#egon Spengler imagines

[multifandomfanficss]

A Pretty Damn Good Solution

Egon Spengler x Reader

Prompt: When Egon finds out you’ve been having nightmares all week, he decides to find a way to help you by conducting a sleep study.

Warnings: Nightmares, panic attacks, sleep deprivation, and insomnia.

A/N: This is GN!Reader with no pronouns specified. The Egon brainrot is so real so please enjoy this incredibly self-indulgent fic I wrote to the cope with my work stress induced nightmares. Crossposted on my AO3 adriansglasses.

You woke up breathing heavy, in a cold sweat. You hear quick, clumsy footsteps running through the hallway of the firehouse. At first you’re confused. You’re still out of it and you’re scared. Suddenly Egon is busting through your doorway. His glasses are crooked, his pj shirt is buttoned incorrectly, the buttons not matching the holes. He has a proton pack slung over his back. He must have been in a hurry to get to you.

“Are you okay?! I heard you scream.” He looks at you with confusion. “I thought one of the ghosts had breached the containment unit.”

“I’m sorry. I just had a nightmare.” You apologize, still trying to collect yourself. You’re shaking like a leaf.

“Oh.” He looks at you sadly, taking off his proton pack. He sits on the bed, straightening out his glasses. The bed dips, shifting you towards him.

“I apologize for my appearance and demeanor. I was under the impression you were in danger.” He looks down at his shirt, fixing his buttons.

“I’m sorry I worried you.” You say, sheepishly.

“No, don’t be.” He draws out the o on the no, speaking softly, inflecting his tone upwards to try to bring you comfort. He gives you a soft smile, to match his tone.

You sit in silence for a few minutes. Egon isn’t quite sure what to say, but you don’t mind. Despite his awkwardness, he was still deeply comforting.

“I forgot to ask. Are you okay?” He breaks the silence.

“Not really. I’ve been having nightmares all week.” You begin to fidget with a string on your blanket.

“(Y/N), why didn’t you say something?” He asks.

“I didn’t wanna bother anyone.” You shrug your shoulders.

“You’re living in a building with several scientists who care about your well being. I assure you that you wouldn’t be bothering us. We could have helped you. You should have at the very least spoken to Peter. His concentration is psychology.” Egon tried not to lecture you, but he was confused as to why you were suffering alone instead of asking for help. He didn’t like to see you in pain.

“I guess I thought I should be able to deal with it on my own.” You avoid eye contact. Egon finally puts the pieces together. It wasn’t always easy for him to read social que’s, but he could read his friends easily enough.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed. Everyone has nightmares. They could be caused by a number of reasons. Typically mine are caused by stress, but I’ve since figured out how to get a handle on them through scientific means. Where they used to be constant, they’re now more rare for me.” He sympathizes.

“I didn’t know you had nightmares like that. I’m sorry.” You respond.

“They’re handled.” He pauses for a moment, thinking. “I believe it would be beneficial for me to conduct a sleep study on you starting tomorrow night, with your consent of course.”

“Do you really think it’ll help?” You look at him, desperate for an answer to your problem.

“Yes. I’ll have everything ready tomorrow night, but do you need anything before I go?” He asks.

“Can I please have a hug?” You request. Usually you’d be embarrassed, but right now you didn’t care. Egon had been the greatest comfort you’d had in the last several nights.

“Of course.” He smiles, a small blush creeping onto his cheeks. The hug is awkward at first, but you both relax into it. He’s warm and his pajama shirt is soft. While Egon’s presence is always calming, his steady breathing and heartbeat do wonders to bring you back to a more relaxed state. He begins to rub your back. “We’ll get to the bottom of this and just remember you’re not alone.”

————————————————————————

The next night you’d shown up to Egon’s lab as requested. You’re surprised to see he’s set up a cot with your favorite blankets and pillows. He was nothing if not observant.

“I gathered some things from your room in an effort to make you more comfortable.” He speaks, walking around the room, pressing buttons and moving things around.

“Thank you.” You smile. You sit down on the bed and Egon begins to fit wires to your forhead.

“May I?” He asks, gesturing to your chest.

“Um yes- yeah uh that’s okay.” You blush. Egon moves your shirt over and attaches wires over your heart. “I really appreciate you doing this.”

“Of course. It’s no problem, really. Do you need anything before you go to sleep? Can I get you a glass of water?” He asks.

“No, but can you explain how it’s gonna work again?” You lay down, attempting to get comfortable.

“While you’re asleep I should be able to see any changes in heart rate, breathing patterns, or brainwave activity. I can collect all the data I need and all you have to do is sleep.” He explains.

“Seems simple enough.” You give him a smile, despite your nerves.

Egon leaves the observation area and the lights dim. You close your eyes and fall asleep.

About 2 hours into the study Egon starts to notice a rapid elevation in heart rate and your breathing becomes heavier and inconsistent. He scribbled down notes, watching your brainwave patterns until you shoot up gasping. You start to pull at the wires attached to you, not remembering why they’re there. Egon enters the room with his journal and pen in hand. He approaches your bed.

“You’re okay. You’re in my lab, remember? I have to say that was quite interesting. How long did it feel like you were stuck in that nightmare?” He asks.

“Uh I- I don’t know, like hours?” You debate, trying to catch your breath.

“You were asleep for about 2 hours, but you only entered REM state about 15 minutes ago, which is when you started dreaming.” He takes down more notes.

“Only 15 minutes?” You ask, your voice and body shakey. Egon pulls a chair up to sit next to you. He lays his journal on your bed and takes your hand in his. He begins to feel your pulse. You instantly start to calm by his touch. He’s observant of this. He decides to keep holding your hand even after he’s done checking your pulse in an effort to keep you calm. He writes with one hand and holds your hand with the other.

“Can you tell me a bit about the dream?” He asks.

“I was alone in the firehouse and the containment unit broke and I was being chased by a demon. I woke myself up before it caught me.” He gives you a look. On one hand he feels bad that you were so scared, but on the other hand he’s intrigued.

“How did you wake yourself up?” He asks.

“I have like this thing I do if I need to escape a dream. I feel like I’m pushing and pulling and clawing my way out of reality, like I’m trying to swim through molasses until I wake up.” You tell him.

“That’s amazing. From my end your adrenaline spiked enormously. I didn’t realize you were doing that on purpose.” He scribbles down some more notes.

“Yeah. I guess that’s a thing I do.” You say awkwardly. “Did you get anything useful?” You ask.

“Yes, but I’ll have to run more tests throughout the week.” He closes his journal, turning to you. He realizes he’s still holding your hand. He doesn’t let go. He was so excited by the scientific aspects of the experiment he forgot why he was doing this in the first place. “We’re going to figure this out, but until then I’m here.” He smiles at you, giving you a look of sympathy.

————————————————————————

The next two nights went similarly to the first one. You would have nightmare and Egon would remind you everything was okay before sitting down next to you to take notes as you recounted the dream. Your dreams were often about being chased or not being able to save someone. You would usually use your emergency escape out of your dreams. Talking about your dreams helped. It gave you an outlet and it aided Egon’s studies. The two of you had fallen into a routine and it was starting to help.

Tonight was different. Egon watched as your heart rate spiked and your breathing patterns began to change. Your brain activity was off the charts. He knew you’d be up soon. He watched as you tried and failed to pull the emergency break. You begin to thrash in bed. He wonders why you haven’t woken up. He enters the room just in time for you to shoot up screaming and covered in sweat. You begin to hyperventilate, crying out. “Egon!” You cry for him. Tears start to stream down your face. He runs to your bed.

“It was just a dream. You’re okay. You’re safe. I’m here. Everything is okay, (Y/N).” Egon tries to keep his voice calm, but he speaks with urgency. He places his hands on your shoulders, trying to ground you. You can’t get your breathing under control.

“I- I couldn’t get out! I couldn’t get out! I was stuck and I couldn’t get out!” You’re speaking a mile a minute.

“(Y/N), look at me. You’re awake now. You’re safe. I won’t let anything hurt you. I need you to try to breathe with me. (Y/N), what’s three things that you can see?” He asks, trying to bring your focus back to reality.

“I can’t” You sob, unable to focus.

“Yes, you can. What’s three things you can see?” He repeats.

“I see your journal. It’s in the chair.” You try.

“Good that’s two things.” He smiles.

“Your pen is on the floor.” You continue.

“I dropped it when I rushed in to check on you. What’s two things you can hear?” He asks.

“The clock is ticking really loudly and- and I can hear… the heater is on.” You tell him, listening closely.

“Good. What’s one thing you can touch?” He asks.

“Can I touch you?” You ask, hesitantly.

“Yes, thank you for asking.” He smiles. You grab his hand, beginning to trace all the lines and wrinkles on it. You learn every detail of his fingerprints. Tracing the indents and following the patterns comforts you.

“Are you feeling a bit better?” He asks.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I’m just having one of those moments where it’s hard to tell what’s real and what‘s fake. I woke up from a nightmare, but it was just another nightmare. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a dream inside of a dream before. I thought that was just in movies.” You keep tracing his hand.

“No, it’s real unfortunately, but so am I and so are you. This is real.” He gestures between you. Part of himself means that the two of you are real and your interaction is real, but another part of him meant something different. The care you have for each other is real too, very real.

“I hate that I’m still tired. I don’t wanna go back to sleep, but I know I have to.” You sigh.

“Would it make you feel better if I stayed in here with you?” He asks. While he’d usually be too awkward to ask this, his solution is based in science. All of his research points to his presence being a comfort. This gave him more confidence.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” You hope you’re not being an inconvenience.

“If I minded I wouldn’t have offered. I want you to feel like you’re not alone.” He gives your hand a squeeze.

“I think that would help me a lot actually.” You start to shift, laying back down in bed. Egon gets up to turn the light back off, kicking off his shoes and lab coat before getting back into bed with you.

“I figured it might.” He smiles. He always loved when his scientific theories were proven right, especially one that benefited both of you so much. It brought both of you comfort to be in each other’s arms. Egon’s presence was enough for you to sleep soundly for the rest of the night and he was happy to know that you felt safe and calm. Even if it was only a temporary solution to your problems, it was still a pretty damn good solution.

“Goodnight, Egon.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

[strangesthirdeye]

No one:

me: *watching Ghostbusters for the first time and laid eyes on Egon Spengler*

Also me: *new fictional character crush unlock*

[shelbgrey]

Hello 👋

If you’re still talking requests, Can I request 16 and 21 for Egon Spengler please ?

Hold on, I love you (Egon spengler)

Paring: Egon spengler x Fem!Reader

Summary: Egon and y/n have never had the guts to admit their feelings in fear of ruining the friendship that's dear to them, but why dose it take an accident during a call for him to tell y/n he loves her.

A/n: jeez, I write one original flash-fic in my creative writing class and I re-enter my Angst era. This is lossly based off one of my assignments in creative writing. And this is way longer than I anticipated, I just sorta blacked out and had this, the beginning sucks but it gets better, I promise.

Prompts:

1.6) “I need to know if it's possible that two people can stay happy together forever.” - “in my opinion, the best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly what you are”

2.1) “i love you in every universe”

MasterList

Egon was a man of little words most of the time, it never bothered him or his friends. That was until y/n showed up, she was the younger cousin of Peter Venkman. Unlike her older cousin she was very soft spoken, happy, and the kindest person any of the Ghostbusters ever met. She also knew a butt load of supernatural stuff so there was no question about it when she joined the team.

When she joined she was immediately welcomed with open arms and it was as if she was there from the very beginning, she soon found a best friend in Ray and Winston.

What the team would have never anticipated was the life that she awoke in Egon, the two bonded over science and snacks and soon the two were glued to the hip. Peter had a hay day with that. Egon just seemed more happier and less robotic when she was around. Then it seemed everyone knew they liked each other except the two of them.

They would sneak loving glances at one another and Peter or Winston would always catch them. Then it just became something the team had to ride through, the bet they all set wasn't even fun anymore.

Fast forward to today, it's a normal day at the firehouse. Of course the day starts off with the gentle smiles and glances between y/n and Egon or as Peter puts it 'their mind numbing mating ritual.

Anyway, what the team called normal was not even getting through breakfast before they were called in a case. The call wasn't totally unusual but after y/n did her usual 'Sam Winchester' research hour they anticipated the poltergeist isn't like anything they dealt with before, sure poltergeists weren't unusual but this one might be more powerful and be classified as a vengeful spirit.

The call was from a real estate company. They were trying to sell an old mansion just outside of New York but when they went to clean and remodel they ran into the poltergeist. They were apparently threatened with a lawsuit if they didn't get rid of the ghost.

~~~~~~~~(1st pov)~~~~~~~~

“this poltergeist is a lot more powerful than what we dealt with before so be careful everyone…” Egon said climbing out of Ecto-1, Peter clapped his hands together and rubbed them together like a villain would in a poorly made cartoon. “ooh, I like them feisty”

I rolled my eyes as I let a chuckle slip past my lips “and please for the love of God don't tease the ghost” I said unloading my protonpack.

Peter slapped his hand over his heart, acting offended. “Miss. L/n, how dare you accuse me of such accusations… I Do not do that”

“oh yeah, remember what happened last call?” Winston said.

“yeah, like when you said you were gonna pretend to be a priest” I said with my fist on my hip.

“and quoted the exorcist a dozen times” Ray added.

“not my fault Casper didn't want to talk about JC”

Peter walked in front of us and stared down the dark hallway “don't piss the ghost off too much pete” I mumbled as I scanned the area with my EMF meter.

Peter gave me a cheeky grin and turned to the back of the dark room. “Oh, boy!” he hollered. “I'm sooo lost, I hope there isn't some ancient supernatural poltergeist that could possibly gobble my sexy body here”

“really?” Winston asked with a crooked eyebrow.

“it amazes me you have a wife” I added with a chuckle as Egon strung some kinda trip wire, It would act similar to a salt circle.

The dark Hallway rumbled and hissed. Peter smirked again. “Come on Honey, don't be shy!” The pitch black hallway rumbled and shook as the poltergeist charged forward, it stood ten feet tall and had a black hooded-roab that covered its unnatural form. It also had four red eyes and sharp claws. When is snarled you cold see dozens of sharp teeth covered in saliva and blood.

The poltergeist tried to charge at Peter with its claws but it was whipped back due to the proton-line Egon set up. Peter snorted and covered his laugh with his hand as the poltergeist floated around angry.

“Change of plans honey, you ain't snakin' on me” Peter joked then looked over his shoulder at us. “I'm just too handsome to be eaten”

Before he could turn back around the poltergeist coughed up a chunk of slime, Peter quickly dodged it, preventing days of scrubbing slime out of his hair. “ha, not today sucker!”

Peter started laughing, the rest of us just rolled our eyes and turned on the protonpack. “stay behind us,” Egon said to me. I rolled my eyes, I knew he was just trying to protect me(along with the rest of the boys) but it got annoying sometimes.

“Peter, just release the line,” Winston said, pointing his gun towards the poltergeist.

Peter nodded as his laughter died down. “Okay, okay, look alive soldiers!”

Peter and Winston quickly got their proton streams knotted around the poltergeist with a perfect ame. The poltergeist shrieked and yelled as it lunged at Ray, baring its bloody teeth. Ray quickly dodges the hit, as he falls on his back he turns the gun to full power.

Peter started singing 'why can't we be friends' under his breath while he leaned back, trying to control the poltergeist's movement. “Almost got it” Winston added with a grunt as he and Egon shielded the way that led to my direction, I quickly turned mine. Now all five streams were tangled on the poltergeist.

“N/n, get the trap!” Winston shouted, I turned my gun off and went after it. I got it and sat on the ground before sliding it on the ground to the boys.

Just seconds later the poltergeist breaks free from the stream and rushes towards Ray and Peter, they both immediately ducked, making the poltergeist miss them. Ray jumped back to his feet and pulled out one of the hand held proton guns and shot the poltergeist as it charged towards my direction.

The poltergeist shrieks and flies around like the Tasmanian devil. It pushes through the pain and lunges out of the stream before charging at me, claws bared. I pulled out the same gun Ray used, before I could pull the trigger the poltergeist’s huge claws slash down missing me just by a hair after I quickly dodged it. The poltergeist swang again and this time it left four brutal gashes from my right breast down to my stomach, these scratches were deep and painful, it made me gag. I felt the blood leak out at a thicker pace, the nauseating pain shouts through my entire anatomy. The sight of four diagonal gashes on my jumpsuit nearly knocks me over in a fit of panic.

“y/n!” I heard Egon shout, I coughed due to the taste of blood and felt my knees buckle. Before I could hit the broken tile floor Egon caught me.

“OVER HERE YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Peter shouted, the poltergeist wiped around with a hiss and charged towards Peter and Winston, claws out.

—(3rd pov)---

“Egon” she coughed, she desperately tried to swallow and clear the irony taste of blood on her tongue. Egon felt her gentle hands weakly cling to him as he sank to the ground, he fell to his knees and held her in his lap. Egon felt his throat constrict, every organ in his stomach twist and turned, he was unable to breathe as he stared at her battered body.

“she's loosing too much blood, control the bleeding” his mind races. There's so much blood and she's dying, no he couldn't think like that.

The poltergeist turns its attention to Peter in the distance, as Egon puts pressure on her cuts. His panic only ensues as the blood wouldn't let up, his freezes as she locks eyes with him.

“Egon…” she reached up and placed her hand on his cheek, it limply slid down smearing a red hand print on his cheek.

“Shh… Just stay with me, please” he said, stumbling over his words as he ripped the fabric of your pants leg to keep the blood from flowing out of the wounds.

The blood kept flowing and this time he didn't know what to do, he was now absolutely immobilized with fear.

“Ray!” Egon shouts. “Ray, help me!” Ray whips around, his eyes widened as he sees his best friend bleeding out in Egon's arms. Ray sprints over to them and drops to his knees. “Oh God, y-you're gonna be okay N/n, okay” He said placing his hand on her cheek then quickly grabbing the first-aid kit that was strapped to his proton pack, they added it years ago after Peter almost got castrated by class IV spirit.

Ray quickly tears open a package of gause with his teeth and places it over her chest. “Okay, I'm gonna lift her up and you need to wrap her. '' Ray looked up and saw Egon trembling and not moving, Ray pushed his shoulder while he fought his own tears. “Egon! She needs you right now”

Egon quickly shook his head and fumbled with the med-tape, Ray gently lifted her torso up while her arms limply held on to his neck. Egon tries desperately to concentrate enough as he wraps med-tape around her torso tightly.

Ray looked up, shaking his head desperately. “W-we need to call 911, this isn't gonna help her”

“Hey, Darling, I need you to stay with us. Stay with me,” His voice quivers with fear as he tightens the wrap on her chest, after he was done Ray gently layed her back in Egon's lap. “You’re gonna be alright. Just keep breathing.”

The three are drenched in her blood, Egon looks down and gulps when he sees that his hands are nothing but pure red from her blood. Everything Is drenched in her blood, Ray's jumpsuit, Egon's entire body, everything was just red.

In the distance, Peter and Winston are fighting the poltergeist. Winston stepped back and whipped the stream back to try and weaken the ghost, for a split second Winston wondered where the rest of his team was. He made the mistake and looked back.

“Y/N!” he shouted in anguish. Just out of instinct and pure love for the girl he dropped the stream and ran to her.

“oh my god” he placed his hand over his mouth when he saw all the blood. His stomach couldn't take it and he turned away and vomited out everything he had in his stomach.

“Winston, get on the radio and call for an ambulance” Ray said in a shaky voice, Winston wiped his mouth and ran out to Ecto-1. You could hear his voice from the distance and as he barked orders with a shaky voice. He came running back into the building seconds later.

“we got about 30 minutes give or take” Winston said as his nausea came bubbling back at the sight over drenched in red and unresponsive.

“GOD DAMMIT! WHERE ARE IDIOTS DOING!” Peter shouted over the proton stream and the screams of the poltergeist, he was totally unaware of the bloodbath the woman he considered a sister was setting in.

The screams of the poltergeist only got louder but Peter had no problem shouting over them in anger. “WINSTON! QUIT JERKING OFF AND GET OVER HERE!”

Winston did snap out of it and the nausea was replaced by pure rage. “this just got personal you bastard” he was at Peter's side in seconds turning his proton pack back on.

Peter tosses the trap under the area the poltergeist was floating and jerking around.

Their streams knotted around the thrashing ghost, struggling to contain it as Peter avoids looking in there direction, deep down he knew something was wrong but he was too pissed because he was ditched.

“Egon! Guys! Snap out of it, bud! I really need your help here!” Peter and Winston were both drenched in sweat and slime as they started to lose their balance.

“YOU GO STRAIGHT BACK TO HELL YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Winston yelled as his boots started sliding across the concrete.

“Damit! Hang on Winny” Peter said, pulling his arms back but the poltergeist jumped back, pulling harder.

“Goddamnit! Spengler! Ray! get off your asses and help!” Peter shouted, he was still oblivious to what was going on in the distance.

Egon's watery eyes darted up and stared at Peter and Winston. Egon stayed completely still, eyes wide and fearful as his big brain refused to process what Peter was saying.

As Winston ramps up his stream to full power light cast over everything, Peter looked over his shoulder about to yell at Egon and Ray but his words got caught in his throat when the light of the proton stream shined on Egon and Y/n.

“You gotta be shitting me” Peter grunts and slams his foot on the trigger pedal, then yanks the weakened ghost towards the glowing trap. The poltergeist shrieks in pain as it's sucked in and the ghost disappears.

The trap shuts and Winston drops his gun immediately, he runs back to Egon, Ray, and y/n. “Oh God, honey” he whispered as he took her limp hand.

Winston tried to take her into his arms but Egon just shot him a treating look and held her tighter. Peter was still trying to catch his breath, he was dubbed over with his hands on his knees. He breathed in and out until his lungs were ready for him to function correctly, he set up straight and looked towards his team.

He felt nothing but fear and anger when he saw her. His jaw clenched. “DAMIT” He shouts and kicks the trap across the asphalt. It clatters along the ground and crashes into the brick wall, he's lucky it didn't shatter everywhere.

Tears pricked his eyes as he got down on one knee next to Egon, like Winston he reached for the girl. Egon flinched back and held her closer still trying to stop the bleeding. Damn… She's lost so much.

“You touch her, I'll kill you” he said with tears streaming down his face. “this is all my fault” he sobbed into her hair.

For a moment Peter stood there shocked, he's never seen the doctor cry. Hell he's never seen Egon show any type of emotion until y/n showed up into their lives.

Egon only cried harder when the sounds of sirens was heard and ambulance lights flashed through the broken windows.

“We got you Honey” Winston whispered as he, and the other three boys gently lifted her up and met the paramedics outside.

The paramedics drove off seconds later driving like a bat out of hell trying to get to the hospital. When the sirens died down Peter felt his anger bubble over like an over filled boiling pot, hot and aggressive. He turns to

He then turns to Egon and seizes Egon by the lapels of his jumpsuit. Despite the Height difference, Peter was able to harshly slam the taller man into the side of the mansion. Egon winced in pain when his back hit the brick wall. Sure it hurt, but it wasn't as painful as it was to see y/n covered in blood. “What the fuck is your problem?! Huh?! Do you want her to die! Is that what you want!” Peter shouted as he jerked Egon forward and slammed him into the wall again, his glass fell lose hanging down on tip of his nose.

“Peter” Ray croaked out, he was ignored while Peter let out all his anger.

“You love her huh?! Could have fooled me. You just let that damn thing destroy her insides!” he threw a punch this time, Egon fell to the ground as Winston and Ray pulled them away from each other. Egon sinks to the ground. His throat constricts, he's unable to breathe as tonight events flashed in his mind on repeat.

“It's no one's fault!” Ray shouted as he placed his hand on Peter's chest and pushed him backwards. “Tonight was an accident! A terrible, terrible accident!”

“Do you think she would have wanted us to tear each other apart over her?” Winston asked, kneeling down to help Egon up. “I could have happened to any of us”

Peter clenched his fist. “but it's not supposed to happen to her! Our job is not only to get rid of the ghost but to keep her safe too!”

Tears spill down Peter’s face as his rage melts into pure sorrow and he falls to his knees next to Ray. Peter screws his eyes shut as he busts into uncontrollable sobs, Ray put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

After the team got done grieving and losing their shit, they loaded Ecto-1 up. Egon was silently sitting on the curb, back to his usual unemotional self. It killed Ray to see him so blank again, but then again he could see every ounce of pain that Egon was feeling.

Ray came up to egon and smiled softly. “I got a call from one of the nurses, y/n is still in surgery but they have high hopes she'll pull through… she had a blood transfusion too”

Egon didn't say anything, only slightly nodded and picked at the fabric of his jumpsuit. Ray sighed and rubbed his shoulder. “let's get cleaned up and we'll go see her”

Egon didn't move, Ray sighed and tugged him up. “come on buddy”

As Ray lifed egon up a pair of head lights appeared, it was Dana. Ray smiled at her softly as she got out of the car quietly, Oscar was fast asleep on his car seat.

“oh no” she whispered. Ray didn't say anything and told her to take Peter back to their apartment.

Dana silently and gently got Peter in the back seat of her car, he immediately gave Oscar and gentle hug and kiss his forehead. Dana shut the door and pulled Ray and Egon into a tight hug, not caring they were covered in blood and filth.

“get home safe and keep me updated with Y/n” she whispered and kissed Egon on the cheek. She got in the car and took her boys home. Winston sighed and walked over to be with his friends. “everything is loaded up”

Ray sighed and rubbed his forehead, it's been and long night and he never wants to live anything similar to this in the future at any given moment. He gripped Egon's shoulder and the three piled into Ecto-1 without another word, Winston drove since he was the only one who felt 'okay' to drive at the moment.

~at the Firehouse~

When the boys got home they silently put their equipment away and separated, Winston grabed his car keys and started his journey to the hospital while Egon and Ray went upstairs to clean up.

As Egon walked through the pitch black bedroom he couldn't help but brush his fingers over the bed she slept in, it was the nicest in the room, draped in soft blankets and fluffy pillows. It was always made nice and had a panda bear plushie Ray gave her long ago.

Egon let out a tired sigh and continued his journey to the shower room, since their home was an old fire house there was dozen shower heads in the room and they all had privacy cubicles and harsh forlecent lights.

Egon looked down at studyed his curnt state, covered in the blood of the woman he loves, he continues to question himself why he didn't just tell her when he had the chance. Egon agressevelly tries to break free of confines of the jumpsuit, it felt too constricting now. He ripped it off, breaking the zipper in the process.

Egon slames the ruby stained clothing to the bottom of the trash can, jumpsuit and all, and turns on the shower to it's hottest Temperature. After taking off his bent up glasses, he steps in and watches the first layer her blood run off of his body and fall down the drain. He opens his eyes and staired at his hands, the blood was still there. His chest heaves in panic as he scrubbed his hands raw. They were a hint of pink from the blood and so was his chest, he couldn't get the blood off. Dispite the scolding water a shiver went down his spine as he slumped against the cubicle wall.

“the blood…” he croaked out to Ray after he got out of the shower, he stood in front of Ray holding his shaky hands out infront of him. Ray looked up and saw his pink hands and since egon only put a pair of pajama pants on he saw his chest was stained with blood as well. “it won't come off Ray”

Ray didn't know what to say, he stood up and gave him a hug. “you should get some rest” he whispered, Egon flinched out of his arms and looked at Ray like he had three heads. “We're supposed go to the hospital”

Ray took a deep breath. “Egon your exhausted, scared… I promise we'll go in the morning, Winston is in the hospital waiting room as we speak”

Egon didn't protest so Ray went to take his turn in the shower. “I need to know if it's possible that two people can stay happy together forever.” Egon said softly.

Ray turned around and shrugged, he gave him a serious look and said, “in my opinion, the best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly what you are”

Egon nodded soulfully, “I just wish I had the brain capacity to tell her I loved her”

“It's not about brain capacity, but if you ask me y/n loves you for who you are” Ray said as he left to take his shower Egon's eyes trailed back to y/n's bed. The warmth of it and hint of her perfume beckoned him over. He silently crawled under her soft blankets and holds her stuffed bear to his chest. He buried his face into it and let the tears fall freely when her sent fully engolfed him.

He felt so exhausted but couldn't bring himself to go to sleep. Instead, he stares blankly at her night stand. It was small and neatly cluttered, it had small desk lamp she painted flowers on it and copy of The Outsiders and To kill a mockingbird. Next to the novels was a small picture frame that held a photo with all five of them. In the photo they were all standing infront of Ecto-1, y/n was setting on the hood while Ray and Egon set on either side of her. She hand her arms around the both of them while Peter stood next to Ray holding up devil horns and Winston stood next to Egon with his big goofy smile. Those boys ment everything to her.

Even with all the joyful things on her desk he could be looking at, his eyes just stared at the red telaphone was was in the open nightstand drawer, he waited for a call.. A call from anyone to tell him she was okay. He didn't know when he fell asleep, but when his eyes closed they didn't opened back up. When Ray got out of the shower(blood stained like Egon) Egon was fast asleep.

~~~~~~~~(.......)~~~~~~~~

It was barely 6 o'clock in the morning when Egon woke Ray up so they could go to the hospital. Sun was barely up when Ecto-1 drove down the partly empty street, the city wasn't even awake yet. The car was completely silent, the only sounds was Ray's loud yawns as he silently drove down the street.

Egon just wanted to see you, the hospital probably wasn't even opened yet but that didn't matter. By the time the hospital comes into view, the sky was a mixture of purples and orange as the sun slowly peaked from behind the tall buildings of new York.

The two men were completely ignored when the walked into the hospital, the nurse who was at the front desk let them pass by as she fought to stay awake during her shift. The two men went into the waiting room and saw Winston and Peter fast asleep, they were both in the uncomfortable chairs snoring away. Winston had his arms crossed over his chest and his legs were propped up on the tiny coffee table, Peter had his head tilted back and was using his coat as a blanket.

“I'm gonna find y/n's room” Egon said bluntly and left Ray with the snoring men, Ray sighed and just slumped on the couch that felt like it was made of bricks and plastic, it didn't matter how uncomfortable it was because he was out like a light again.

Egon walked down the quiet hallway, it was deserted and there was no night shifters in sight to kick him out. He didn't relize how nervous he was until his hands touched the door knob of her room, his fingers flinched away as he feared the worst. He didn't want to see her all battered up with wires sticking out of her, he only hope she was just resting peaceful on the other side of the door.

He gently knocked and peaked behind the door, he sighed when he saw her peaceful sleeping with a dopey Black dog plushie. Winston got it for her no doubt. Not wanting to wake her, he silently pulled a chair next to her bed the pulled her cold hand to his lips, he kissed it softly then gently held it.

Y/n shifted softly, the sudden movement make Egon fully alert.

“hi…” she smiled softly, he sighed in relief and rested his forehead on her leg. She tilted her head and gently brushed her cold fingers through his curls, the contact made his wall suddenly crumble. Tears of both gult and relief soaked her blanket. “I'm sorry… S-so sorry”

“Eggie… It's okay… Egon Everything is okay now” she cood. It was the first time ever she's seen him cry and she held no judgment. The only judgment was the one he was pushing on himself. “this is all my fault… I'm sorry”

“it's not your fault Egon…We're both safe now” y/n rested her hand on his cheek and he immediately nuzzled his face closer basking In her touch. His hand rested on top of hers and kissed her palm. “I love you”

The statement took her by surprise, but she wasn't disappointed. Egon didn't know how long she's been waiting to hear that and if she wasn't hurting and looking like a Freddy Kruger victim, she's be jumping into his arms or dancing around.

She smiled and pulled him closer, he got the message and leaned over to her making sure he didn't put any of his wight on her aching body. Their lips brushed up against each and this time there was no interruptions. The kiss was so gentle and held so much passion, he kissed her like it was the last time he'd every be able to do it. He pulled away and rested his forehead on hers.

She smiled softly. “I love you in every universe”

[pumpkinickel]

A Mix-Up || Egon Spengler x reader

Summary: Gender-neutral reader mistakes Elon as Egon (they really do look alike from the back!)

Relationship: Egon Spengler x gn!reader (established relationship)

Word Count: 669

Warnings: Not beta-read, but other than that none! This is just fluffy slice of life

Author's Note: This is actually a little old (early 2022). I'm currently writing for a different piece of media BUT I thought "hey, why not post this now because...why not!" I've always been kinda shy to post my writing on the internet in general but to hell with it tbh ! Cringe culture must die and I love my blorbos past, present, and future too much lol

On AO3

It was a regular, snowy day in downtown New York. Ray was in the downstairs of the firehouse, fixing whatever new problem the Ecto-1 had come up with. Janine was reading some magazine with smart shopping tips while Louis was on the phone discussing taxes, the latter having piles of paperwork on his desk. Business during the holiday season usually slowed down, and that meant getting to spend more quality time with the guys. Peter and Winston were engaging in a friendly but competitive game of pool, and Egon was nowhere in sight. He mentioned something about “bringing a surprise” to the station, baffling everyone since Egon certainly wasn’t the surprise type. You sat on the couch, head propped up by your hand, watching as Peter lined up his shot.

"I never understood this game," you said with a yawn.

Winston had a small laugh and shook his head. "It's alright, kid, neither does Pete."

"Hey!" The other man said as he thrust his cue stick, completely butchering the shot in the process. "I just don't play this game often enough, alright, Z? I got no practice,"

You and Winston share a laugh at the expense of your colleague, Peter placed his hand on his chest in feigned offense. Winston took his shot, clearly doing a better job than Peter as the other man had scowled as the ball went into the hole. As the two continue playing, the sound of familiar footsteps enters the second floor. Turning your head, you smile brightly as you finally see your boyfriend Egon. His back was turned, preoccupied with refilling the snack cabinet in the kitchen. As he rummaged through the seven eleven bag, you took the chance of slowly sneaking up behind him to give a surprise hug. The two men playing pool had paused their game to watch you, amused from the sight of seeing you crouch up behind their friend.

“Gotcha!” You yelled as you wrapped your arms around Egon’s torso and chest, placing your chin on his shoulder. Unexpectedly, he was completely frozen, unlike how he would usually turn around to return the hug. Your expression quickly morphed into one of confusion as the seconds passed and he stayed completely still.

“Anyway, Elon, I want you to meet-” You whip your head to the left to see Egon standing next to Ray, both the men having mildly concerned looks on their faces.

“...(Y/N)?” The man you were hugging spoke, his voice only slightly different from Egon’s but you could tell it wasn’t your boyfriend. Hastily taking your arms off him, you spew out apology after apology, face fully red.

“I’m so sorry! God I- I should’ve known the second you didn’t hug me back I-”

Elon waved his hand with a laugh, the other guys in the room except Egon cracking up as well. “No matter, no matter, at least I know my little brother is well loved,” Elon took the liberty of pulling you in for a hug this time, and just like Egon he was surprisingly good at giving them.

Egon’s cheeks turn a light pink color from his brother’s statement as he pulls you in for a hug and forehead kiss. Elon had headed over to the billiard table to greet the two men who ended their pool game. The mood in the room turned joyous as all the guys had not seen Elon in a while, making this occasion a real treat.

“Sorry, Eggs, he really does look a lot like you,” you whispered. He smiles before putting his lips on yours, causing your face to go red once again. Getting kissed by Egon certainly did not get old no matter how many times it happens.

“It’s alright, (Y/N), I missed you too.”

Ray called out, “Hey, lovebirds! Get over here before we finish all the pizza.”

You pull away from Egon and adjust his tie, taking his hand and walking over to the others to get a fresh slice of pizza.

[tinyvesselhearts]

THIS IS NOT A DRILL, I REPEAT: THIS IS NOT A DRILL

[notquitecanon]

Stardust & Fungi // Egon Spengler x reader

Me, breaking my writers block with shittily written fluff about a ghostbuster? More likely than you think]

Warnings: none other than this is top ten worst things I've ever written lol

"Is there a reason you're staring at me?" Egon asked, not glancing up from his microscope as he jotted down his observations. If it was still the days of stolen glances and supposedly unrequited feelings, or even in the early days of your relationship, you would have blushed at being caught, averted your eyes and found something to occupy yourself with. Though those days were cherished in their own right, they were in the past.

So, at his accusation you just smiled lazily over at him, chin propped in your hand, offering a challenge, "Do I need a reason?"

The scientist thought for a second, carefully adjusting the focus on the microscope, "I don't suppose so, though typically I can deduce what I'm doing to garner such attention. Right now I can't find anything of note."

You snorted a laugh, shaking your head as you closed your book- as if his entire existence hadn't been 'of note' to you since you met him, "Well, I just happen to think my boyfriend looks very cute when he's analyzing fungus blooms."

You knew your teasing found it's mark when his usual precise movement jerked, throwing the fine adjustment knob completely out of focus. Egon spared you a flustered glance before he fervently fixed the focus again, ducking his head back to the ocular piece to hide the flush creeping up his neck.

Slowly, like a cat after a nap, stretching lazily you rose from your perch, your very own, lovingly assigned lab stool. The stool was a small seemingly meaningless gesture from Egon that if you knew the scientist, had several layers of subtext. To start with, it was the only surface in the lab that was safe from the good doctor's 'organized' chaos. This particular still had a back and cushion, appearing ~randomly~ the day after you had complained of a sore back. It always had an extra lab coat, discarded sweater, or sports coat hanging on the back since you often complained the lab was too cold. Typically, the stool was parked next to his super top secret snack stash that was classified information to everyone in the firehouse. And while others were allowed to sit on your stool, the moment you entered the lab Egon would wordlessly shoo them away or stare at them until they caught the hint- Peter liked to test these limits just to mess with him. The stool was how the other ghostbusters knew how Egon really felt about you.

When it came to Egon, it was all in the details, and you had become fluent in reading between the lines.

"Cute isn't the word choice that I would go with," The scientist muttered after changing the specimen again with you slowly moving to hover behind him.

"So sorry, you're right, my boyfriend looks very handsome when he's analyzing..." You trailed off for a second, squinting to read the cursive label soon the slide, "Ganoderma Gibbsom."

He spared a glance over his shoulder, the faintest blush still in his cheeks as he leaned back ever so slightly so the curve of his back was flush to your front, "Excellent pronunciation."

"I've had a pretty good teacher." You hummed at the praise, pressing a kiss to the shoulder of his lab coat and then one to his jawline, internally preening at how he leaned into the contact. Egon chuckled- your favorite sound amplified by how the sound vibrated through his chest and into your skin- before tilting his head so his lips could catch yours briefly. You smiled against his kiss, "How's your fungus, honey?"

"It's preparing to reproduce." He informed you, motioning the microscope towards you- both to share his interest and to have a moment to wipe your lipstick off his lips. He leaned sideways so you could scoot forwards and press an eye to the ocular piece. You squinted against the bright light and observed for a moment.

It was, in fact, fungus. Just fungus to you, and it looked exactly what fungus should look like- fungussy like. But, if it was interesting to Egon, so it was interesting to you. You watched the specimens wiggle a bit before relinquishing the microscope back to the scientist.

"Getting real hot and heavy in there," You joked, pressing one last kiss to the top of his head, "Should I leave you two alone?"

Egon rolled his eyes but his famous sideways smile crept up as his gaze followed you back to your stool, "You're no better than Venkman."

"I'm a little better than Venkman." You retorted with a faux sense of offense, hand to your chest though your grin was cheeky. Egon hummed as he jotted something down, so you flicked a discarded straw wrapper at him, giggling when he only offered you a withering look.

"You love me." You 'reminded' him, taking you assigned seat and parking it across his work bench so you could be closer to him. Peeking over his microscope at you, his gaze softened as he nodded curtly.

"I do." Egon's voice was soft and sincere- some might say even out of character but you knew that tone was reserved just for you. His admission earned him another smile as you took your book back out.

The lab fell back into comfortable silence, just the two of you enjoying the other's presence as you each worked on your own hobby. Or, at least, Egon worked on his. You couldn't get past the the page you had opened to- not for lack of interest, earlier Winston had gotten through an entire conversation before he realized you were nose deep in your book, and still took five minutes to get your attention, and certainly not for lack of trying, you'd read the first six lines easily fifteen times. By line four your mind would start wandering, by line five you'd be stealing glances at the scientist across from you, and by line six and seven your brain would discard everything you just read in favor of daydreaming.

About twenty minutes passed and you were only able to turn the page once. You did however manage to steal at least seventeen dreamy glances at Egon, mentally decorate your future shared apartment, plan your honeymoon, and a hundred other little things. Between thoughts of the future, there was also reminiscing. How you met, late nights in the lab, the long and awkward pining phase, patching him up after busts, your first kiss, all the times you'd made him laugh...

"What are you thinking about?" Egon asked, looking up from his notes. That was one of the things you loved about him, despite being the smartest guy in any room, he always wanted to know what was going on in your head. His voice snapped you out of your own mind, this time you did blush.

"Oh, not much, just reading." You shrugged after clearing your throat, holding your book up with a little shake as if to say- see?

"You're average reading rate is 300-350 words per minute, yet you've only turned the page once since you opened the book again, suggesting your mind is preoccupied with something else." He explained. How could you forget just how observant the scientist was, of course he would notice your distraction. You sighed.

"You're going to think I'm crazy." You laughed a bit, knowing even you thought you were a little crazy. Egon simply arched a single eyebrow over his glasses, as if to say, 'try me.'

"Should I remind you that we're still excavating marshmallow goo out of all our gear from the 100 foot staypuft marshmallow man?" He asked sarcastically, pushing the microscope aside to give you his undivided attention. You breathed a short laugh- how could you forget? Ray still complained about Ecto1's permanently stick back seat.

You met Egon's dark eyes, his oh-so-always-serious face, his large calloused hands folded in front of him as he waited for you to explain. Leaning forward, you traced a single but gentle nail over one of the small scars that decorated his left hand, product of lab work gone wrong, you had been the one to bandage it.

"I know you don't believe in the idea, but..." You trailed off, folding your hands into his. As always, his hands, large and warm, gentle despite the roughness of working, encompassed yours completely. Like they were made for you and you alone, "I didn't until I met you. I think, if soulmates are real, then you must be mine."

After you said it, you closed your eyes, expecting his to spare a laugh or have some scientific lecture to disprove your rather sappy theory. You had no doubt Egon loved you, he proved it in little ways everyday, but he was still a man of science through and through. He didn't believe in luck, superstitions, destiny, or fate. When he didn't immediately rebuff you, you peeked your eyes back open to find the scientist deep in thought.

His brow was furrowed like It did when he was trying to figure something out, usually you loved that look, loved watching how his brain worked, but now it made you a little nervous. Your relationship with Egon hadn't followed any of the typical time markers or milestones of normal relationships- but maybe it was too early to droop the 'we were made for each other' on him. Or maybe, he just didn't agree.

"Many scientists believe that the carbon that makes us up is billions of years old, even trillions. Remnants of supernovas and dying stars, and it was this stardust that drifted for lightyears before eventually being composed into planets, flora, fauna, and eventually humans. Using that notion, one could hypothesize that perhaps our idea off soulmates could be reduced to two individuals sharing carbon of the same origin, finding its way back to itself over and over again in the carbon cycle despite all odds," Egon thought aloud, staring at your interlocked hands before lifting his gaze to your eyes, "Perhaps, that could explain our immediate attraction, how we play to each other, gravitate towards the other... carbon matter, stardust, soulmates, perhaps could be all the same thing."

You were stunned to silence, picking through the scientific jargon absorbing perhaps the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to you, but Egon wasn't finished.

"And whole I can't definitively prove or disprove this theory, I... savor the idea of us being soulmates. Very few other things in the world make as much sense to me as that." His admission was quiet, though it echoed around your head for a while all you could do was stare back at him with tears threatening to prick the the corners of your eyes, "So, in summary, no, I don't think you're crazy, (Y/N)."

Blinking your tears away, you forced a chuckle through a suddenly tight throat, squeezing his hands before lifting them so you could press a sweet kiss to his knuckles.

"That was the sweetest, most romantic science lesson I've ever heard, Egon," You whispered, feelings running crazy but offering a grin nonetheless.

"I concur, though I think in most relationships such heartfelt confessions are punctuated by more than just a kiss to the hand." Egon theorized, arching another brow at you. You laughed, roughly wiping a happy tear away as you nodded.

You pretended to think about it fore a moment before reaching into the drawer nearest you where you knew your quarry laid. With a smirk, you slid the worn out 'maid service Do-not-disturb' door sign across the table to him.

"I think you might be right, Dr. Spengler."

[tedesquire]

Hi, I am DYING to see more Egon Spengler x reader and I love your writing. There isn’t nearly enough content for him even though he’s amazing 💜💜💜

My Guy 

Pairing: Egon Spengler x gn!Reader

Contains: fluff

Masterlist Description: Your friend sets you up on a blind date. Before you can wonder if you were stood up or not, a certain doctor with a proclivity for the paranormal asks to buy your drink for you.

-

Sad eyes, that’s what Egon first noticed about you at the bar. Not the way you dressed, how you had worn your hair, or any other modifications you made to your appearance, just your eyes. They were downcast into the drink you had ordered for yourself, unsure and anxious only to fill with hope each time the door swung open, only to be disappointed again. Anyone could tell you were nervous about something with the way you kept biting your lips and each twitch of your fingers against your glass.

“Hello, hello? Earth to Egon?” Peter’s loud voice brought the taller man back to the conversation. Peter had dragged the gang out to a nearby bar hoping to drink and flirt just enough to wake up with only a slight headache in the morning. Winston was all too happy to tag along, while Ray only needed a little persuasion, Egon had to be all but dragged out of the firehouse, ever the homebody. 

“My god, Stantz, grab a knife. Egon, if you don’t answer me we’re going to give you a lobotomy in 3…2….”

“Cut it out, Venkmen.” Egon’s tone was flat, his gaze finally pulled away from your figure. “Didn’t we come here so you could flirt around or whatnot? Was I too out of it to notice every woman here reject you or what?” He snapped, drawing a chortle out of his friends.

“He’s just the best, isn’t he the best? The sweetest guy, you could always count on a fella like him and oh! We’ve lost his attention again.” Egon had drifted back to your sulking figure, missing the way Peter’s eyes slowly followed Egon’s, Ray and Winston’s soon to follow.

“Somebody’s got a stalker” Peter had positioned his mouth directly besides Egon’s eardrum, the new volume making him jump. “C’mon, you’ve been staring at that poor schmuck for twenty minutes, at least.”

“Poor schmuck?” Egon came to push up his glasses, flickering between you and Peter.

“That poor soul has been alone at the bar this whole time.” Peter shrugged, taking another sip of his beer.

“Probably waiting on a date, but it’s been too long now. I suspect they’ve been stood up.” Winston chimed in, Ray shaking his head in disappointment, his heavy brow furrowed in concern.

“Egon, scoot out of the booth, it’s time to make my move.” Peter snickered, raking a hand through his unruly hair to flatten it, straightening his tie. 

“Uh…” Egon stuttered, catching another glimpse of your sad eyes. You had pulled a compact out of your bag, double-checking your appearance. You had nothing to worry about, you were perfect. Even the thought of Peter walking up to you and throwing some line he had already used on half New York’s population made Egon cringe, quickly shutting the idea down. “No.”

“No?” Oh. He didn’t think this plan all the way through. “Oh, I see. Well, Doctor Love, why don’t you take a turn romancing?” The more Peter thought about it, the wider his grin grew. “Yeah, yeah, this is great. Put yourself out there, huh? And see if they have any supermodel friends.”

“Oh, I’m not going over there.” Egon defended, staring down at his waterglass. He didn’t care much for the taste of alcohol, usually opting to be DD. Various cries fell from Venkmen, Stantz, and Zeddemore’s lips, causing Egon to grimace. 

“You know what it’s like for us- Well, not Zeddmore.” Winston always seemed to have more luck with the dating pool. “They take one look and look somewhere else.”

“C’mon Speng, they’re probably just on the verge of desperate to go home with the next person who asks, so if you’re not going to man up then-”

“You know I don’t like what you’re insinuating-” Egon shot back, only for Ray to diffuse the tension.

“Perhaps you could buy them their next drink? If they refuse, we’ll leave. But if they take it, even to be polite, try striking up a conversation with them. You never know, Spengie.” Ray always seemed to know exactly what to say.

“You got this. You’re the man, Egon, you’re the man with the plan.” Peter very helpfully patted Egon’s shoulders like he was preparing for a boxing match. “Just remember, when in doubt, WWPVD- What Would Peter Venkman Do? It’s always worked for me.”

The flicker of annoyance in his dark eyes was gone as he rolled them, swatting Peter’s hands away and rising to his full height, smoothing down his sweater vest and slacks.

-

This is stupid. You thought glumly, feeling a familiar bitterness wrap itself around your heart. You should have never agreed to go out tonight, What was I thinking?

You know what you were thinking. You were tired of coming home to an empty apartment, tired of watching your friends talking about their significant others- and while you were happy for them, truly happy, you couldn’t help but feel bitter. Even though you tended not to base your worth on whether or not you were in a relationship, it was still an experience you were missing out on.

So when a close friend claimed she had the “perfect guy” for you, you threw caution to the wind and agreed before you could truly think about it. But now, having sat at the bar for close to a half hour past the agreed upon time, you had plenty of time to think.

What if he had taken one look at you and left?

You knew nothing else about the man other than what your friend had told you, tall, dark hair, great sense of humor. You couldn’t remember his name or what he did. Or maybe she forgot to mention it to you. You wondered what she had told him about you, and if whatever it was, was enough to persuade him to stand you up.

Or what if he was late because of an emergency, or traffic- traffic in New York could be a bitch- or what if he was at the wrong place and if you just held on a little bit longer you’d finally meet your soulmate and you’d be so glad you just waited a little bit more.

“Hello.” A deep voice pulled you out of your stupor, your eyes meeting his. Tall, rich, dark curls, a shadow of where facial hair would lie if he would let it grow. His clothes suggested a level of professionalism and care. You thought he was trying to smile but it seemed he was nervous, almost a grimace. This had to be him, right? “Can I… buy you another drink?”

“Oh!” You sat up straighter at his attention, trying to decide on an answer. He kept you waiting, you should be upset, shouldn’t you? But there was something earnest in the way he asked you if he could buy you a drink, the way he hadn’t automatically sat down to drag you into a conversation. Maybe you really were too much of a cynic, you could be forgiving- just this once. 

“That would be nice Mr….?”

“Doctor,” The word slipped out of his mouth, cringing as he realized his tone was harsher than intended, opening his mouth to apologize.

“Doctor?” You prompted, your playful tone almost making him blush.

“Just call me Egon. Egon Spengler.” He offered his hand to you, 

You gave him a smile, gesturing to the seat next to you. “Egon.” You tasted his name on your tongue, repeating it softly. “Alright, Doctor Egon, why don’t you join me?” A hint of a smile making itself known on the corner of his lips. 

You missed the group of guys in the corner slapping each other silly, ordering another round to celebrate.

-

You would have to buy your friend dinner, or curse her out, you still hadn’t decided. Well, she deserved something for setting you up with someone as wonderful as Egon but why keep him a secret for so long?

He was intelligent, as he finally coughed up he had varying degrees in parapsychology and nuclear engineering. At your insistence he mentioned a few experiments he had in mind, one about positive and negative energy infused into surrounding objects. 

“So, what does a guy like you do for fun?” You tease, leaning back in your seat. 

“I collect spores, molds, and fungus.” He blurted, ignoring the heat that instantly blossomed on his cheeks. He ruined the whole thing didn’t he? What person in their right mind would find that attractive? It’s my hobby and I enjoy it, Egon tried to remind himself, willing his insecurities to stop.

“Really? How’d you get into that?” He’s thrown off by your question, surprised you haven’t sprinted out the door and left a you-shaped layer of dust in your wake. You take his wide eyes and smile, placing a comforting pat on his hand, tracing the prominent vein there absentmindedly. “It’s not like you collect teeth or anything.” A pause. “Please, tell me you don’t collect teeth.”

His laugh startles even him, higher than his deep timbre and broken from underuse. He was still quite nervous, it was… cute. So was the way he could smile without moving his lips, just a quirk of his brow. You made you feel as if you were the most comical person on the planet.

“I promise, I don’t collect teeth or anything else of human nature. Just the spores, molds, and fungus. I have a keen interest in botany.” 

“You’re full of surprises. I had no idea you’d be this interesting.” You hum to yourself.

“I’m surprised you’re so interested.” He admitted, “What about you?” You could feel your cheeks heat up as the topic of conversation was now focused on you. 

“Well, um… What about me?” You offered.

With a serious gaze, Egon lifted his drinks to his lips, tilting his head towards you. “Do you collect human teeth and should I be worried?” He smiled into his glass, hoping the blush on his cheeks isn’t noticeable as you throw your head back to laugh.

-

“Damn, either Egon’s has serious game or Egon’s the first human this person has ever met.” Peter grumbled for show, watching the two of you laugh for what seemed like the hundredth time in less than an hour.

“Well, some people are into the “nerd” look now.” Winston shrugged, taking an opportunity to peek on you both.

“No, Egon has game, I’ve seen it.” Ray mentioned, eyes widening as Peter and Winston snapped to face him. “Just because he doesn’t need to take someone home every night doesn’t mean he can. He’s a man of science first and foremost.”

“Well, I’m a man of science too. More focused on human anatomy.” Venkman wiggled his brows raising his palm up for Winston to slap. “You wouldn’t get it, Stantz.”

“Alright, that was just clever enough to warrant a high-five.” The older man rolled his eyes, limply returning the gesture.

“Wh-” Ray stuttered, growing flustered. “I’ll have you know-”

“No time to respond, look.” Ray sighed dejectly, turning to watch you inspect your beeper, excusing yourself by pressing a kiss to Egon’s cheek to find the Bar’s telephone. Peter waved the taller man over, placing his chin on his folded hands.

“So Egon, has the alien that lives inside your cranium found a mate?”

“No, they’re intelligent and-” Egon cut himself off, truly processing his words. “No.” He hissed sharply, his palm coming up to hit the back of Peter’s head. “It’s going very well. I don’t think they know about the Ghostbusters, which is pleasant. I don’t much care for those who only pay attention after finding out we’re famous. Ray, I should commend you for your recommendation, I believe I’m-”

“Going to put a sock on the firehouse doorknob?” Winston snickered, Peter snorting into his palm.

“Going to ask them on a proper date.” Egon’s tone was flat, his mood only boosting as Ray smiled warmly. 

-

“Hey, listen, I’m so sorry, I-” Your friend rambled as soon as you had dialed her number. “I didn’t know he was going to bail. He mentioned something came up at the office and if you’d like to reschedule, I mean, I’m surprised you’re even still there and don’t let this ruin your plan of ‘getting back out there,’ remember you’re smart, sexy-”

“Woah, woah, woah, what are you talking about?”

“Walter! Walter Peck, what else could I be talking about?”

“Who?”

“The guy you were supposed to be meeting! I can’t believe he didn’t try and get in contact with you first!” She exclaimed, continuing to ramble. 

“He’s not a scientist? He doesn’t have a doctorate?” Maybe Egon was his middle name or something?

“Walter? No, he’s an inspector for the Environmental Protection Agency, what are you talking about?”

“Well, I thought…” You trailed off, turning to find Egon mingling with a group of men. His cheeks were red, waving off the men who seemed to be hyping him up. Had he been with them earlier and you didn’t notice? “I thought the guy you set me up with had shown up late. What does this Pecker guy look like?”

“Auburn hair,” Nope. “Bearded,” Nope. 

“Yeah, that’s not my guy.”

“Your guy?” She squealed, “Tell me about him, tell me!”

“I don’t have time for this,” You felt extremely flustered, hoping Egon wasn’t noticing your discomfort. “I’m on the best date of my life so far and I’m on the phone talking to you!” You relaxed a bit after hearing her laughter, promising she would get all the details later.

You were supposed to be mad? If Walter had shown up, or if you left too early, you would have never met Egon. Besides, it’s not like Egon lied to you. He never pretended he was your date, you had just assumed. 

You hung up the phone, nervously approaching the small group, plastering a smile as they brought Egon’s attention back to you.

“Hi.” You breathed, giving a small wave. “Who are your friends?” Brief introductions were made, Egon all but dragging you back to the bar after Peter kissed your hand, making you snicker.

“Is everything alright?” He referred to the phone call, looking concerned. Yeah, this is my guy. You decided, shaking your head.

“Funny story,” You began, Egon already smirking before you said anything. “I was here waiting for a blind date and when you approached… so I thought you were him. That phone call was from the friend that set me up.”

“Should I assume this is your way of telling me you wouldn’t be interested in a second excursion?” He sighed, his smile melting to cover his disappointment.

“You should never assume, Doctor.” Your hand comes to wrap around his, those beautiful rich eyes meeting yours. “I’m glad I didn’t waste my night pining over someone I’m too good for. I got to spend it with you.” He seemed a little more hopeful.

“Why don’t we get out of here?” You nod towards the exit, smiling as Egon nodded, pulling him close to your figure.

-

“Guys, is Egon cooler than me?” Peter whimpered, watching the two of you leave the bar arm in arm. A gasp fell on his lips as he watched Egon cradle your face, whispering something unknown before leaning you back into the window, lips pressing against each other hurriedly. 

“Yes.” Ray and Winston chimed, clinking their beers in triumph.

[janinemel]

Egon Spengler Relationship Headcanons

author’s note: i did implied nsfw for this but decided last minute not to add them bc i personally cannot see egon in such things, if that makes sense. so no nsfw hcs. (again, this is a personal opinion and decision. don’t feel discourage by this.)

Pairings: Egon Spengler x reader (ROMANTIC)

Warnings: none (?)

Not proofread

General HCs

•You met Egon through Ray, he introduced you two and you instantly had an interest in the scientist.

• After awhile, Egon began to feel more comfortable with you and this blossomed into a friendship.

• You listened to his theories and watched him work long nights. You brought him coffee, occasionally sweets when he requested.

• Time went on, you fell in love with him and it became a little hard to hide it because you two were always together. Little bumps, skin contact, light touching, you always felt your face warm up and your stomach did flips.

• Ray knew you liked Egon but you were too embarrassed to admit it. He was happy to hear this because he knew Egon had a thing for you as well.

• Eventually things fell into place with Ray’s help and Egon confessed to you during one of your long nights. This caught you by surprise and you thought he was just tired but he assured you he was being serious. You just smiled at him and gave him a date before leaving for the night.

• After that date, came along many other dates and you both became official. You loved Egon so much and it came easy when talking.

• Egon was never the one for physical touch so you always asked him if it was okay to hug him or hold his hand.

• One night where he was staying at your apartment and he had brought his work along, his hand found yours as you read a book. You felt yourself smile a bit because it felt like a natural reflex.

• Egon slowly began to move into your apartment, first came a few pairs of clothes, then his toothbrush and comb, then his books, then eventually you asked him to move in with you. He only said,”I thought I already did.”

• You often wore his shirts to bed, he didn’t mind because he found it sweet. Just as long as it wasn’t his important shirts.

• Whenever Egon came home late because of work, he would find you laid out on the couch. He hated that you would stay up just for him and he reminded himself to have a talk with you.

• Egon was a lover of sweets but you had to remind him to drink his water and eat healthy sometimes. Occasionally, you would spoil him by getting him his favourite chocolate bars but that’s pretty much it. You wanted a boyfriend for a long time, not a short time.

• He’s not the one for nicknames but he didn’t mind anyone giving him them. You often called him honey or love. He can’t lie to himself and say he doesn’t like those nicknames which are meant for him only.

• Your first kiss, you both were tired but he still had work to do. When he told you it was okay if you wanted to go to bed. You just looked at him and leaned in for a kiss. He didn’t move and just let you kiss him. You told him it was time for bed, he just asked you to do it again. You gave him another kiss and he kissed back. After that, you asked him if it was now time for bed, he answered with a yes.

[gallwithapall]

Pretty science man pretty science man

[multifandomfanficss]

Never Listen To Venkman

Egon Spengler x Reader

(With platonic!Peter Venkman)

Prompt: When you and Peter are left alone to experiment with a suspicious, blue, viscous slime, things go south and Egon comes home to you having a paranormal induced panic attack.

Warnings: panic attacks, autistic meltdowns, sensory issues, detailed descriptions of sensory issues, feeling uncomfortable in one’s own skin.

A/N: Back in my Ghostbusters era. It is contractually obligated that I must re-obsess every time a new movie comes out. I’ve loved Egon since I was a little kid. I can’t believe I’ve never written for him. The italics are flashbacks. This is crossposted on my AO3 adriansglasses.

The reader is intended to be autistic, but can be read any way you’d like. Anyone is allowed to relate and see themselves in the reader wether they’re autistic or not!

You were sitting at your desk with in your small shared lab with Egon in the firehouse when you heard footsteps. You thought you had been home alone until Peter walked in.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were going on a double date with Winston while Ray and Egon were at the movie.” You questioned him, putting down your pen. You had been taking notes on a new kind of slime the boys had found. It was different from the other slime they’d found last month when Vigo was trying to take over. While Vigo’s slime was pink in color, this slime was blue and had a more viscous consistency.

“Oscar had a fever, so Dana and I decided to cancel. She thinks he’s getting his first tooth.” Peter smiles. Despite the jokes he’s made and the amount of times he’s said he was nowhere near ready to be a father, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t happy being back with Dana again and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love Oscar just as much as he loved her.

“Did Winston still go?” You ask.

“Oh, yeah. He’s probably back in her apartment with the bed rocking as we speak. No way he’s coming home tonight.” Peter laughed at his own joke as you cringe.

“You’re disgusting.” You roll your eyes.

“What are you up to tonight? Got a hot date with a slime? Not too different from your usual dating life.” He chuckles.

“You’re such a dick, Venkman. I figured while everybody was out tonight I’d try to find out SOMETHING about this new slime. Egon and I have been studying it for two days and we have literally nothing.” You gesture to the blue goo on your desk.

“Do you need help?” He asks.

“Are you offering to help me on your night off?” You ask, shocked.

“I’ve got nothing better to do.” Peter shrugs.

“Are you gonna take it seriously?” You hesitate.

“I’m always serious!” Peter bluffs. Peter was never serious. Egon was always serious. His bluntness and black and white thinking had always been a comfort to you. He wasn’t some puzzle you had to figure out. He just was. Being with him wasn’t a guessing game the same way it was with Peter.

“Somehow that’s hard to believe, but I could really use your expertise in parapsychology, so I’ll say yes.” You sigh. You know this probably isn’t the best idea, but Peter knows more about this topic than you do. You’d be stupid to reject his help.

“If you’ll be the subject, I’ll run the experiment.” He says, taking out the helmet with wires.

“Okay.” You agree. Once the helmet is on you should be connected to a series of machines able to read the energy of your emotions, as well as the slime itself, giving you a more direct connection without touching. Peter starts asking you a series of questions, trying to draw different emotional responses.

“Think of a time when you were happy, really happy.” He prompts. Your mind, wandered around the room, trying to think of something, when your eyes landed on Egon’s book sitting on his desk.

It made you think of the first time you realized you had deep feelings for him. While you’d always thought he was attractive, you realized your feelings were deeper than you thought, far beyond a harmless little crush, one day when he let you borrow his book. As you read his notes in the margins you were able to analyze things like him, see the world through his eyes. You saw how his brain connected and processed things. You always liked the person he’d shown you, but writing in the margins is different. When you take notes in a book, you’re not putting on a mask for people to see. Notes in the margins are just for you. There’re your unfiltered thoughts. Seeing who Egon was when nobody was watching was different. He was funny, smart, deep, curious, not as confident as he pretended to be; he didn’t censor himself in his books. He wasn’t quiet in his books. Reading his margins felt intimate.

“You’re thinking about Spengler, aren’t you?” Venkman teases.

“Why would you say that?” You look at him, embarrassed.

“Because you’re in loooooove!” Peter mocks.

“Can we change the subject?” You practically beg.

“Think of a moment where you were uncomfortable.” Peter prompts.

“This conversation.” You fiddle with your fingers.

“No, really. I wanna see how it reacts to discomfort.”

“Fine.” You sigh. You think back to one of your many lab accidents. Working in a lab with sensory issues is never easy and that was something you and Egon both struggled with.

You think back to the day when you superglued your fingers shut by accident. You got them apart, but you couldn’t get the the residue off. You started to hyperventilate, on the verge of tears. You wanted to hit your hands on things, but you knew that wouldn’t help. You couldn’t peel off the glue without peeling off your skin.

“What’s wrong?” Egon looked at you puzzled, and a bit worried.

“Superglue! I- I- I can’t get it off!” You shake your hands, violently, your whole body is tensed up.

Egon quickly takes a bottle out from his desk drawer and runs over to you. He grabs your hands.

“Look at me, (Y/N). It’s okay. I’ll take off all the residue.” He promises, giving you a soft smile. Despite not liking seeing you in such discomfort, he forces the smile to help calm you down. He begins to massage the liquid from the bottle onto your fingers with a rag.

“See, it’s okay. It’s coming off.” He continues to speak softly, calming you.

“What is that stuff?” You ask.

“I wish I could say it’s some sort of fancy, scientific, protective disinfectant, but as it so happens it’s only nail polish remover.” You both chuckle quietly. “Janine gave it to me the last time I got superglue on something and couldn’t get it off.” He smiles down at your hands, still focused on getting the last little bit off.

“This slime is so different from the mood slime. I thought I saw it let go of a bubble, but it’s mostly doing nothing. I think it might be dead. I think it might be time to bury it in the backyard.” Peter begins to fake sob.

“Knock it off.” You laugh. “What backyard? This is Manhattan!”

“You should try touching it.” Peter suggests.

“Egon, said I should under no circumstances touch it directly, especially while he’s not here.” You inform him.

“Well Egon, is being overprotective. Nothing bad happened when everyone else touched the pink slime and I accidentally ate green slime once.” Venkman says.

“What do you mean accidentally?” You ask.

“It was our first mission. Slimer ran through me. It was a whole thing. I think you should touch it… You might be able to figure out what it is before Spengler gets back…” He tries to change your mind.

“You’re sure there were no serious side effects from touching the other slimes?” You ask, hesitantly. Egon would be annoyed if he found out you went against his pleas to keep your hands away from the plasma, but you wanted to impress him.

“Nothing serious. I grew an extra pinky, but they cut it off.” He jokes.

“Haha, very funny, Venkman.” You roll your eyes.

“Fine.” You sigh, taking a deep breath before plunging your hand into the blue viscous goo. “Oh…This is literally fine.” You feel no effect, but when your heart rate picks up you realize you spoke too soon. You fall onto the floor, knocking over the slime. You feel like your heart is racing, like it could beat out of your chest and you can’t suck enough air into your lungs. You’re terrified.

“(Y/N)!” Peter yells, rushing to the floor to help you. He tries to touch the the hand not covered in blue slime, but you push him away, sobbing. You don’t want him anywhere near you. You’re slipping away from reality into a deep state of panic and paranoia.

“Please! No!” You sob. It’s the only thing you can manage to get out. You barley recognize Peter anymore. He doesn’t feel like a friend. He feels like a threat.

“Honestly, the movie was quite terrible. Ray stopped for a 99 cent pizza on the corner. What did you- (Y/N)?!” Egon speaks as he enters the room, cutting himself off when he notices you’re in distress.

“Pete, what happened?!” Egon questions once he sees Venkman.

“We were doing an experiment and they touched the goo and they just started freaking out. They won’t let me near them.” Peter tells him, obviously shaken. You hear the two men, but you don’t process them. It’s like you’re underwater.

“This is different from their usual sensory issues. I think they’re having a panic attack.” Egon kneels in front of you. “(Y/N), you’re okay. You’re safe. You’re in the firehouse. I’m here.” He tells you slowly.

“I- I can’t breathe!” You gasp for air.

“Your lungs are expanding and contracting at a rate too fast for your body to intake oxygen. I need you to try to breathe slow and deep with me. In…and out. Nice and slow.” He prompts. “Peter, I need latex gloves and towels.” Venkman could have made multiple jokes about Egon’s command, but looking at you this way made him uneasy. It wasn’t the right time. After being handed the gloves, Egon slipped them on and got to work cleaning off your slime covered arm. You begin to sob, overwhelmed by the feeling of the slime, the latex gloves, and the towel. It was difficult to handle on top of your panic attack. “Peter, we need to get them into the decontamination shower.”

“No!” You gasp between sobs.

“Come, on. I’ll go with you. We can get all the plasma off of you.” Egon speaks softly, but with a gentle urgency, as he tries to coax you to the shower. You shake your head no. “Are you against touch right now?” He asks.

“They did not like when I touched them.” Venkman warns.

“Only you-“ You break out in a sob. It doesn’t even cross your mind that you may be offending Peter by only wanting Egon. Luckily he’s not offended. Egon begins to take off his glove to provide skin to skin contact on the arm not drenched in slime in an effort to comfort you.

“Aren’t you worried about getting that stuff on you?” Venkman questions, worried Egon will shutdown like you.

“I’m getting in the decontamination shower anyway.” Egon shrugs, turning to you. He takes your hand in his, softly rubbing the top with his thumb.

“But- but your clothes will get all wet!” You sob. You knew Egon had his own sensory issues. You’d often have to help him when his long sleeves would get wet during experiments. It would drive him crazy. He avoided puddles like the plague and always had an umbrella nearby.

“Try not to worry about me right now. I just want you to focus on your breathing. I can always change my clothes.” He smiles. While it hurts him to see you so distressed, he was happy to know you cared about his comfort. “Let’s go shower. You can’t leave all that slime on you. I believe it’s worsening your mental state.” You nod, still crying.

“I’ll get them under the shower, I’ll need you to turn it on. Make sure not to touch the slime. I got a minuscule amount on my finger and it’s making me rather anxious. I can only imagine what this amount is doing to them.” Egon tells Peter. He helps you to stand, walking your trembling form over to the shower. “There we go. Just a few more steps. You’re doing wonderfully, (Y/N).” Egon softly attempts to comfort you.

Once you’re under the shower head, Venkman turns it on. Both you and Egon jolt at the sudden water pressure. He tightens both his jaw and his grip on you, holding his eyes shut tight. He can’t stand the feeling of his wet clothes against his body, but he’s brave for you. Once adjusted to the water, Egon begins to wash the slime off your body with care. Peter leaves to go upstairs and get you some towels. You feel the panic and paranoia start to leave your body. Despite still being incredibly anxious, you were starting to phase out of your slime induced panic attack. You lean against Egon, struggling to hold your own body weight. Maybe you’ll be more embarrassed tomorrow, but right now you just needed to be held. You were craving pressure on your body. You felt as if you would float off the ground if you weren’t held down. Egon wraps his arms around you, bringing you closer. He places a kiss on your forehead before placing his chin on top of your head. You snuggled into his chest, finding his pulse. You didn’t have the time or the bandwidth in your brain to think about what the kiss meant. You just wanted to be close to him.

“You’re okay, (Y/N). You’re safe.” Egon tells you. You’re not sure if it’s for your benefit or his. It’s for both, really.

You’re quiet for most of the night, unable to bring yourself to speak. Egon doesn’t mind. He thinks a verbal shutdown is more than understandable after the night you’ve had. After the shower, you follow Egon around the fire station. You don’t want to be alone right now. He doesn’t mind. He puts out some of his clothes for you to wear; pajama pants and one of his soft sweaters. He goes to leave the room for you to change, but you stop him.

“Can- can we just like? Turn around?” You ask. “I’m sorry. If you’re uncomfortable, that’s okay. I just really don’t wanna be alone right now.” You voice is hoarse from crying.

“Of course.” He smiles, turning around.

“I’m decent.” He informs you after a minute of rustling.

“Me too.” You tell him and you both turn around.

“I’m sorry.” You tell him, near tears again. You feel awful for how tonight went. This was supposed to be the boys’ day off. Egon gives you a sad look.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. You were just trying to help. Venkman told me he put you up to it anyway.” Egon sighs.

“I probably shouldn’t have listened to him.” You let out a sad chuckle, one tear slipping past you, down your cheek. You wipe it quickly.

“Never listen to Venkman.” Egon gives a sad laugh.

“At least we figured out what the slime does… Egon, can I ask you a question?” You hesitate.

“Well, you just did, but yes.” He smiles, joking to lighten the mood. You smile at him.

“Why did you do all that? You took off your gloves, putting yourself at risk and then you put yourself through sensory hell just to get me cleaned up.” You question him.

“Isn’t it obvious? (Y/N), I care about you.” You look at him, thinking about the tone in his words. You can’t quite decipher it, but there’s something else there. Is it possible he could feel the same way about you that you feel about him? “You should get some sleep.” He interrupts your thoughts. “If you’d rather not be alone, you may sleep in my room tonight. I would find it beneficial to monitor you overnight to watch for long lasting effects, anyway.” He adds.

“Only if that’s okay with you.” You hesitate.

“Of course it’s okay with me. I just suggested it.” He smiles.

Once you’re settled into bed, Egon turns off the lights and climbs in next to you.

“Egon, I’m still anxious.” You blurt out into the dark.

“Do you need pressure?” He asks.

“Yes.” You say, hoping he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t seem to mind, as he scoops you into his arms. You cuddle into his chest, surrounded by him, surrounded by safety. You know this should be weird, but it doesn’t feel weird. As Egon kisses the top of your forehead again, bidding you goodnight, you wonder what this all means. You wonder what you are to each other. You feel you’ve crossed the line as friends, but you’re too tired and too awkward and too anxious to talk about labels. You and Egon never quite fit into boxes as people anyway. Your relationship didn’t need to either. Whatever this was between you was comforting. It was safe and it was going to help you sleep tonight.

[holewithinahole]

The Spirit’s in It | Egon Spengler x nb!reader [3/3]

Summary: “I didn’t know psychology doctors also specialized in particle physics, is all.”

What you meant as a light joke to relax him did quite the opposite. He straightens, righting up his glasses one more pointless time. “I have a degree in nuclear engineering,” he states before walking out, leaving you confused and feeling like you’ve spent the entire time offending him unintentionally.

Warnings: angst, non-native writer, non-beta’d

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

And here’s the end. I apologise in advance. It's funny despite how aromantic I am how I'm the best at romanticising relationships lmao. I wanted to explore how romantic relationsips are inherently different for neurodivergent people, especially ppl on the autism spectrum. Yeah...

The end is pretty cliché and I kinda hate it but hey, I live for the tropes. I'm gone, bye! Thank for reading this to its end!

At first, you haven’t been able to swing by the Ghostbusters headquarters as much as you would’ve liked, too busy assisting students for future exams. As Egon predicted, psychokinetic energy has kept rising in New York, meaning the three of them were called all the time to assist here and there. Their secretary – Janine Melnitz you learned when Egon introduced you, has been looking more and more like a ghost herself, and you were sincerely impressed by how much energy she still managed to conjure to send people away. All of that resulted in the hiring of a new member of the team, Winston Zeddmore, a gentle soul of a man who took the place of Egon on the field. It’s often easy to read: ‘I didn’t sign up for this bullshit’ on his face, but he’s resilient and hardworking which is everything the Ghostbusters could have needed and more.

A week after your fresh new meeting, you ended up telling Egon and Dr. Stantz about their research papers stored at your place. The latter had been delighted and thanked you profusely. The retrieval had gone without any incident, although you did notice the baffled look that passed between the two of them when they saw the several towers of boxes. (There had been a discreet comment from Egon questioning humans’ propensity to stack things.)  

Why you ended up at Egon’s place you have no idea. Well, you do know how – most of the files were his after all and you couldn’t let Dr. Stantz handle the walking up five flights of stairs on his own. Plus, Egon wanted to look back at some old papers of his; something about a new plan of approach concerning the storage facility issue. So, there you stood, looking around awkwardly as Dr. Stantz retrieved the last box downstairs. It was a simple apartment, messy and not intended to be anything more than an occasional place to sleep – or, surprisingly, a fungus breeding farm.

Your questioning gaze certainly didn’t go unnoticed. “I collect spores and fungi,” he explained.

“Neat.” You didn’t really think before you carried on, “Is that why you studied microbiology?”

“…amongst other things,” Egon said, looking slightly surprised. “I didn’t realize you knew.”

“Uh,” you trailed off. “I’ve read your papers.”

“All of them?”

Can it get any more embarrassing than that? “…might have.”

He didn’t answer and you thanked him internally for it. The visit was short and to the point, Egon clearly looking uncomfortable having other people trespass into his space. That’s what you kept telling yourself anyway, not especially fond of diving back into the whole ‘I’m an embarrassment to myself, him, and society’ spiral.

In itself, routine didn’t change much. You kept doing most of your research at the university, exchanging with the different professors of the lab, giving your opinions on the students’ ongoing thesis and avoiding Dean Yaeger. Then, you’d meet with the doctors after work to discuss the improvements of the containment facility. But the more the days went by, the more Egon’s temper seemed to flare. Not in the usual, explosive or passive-aggressive nature but in the dwindling of words, and the psychosomatic tremor of his eyelid. You hadn’t been truly able to understand why, when, or how.

Which led you to your actual predicament.

“I don’t think it’ll work, Egon.”

Sitting at a desk, you scratch an equation, staring dejectedly at the example of ‘ionization radiation decay meter’ Egon sketched. The man himself has taken his glasses off and pressed his eyes to alleviate his migraine. “We’ll have to include the system later,” he concedes, looking crossed. “I have to analyze today’s samples.”

After downing the cup of cold coffee you forgot on the desk with a disgusted grimace, you slouch on your chair. You watch Egon from the corner of your eye, busy staring and typing on his computer. He lets out an uncharacteristic annoyed noise.

“Not good?” you ask.

“Like I thought, it’s exponential.” He sighs. “Two days ago, PKE was three times less important than today.”

“Something big on the horizon.”

“Yes,” he says.

This tense atmosphere has you overly cautious as if one wrong word could make this artificial veil of normalcy shatter. It makes your skin crawl, inadequately feeling like your mere presence is making things worse. Leaving his computer behind to sit on the couch, he browses through the results he printed. His tiredness is noticeable even from where you are. You’re about to say something when Venkman comes waltzing in, his energy clashing with the general atmosphere of the room, which he notices immediately.

“Well, well,” he says in a singsong tone. “Who are we burying today?”

Egon doesn’t grace him with an answer, only with a glare before looking back at his results.

“It’s been a long day, I guess,” you answer truthfully to loosen the tension.

Venkman, always in theatrics, opens his arms wide. “Look who we’ve got here! Hello there.” He has his usual smirk on. “You’ve been hanging ‘round here more often.”

“Hello, Dr. Venkman.” You smile. “Just trying to help Egon.”

“And why aren’t we on a first-name basis?”

You certainly don’t voice aloud that you don’t want to give him any ideas, which he gets well enough on his own. Egon, for its part, is frowning so hard his eyebrows have merged with the frame of his glasses. You can almost imagine a big molten hole where his eyes are boring through the paper.

“Egon kindly proposed,” you explain.

“Wow, you guys,” Venkman exclaims. You frown at him, confused. “Congrats, Spengie! Don’t forget the invitation.”

This snaps Egon out of his sulking trance, face hardening at Venkman’s inappropriate comment.

“He kindly offered,” you interject, trying your best to look unfazed at the innuendo and to avoid an act of crime against humanity. “You, however, take everything for granted.”

Venkman whistles – which makes you want to strangle him – but at least Egon doesn’t look like he’s going to jump at his throat from across the room anymore.

“Damn, snarky today, uh? Let’s start over then.” Despite his mocking tone, he walks near you and extends a hand that you look at dubiously. “Hi, the name’s Peter.”

A small part of you doesn’t want to shake his hand, just to rile him up but you still do. Strangely enough, there’s an endearing quality to his man, when he wants to.

“Nice to meet you, Peter.”

The man lets out a pleased chuckle. “Now, now, I’m not trying to get you two to leave but this man–” He tugs at his collar. “–has a date tonight and he will be singing in the shower. So, if you want some peace and quiet, now would be a good time to go play in the basement.”

You scoff. “You’ve got a date.”

Venkman seems either completely oblivious or completely disinterested in your tone. “With a sweet creature called Dana Barrett.”

“Don’t forget to ask her about Zuul, Peter,” Egon says, snapping out of his good ten minutes of selective mutism.

Venkman disappears into their common room. “Did I say date?” he shouts. “I meant work meeting.”

True to his words, he starts singing a bad rendition of Queen of Hearts, making sure to annoy the whole building. Even if it grates on your nerves, it’s fascinating to witness this clutter of a place, with such different personas stacked on top of each other. You’ve never heard the story of how the three of them ended up being best buddies and judging by Egon’s closed-up face, today wouldn’t be the day you ask.

After five minutes of excruciating vocalizations, he puts down his results, standing up from the couch. You eye him curiously. “Where’ you going?”

“The basement.”

You frown, standing up. “You know; I don’t think he was serious.”

“I have readings to do downstairs,” he answers shortly.

He walks towards the stairs but stops, pivoting slightly towards you without meeting your eyes. The prickling sensation at the back of your brain is back. You can’t wrap your head around the contrast between his high-strung demeanor and his unspoken invitation to follow him. The confusion suddenly feels too heavy.

“Egon.” He looks up and you’re not expecting the flatness of his expression, how detached he’s looking. “Are you angry?”

It sounds stupid in your own ears, a ridiculous childish question but it’s out of your mouth before you can think about it. Words are wonderful incentives, you think, but sometimes, they just end up pushing people away.

Egon frowns, still not entirely facing you. “No.”

“Then–”

Venkman comes back into the room, whistling loudly. “Still there, lovebirds?”

You turn to answer him but you’re cut off by the loud steps of Egon hurtling down the stairs, leaving you staring dumbly at the invisible trail he left behind. There’s an uncomfortable silence as you frown, heart beating loudly for a reason you can’t really pinpoint. Venkman stands there, undoubtedly conscious of having said the wrong thing.

“Don’t worry, he’s cranky when he doesn’t have his nap.”

You decide to simply gather your belongings and leave. “I’ll come back in a few days.”

Even if Venkman offers to buy you a taxi, you decide to use the subway and as you stare without seeing at the dirty walls of New York’s underground tunnels, you realize that perhaps you’re starting to care a little too much.

Just a tad too much.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Awakening of Gozer

Perhaps you shouldn’t have gone home that day.

For when you heard that in less than twenty-four hours, the Ghostbusters headquarters exploded and that a cloud of psychokinetic energy appeared above Manhattan, you felt that ‘are you angry’ were stupid words to say to somehow you might never see again.

You stand in front of your TV as journalists follow the Ghostbusters’ car through the streets of New York, crowd in a standing ovation. You feel restless as you look through your window, watching the sky turning dark and the full-blown light show the ghosts seem to be throwing downtown. Even when the black clouds dissipate – reminding everyone that it was barely three in the afternoon, you stare, left leg bouncy, at the screen for the final cry of the crowd, hoping, praying, that it’d be of joy.

You’re not truly sure of the feelings rushing through you when they leave this building, dirtied but alive. As soon as you see their proud faces, you turn off the TV, and lay down on the couch, breathing deeply. You close your eyes and contemplate the labyrinth of paths life could have taken in the last two hours. When ten p.m. rolls out, you stand up, driven by some unknown force out of your apartment. Somehow, the sky still holds the purple hues of the paranormal manifestation that plagued New York this evening, ribbons of ghost energy glowing like winter lights and casting discreet colors on the buildings. Tomorrow, you’ll look back at the usual grayish streaks of pollution and everything will feel like a long fever dream.

It’s silly the way the heart and the brain latch on to these human connections like they’re starving. It’s unfortunate, truly. Unfortunate how walking through the chill of the busy streets leads you to his place; a sanctum at the top of a dirty building. And it’s scary how unable you are to stay away, – now and every day – especially when emotions are all over the place; fear in your stomach, anxiety in your loins, need – this unshakable need — in your heart: terrible, voracious, heavy in your limbs as you drag your exhausted body up the stairs. Knocking on the door is, weirdly enough, more nerve-wracking than having witnessed their improbable excursion on television. Egon opens the door, all intrigued eyes and furrowed brows; dressed so casually it seems unreal.

“I know it’s not the time, and that you don’t like people in your space,” you mumble. “But I was— “

Egon steps away from the doorway, inviting you in silently, and it’s almost reluctantly that you step inside. It’s dimly lit but you notice opened notebooks on his table next to three empty mugs.

“Was I interrupting?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

“No,” Egon answers to your surprise. “I was only writing down what happened tonight.”

You hum. “I saw it on TV.”

He gestures to you to take a seat. From your chair, you can see Egon busying himself with his small fungus farm, touching the caps of his mushrooms with the tips of his fingers. “You know; I think you deserve a rest, after saving the city and all.”

“I believe we saved the world.”

The emphasis doesn’t go unnoticed. You chuckle nervously, having found a deep interest in a stain on the floor. “I wonder if your Sumerian God would have been able to conquer the world as a hundred-foot-tall marshmallow man.”

“Gozer is a powerful entity,” he says. “They would have brought the apocalypse on our world.”

“But now it’s gone, eh?” The unusual silence makes you look up at him.  

“We’ve only destroyed a vessel and a portal. There might be more somewhere.”

“Well…” You try to rationalize. “Good thing the Ghostbusters will always be there.”

Egon stills, staring without looking as if he’s debating inside: is it true? Will it be true? Will I do anything to honor this promise? You decide to drop the subject.

“So, how does one destroy the portal of a God? ’Sounds like a lot of molecular bounds to break.”

“We crossed the streams.”

You freeze.

“…I thought you shouldn’t do that, like ever.” It’s easier to fake some lightheartedness in your tone than to face how a simple slip of fate could have made this improvised late-night meeting impossible.

“It did work.”

It’s harder to swallow as if he could suddenly vanish in front of your very eyes, taken away by some dark entity; as if every single particle of his being could disappear forever as they annihilate their counterpart. A total protonic reversal, that’s what Dr. Stantz had said. You unwillingly explore this possibility: how you, safely at home, wouldn’t have known about their utter and complete destruction until the ridiculous vessel of a Sumerian God turned on the city and brought the apocalypse upon the world. Perhaps after a few hours, perhaps after a day, you would have accepted the fact that they had lost. Or you’d have watched an explosion of unimaginable scale, staring blindly at the death of thousands of people and the loss of what became a constant in your life.

You stand up, trying to get rid of the restless energy that has been buzzing underneath your skin for two days now.

“Oh yes, proton-antiproton collisions are usually effective at killing everything around.” You sigh, trying to squash down the trembling in your voice, leaning against his desk. “Even if you weren’t already dead by the annihilation of your own molecules, the explosion would have finished the job.”

But it’s pointless to remind him of what he already knows. Egon still faces his farm but his mechanical movements have stopped. You say, “You’re more of a jackass than I thought.”

“The chances of surviving were low, I’ll admit.”

“No shit,” you mutter lowly. “Bless the uncertainty principle.”

His small cocky smile is an unexpected but welcomed sight. “Quantum theory has never been truly challenging for me.”

It startles a laugh out of you. “You might want to revise your judgment, then.”

Putting down whatever kind of instrument he has been using, he walks closer and leans on the spot next to you; an unusual decision, perhaps even an unspoken attempt at consolation. It’s funny because you’ve never stood this close, ever. There’s always been something between you: a room, a desk, Venkman, your apprehension, his awkwardness… As his shoulder brushes against yours, your heart soars with uneasiness but as soon as you let your bubble of comfort merge with his, it becomes the most natural thing in the world. Only then, at this very instant, does your heartbeat finally slow down, does the gnawing sensation at the pit of your stomach dissipate… leaving you to wonder when it’ll all pop.

“You haven’t told me the purpose of your visit,” Egon says after some time, always traveling the universe at the speed of light.

“Ah yes.” There it is. “I was restless.” He looks at you intently. “It just occurred to me that our last meeting hasn’t been entirely— agreeable.”

You stare at the ground. “I would have preferred not to have left on bad terms.”

“You were worried I wouldn’t come back.” It sounds like an epiphany.

He says ‘I’ and not ‘we’, and you would have liked for his social ineptitude to take a step forward for once, and not his ridiculously sharp sense of observation.

“Well… It’s normal, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t answer. You wish for the world to be ‘normal’ again, or at least the isolated system of your mental landscape. The disruption in the former entity of your thoughts morphs your behaviors, your habits, making you a slave to the random bursts of emotions you’d like to see buried. This energy stays right there, bound by thermodynamics and your fixations. Perhaps this PKE, this conscience energy is the reason for it all.

“I’m afraid that all of this–” You make a half-hearted movement of the arm. “–will disappear.”

“The world?” He asks.

“No. Yes. I mean…“ You swallow. “Here, right now. I’m afraid I’ll wake up in the morning to realize that it’s all gone.”

“I don’t think reality will end during the night.”

You don’t feel like expanding on those uncomfortable feelings so you entertain the idea. “We were about to be wiped out by a God from distant times. If ghosts are proof of anything, it’s that time is meaningless. It could very well end in a few hours.”

Egon doesn’t answer. You let out a sigh. “It’s irrational.”

“Perhaps,” he says after some time. “But fears usually are.”

“People usually fear tangible things, like, I don’t know, ghosts.”

“Ghosts aren’t material per se–”

You chuckle, looking at him. “I knew you’d say that.”

It’s complicated, this situation; how his literal words comfort you in unsuspected ways. It should be annoying, saddening even, to harbor such feelings for someone who lives miles away in his own head of equations, schematics and paranormal theories. You question your behavior, wondering if, in the end, he’s not just another new thing to fixate upon, if he’s not just another unanswered question on your long list of interrogations about life, the universe and everything. If that’s the case then, you can just move on.

“It’s late,” he states.

Perhaps, you can move on. “Yes, I’m gonna go.”

You gather your bag, breaking the fallacy of closeness you had. If the painful torpor your heart is in is any indication, is that it – whatever it is – goes beyond a fixation, but you don't want to confront any of this...

“Goodbye, Egon.”

…unless it’s to run away.

It’s a goodbye, you convince yourself, pushed closer by a disillusioned thought and a hint of desperation. On his face, you can read a plethora of interrogations, each for one flicker of a lid, for one shift of an eye; unique movements as his body stays right in place. It spurs you on, makes you cross the remaining distance between you. And as you place your hand on his arm to not buckle under the pressure, you give a single kiss; a furtive indulgence at the corner of his lips. Something that could be more, something that could be nothing.

You haven’t meant to meet his eyes, but it all seemed inescapable when he didn’t even close them in the first place while you hid safely behind the opaque screen of your lids. It’s confusion, likely a little bit of recoil… You burn brighter from a single kiss, a torch shining a little light on him too, but as adrenaline slips away, you’re faced with darkness again. There’s nothing you can fault him for as it’s your own two legs that took you there in the first place. It’s your own weak heart that pushed you up those stairs as everything else was dragged down by gravity.

You’re out of his apartment as quickly as you can. You know that if you abuse this kindness, your wider smile and warmer face will be the devil’s work; the consequence of pillaging of benevolence you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to stop. Even with genuine motions, his telltale beat will never follow yours, and even the strongest, wildest embers won’t alienate it faster. You will be a parched man facing a mirage, a moth to an ephemeral flame that will love everything until it’s consumed. But a flame doesn’t love back and love is a sin for the ones that feel it the most.

The next day, the sky is back to its usual color.

[spenglerssweetheart]

That, Southern thing

In which reader from the south can smell the rain just before it comes.

Pairing: Ghostbusters x reader.

Warnings: none.

Springtime in New York was always nice, And for the ghostbusters it was certainly something. Having a new recruit is all well, only there’s one small thing about her that the others find somewhat odd. She can smell the rain before it comes.

Y/n was a particular person, had just as much passion in the paranormal just like the others, and a passion for the outdoors and botanics. The others didn’t quite mind, since the few plants around the firehouse simply brightened up the place a little more.

——

“Y/n, This isn’t a greenhouse, come on you can’t keep bringing these plants in” “it’s literally a small thing that is going to Egon, it’s literally for him. It’s his.” Y/n retorted to Peter, who watched her go up the stairs and assuming into the lab. Y/n and Egon were going to be spending a little time outdoors, even though it was partly cloudy.

Y/n was in a particularly good mood, and Egon could tell the moment she stepped into the lab. “What’s got you in a good mood today Y/n?” “We’re going outside again, and it’s not that sunny” She said as she handed Egon the small potted plant. He was going to be doing some sort of experiment with the plant and how it would react to the ectoplasmic slime left over from one of their recent busts.

“Oh uh Winston and Ray want to join us, maybe Janine if she isn’t so busy? Is that alright with you?” She asked softly, walking over to his small jars that contained growing fungus. “Sure, but I’m hoping things don’t interfere with what we’re trying to collect” Egon said, moving small things around before leading Y/n back downstairs.

They didn’t really need a coat or anything but Y/n still took a light cardigan sweater in case.

Once they arrived at the park, Y/n went towards the growing bushes that were sporting few flowers here and there. All of the other ghostbusters had decided to join and make it somewhat of a fun day out. The wind was nice and cool but it was starting to become a little more cloudy.

The others watched as Y/n stood up and looked up at the sky, before the familiar earthy scent from back home hit her nostrils. The smell of it made her feel a little bit happier, but she frowned to herself.

“I think we should start heading back, it’s most definitely going to rain in a bit” She started, holding some small flowers as she walked back to the group. “Wait how Can you tell? It’s just cloudy, the sun will come back out” Peter said as he placed his hands on his hips. “You guys don’t smell the rain?…” Y/n asked softly, looking around at the others who had a confused look on their faces before they began shaking their heads.

“Oh-” She said surprised, before a loud strike of thunder was heard. “O-Kay we really should start heading back” Winston said, beginning his walk towards the way they entered. The others following shortly behind.

After that incident, Peter often teased Y/n about it, if not Y/n the others by complete accident. When they catch Y/n outside with her nose in the air and it’s barely clouding over, a small “She’s doing that southern thing again!” Is heard and the others simply just laugh to themselves about it, but most times than not it helps a bunch before the guys go on a bust or coming back from one.

This is literally a small Drabble because I miss the rain, and it’s just too hot that I need it so very much right now. (Yes I am from the south) And like this idea hit me when my grandma and my aunt were talking about hurricane season, and like the faintest smell of the moist dirt before the rain came hit me and I was like ‘I have to write about this’

Anyway. I hope you guys liked this, again it was a small Drabble, a little idea that I needed to get out. But if anything, like, share, reblog whatever, I would so greatly appreciate it. I love you, have a better day, stay safe! BYE!!

[shelbgrey]

Egon: I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine.

Y/n: But, darling, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again.

Egon: O-oh. Well. Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns??

Y/n: Is it working?

[americas1suiteheart]

-Masterlist/Navigation-

{Works with strikethrough mean that they are not yet finished or published yet.}

-Bioshock-

Dating Atlas Would Include... [Atlas x GN! Reader]

Atlas x Shy! Reader Headcannons

Dating Fontaine Would Include... [Frank Fontaine x GN! Reader]

☆Bullet Train☆

🚄Bullet Train Fics Masterlist🚄

-Doctor Who-

Brilliant! [Tenth Doctor x TransMasc! Reader]

Silly American Traditions [Tenth Doctor x American Reader]

Drunken Regrets [Tenth Doctor x Drunk! Reader]

-Miscellaneous-

Not In On the Joke - Brian (Q) Quinn x Reader

No Need To Fill The Silence - Dwayne Hoover x Reader

-Obsessed With You Chapters-

Chapter I [Riddler x Cop! Reader]

Chapter II [Riddler x Cop! Reader]

Chapter III [Riddler x Cop! Reader]

Chapter IV [Riddler x Cop! Reader]

-Patrick Stump-

Better Off As Lovers - Patrick Stump x Reader

How Misery Loved Me - Patrick Stump x Fem! Reader

When Can I See You Again? - Patrick Stump x Reader

Can I Lay In Your Bed All Day? - Patrick Stump x Gn! Reader

When Can I See You Again. II - Patrick Stump x Reader

Techie - Patrick Stump x GN! Reader

Night Out - Patrick Stump x Reader

7 Minutes In Heaven - Patrick Stump x Reader

꒦꒷-Weird Science Chapters-꒷꒦

꒦꒷Egon Spengler x Reader꒷꒦

Weird Science | Pilot Chapter

Weird Science | Chapter II

Weird Science | Chapter III

Weird Science | Chapter IV

[tinyvesselhearts]

What Fear Does to People (Egon x You)

It's Chapter 8 of my series Thing Is but can be read as a standalone.

Rating: Mature (descriptions of violence) Pairing: Egon Spengler x You (no Y/N) Others: "Platonic" bed-sharing, pre-relationship, gentle touching, hurt/comfort, ghosthunting, Lovecraftian monsters, Ray's recovering from a bust and he's not currently at the station

(also: a reference to GB game. If you know, you know)

It’s roughly 2 a.m. when it starts.

Egon wakes up with a shiver. He’s freezing. A gust of wind runs through his clothes and that in itself is enough to put him on guard. Thing is, all the windows are closed, both of you are covered with quilts and there’s no tangible cause for the cold. No rational excuse, unless…

With mounting suspicion, he takes a look around. It’s pitch black and he can barely make out the edges of Ray’s empty cot. Warmth of the linen seems to hit him all at once, stark contrast to what he’s just felt on his skin. Disconcerting. Eerie, maybe— but he’s calm nonetheless. This is how those entities operate. The Collective: all kinds of eldritch horrors. They’re playing hide- and- seek until their victims can’t keep their wits about them anymore and he— as a devoted scientist and a Ghostbuster (yes, the very same)— is here to teach a lesson.

You’re unabashedly curled up against his side. Safe, unbothered, sound asleep. The attacker must be considering you innocuous enough, likely due to your comparative vulnerability, and is focused on Egon. Perfect. He lays his head back but doesn’t close his eyes— he’s vigilant— alert— ready.

The thing about Collective Unconscious is that despite being aware of its modus operandi, human brain is pretty pathetic in comparison. Its innate susceptibility to fear, specifically. During his years of Psychology, Egon would repeatedly hear that fear and love were the strongest of all human instincts, as they made the whole body receptive and focused in an instant. Later he’d find out that’s true about fear. He has no first- hand data on the latter— he supposes due to the troubled relationship with his parents— but Peter and Ray have done enough stupid things out of affection to confirm the thesis. Since Venkman’s incident with the tank a few years back, Egon hasn’t questioned love or its impact on a subject’s decision- making process. Or common sense. Or mating choices, just to be clear.

With that in mind, Egon knows what to expect. Diminished control of his body. Flinches. Unconditioned reflexes. He is determined to distinguish between real, physical stimuli and paranoia- induced ploys. A moment to cool off, analyze and conclude before acting on impulses. That’s the plan. Right. It’s easy in theory.

A distant bang echoes in the garage. It resembles a metal tool— a wrench, maybe?— but the sound is followed by nothing else, so Egon decides it’s nothing but a figment of imagination. Until—

“What was it?”

He leans back. He can’t see your face properly but enough to notice your eyes are open.

“…Oh. You’ve heard it too?”

“It’s not like… Ray got discharged in the middle of the night and sauntered back here, is it?”

There’s another loud bang. Nobody moves but both of you are very much awake.

Egon finally speaks.

“I’ll check it.”

“Uh, okay, okay”, you whisper. “What do I do?”

“Stay here and try to sleep. I’ll handle it.”

“…what?”

“Don’t argue. There’s no time. I’ll take care of whatever that is. I’m a professional, listen to me and I’ll make sure you’re safe. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Yes, but the Ghostbusters are a team. Now you’re on your own. I’m not leaving you! What if—”

“No time”, he mutters, putting the proton pack on. “Stay here. You were so tired you almost passed out on the couch. Do I need to remind you that you put my shirt on backwards?”

“My mom says it’s good fortune!”

“I’m serious”, he states and switches the backpack on. “Eldritch horrors are different than regular spirits. They harm both physically and emotionally. Lack of proper rest weakens the cognitive functions and you may be a real, tangible danger to yourself— and to me. Especially if you’re not familiar with their strategy.”

Egon slides into a pair of slippers. It’s not the perfect job attire but it’ll have to do— he stupidly left his combat boots in the locker downstairs. Maybe when he slides down to the garage, he’ll manage to change.

He takes the final look at you because you’re awfully quiet. Exhausted and hopeless, he guesses. He’d appreciate some backup but the boys aren’t here and you’re in no position to fill the role now. When you ignored his precaution the last time (while fully capable and well- rested), you ended up wounded in his lab. What you’re facing here can do much, much more damage.

Egon briefly considers escorting you out of the premises altogether—just in case— but then, how could he ensure your safety if the spirit decides to leave after you?

His chest is heavy when he speaks.

“If anything suspicious happens in this room, call me immediately. Shout, if you have to.”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Alright”, he shoots you a look. “Stay here.”

You nod. It’s weak, devoid of conviction and Egon wants to emphasize how crucial it is for you to stay— but another loud bang comes from the reception area and there’s no time to waste.

Egon turns around and scuttles towards the pole. He slides down. Lands with a loud thump, doubled by the flip- flops and takes a slow, cautious look around.

He’s quick to spot the source of the noise: it’s a loose pipe lying on the floor. It might not be currently moving but it sure as heck was just a moment ago— Ray doesn’t leave spare parts scattered around the floor. He has his secret dirty stash for that.

Egon takes a long, wary look around. Nothing’s moving, except for gentle flow of a dirty cloth drying on the heater. He pulls out the PKE meter and glances at the readings. Whatever this thing is, it’s here. It may be invisible but it’s here. Lurking. Leering. Hidden in the shadow, a predator on the hunt. Any moment now.

He doesn’t even manage to slide the device back into the pocket when a slimy tentacle shoots at him.

It’s massive. Heavy and slick. Whatever creature it belongs to, it must be huge and, uh, incredibly unusual. The dissonance is almost incomprehensible: to see a wet, marine limb which acts very much alive here— in the garage of New York’s finest— in a place devoid of water (well, save for a tap).

Egon screams. He drops the PKE meter and reaches for the charged rod. A proton stream lashes outwards with full power but before it catches the giant limb, it’s already gone— slithered into the shadows, shrouded in shade.

A few things to note right away: one, the ghost is huge. Two, it’s unlike any other they’ve seen before. Three, the sheer amount of mucus suggests a healthy dose of Marsh genes. Four, it’s out of sight and apparently good at staying there. Right. All Egon has to do is pretend to be unsuspecting, so that the ghost—

“Yeah, so I’ve done some thinking and I can’t do this.”

He whips his head around. There you are: in his crumpled shirt still inside- out, peeking through the hole in the ceiling. You’re in the middle of putting on your socks.

He can’t with you. He can’t.

“What did I tell you? Don’t come down here!”

“Oops?”

“No”, he yells. “I told you to STAY! Stay! How many times—”

“Sure, and pretend your screaming flows like a nursery rhyme.”

You clutch the pole with both hands, pull yourself close and slide down. Egon curses under his breath. Shite. Shite. Of course you wouldn’t listen. Psychology classes pop up in his mind again— the most powerful instincts— the things people do for fear…

“I’m here now. Poof. Too late”, you say. “Whatever happens is on me.”

He stifles a groan. It’s a lost cause. The stairs are at the opposite end of the garage. Escorting you there would take way too long and expose you to a stealthy attack and— well, he doesn’t suppose forcing you to climb the pole is on the table.

“Alright”, he decides. “Grab the pack.”

You manage to put it on yourself. He helps you to switch it on. You huff, smile and turn to him.

“Which trap?”

“Regular.”

“On it!”

You dash towards Ecto- 1. Just as Egon suspected: the enormous tentacle emerges from the shadow and aims.

Egon shoots. The proton stream reaches the ghost this time. The current wraps around its shape. The ectoplasmic limb wrestles and yanks but he holds it in place: it’s your turn to capture it before it rips the shackle.

“Now!”

You slide the contraption right under the ghost. Set the pedal. Step. Open. Wait.

Intense glow fills the room. Egon navigates the tentacle downwards but for some inexplicable reason the trap doesn’t seem to swallow its prey. It tries— sucks some ectoplasmic residue, hoovers up some of its slime— but the monster doesn’t get pulled in, as if it was… attached to something?

A roar echoes through the garage and everything happens at once: the trap closes, proton stream breaks and the ghost dissipates again.

You’re the first to whisper.

“…Is it…?”

“No”, Egon exhales. “It’s around here somewhere.”

“So… The trap didn’t work? Why?”

“Apparently it’s not just a ghost. It must be a complex being with some sort of material form. We may need to overpower it in a more… traditional sense.”

“Chain? Wires? Chandelier? Forget- me rod? A random hydraulic pipe of oblivion?”

Your flowery language is both a blessing and a curse. That translates into a perfect bait. Keep talking.

“So you’re opting for brute force?” Egon asks and that’s all it takes.

“Uh, I thought you were suggesting. I’d try another approach. If that guy is a marine cephalopod he may have a hard time adjusting to open air. Maybe dragging it out of the drainage will do the trick, right? Instead of streaming it, we could—"

Your mouth is still open when the giant tentacle shoots in your general direction. You let out a loud shriek and manage to evade— albeit barely— and even though Egon assumed using you as a lure would be the practical choice, he, for once, can’t stand the sight of it.

The proton rod won’t help any. Hitting you is a real threat— and it’s way more dangerous for you than the ghost. He’s about to resort to brute force but the monster steps out of the shadows and Egon can’t believe his eyes.

It’s human.

Oh, that makes things significantly easier.

He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a tiny bottle and charges.

A hit from behind may be cheap but it works every time. Egon swings the uncharged proton rod right into the creature’s head. It squeals, unwraps the tentacles protruding from its sleeve, then snarls and shakes its head. Egon has a few seconds to take in the entire picture: three gargantuan ectoplasmic limbs (a developing ghostly sickness?) have taken over the poor guy’s left arm. He seems dazed: his eyes are foggy, droll seeps through his teeth and for a split second Egon wonders if there’s any spiritual cancerous disease he’s failed to discover.

The hybrid lifts its arms and aims at you again, full force. Before you have the chance to scream, Egon slides right in front of you, pushes you aside and splashes some of the bottle’s contents on the monster’s face.

It howls and retracts.

“…What is that?!” You manage.

“An old trick. Handy when possessed individuals fail to be cooperative.”

Egon spots the dirty cloth still hanging on the heater. It should be dry enough. Easy to soak. Perfect.

He dashes for it, grabs it and presses it against the bottle, pouring a decent amount of the liquid on it. Heavy drops of the potent solution spill around. Tiny wet lines trickle down his gloves. He takes a deep breath, holds it and looks at the monster. It snarls. Then charges.

Egon isn’t a great fighter but he dodges just fine. He slides under the tentacles, turns around and hops on the hybrid’s back. It screeches— then stops— wet, throaty sounds stifled by the rug in Egon’s hand. He clutches the monster’s throat, squeezes it with an elbow and turns to you.

“A common tranquilizer. Learnt it during my coroner years”, he grunts, pressing the pad into its face. “You might want to find something to tie him with.”

You’re awfully quiet, staring at him blankly— but you nod. There’s a spare, long chain in Ray’s stash (nobody knows what he uses it for) so you take it and approach the scuffle with apprehension. The hybrid’s movements slow down but it’s still trying to break out of Egon’s unrelenting clutch.

“Thank you”, he says, composed as ever. “You’re doing great.”

It takes a few more seconds. The monster’s muscles eventually give in and it slides down on the floor. Its arms loosen. Eyes close. Its head hits the garage floor.

For a long moment nobody moves.

“Yo”, you whisper. Egon looks at you, then at the limp body beneath him and takes a step back.

“Sedated. Perfect.”

“What now?”

“Let’s tie it up.”

Egon reaches for the chain you’re holding. He wraps the creatures torso (making it extra tight and unnecessarily confusing around the arms— safety first) and you take care of its legs. The constraint turns out pretty solid and, most importantly, impossible to slip through by the tentacles. Once you make sure it’s sealed, each of you grabs a loose end of the chain and proceed to drag the dead weight across the floor.

It’s not exactly Buckingham Palace level of service anyway— not like you owe anybody standards— but when the monster’s back slams against a concrete pillar, you flinch.

“Oh no!— Oh dear, it hurt him—”

“It’s just tried to kill you. You do understand that, right?”

“Sort of”, you groan. “I really wanted it to warm up to us. We’ve sort of killed our chances at cooperation.”

“Don’t worry. It isn’t capable of drawing conclusions in this state.”

Egon pulls the chain and ties the creature around the pillar in an ungallant knot. It’s not his proudest work but a staple of initiative nonetheless. Links are sealed. Hostage is secured. It’s all under control.

He’s still focused on triple- checking the locks when you speak.

“Egon, why did you…?” You rub your hands together. “You… It was dangerous. Reckless. You don’t do reckless, Egon Spengler. Overcomplicated, yes, way too optimized, yes. But this, whatever you were thinking, was almost careless! You… You could’ve—”

He looks upwards. You seem anxious but you’re alive and well. He doesn’t understand.

“I could’ve what?”

“Well, I mean, you stuck your neck out for me. It could’ve been bad”, you gulp. ‘You could’ve been hurt.”

“I wasn’t though, was I?”

Egon’s at a loss. He watches you closely. You’re both okay and that’s all that matters. It’s not the first time he’s done something stupid out of fear— ah, fear, the bypass of rational thought— the Psychology classes again…

You stay silent for a moment, then sigh.

“I’ll call Peter.”

“Yes. No. Wait.” He frowns, takes off his gloves and approaches you. “Check- up first.”

“…This again? Seriously?!” You huff. “It’s, like, the third time this week! If something happened, I’d tell you immediately. I’m fine, Egon! I’m fine, you should be focused on yourself, you’re the one who went berserk for some reason I can’t wrap my head around—"

No bruises, no scratches. He touches your face, looks you in the eyes.

“It’s a precaution. I’ll make it quick. Tell me if anything hurts.”

His fingers skim over your features— cheeks, nose, forehead, temples. Your voice catches. Breath gets shuddered, eyes go frantic and cheeks are still awfully warm but it’s a natural response. Egon’s expected that much. His thumb runs across your lip, even though it looks untouched and there’s no justifiable reason to examine it closely. He just… can’t resist. Nor does he want to, really. There’s still room for excuses which get half- woven in his head but their seams are loose and each sentence falls apart before it leaves his mouth.

Egon knows he lingers too long. Needs to pull back. He doesn’t understand why his body won’t listen.

The tip of his thumb rests at the corner of your lips, then moves on to another gentle caress. Then again. And again, until you sigh. Warm breath tickles his skin. He tries it once more to check if you allow him— and you do— more than that— you melt into the touch, heat radiating from your skin, breathing deep— receptive, indulgent, responsive.

This is… inebriating.

“…You seem okay”, he concludes. “No injuries?”

“No. You?”

“None”, he says, letting his hands hang loose again. “I’ll run a few tests. Call Venkman, tell him we’ve got a subject. He should come immediately.”

“Okay. But tell me what’s going on.”

“…We’ve just caught an anomaly. As I said.”

“Not that. I see you. I notice things”, you say cautiously but he makes sure his face is as blank as ever. “You’re usually so collected. What happened?”

Egon doesn’t think it needs explanation. It’s obvious. Should be, at least. He frowns and says:

“I don’t want my friends to get hurt.”

“…After Ray?”

He nods.

A pair of soft hands brush against his jaw and in a moment— before he’s able to fully process what’s happening— his face dips down, guided by the delicate touch and you gently place your lips near his chin.

It’s a simple gesture. Gentle touch. A shadow of a kiss, lighter than Dana’s, nothing more than a brush of hot skin but— Lord, help him— he shivers— it’s so much more— it’s everything— it’s overwhelming.

“Ray is fine”, you whisper, looking at him again. “You’ll see him tomorrow, remember? It’s almost over.”

“…Again, please.”

“You’ll see him tomorrow...”

“No. Not this, the…”

It takes you a second but you get it and breathe out a laugh. Brush his jaw again, then wrap your hands around his neck and pull him into a tight hug.

Oh. Oh.

His arms tentatively reach for your back and once they’re there— recognize the texture of his shirt (outlining your shape in a way he declines to register)— and he lets down his guard a bit. Tightens his grasp. Sinks into the moment. He lets his hands really feel you for the first time since the both of you’ve started accepting proximity and it frightens him beyond belief— it’s soft, welcoming, disarming and pure— so his eyes close, stiff muscles let go— anxiety abates—  he’s out of breath— but all you do is hold him close, no doubt, no shame. You’re as open and affectionate as ever, a salve for his mind, a missing link. You fit right here. He’s never known a feeling like this, not even with his family.

That’s something new: his fear for your life instigates a soothing response. Highly unusual. He’ll have to write it down for future reference.

“Could we include this into the list of things we do? Under… particular circumstances, of course?”

“Sure. Whenever you need it.”

You stay like that for a moment. It’s quiet and dark. Egon relishes every breath tickling the nape of his neck, every slight fidget against his chest, every movement— and when you finally take a step back, his chest feels almost hollow. As if it’s just tasted peace and had to let go.

“You should also add a point in which you listen to me in case of immediate danger”, he says. “In a bold, red, permanent marker, preferably.”

You smile. It’s playful. Cheeky. Beautiful. Whatever anxiety you’d felt a moment ago, evaporated.

“I did cooperate, doofus! You won’t find a more flexible squire than myself.”

“Flexible tends to mean obedient”, he raises an eyebrow. “When I say you fall back, you do.”

“When you require assistance, I help! That’s literally in my agreement. I signed the paper, you have no say in this, Spengler.”

“Spenglers are a team. And, when faced with danger, have to be unanimous.”

“You’re right!” You give him your finger guns and turn to the reception desk. “See? We’ve just agreed and it’s that easy!”

He smirks.

“Call Venkman.”

“Ai, ai, Sir!”

He watches you pick up the phone and dial Peter’s number. A few beeps later your voice fades into a mumble of funny noises.

When he turns towards the hybrid, he notices another curious thing: the tentacles seem to deflate and seep into a bile of ectoplasmic goo.

He must take a sample immediately. Ray is going to love this.

[eebydeebyderby]

I’m Sorry

In which a near-deadly incident involving Reader pushes Egon past his breaking point.

Requested by this very polite anon and this incredibly bloodthirsty one. 

General Info:

Egon x fem!reader, one-shot, established romantic relationship, hurt/comfort, angst, real sadboy Egon hours

word count: ~5.0k

Content Warnings: blood, life-threatening injuries, trauma

******

You sit at your desk, surrounded by several messy stacks of spreadsheets, stat recordings, and observation notes collected by Egon and Ray over the past week. The boys just pulled into the garage a few minutes prior, and you can hear their faint footsteps scrambling upstairs as they unload from their most recent call and prepare for the next. The phone on your desk rings and you pick it up. “Hi, Janine,” you say pleasantly, scribbling notes in your graph book. “What’s up?”

“The boys need an extra tomorrow and they're gonna send Egon down to try and convince you," she says flatly. “Here, listen.” 

Janine holds the phone out and Peter's voice rings out in the background. "Egon! You handsome son of a gun, just—hey! Janine! Snitch! Traitor!"

Janine puts the phone back on her ear. "Hear that, honey? He’s already on his way. Best of luck.” 

She hangs up the phone just as Egon trots down the stairs and wraps his arms around you from behind. “Hello, sweetheart,” he purrs. His stubble is coarse on your cheek as he nuzzles into you. The slightest hint of ozone clings to his jumpsuit, the slightest whiff of sweet chocolate in his breath. 

“Hey, Spengs.” You reach up and lightly stroke his jaw, still writing in your notebook. “What is it you're going to ask me?"

"I don't ever come over just to give you some affection?" He kisses the bottom of your jaw, sending a small shiver down your spine. You crack a smile, despite your best efforts. 

"Very rarely during work hours, Spengs. Unless you're trying to butter me up to ask a favor."

“Maybe I simply want to steal a few moments with the love of my life before my next call.” His breath is hot on your neck. 

“Ah, I see.” You snicker and put your pencil down, tilting your head to give him better access to your neck. “I bet you have no ulterior motives. Absolutely none.” 

He works his way down to the crook of your neck and you gasp, burying your fingers in his hair. He smiles, feeling your pulse against his lips. "So, there's a call scheduled tomorrow and we need an additional pers—"

"No."

“It’s a fairly straightforward assignment. All you’d need t⁠—hey!” he exclaims when you grab his hand and bite down on his wrist. Not anywhere near hard enough to cause actual pain, but enough to get a rise out of him. He takes your hand in his to prevent another attack. “As I was saying,” he presses a kiss to your palm and holds your hand against his face, enjoying the gentle warmth of your touch, “it’ll just be a quick job.”

You scoff. “My job is to clean up the messy data sets that you and Ray spew at my feet and make the numbers actually mean something. Nowhere in the job description did it say ‘get drenched in filth’ when Ray hired me. Everytime I go out with you boys, it takes me a week to fully wash the ectoplasm out of my hair."

"Have you considered premature balding as a solution? It causes Peter less difficulty in washing his hair."

“You’re right, Egon. That’s the perfect fix.”

He kisses you on your temple. “Good! I’m glad it’s settled.” He pulls away from you and starts making his way to the staircase. “We leave at 11:30 tomorrow night.”

“What?! Hey!" You nearly lunge out of your chair and seize him by the baggy sleeve of his jumpsuit. He peers down at you with soft eyes, the slightest ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You groan and release him. "Fine. I'll go.”

Janine's voice crackles on the overhead speaker. "Boys! Get ready for your 9:00pm!"

He pulls you in for a final kiss on your cheek. "Thank you, sweetheart. Let yourself into the apartment. I'm going to be home late tonight."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾☆.｡:*.｡.:*☆ ༓･*˚⁺‧͙

It’s a beautiful winter night with clear skies. 

The clock nears midnight as the five of you unload the Ecto-One just outside of an old, condemned city park. The grass is dead, the water fountains graffitied, the asphalt faded, the brick walls crumbled, but the park still holds a shadow of its former beauty. 

"A wraith is a fairly rare Class III semi-corporeal non-human entity that often impersonates the visages of recently deceased individuals,” Egon explains as you help him strap on his pack. “Injuries caused by them are almost unheard of, but caution is recommended nonetheless since they often manifest sickle-like claws. If possible, I'd like to secure an ectoplasmic samp⁠—hey! Hey!” His seriousness momentarily breaks and he snickers when you bite his wrist. He pulls your hand up to plant a kiss on your palm and holds it against his face, relishing the warmth of your touch. "As I was saying," he says snidely, “it’s a fairly simple procedure. Peter will contain the ghost, Ray will control the trap, Winston will neutralize the field, I’ll secure a few live samples, and you’ll stand very far back with the spectrometer to record the physioelectrical readings from the ghost. That way, your hair will be very well out of sliming range.”

Everybody finishes getting ready and gathers together at one end of the park, eyes peeled for any signs of the wraith. Egon holds out the PKE meter as the group moves forward. A horrible shriek echoes through the park, sending a shiver down your neck, and what looks like a torn black cloak whooshes over your heads and retreats behind a brick wall in the distance. “Can’t be too sure,” Egon says flatly, raising his PKE meter in the air. “But I think it may be nearby.”

"And ooh! She's a chunky one!" Peter yells gleefully, dialing up the power on his proton gun and running after it. The other boys leap into action and you stay behind, keeping the spectrometer pointed at the wraith as it flies over them, swiping clumsily at them with sickle-like claws. Peter quickly gets his proton stream lassoed around the wraith with easy precision from his first shot. The wraith snarls and lunges at Winston, teeth bared, but he easily avoids it as he sticks another plasma rod onto the ground. “C’mon, honey. Don’t be like that,” Peter grunts, yanking the wraith back. “I know I’m not as cute as Winston but I'm really trying here.”

“We’re through, sugar!” Winston laughs as he sets up the perimeter. “We’re over! I got a thicker girl back home!”

The wraith seizes the stream in its oversized claws and slowly starts slipping it off. Peter’s stream sputters a bit and he ramps the power higher. “Guys!” he shouts, the humor completely gone from his voice. “She’s gonna get loose! Brace yourselves!” 

Just seconds later the creature breaks free from the stream and rushes towards Ray, who immediately pulls the taser from his belt and swings the crackling weapon at it, striking it across the face. It shrieks and flies around sporadically before turning its attention to you, claws bared. You instinctively throw your hands up to shield your face, dropping the spectrometer to the ground. The wraith’s huge claws slash deeply up the length of both your arms from elbow to palm as it flies past you, sending a horrid iciness through your entire body and nearly knocking you over. 

Egon runs over to you as the creature turns its attention to Peter in the distance, who’s pleading with it not to leave him again, ‘for the sake of the kids’ as he chases it around. "Sweetheart, are—?" He freezes when you turn around and lock eyes with him. Blood immediately saturates your shredded sleeves, runs freely down your hands and trickles off your fingers. His breath stalls in his throat. 

You stumble a few steps and collapse against him, weakly clinging to him for a few seconds before you crumple to the ground at his feet.

His mind screams for him to say something, to do something, anything, but he's absolutely immobilized with panic. 

“Ray! Grab the first-aid kit from the car! And call 911!” Winston sprints over to you and drops to his knees. “You’re gonna be okay, baby. You’re gonna be alright.” He tears the emergency tourniquet from the toolbelt on his jumpsuit and fumbles a bit as he unravels it. “Spengler, tourniquet her other arm.” 

Egon stands rooted to the spot, absolutely petrified, shivering and staring down at your unconscious form as your blood pools around his boots.

“Hey, babygirl, I need you to stay with me. Stay with me, okay?” His voice quivers with fear as he tightens the strap above your elbow. “You’re gonna be alright. Just keep breathing.” His hands and knees are drenched in your blood as he grabs a second tourniquet from your belt and tightens it on your other arm. 

Ray runs over and kneels down beside Winston with the first aid kit, eyes wide and face pale. “Oh my god…”

Winston throws open the first aid kit and quickly rummages through it. “Did you call 911?”

“Yeah. ETA four minutes…”

“Good work. Very good work.” He shoves a large bundle of gauze into Ray’s arms, smearing your blood on his jumpsuit. Ray looks ready to vomit. “Put these on the wounds with as much pressure as you can.” Winston tears open the wrappers and begins packing them on your arm. “Pile them on each other, as hard as you can. Don't worry about hurting her. You're not going to. Keep going until you run out." 

Ray follows as best as he can with violently shaking hands, struggling to blink back the tears stinging his eyes. “Egon? Can you help us?”

Egon stays completely frozen, unresponsive to Ray’s voice, his eyes wide and fixated on you. 

“Egon?” Ray’s voice cracks but he keeps to his task. “Are you o⁠—?” 

“No,” Winston cuts in calmly but firmly. “But we’ll worry about him later.” 

In the distance, Peter has the trap tucked firmly under his arm and his stream lassoed around the thrashing ghost, struggling to contain it as he avoids looking in your direction for fear of what he might see. “Eegs! Snap out of it, bud! I really need your help here!” Peter’s brow is drenched in sweat as he slowly loses his footing; his boots start sliding across the floor. “AGH!” He tries pulling his arms back but the wraith pulls harder, lurching him forward and almost yanking him off his feet. “Goddamnit! Spengler, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!”

Egon’s eyes dart up to Peter, but he stays completely still, eyes wide and fearful.

Peter turns his head briefly and immediately looks away when he sees flashing lights. He ramps up his stream to full power and, mustering all his remaining strength, throws the creature to the ground, momentarily stunning it. He drops the trap on the ground, slams his foot on the trigger point, then yanks the weakened ghost towards the glowing trap. There’s a shriek, a flash of light, and the ghost disappears. 

The trap shuts and Peter drops his gun to the ground with an agonized groan, his arms stiff and violently shaking. His breathing is intense and rapid as he struggles to draw enough air into his searing lungs. A sudden look of fury crosses his face. He shouts and kicks the trap across the asphalt. It clatters along the ground and crashes into the brick wall with a metallic bang. He then turns to Egon and stomps over to him, rage burning in his eyes. Peter seizes Egon by the lapels of his jumpsuit and harshly slams him into the wall, hitting the back of his head and sending sparks dancing through his vision. “What the hell is your problem?! Huh?! For a guy who claims to love her, you sure as hell were perfectly fine doing nothing and letting her fucking die on the ground right at your feet!"

Egon blinks slowly, staring down at Peter with blank, dazed eyes, weakly grasping his wrists.  

Peter slams him into the wall again, knocking the breath out of him. "Answer me!" he snarls. 

Egon stays silent. 

“Peter.” Ray tries to put his hand on Peter’s shoulder but he’s harshly shoved away and falls on the ground.

“ANSWER ME!” he roars.

"Peter!" Ray cries, clutching his elbow as he scrambles to his feet, tears flooding down his cheeks. 

Tears spill down Peter’s face as his rage melts into sorrow and he releases Egon, shielding his hand over his eyes and bursting into a fit of sobs. 

Egon stumbles and puts a hand out to catch himself on the crumbled brick wall. He takes a moment to regain his balance and stands himself up from the wall, leaving behind a smeared handprint of your blood. He looks down at himself. The entire front of his jumpsuit is stained a deep red, wet and sticking to his skin, clammy in the cool nighttime air. 

For a brief moment he fears that he's going to faint. The acrid scent of your blood hits him all at once, powerful and unavoidable.  It forces its way into his nose, down his throat, choking him, burning metallic and sour on the back of his tongue, clotting his airway. He bows his head, gagging, unable to catch his breath. His lungs burn for air but he can't breathe. His chest spasms. The world spins rapidly around him and his vision blanks as his entire body screams for air, but he can't breathe, he can't breathe, he can't breathe. 

Egon sinks to the ground. His throat constricts, the muscles in his stomach cramp, he gags, unable to breathe. He gasps in a desperate attempt to draw in any amount of air. His mind races: you've lost too much blood; you're in critical care; there's a very real chance that the bleeding can't be controlled; there's a very real chance that you're going to die.

There's a very real chance that you're already dead. 

Egon clutches his stomach. He doubles over, gags, and retches into the grass. 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾☆.｡:*.｡.:*☆ ༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Ray trots over to Egon from the Ecto-One, relief glowing on his flushed, tear-stained face. “Winston called. He says that they’ve got her stabilized and that she’s doing well with the transfusions.”

Egon looks up from the broken spectrometer he was tinkering with and nods, trying and failing to force one of his typical half-smiles. 

“I also don’t think any of us should be alone right now. You should come spend the night with Janine and me.” He jerks his head in the direction of Peter, who’s seated far away on the curb with a blanket and a thermos, struggling not to nod off. “Dana’s already on her way for Peter.”

Egon shakes his head. 

“Can I give you a ride home in the Ecto-One?”

Egon shakes his head. 

“Hey, I know we’re all worried, but YN’s well taken care of. Now it’s time to make sure we are, too.”

“I will be, Ray.” His own voice sounds hollow and dull in his head, as if it’s coming from behind a wall.  

“Sure, Egon, but right now is what my mind’s on.”

Egon stays silent.  

“Hey.” Ray pulls him into a tight hug. “She’s gonna be okay, and so are you.” He gives Egon a few rough pats on the back and releases him, planting a firm hand on his shoulder. “If you change your mind at any time, just give Janine or me a call, okay? No hour is off-limits. I'll come around to check on you tomorrow. Needless to say, Janine’s canceling the next few days of calls.” 

Egon nods, mutters a half-hearted ‘thanks’, and watches Ray walk over to Peter, who’s gripping the thermos in his hands so tightly that his knuckles are white. After a few moments, Egon stuffs his hands deep into his coat pockets and begins the three mile walk home. 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾☆.｡:*.｡.:*☆ ༓･*˚⁺‧͙

The apartment is cold and quiet when he finally arrives. He easily navigates his way to the bathroom through the pitch black and cringes with the harshness of the light he flicks on. He crams all of his soiled clothing to the bottom of the trash can, jumpsuit and boots and all, and turns on the shower as hot as he can stand, only remembering to take off his glasses when they fog up from the hot steam that hits his face. He steps in and watches your blood melt off of his body and wash down the drain. The water is almost unbearably scalding, but he can’t stop shivering and finishes up as quickly as he can. 

Your scent still clings faintly to the bedsheets when he crawls into bed. It's always been soothing in a way, relaxes some of the tension in his tired joints as he clutches one of your pillows to his chest. He’s exhausted but doesn’t sleep. Instead, he stares blankly out the bedroom window for hours, staring at the pitch-black nothingness outside. 

He's still shivering a bit when he gets out of bed. It’s odd being alone so early in the morning. He tends to wake up much earlier than you, but can always depend on you being the first thing he’d see in his day, cozy and curled up next to him. Despite being alone, he instinctively takes caution to be quiet as he moves about the apartment during this hour, a long-built habit to keep from waking you up. He’s adjusted almost every facet of his everyday life to include you in some way since the two of you became an official couple.

In the kitchen, he absentmindedly grabs two mugs from the cupboard before pausing and putting one back. 

He wants to see you. It's close to five in the morning, still completely dark outside, but he abandons his empty mug on the counter, grabs a coat, and heads out the door. 

The morning is abnormally cold as he treks the two miles to the hospital, hands stuffed deeply in his pockets. The still icy air almost immediately seeps through his clothing like wet paper, chilling him to the bone. He shivers, shoulders hunched and nose stinging from the biting breeze as it carries away the frosted clouds of his breathing. By the time the hospital comes into view, the frigid sun is concealed behind a heavy overcast, bathing the city in a gloomy shade. 

The warmth of the hospital heating system almost brings a sigh of relief as he walks inside, past the empty reception desks and to the elevators. 

The charge nurse doesn't even glance up from her lewd romance novel as Egon strides behind her desk and grabs the clipboard, quickly scans it for your name, and rapidly walks down the hall towards your room.

He raises his hand to knock, but hesitates. Part of him fears seeing you, what condition you might be in, your reaction to his presence, or accidentally waking you up. 

A muffled laughter rings dully from the inside of your room, weak and tired-sounding, but unmistakably you. Your voice, which normally blooms warm and light in his chest, seems to fill him with an almost oppressive sense of dread that tightens in the back of his throat. He forces himself to take a breath and blinks back the stinging in his eyes. He came here for a reason and he’s going to go through with it. He knocks. 

“Come in.” 

He walks inside. You’re propped up in your bed on top of a mound of hospital pillows, snickering at a particularly crass magazine gifted to you by the charge nurse. Your entire face brightens at the sight of him. “Hey, Spengs! Did you come here from the lab? You’ve got a lab coat on.”

Your statement throws him for a loop and he looks down at himself. Indeed, in his absentmindedness, he grabbed a lab coat instead of a regular one. That explains why he was so cold on the walk⁠—a lab coat was nothing against the frigid New York winter. 

You laugh weakly. “Did you disguise yourself as a medical doctor to sneak in here? Is that why you've got your lab coat on? It's not even six in the morning yet. Visitors aren’t allowed for another three hours.”

It takes him a moment to summon his voice as he shuts the door behind himself. "I wanted to see you."

You smile bashfully and dog-ear the magazine, setting it aside as Egon stiffly sits in the chair beside your bed. “Winston stayed with me for a while. I sent him home to get some sleep. Had to pull a few teeth to convince him.” 

You grab his hand and gnaw very lightly on his wrist, trying to get his usual reaction of charmed annoyance, but he quietly accepts it without fuss. In your thin haze of drugs you very briefly consider actually sinking your teeth into his arm to get a rise out of him, but before you can decide on violence he gently grabs your hand and presses a kiss to your palm. 

He’s a bit taken aback at how frigid your hand feels and holds it tightly to his face. Your touch, normally so warm, is icy-cold, sending a dreadful shiver down the back of his neck. Lowered body temperature, cold skin⁠—symptoms of someone suffering from severe blood loss. His breath hitches and he struggles to gulp it down, forces himself to breathe deeply and deliberately through his nose to keep himself steady as tears start welling in his eyes. 

You reach up with your other hand and caress his face, stroke his cheek with your thumb, run your fingers through his thick hair. “You haven’t slept at all, have you?” you ask quietly, noting the darkness under his eyes, the aching exhaustion written so plainly on his face.

He shakes his head, still holding your cold hand tightly to his face with both of his, as if warming it back up with his own body heat would breathe some energy back into you.

Your sleeve slips down to your elbow, revealing the thick swathes of bandages layered across the entirety of your forearm, stained rusty in several spots with dried blood, the empty IV cannula taped to the inside of your elbow. 

His resolve shatters. A sob spasms in his throat and the tears burning in his eyes begin to spill over. He rips his gaze away from you, ashamed. 

“Spengs?” You tilt his head a bit to face you. 

He reluctantly meets your eye, clenching his jaw as tears run down his cheeks, utter despair etched on his tired face. “I’m sorry…”

Your heart plummets to the pit of your stomach. You’ve never seen him cry before.

He swallows, trying to compose himself as tears continue flooding down his cheeks. He swallows again, harder, failing to suppress the lump built up in his throat, unable to force out any more words.

“Hey, hey, hey," you coo, stroking his wet cheek with your thumb. "It's going to be okay, Spengs. It's going to be alright." 

He shakes his head and accidentally knocks his glasses askew against your hand. This was his fault. This entire thing was his fault. “Y⁠—...I didn’t…I⁠—...I’m sorry," he chokes out between gasps. "I’m sorry.” Another sob breaks from his lips and he lowers his head. 

You’re saying something to him but he doesn’t comprehend it through the thoughts reeling through his head. He was the one who coerced you into going when you didn’t want to. He was the one who put you in danger. He was the reason you were so badly injured, and, when you turned to him for help, he did nothing. He did nothing. 

He falls to his knees and his glasses clatter to the floor. He clutches your hand to his face so tightly that it’s almost painful, loudly and openly sobbing, unable to catch his breath as his entire body spasms with the force of his cries. 

He feels your arm weakly reach around his shoulder and struggle to try and slowly pull him forward. He releases your hand and leans fully against you, wraps his arms tightly around your middle and buries his face into your neck. He wants to be close to you. He wants to be as close to you as he possibly can, to feel your presence, to feel you alive and pressed against him. 

Your scent, normally so comforting, is muddied beneath the strange smells of the hospital, of plastic, latex, cotton bandages, greasy topical medications. And, beneath it all, the sour, metallic tang of blood, of how closely you came to death. Panic bursts in his chest. He tightly clutches you to the point that his hand cramps and he nearly tears through the thin fabric of your hospital clothes. His breath grows shallow, rapid, frantic, desperate as he labors more and more to draw air into his lungs. 

“Egon. Egon, Egon, breathe,” you say gently, slowly. “Breathe. Breathe, sweetheart. I’m here. You’re here.” 

He struggles to follow your instructions as you guide him through his breathing, very gradually calming him down until eventually, his harsh sobs die down to feeble, exhausted weeping. Relieved a bit, you release him from your grip and lie back on the bed, completely spent. “Come up and lie down with me, Spengs.”

He does as you ask and crawls onto the bed, lays his head on your chest. You wrap your arms around him and rest your cheek on top of his head, gently running your fingers through his plushy hair, trying to give him some semblance of comfort. “It’s going to be okay.”

Things might be okay eventually, but he fears they’ll never be the same. “You should be angry…” he croaks. 

“No, no. God, no.” You run your fingers along the bottom of his jaw, feeling the prickle of fresh stubble. “Do you remember when you were working on that new neutrino wand prototype?” you ask. “The one that you’d worked on for almost a year? We were both in the lab and I went over to the cabinet for something and accidentally knocked it onto the floor, and it just exploded into a million pieces all over the room. Of course the noise got your attention, and you looked over and saw a year’s worth of work completely destroyed on the ground, and when you looked at me I just started crying. Just full-on celebrity tabloid ugly crying. I felt so bad that I ruined something you put so much effort and time into, and I was so scared that you were going to be absolutely furious. 

“But, you weren’t. You came over to me from your desk, crunching all the little pieces under your shoes, and you sat me down, and you held my face in your hands, and you kissed my forehead, and you spent so long answering the same question over and over again that you weren’t angry until I calmed down.” 

He remains quiet and blinks slowly, staring blankly at nothing through clouded eyes as tears flow down the side of his face, soaking into the fabric of your shirt. You cradle his head to your chest, holding him just a bit more tightly. You lean forward just a bit and graze your lips lightly across his brow, planting a small, delicate kiss. A bit chapped, but warm, soft. Gentle. 

Everything about you is so gentle. His own hands are rough and calloused and scarred, so often sporting a new cut or burn, always covered in ectoplasmic filth or soot, and most recently, blood. Your hands, so delicate and small compared to his, now caress his face with trembling, weak fingers. You absentmindedly trace the contours of his face: his brow, the bony bridge of his nose, his stubbled cheek, wipe away drying tears with a delicate thumb. 

Guilt wells in his chest. You’re the one who almost died, who has weeks of pain and recovery to endure, who’s permanently scarred for the rest of your life, yet he’s the one seeking comfort from you. He closes his eyes, fresh tears rolling down the side of his face. "I'm sorry." 

"Spengs…" you mutter, wiping your thumb under his eye. "Just a couple of days for observation and a few more IV antibiotics and I should be good to go." 

That’s not the point, he wants to say, but he’s far too tired to pursue that line of dialogue. He hiccups. Fatigue begins bearing down on him, weighing heavily on his entire body.

“Try to get some rest,” you say quietly. “You'll feel better.” 

For a while the two of you lay in complete silence, only occasionally broken by a sniffle from Egon or a soothing hush from you. He gradually grows heavier in your arms as sleep finally begins overtaking him. Then, almost inaudibly, he asks, "What would you have done?"

The question sends an unpleasant shudder down your spine. "I don't know. I never want to find out the answer to that."

The two of you fall back into silence. Drowsiness starts creeping onto you. You stretch your jaw into a wide yawn and nuzzle your face into his hair, relishing him in your embrace as the two of you slowly begin drifting off. 

"You’re not angry?" His voice, tinged with stress and uncertainty, tugs you back to wakefulness.

"Of course not," you say airily, groggy with fatigue as another yawn swells in your throat. “I don’t mind saying it as many times as you need to hear it.”

Another silence. 

“Egon,” you mutter almost inaudibly, spending the last of your energy before you’re overtaken by sleep. “I love you.” 

Tears well in his eyes, but he takes a deep, slow breath, and they dissipate. “I love you

Part 2

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