we play when we go out. Saw it in Vice, really spices things up." You shrugged, when it doubt Peter makes people a little uncomfortable so they stop asking questions. The woman seem disgusted, then interested, and then back to revulsion as she shook her head. Still, she eyed the two of you, unconvinced, and you were ready to leave so you pulled the card you were hoping to save.

You pulled Egon's face down towards you, turning your lips up and towards him as he bent around you catch your lips, eyes fluttering closed. This time the ball was in your court, you led the pace and the tone. You kept the kiss itself languid, familiar, not breaking as you turned around, fulling standing between his knees yet face to face and for once at the same height.

After a split second of hesitation, you allowed your hands to wander a bit. First they left where they had rested on his cheeks to ran through the fluffiest part of his hair, tugging slightly on the longest bits causing the scientist to tip his head back and open his mouth, allowing the kiss to deepen. As your nails left a trail across his scalp, he let something akin to a groan escape- not audible to the rest of the club yet a dissonant vibration that sent a hum all the way too your toes. After mussing his hair, you simply locked your arms around his neck. Egon had kept one hand on your waist while the other had snaked up your back-under your coat. A spectacle befitting a club scene.

While the kiss you initiated didn't knock the wind out of you (as mush) the zoo that Egon had invited to your stomach had still gone into a stampede when the scientist had groaned, threatening an insurrection when he broke the kiss for only a second, resting his cheek against yours only to catch his breath before catching your mouth again.

He had allowed you a moment of control, something he didn't bestow to most. But now he was back in control, holding you by the waist, nose bumping yours, glasses fogging up and becoming askew- neither of you cared. This time he didn't stop when your knees went weak, simply letting you fall into him as his hand drifted lower, long, efficient fingers drawing straight line down your hip to your thigh before drawing back---

"You two know she's gone right." A chiding voice interrupted. Egon pulled back, yet still held you firm as the two of you looked up to find Peter smirking down at you. "Left before there was tongues involved actually."

You scrambled off the scientist on shaky legs, using the deep wood bar to steady yourself, "Well, Egon looked like he needed an out."

"Oh, you gave him an out alright, knocked it right out of the park. Didn't know you had it in ya, (L/N)?" Venkman teased as you looked anywhere but your coworkers (formally your bosses if they had ever cared about formalities, but you had just thrown formalities off the Empire State Building). You wanted to melt into the ground- or for Peter to leave and Egon to finish what he had started.

"Enough, Venkman." Egon warned, giving you a tentative once over. Unable to resit the curiosity, he gently took your wrist, pressing a finger to the delicate skin of your pulse point. He counted for a moment before mentally logging his findings- ratioed for size difference pulse is as erratic as his, interesting- before pushing his half empty glass of water towards you, prolonged elevated heart rates weren't healthy after all. You took it, gulping it down before shoving yourself into your coat again.

Mission was a success and now I can go home, I helped my friend, Egon, given my metaphorical prize egg roll and that's that.

"I should-" You stopped and restarted, smoothing the hair around your face, and hoping the water had tempered your kiss swollen lips (it hadn't), "I'm gonna head home, goodnight Peter... Egon."

You gave one last look to Egon, a sincere one that he would spend the rest of the night attempting to decode, before turning on your heel disappearing behind a bachelorette party group before Egon could catch your wrist. By the time he had squeezed through them, you were gone.

Meanwhile, you had stepped into the busy night streets of NYC, and immediately hailed a cab. You face was still flush with the kiss and you could smell that earthy-smoky Egon scent on your own coat collar, leaving you riding home with an entire new kind of frustration.

One almost more embarrassing than creepy neighbors and club jealousy.

--

did I edit this? no

did I set up for a part three if you guys want a conflict resolution? yes

Guess what i wrote part three

[notquitecanon]

Mandatory Attendance // Dr. Egon Spengler x Reader

In which everyone knows you love each other except you two, Peter bribes a bouncer, and Egon learns he doesn't hate dancing as much as he thought he did- as long as its you.

I live for pics that right on the edge of being in a relationship, where its so clear to everyone that the two are in love, and its just a lot of pining and yearning. Just two idiots in love that don't know they're in love except one idiot is a super genius that collects spores, molds, and fungus and might be catching on wink wonk

TW: alcohol, Peter making insinuations, slime mention ;), this is very self indulgent but that's what self insert fanfic is for so you know what im not sorry and I will be doing It again

👇👇👇👇 I just think he's pretty neat

"Attendance mandatory, boys- that means not optional, even for you Egon."

That had been Peter Venkman's irrefutable verdict on the Ghostbusters hosted Holiday Soiree that he thought up and left for you and Janine to arrange- on top of your usual workload, you might add.

Ray was on board almost immediately, after all he was the most outgoing of the quartet aside from Peter, and was very excited to reconnect with their former clients. Winston had chuckled when you sassed Peter, asking which former client he was trying to bed, but otherwise didn't seem overly ruffled about the event. Dr. Spengler had been the most resistant, insisting he had better use for his time in the lab, but eventually ceded the argument when he realized he'd waste more time trying to get out of the party than he would actually attending.

So, you and Janine were left to it, taking turns to use one phone to take client calls and another, new, phone to arrange a venue, decor, caterer, bar, music, invitations, and everything else on Peter's lists. You hadn't failed to notice that this Soiree had the male to female ratio of frat parties on college campuses, and knew that this wasn't accidental. Nevertheless, slowly but surely it got done (even if half the past clients simply cussed you out, mostly about the ridiculous amount of proton accelerator damage that had never been fixed).

So, about a month later, the week of Christmas for those who celebrated, you finally reaped the fruits of your labor. The open bar in the corner of the venue, turned away from the dance floor so clients wouldn't come harass you more about the expensive fees or unchecked damage.

Hell to plan, hell to attend.

Well, not quite. Your company hadn't been completely terrible, if you do say so yourself, though you were still half surprised that Ray and Winston truly managed to drag Egon out of the lab and even gotten him into a suit. More so surprised that he made it past the first hour mark without slipping out- you absentmindedly wondered if Peter had bribed the bouncers to not let him leave.

The thought made you giggle into your themed cocktail- a lemon drop martini colored electric green with a liqueur you were sure was radioactive, a drop of grenadine settled at the bottom along with a dry ice chip. Layered red, electric green with an unsettling bubbling mist, sure to make you sick if you weren't careful- the bartender had called an 'Ectoplasmic Vapor'.

"What's so funny?"

You slid your eyes over to Doctor Spengler who was sat stick straight on the barstool beside you. One of his thick eyebrows was arched over the lenses of his glasses as he watched you take a sip of your sickly sweet drink. You were sure if you mentioned what had truly made you laugh, he might actually try to leave, abandoning you to deal with this by yourself, so you switched tracks, uncrossing and recrossing your legs so you could angle your body towards him. Though you didn't notice, this action was well observed in a quick but thorough once over by the scientist- what he did overlook was the subconscious shift his own body made to angle in towards you.

"I owe Janine ten bucks." Which wasn't a lie, and this had made you giggle when you watched him arrive at the precise start time on the invitation, when it had only been you and a couple of the crazier clients that had gotten there even before you.

"What for?" The bespectacled scientist inquired further, sniffing the 'Specter' cocktail some Ghostbuster Groupie Girl had gotten for him that had long since gotten warm despite still being full- supposedly it was something like a White Russian but with strawberry syrup instead. Apparently he found something there he didn't like, because his nose wrinkled in distaste before sliding it away. You smiled softly at him flagging down the bartender and ordered a coffee, knowing Egon didn't drink, he said it impaired too much brain function. Honestly, you were sure he could black out and still out smart everyone in the room.

"She said you'd wear a suit," You smiled teasingly, using your free hand to smooth out the lapel of his usual gray sports coat. Egon dipped his chin to watch your nails trail over the material, a spirited, shiny red lacquer that Janine had insisted on when she did them for you. Though his face was still angled down, he flicked his eyes back up at you, as if telling you to continue. Your soft smile turned a bit teasing as you shrugged, "I figured you'd show up in your lab coat."

An almost blush crept up the mans neck, making you grin as you looked away, pretending not to notice him dip his finger under his collar to loosen it, but you did catch him mutter, "Peter wouldn't let me."

"Well, it's a good look, Dr. Spengler." You assured him with an appraising once over and sure smile before finishing the rest of your drink. Egon observed you for a moment so intensely, you had to look away, ordering another drink so you had something to do as he started at your hair, then the meticulously applied makeup around your eyes, pausing at the glossy color on your lips before gliding down to the neckline of your dress, then the way it silhouetted at your waist, next to the hemline, and finally to the heels that were strapped around your ankles.

"You, as well look-" He paused to clear his throat, getting his thoughts in order before raising his eyes back to yours, "You also look very nice tonight, (Y/N)."

You wanted to pretend it was the radioactive liqueur that brought the heat to your cheeks, but no, it was the bespectacled, curly haired scientist that had abandoned the compliment to go on a diatribe about the color psychology and geometry of fashion that went into the modern day mating ritual. And you listened, because you would listen to anything that he said even when you didn't understand what he meant by 'freudian connotations of triangle cloth patterns of the forties'.

It was around that time that Ray arrived with Peter, Winston shortly behind them. Of course the press went crazy and the party truly kicked off. The band was playing jazzy, big band arrangements of holiday music and all at once the dance floor was full.

You had finished your latest drink by the time Ray and Winston managed to find the two of you, still turned in to each other. Egon had lost some of the stiffness of his posture, curving in you could hear him over the band while you listened with you elbow propped up on the bar, palm supporting your chin.

You were listening to Egon point out clients and match them with their respective ghosts that the boys had caught, which was nice to finally put a face to the frantic phone calls you received. In return, you would share the ridiculous ways that said clients had described their ghost problems to you and Janine before you sorted them into the classification system they had come up with. You were priding yourself on actually eliciting a deep, baritone chuckle about someone calling a Class II Focused Animating Repeater as 'the devil's rabid possum with an attitude problem'.

"You're still here!" Ray admonished happily, excitedly squeezing Egon's arm before turning to you with that warm, goofy grin of his, "Great party, (Y/N), everyone seems to be having a good time!"

Winston nodded with a smile, lowly whistling before flagging the bartender, "Who knew you could clean up so good? And beautiful women shouldn't have empty glasses."

Another blush crept up your cheeks as you playfully shoved Zeddemore's shoulder, he and Venkman just liked to see you flustered. Winston had been hired shortly after you, making it easy to relate to each other in the crazy Ghostbusting reality that was your life now. He was like Ray, a completely brotherly kind of relationship- which made Venkman the sometimes creepy but ultimately lovable uncle. All of them knew who your eyes were on, which only made their little game so much easier, and more fun.

"You three were late." Egon pointedly directed the attention away from you, his posture stiffening as yet another drink was placed in front of you. Last one, you promised yourself. You didn't miss the way Winston and Ray gave each other a look while Egon watched you, they were up to something.

"That would be because no one shows up to their own party on time, Spengie." Peter's smooth snark appeared out of no where before he was suddenly between Ray and Egon, arms draped over both mens' shoulders. "It's passé. (Y/N), keeping the good doctor out of trouble, entertained, and stimulated, I hope- intellectually of course, I mean- but other kinds could be consi-"

"Good evening, Dr. Venkman." You cut him off sharply with warm cheeks, suddenly aware of just how close you had gotten to Egon while you had been talking, "I hope the party is to your liking, but your guests will get jealous if all four ghostbusters sit in the corner and talk to their receptionist."

Which was true, reporters and groupies alike were glaring at the corner you occupied, waiting for the group to disband from the little huddle they had formed around you and Egon. Peter didn't seem to mind, in fact, smiling smugly at not only your reaction but also Egon's that you had missed while glaring daggers at him. Ray's excited eyes were sliding between you and Egon as his grin got wider as if he was realizing something for the first time. And Egon was simply observing you, discerning eyes picking you apart as you looked to Winston for help. You sighed sharply through your nose- damn psychologists.

"We should make the rounds, guys, before our clients take full advantage of the open bar." Zeddemore suggested, giving you a wink before sauntering off, swirling his lo-ball glass of whiskey as he went.

"Right, right, have fun you crazy kids." Venkman's voice was saturated with that charismatic sarcasm that he was known for. You rolled your eyes and took a long sip of your drink, at this rate you'd need another five just to deal with Peter, "Oh, and, by the way, Spengs, if you want to leave early, I expect to see you on the dance floor at least once- then you can go back home to your slime."

So, Peter had bribed the bouncers.

_

The party was approaching it's third hour, with no signs of stopping. Egon and you had been separated. You had to handle a group of reporters trying to follow Ray and Winston into the bathrooms- another day in the glamorous life of the Ghostbuster's secretary and amateur party planner. That's when you found out a tabloid reporter had crashed the party, Egon had disappeared when they started asking you about the Ghostbuster's love lives.

After the crisis had been averted, you had briefly caught sight of the tallest ghost buster arguing with the doorman but before you could try to assist him- as his secretary and assistant of sorts, of course- Louis Tully materialized in front of you and had a lot of questions about how you were filing these party expenses on the Ghostbusters' taxes.

By the time Louis got to the renter's insurance portion of his inquiries, you were starting to feel like the ghost that the boys trapped- dead inside, so you broke your promise and got another drink which came with the added bonus of sitting down while Louis talked at you.

"Excuse me, Louis, I need to borrow (Y/N)."

That deep voice had never sounded so amazing as it did cutting off a lecture on import tax exemptions, and you were sure you looked childish with your look of excited adoration as you turned around to find Egon standing just close enough that his jacket brushed your back.

"Oh, yeah, sure, of course- great party guys!" With that, Tully was just as happy to find someone else to chat up as he wandered off again.

"No luck with the bouncer?" You asked, turning on the stool so you could face him. The scientist grimaced towards the entrance where the bouncer was checking the list before returning his gaze to you where it softened a bit.

"Well, you looked like you needed saving."

"Accountantbuster isn't nearly as catchy, but I appreciated it nonetheless." You smiled up at him. There was a beat of silence once his eyes left yours, staring at something far away like he did when he was thinking hard. Every now and then, he would glance at you before hesitating and staring off again. You figured you'd save him the grief- besides you'd be lying if you said there wasn't part of this that was completely self satisfying.

"You know, if you want to leave so badly, there's a pretty simple solution, Egon." You gathered his attention, jutting your head over your shoulder to the dance floor. The dark headed scientist nodded grimly as if he was facing off Gozer again, alone without a proton pack, but you just breathed a laugh at his dramatics, offering him a hand, "Dr. Spengler, may I have this dance?"

Egon took his eyes off the dance floor to meet yours and then dropped his gaze to your waiting hand, as if it was a trick question. Finally, he looked up to you again, "I believe societal construct deems that to be my line."

Maybe, you thought, but if you waited for him to ask you to dance you might actually be there until the New Year.

"I believe that since you trap ghosts for a living and I all but live in a fire house with four men, societal construct doesn't apply to us." You raised an eye brow, giving your fingers a little wiggle as if to say, this is a limited time offer. Egon's chin dipped as he chuckled- twice in one night, you smiled inwardly as you realized- but he nodded.

"I suppose you're right."

With that, he gingerly took your hand. You noticed, first, how warm his hand was, and secondly how large it looked compared to yours. For a moment, all you could do was stare at your hand in his, picking out the little scars around his fingertips from lab work gone wrong- even with the callouses from near full time lab work, the roughness of his hands wasn't unwelcome.

Without letting go, you scooted off the bar stool, letting your heels come into contact with the floor. For a moment you wobbled, your last drink catching up with you enough to make you unsteady even if your mind was sharp as ever. Egon was quick to steady you, watching your warily for a moment, but he didn't seem to mind, as you moved towards the battle ground dance floor.

The song was turning as you stepped onto the laminate floor, twisting so you would be face to face with Egon, well, face to face if you didn't have to look so far up. Once again, he hesitated for a moment before hovering his free hand over your waist. To reassure him, you simply moved in so it would rest against the fabric of your dress, the warmth seeping through the garment easily.

You hooked your free arm around his shoulder as the next song started, a slow arrangement but you couldn't quite place the actual song. The two of you started with a little bit of respectful distance between you, and to your surprise Egon was surprisingly graceful, naturally leading you in a step only slightly more complicated than the slow sway you were anticipating.

At your shocked expression the physicist shrugged mildly, "Dancing is simply geometry and physics set to rhythm."

Another breathed laugh as you shook your head, "I think the poets might disagree with you, Egon."

The dance continued, the music swelling slowly. At some point in the first chorus, either your radioactive liquor or your heels (perhaps both) caused you to stumble forward. Egon was quick to break your fall, his grip on your waist pulling you forward so you fell into his broad chest instead. It wasn't difficult for him to keep you upright, so he waited patiently for you to right your footing. Once you did, you started to pull back to your original distance, but the grip on your waist kept you close.

Since you were still at it, a little more self satisfaction couldn't hurt- so you decided to live in the moment, now allowing your face to rest against Egon's chest, reveling in the subtle scent of shaving cream, cologne, the smoke that the traps emitted, and something earthy (a spore, mold, or fungus you figured but it was so delightfully Egon that you didn't mind). Through his gray jacket, sweater, tie, and button up, you could hear his heart beat, steady and strong, and he slowed down to the original sway you were anticipating.

At this range, you couldn't see his face and the song showed no signs of coming to an end yet. You didn't mind, but you were sure Egon was staring at the door, just waiting for Peter or the Bouncer to notice and check him off the list so he could leave. To save yourself the embarrassment of when the song would inevitably end, you knew you needed to say something to give him an out- you were self satisfying but you wouldn't keep him here if he didn't want to.

"This is just torture isn't it?" You joked softly without looking up, but your sass lacked its usual sharpness as you enjoyed the close softness of the moment before you went back to being a secretary and he went back to being a ghostbuster.

Over your head, Egon was completely focussed on you, on your breathing, on keeping you steady, on your posture- when he devoted himself to a task, he devoted. This was no different, well that's not completely true, it was different but only because it was you.

He hadn't failed to notice how easily you tucked into his arms, nor how quickly you had followed his lead, how your perfume didn't give him a headache like most women's, how he didn't mind your closeness, how he had absentmindedly started tracing circles on your waist with his thumb, how your clasped hands rested so close to your face he could feel your breath on his knuckles, how soft your hand felt compared to his, how he was no longer timing how long the song was in his head. These observations were interesting, he'd have to chart them when he got back to the firehouse, and keep his eyes on the trends it revealed.

No, it wasn't quite torture, not with you at least. Maybe even something he would do again if the opportunity presented itself. But that was a lot to explain, and the song was sure to end before he was finished.

So, for the moment, Egon simply rested his chin on top of your hair, allowing his stare to become far way as his lips quirked up into that trademarked sideways smirk.

"Not entirely."

___

no proof reading we turn into dogs like men

[notquitecanon]

Happy Golden Days // Dr. Ray Stantz x Reader

this is dedicated directly to @spengsmoon for spreading my Ghostbusters hyper fixation beyond Egon. you did this.

summary: tiny domestic Christmas fluff, best if read while listening to Judy Garland's Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

tw: Christmas, eggnog alc ment, absolute tooth rotting crappily written fluff

Twas the night before Christmas, and all the through the firehouse, not a ghostbuster was stirring, not even Egon, who was currently in a sugar coma from all the homemade Christmas candy Winston’s mother had sent over. Zeddemore had left before the snow got too bad, being the only one with family in the city, bidding Holiday wishes to all and promising to stop back by the next day. Peter’s eggnog consumption had finally gotten the better of him so Ray and Egon had long since slumped him over his cot upstairs. While both of the other parapsychologists tumbled into yuletide slumber, Ray was fighting a little harder, sprawled out n the couch, resisting the final fall in favor of savoring the last moments of Christmas Eve with you.

The living room was dark save for the crackling fire that Ray had started hours ago- now dying down to blazing red embers that staved off the New York winter bitter chill-, the twinkling lights on the sparkling Christmas tree you had set up a week prior, and the Christmas Movie marathon that had been playing throughout the day.

Meet Me In St. Louis played softly on the television set in the corner, the room was warm, the lights soft like a dream casting rainbow halos and odd shadows around the living room, outside the window the street lamp illuminated the swiftly falling snow, and Ray’s head was resting heavily on your lap, his long legs hanging off the other side of the couch. You suppressed a chuckle watching his dark eyes slowly fall shut and then flutter back open again, only to repeat the process again moments later. One of your hands was laced with his, resting on his steadily rising and falling, cheesy sweater clad chest, you lifted the other to gently trace through his ever fluffy hair.

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas…” A young Judy Garland sang, the classic Christmas song fitting your quaint moment so perfectly, you couldn’t help but hum a long as you lifted your interlaced hands to you lips, pressing a sweet kiss to his knuckles. Lazily, his lips quirked up to a bemused grin, his eyes bleary as he stared up at you like you personally put the sun, moon, and all the stars in the sky.

Your hums turned to quietly sang words in time with the movie, “Let your heart be light, next year all our troubles will be out of sight.”

In that moment it didn’t matter if you were tone deaf or on par with Judy Garland herself, Ray was making a mental not to contact the Grammy Nomination committee, or at the very least commit this one moment to memory.

You continued, tracing gentle fingers through his tresses and singing along with the classic movie, his hand squeezed yours as his eyes slipped shut again, his own deep voice not much above a hum, “Once again as in olden days, happy golden day of yore…”

Judy Garland’s voice quietened before regaining its volume, you leaned down so you could nuzzle your nose against his forehead, your own voice just loud enough to carry the tune, “Someday soon we all will be together, if the fates allow.”

“I think we trapped the fates last week at FAO Schwarz.” Ray’s sleep grizzled voice mused, his free hand reaching back to fiddle with the hem of your sweater as you leaned back up, “So it doesn’t really doesn’t matter what they think.”

You breathed a laugh, finding the bit of hair just long enough to twist around your fingertips, Ray leaned into your touch as you hummed the next lyric. Slowly, a losing battle, Ray peeled his eyes open again to look up at you through his lashes. For a moment, you thought he would slip back into that light doze, but instead he cleared some of the exhaustion from his voice. His voice took on that adoring, enamored, wondrous tone that was so intrinsically Ray, his hand squeezed yours as his other reached up to gently finger at your hair, “I want to spend every Christmas just like this.”

You cheeks flushed red as his free hand fell back to his chest, heart fluttering at the first mention of a long term future, but before anything could be said a boisterous yawn careened him back towards Christmas sleep, eyes scrunching shut as you lilted the last line, “So have yourself a merry little Christmas, now.”

This time, it seemed more permanent as Ray didn’t stir as the movie cut to a commercial break- in fact, the ghostbusters theme of their own commercial didn’t even rouse him before you clicked the tv off.

You watched him breath for a minute, smiling as his nose twitched in his sleep. You tugged the throw blanket off the back of the couch, spreading it over the two of you. Finally, you held Ray a little tighter The only sound in the firehouse was the ringing of the clock on the wall, signaling the Christmas Eve had passed into Christmas Day.

This was your merry little Christmas, a Christmas card moment that would be cherished forever, remembered every time you saw lights on a tree or smelled evergreen. You shook your head at your own mushy thoughts, smoothing his hair down before pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead, “Merry Christmas, Ray.”