#ray stantz fanfic

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery

Warnings: swearing, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kiddos), sex in public (secluded area)

Song: Riot in Cell Block Number Nine-Blues Brothers

Ray wrapped his arms around me tightly as the audience cheered. The band on stage took a small break and Ray kissed my shoulder.

"Enjoying yourself?" I asked, turning my head slightly to look at him. Ray smiled and nodded. "Good. I knew you would like them."

"You always have good taste in music." Ray admitted, leaning his head against mine. "But I have to ask..." I hummed and kissed his cheek. "Does your love for the band have anything to do with one of the brothers looking like me?" I blushed and glanced back at the stage. Jake and Elwood Blues were just coming back onstage at that moment, passing drinks around to the band. "Ah." Ray said, smirking at me.

"Now wait a minute..." I tried to protest as Ray took my hand and pulled me over to the edge of the stage, close to where the boys would come off stage at the end of the show. We were covered in shadow and I could still see the stage but no one could see us. Ray kissed my shoulder again.

"Better?" He asked. I nodded hesitantly. "Good. Now we're gonna come over here." He backed me against the far wall, giving me a better view of the stage but hiding us further from view.

"Ray, what..." He cut me off with a kiss and I hummed as my fingers trailed through his hair. "What are you doing?" Ray started working on getting my pants off as Jake started to announce the next song. "Raymond!" I hissed as he pulled down my pants. His eyes shot up to mine and I frowned. His fingers twitched at the waistband of my underwear.

"I can stop if you want me to." He whispered, watching as my gaze was drawn over his shoulder as Elwood stepped up to the microphone. "Or I can keep going." Ray took my hand and moved it to his own belt buckle, making sure my fingers brushed against the bulge in his pants. I bit my lip and let my eyes trail back to him. I nodded and let him push my underwear down as I tried to get his belt open. Ray bit his lip as I managed to push down his pants and underwear in one go. The music picked up as Ray entered me, pulling my leg up around his waist. My back pressed against the brick wall as Ray put more of his weight against me.

"Ray." I whimpered, his face buried in my neck; giving me a clear view of the stage and Elwood as he sang. He breathed out harshly as he thrust into me. I put my head down on his shoulder, never taking my eyes off the stage. "Is this...fuck...what you had in mind? Fucking me while I watched the show?" Ray nodded and I laughed as he thrust again.

"It was going to happen anyway." He said, breath fanning over my neck as he turned his head to kiss and suck along the skin there. "Just so happens that a more handsome version of me is on the stage." As the beat changed, so did Ray's thrusts. I would have laughed if it hadn't felt so good.

"He's not more handsome." I breathed out, drawing Ray's head up. "He just looks like you."

"Yeah. About fifty pounds ago." Ray muttered, eyes scanning my face. I bit my lip to stop a moan from spilling out. I squeezed my eyes shut as the beat changed again and Ray matched.

"Shut the fuck up Raymond." I muttered, his name slipping out as a moan. "I prefer you and I always will. Fifty..." I choked on my words as Ray gently bit my neck. "Pounds or not. Fuuuuccckkk." I groaned as Ray thrust into me harder. He chuckled as my head fell back.

"Eyes on the stage darling." He breathed out, matching his thrusts to the music. "Song's almost over." Ray hoisted my other leg up around his waist, making sure I was pinned between him and the wall before grinding his hips against mine with every thrust. My head lulled forward as I came, eyes never leaving the stage. Ray moaned softly in my ear as he came with the song's end. Setting me down gently, Ray fixed us back up before turning back towards the stage. Jake and Elwood did one more song; Ray holding me close and gently swaying with me as I kissed him. "Come on." He whispered as the boys started to make their way off stage. Elwood paused when he saw Ray at the end of the stairs before making his way over.

"Elwood." He introduced himself. Ray shook his hand and pushed me forward to do the same. I blushed as I shook his hand.

"I'm (Y/N). And that's Ray." I said, feeling nervous as Ray came up behind me. He pressed his chest against my back and I smiled nervously at Elwood.

"Looks like the two of you were having fun out there." Elwood said with a smirk. I blushed harder and Ray squeezed my hip, prompting me to look at him. He smiled softly at me and nodded.

"Yeah we were." He confirmed. Elwood's smirk grew as he nodded.

[toriisasimp]

Chapter 1 of ?: Just Ask

An Egon Spengler x fem!reader Mini Series

Prompt: Yet another Ghostbusters press event is nearing, and once the secret is spilled of a certain scientist who wants to take you as a date, you decide to investigate for yourself.

Warnings: None!

A/N: First chapter of a mini series I’m working on. Not sure if it’s actually going to be a mini series or a full fic, but we’ll see! Egon and reader have already kind of been flirting with each other. You’ve also been working at the firehouse for a few months now. Enjoy! <3

-

It was nearing dinner time, and Janine had clocked out early for a date with Louis. You bid her goodnight with a warm smile and wave, and settled yourself behind the receptionist desk, propping up your feet and opening up one of the books you sneaked from Egon’s collection in the lab.

Finally, some peace and quiet..

You hear your name shouted by Peter, who comes stomping down the staircase with Ray hot on his tail.

“Go cool your boyfriend! He won’t listen to us!”

“..He’s not my boyfriend, Venkman.” You specify blankly, only briefly peeking over the top of your book to eye him coming around the corner and walking up to the desk.

“It sure seems like he thinks so.” Ray pipes up, folding his arms.

“What did you guys do to upset him now?” You flip the page, ignoring Ray’s comment.

“We didn’t do anything. He’s just throwing one of those dramatic fits of his where he shuts completely down and doesn’t speak to anyone, other than snapping at Ray for eating all the Cheez-Its.”

“Valid reason to be upset.” You shrug it off. You and Egon are both extremely territorial over your snacks. So much so that you end up labeling them with a permanent marker so the other boys know what they can and can’t touch.

“Not the point. The point is, you need to go up there and work your..” Venkman wiggles his fingers. “Womanly magic to get him to break. It’s getting annoying.”

“What? Not having him correct your incorrect scientific so-called ‘knowledge’,” you throw up some air quotes, “That you just spew out on a whim is annoying?”

“YES.” Ray and Peter both speak at the same time.

You huff and slide the bookmark back into your book before shutting it, pulling your legs off the desk and setting the book down before you rise up.

“It could be that he’s upset because of the gala.” Ray murmurs, more in Peter’s direction.

You pause halfway to the steps, turning your head back around.

“What gala?”

The two of them look at you like they’re a deer in the headlights.

“Whoops.” Ray grits his teeth.

“The gala at the Museum of Natural History? The one you guys got invited to? What about it?”

“You see, he was going to-” Peter starts talking, before Ray sends a fist to his gut from the side.

“Peter!”

“What?” He throws his hands up. “She’s gonna find out soon enough!”

Ray rolls his eyes and grumbles, looking away as Peter rubs the spot on his stomach before continuing.

“He was going to,” His voice lowered a few notches. “He was going to ask you to be his date. But I’m convinced he’s having some emotional conflict and mood swings because he doesn’t think you want to go with him.”

You stand there, in slight shock. “He told you this?” You perk a brow.

“He tells us a lot, kid.” Ray speaks up again, folding his arms once more and leaning against the desk with a slight tilt of his head.

“Of course, ‘bro-code’ or whatever. I get it. I’ll ask him about it-”

“NO!” They both stand swiftly.

“Why?” You stop again, at the bottom of the steps.

“That man will literally, and I mean literally, have our heads if he finds out we told you about that.” Peter pleads.

You go back and forth glaring at both of them, rolling your eyes before sighing.

“Fine, fine. I won’t ask about it.” You slowly start making your way up the steps to the next floor. “But please, give us some privacy. Do not eavesdrop.”

“That’s the spirit, go rub one out for your man!” Peter whoops, and you shake your head.

“You’re disgusting, Venkman.”

-

At the top of the steps, the soft music from a boombox on the kitchen table grows louder, and you spot Egon, with his back facing you. He’s at the corner workbench, hunched over a microscope.

You slowly approach, tugging your shirt sleeves over your hands and folding your arms. You admire him for a moment, how he’s so focused, his hands subtly turning the knobs of the machine to scope in on the slide he’s examining.

“Spengler,” You speak up, and Egon doesn’t even jump, he just murmurs your name in acknowledgement as he stays put in his hunched position.

“Are you doing alright?” You walk up to the bench, leaning against the corner, tilting your head slightly.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be alright?” He speaks again, finally rising up and turning to scribble down some notes in a nearby open notebook.

“Just checking in..” You murmured defensively, approaching even further to stand next to him. “What are you working on?”

“Logging ectoplasm samples,” He turns back from the notebook, catching your gaze for a short moment before hunching back down over the microscope. “Could you help me put them into the system?”

Egon knows how much you genuinely enjoy assisting him in the lab, and you’ve told him to always ask if he wants help.. Or just wants some company.

“Can I see it first?” You motion to the microscope.

“Sure.” He nods, stepping back and giving you space to see the slide for yourself.

You step up to the microscope, squinting one eye so you can see into the scope. The plasm is moving on the slide, the cells wiggling ever so slightly. You stand alone for a moment, before you feel Egon’s hand come to gently rest on your waist.

“What can you see?” He asks, a bit softer.

“Well, it looks like it’s doing a little dance!” You giggle, still intrigued by the slime.

“It’s Psychomagnotheric, which means it responds to human emotional states around it. Positive and negative.”

“You must be pissed or something, cause it’s moving a lot-”

“Aaaand that’s enough of that.” You feel both of his hands on your waist now, pulling you back from the microscope.

“Maan, I was just kidding!” You pout, throwing your hands up and laughing.

“Grab the computer, please.” He shoos you away, and you put a hand up, shaking your head before you spin around and snatch the chunky laptop off the workbench across from you, turning and sliding into one of the swivel chairs at the table before opening the laptop. Egon slides over his open notebook, full of listings and observations of the slime you had looked at.

You immediately get to work putting in the notes into the logging system. You feel an itch in your head to bring up the gala.

“I heard that gala at the museum is in a few days. Are you going?” You ask. Start vague.

Egon freezes at the microscope, rising up to look at you.

“Are you?” He asks in return, not answering your question.

“That depends, are you?” You shoot back, perking a brow and pausing your typing.

You swear you see a slight tint of pink on Egon’s cheeks, as he shifts and leans against the workbench.

“I’ll go if you go.” He states as casually as possible, even though his discomfort is visible.

“I was gonna go if you went.” You shrug, trying to making it as relaxed as possible.

“We could go together.” He adds, his eyes not leaving yours.

You glance down at the computer for a brief moment before looking back up at him, taking your turn for the heat to creep up to your cheeks. You silently nod.

“Are you going to wear a tux?” You ask before your brain can stop you.

Egon tilts his head, a subtle smirk playing at his lips.

“Why? Does it matter to you?”

“No, no! I’m just.. curious. If it’s black tie, then I’m just.. just curious!”

“Curious.. right. Well, I don’t go to many social events, but perhaps I’ll make an exception and see what I can find.” He keeps his eyes on you, folding his arms across his chest- the smirk still stamped to his face.

An exception?

You nod. “Sounds good. We’ll go together.” You state again, setting it in stone- sending him a smirk of your own before looking back down at the computer, returning back to your work.

Egon eyes you for a few more seconds, noticing how the light of the desk lamp hit your face.. Jesus.

He quickly turned back to the microscope before he could get caught gawking over you, returning to the task at hand as well.

Both of you continued your work, and you were first to call it a night- around 2 AM. Egon’s hand brushed over yours as you handed him back his notebook, and he bid you goodnight- watching you walk away and disappear into the sleeping quarters.

Little did you know, he was sharing your same thoughts that night- imagining what the other was going to look like at the gala. But another thought teased your mind as you fell asleep.

If the slime reacted to positive and negative emotions from humans..

What else would it react to?

-

<3

[tumble-tv]

I honestly think that during their prime, the Ghostbusters business would have a full staff of ghostbusters, not just four middle aged men and Janine (bless her soul). Like, at least twenty other ghostbusters so that those guys could get some sleep. Day and night shifts, backup crews, duty crews, etc.

[amelia-mariee]

i use tumblr so much and for so many different things / interests / fandoms that i always forget the whole reason i started using tumblr was so that i could be a part of the online ghostbusters fandom a few years ago. i remembered this last night and i looked around and realized everyone i used to follow during that time either moved on or indefinitely closed their accounts. i’m seeing a lot of “updated 2 years ago”. is there still a ghostbusters fandom on here?? i can’t believe we all forgot about each other. i’ve had a lot of hyper fixations and been a part of a lot of fandoms but this one in particular is hard for me to get over for some reason. Guys, we were a COMMUNITY. WHAT HAPPENED

[throwamurph]

Edit: found it!! Tagged in the comments :) TYYY

Way back when, on Harold Ramis Tumblr, I remember an awesome creator writing a story where the reader loves the ghostbusters and somehow they end up in the Ghostbuster world. The ghostbusters were trying to figure out a way to bring them back to their own world. I remember there was no set love interest but it was kinda just exploratory. Please please please tell me the fic/who wrote it!! I never got to finish it!!

[mercy-erts]

"Ghosting"

AN:A drabble I wrote at 4am haha. Still trying to get the hang of writing stories for a fandom so apologizes if it seems out of character

Ray was no stranger to dreams, every dream meant something in a way, especially one dealing with the supernatural.

He saw them as signs, or perhaps they told of his current situation in a twisted and confusing way, a puzzle for him to solve and figure out.

But sometimes the puzzle was clear from the start.

It had been a week since Gozer was finally captured, the world saved once again from the destruction of the world. If only it didn't come at a cost, Ray watching his best friend, his companion fade away, finding peace of reuniting with his daughter and finishing his unfinished business. Yet Ray recalled he didn't feel that sense of peace yet.

He opened his eyes, finding himself in a dark area, forever casting him into a endless sea of midnight. Looking around allowed his mind to see where he was, the farmhouse, where Egon had stayed for who knows how long.

The silence was irritating, even his footsteps didn't cast a single echo in a seemingly empty world. Everything seemed the same as he saw it, as he walked closer to the door, reaching out for the door knob to see what held inside.

And when he opened it, the room felt colder, he felt cold.

The room felt twisted and warped, his memory foggy with how the inside looked. Still, a force was urging him closer, closer to a faint blue light casted in the living room. And upon reaching it, its like time itself froze.

Egon. Standing there in the same ghost form Ray last saw him in. Expect he couldn't see his eyes, his glasses frames showing an empty reflection instead. Ray stood there, staring at the empty husk he once called a friend.

"Egon." Ray started, disrupting that perfect silence. Ray swore he saw Egon flinch at the mere mention of his own name. He decided to take it slow, but it felt like there was so little time to even speak his mind.

"I'm sorry. Really I am, for not believing you, for just genuinely being such a terrible person." Ray managed to choke out, his voice raw just speaking. But Egon didn't respond, no movement or change in facial expression, staring into space like Ray was the ghost himself.

For some reason, that made Ray more upset.

"What do you want more than me apologizing? Do you want me to admit I was wrong, that I was in the wrong the whole time therefore making me the bad guy?!' He screamed, unable to control his body as he moved closer, trying grip onto anything- something to ground his emotions.

Ray looked into those cold empty eyes of Egon, gripping onto his arm as he demanded for a single answer. "Do you want me to say how much I loved you?" His voice was completly raw, as he blurted out the confession, but he knew that was too late.

But despite all that, Egon never got to hear those words.

Before he could even say anymore to somehow fix it, it felt like this world was crumbling around them, Ray watching as his vision became blurry, being pulled away from Egon.

The last he saw wasn't the ghost of his friend, but the lifeless corpse of him.

Ray sat up quickly, gripping his chest as he heaved heavily for air, as if he was suffocating for hours. After a few minutes, he managed to calm down, taking easy deep breaths to calm himself of his night terror.

That all it was, a night terror. Ray rubbed his face, a lump in his throat as he fought back those tears. He hadn't cried ever since he eaw Egon fade away.

"Im sorry.." he muttered, hoping maybe Egon would hear it, somewhere in the fabric of the universe.

But there wasn't a sign.

Maybe he should've said it sooner.

[bixiebeet]

Peter pulled out two tickets from his pocket. “I won these in a charity raffle. A spa and dinner at a place on Fifth Avenue. Free champagne, too.”

“It sounds swanky,” Ray replied. “But I’m busy.” He always booked himself a hotel room to spend Valentine’s Day watching romantic comedies, ordering room service, and eating fancy chocolates. Some years he had a date. Other years he was solo. Either way, this ritual made him happy.

“Uggghhhh,” Peter groaned. He’d only donated $5 to the local animal shelter for the raffle tickets, so he wasn't upset about losing money if he didn’t use the prize. But he couldn’t believe how hard it was to give away a nice holiday package.

Then he had an idea. While Ray and Winston unpacked the Ecto, Peter ran upstairs to Egon’s lab. A few moments later, he ran back downstairs to Janine’s desk.

Peter slammed one ticket down beside Janine’s computer. He had a genius way to split the prize. “You take this for the spa treatment,” he panted, still out of breath from the running up and down. “I told Spengler to use the dinner voucher. You can both enjoy it, and you won’t even have to see each other! Just show up at different times for different parts of the prize.”

Janine was surprised. It wasn’t like Peter to give her a gift—she could barely get his approval to take the vacation time that she’d earned. But spa time sounded nice. She’d gladly take it.

Working on a new fic that will be posted soon! Even if it’s after Valentine’s Day. The ship remains afloat!!

[angstea]

i know what psyche means, sophisticate since i turned sixteen

Fandom: Ghostbusters

Ship: None

Summary: "You didn't have any toys? Not even a slinky?"

"We had part of a slinky, but I straightened it."

Ray shook his head with a fond smile and placed the slinky into Egon's open hand, moving onto other things before he could protest. He glared down at the bright piece of plastic in his palm, annoyed by its existence for no reason in particular.

Or, Egon gets a slinky and he's very autistic about it

AN: Egon is auDHD bcus yeah. This came from me overthinking that line about him not having toys. Title is from Deploy by Jack Stauber (and thank you to my buddy MrMcflowers for help with the title)

Read on AO3

"Very cheerful. My parents didn't believe in toys." Egon could feel the odd look Ray was giving him as he said it. It made the back of his neck prickle. He ignored it in favour of scanning everything in the room he could find.

Ray got his attention a bit later, holding what looked like a large colourful spring in his hand.

"You didn't have any toys? Not even a slinky?"

"We had part of a slinky, but I straightened it."

Ray shook his head with a fond smile and placed the slinky into Egon's open hand, moving onto other things before he could protest. He glared down at the bright piece of plastic in his palm, annoyed by its existence for no reason in particular. He ran the P.K.E. meter over it, frowning deeply. Nothing. He went to put it aside but stopped. Part of him didn't want to let it go just yet. He shook his head as if to clear it. That was ridiculous, it was just a kid's toy. There must be some sort of reason.

He put the meter aside and passed the toy between his hands, carefully feeling how it moved and shifted between his fingers. He grabbed both ends of the slinky and pulled, all the coils stretching until they were no longer neatly stacked up. He then pressed the slinky back together between his palms, the colours compressed together into a small cylinder. He ran his thumb along the side, tracing the spirals and the smooth texture.

He couldn't help his lips tugging up into a slight smile, the simple actions and visuals made his brain light up. He teetered side to side on his feet a little.

But then he realised what he was doing. He was supposed to be working and here he was, playing with one of Oscar's toys.

He dropped the toy like he'd been burned and moved on, hoping Ray hadn't noticed. Scan the toys, don't get distracted. Don't get distracted.

Don't get distracted.

Don't get distracted.

When they heard Venkman getting up to his usual nonsense instead of working, Ray and Egon shared an exhausted look and a deep sigh. They both went for the door but Ray stopped Egon with a hand on his shoulder.

"You keep looking. Just in case." Egon couldn't get his thoughts together to voice his disagreement before Ray had gone, so he just gave a dutiful nod to thin air. He was sure there was nothing but finding nothing in half the room and dismissing the other half without checking wouldn't do.

His investigations gave no results and it brought him back over to the slinky. He gave the toy a withering look. When it failed to combust into flames from his sheer annoyance, he gave in to his impulses and grabbed it again.

He ran the slinky through his fingers and felt the whirring in his brain slow down. He let go of the bottom of the spring and let it fall to the ground. He traced the spiral with his eyes, the pleasing colours causing sparks to fly in his mind. He lowered the spring to coil together on the floor, crouching down to bring the whole thing together.

He put the slinky on the ground and flicked the top with his index finger. The top coil flopped down onto the ground and it stood in a small arch. Egon's eyes scanned the room for something he could use as a platform, humming to keep his mind on track.

He ended up placing the slinky on top of an overturned toy basket. He pushed the top of the spring and watched as it fell to gather on the floor. However, instead of remaining in an arch like before, the bottom coil slid off the platform and joined the rest of the slinky on the floor.

Egon had the sudden impulse to bring the slinky to the stairs outside the apartment and time how long it took to reach the bottom. He picked up the spring and started running it through his fingers again.

He imagined he probably would have reacted similarly if he'd had a full slinky as a child. He could see himself running many experiments; how quickly did it take a slinky to reach the bottom of the stairs, did it move quicker on carpeted stairs or wooden stairs, how far could the slinky stretch before it broke, did different sizes of slinkies move at different speeds-

"Did you find anything?" Ray's voice startled Egon and he froze as Ray leaned around the doorframe. He looked ever so slightly puzzled at the sight of Egon crouched on the floor with a slinky clutched in his fingers but didn't comment on it. Egon then remembered Ray had asked a question and took a moment to get his mouth to actually work.

"No. Nothing in here." He placed the toy down and stood quickly, finding the P.K.E. meter so he had something to do with his hands. Ray had already left by the time he looked up so he followed suit, casting one more glance towards that infernal slinky.

-

Egon would be lying if he said he didn't spend the next couple hours worrying Ray would bring up Egon's fixation on the slinky. He lost track of the conversation a few times because he was too busy staring at Ray's face trying to figure out if his current expression meant Ray was about to expose him. But it was never mentioned, they all moved on and Egon felt the tension in his shoulders loosen a little. Maybe Ray hadn't even noticed.

But the next day at the firehouse, a small box that didn't belong there was sitting at Egon's desk. He glanced around the room to see if anything else was amiss and accidentally locked eyes with Ray. Ray grinned at him in a way that Egon need to look to the side of his face and nodded at the small box on the desk before leaving.

That at least set Egon at ease that the box wasn't dangerous. He picked it up and read the text on the side. "Original Plastic Slinky". Oh.

He glanced around to make sure no one was watching before breaking open the cardboard box and taking out the now familiar colourful spring. He sighed and slumped down at his desk, already fidgeting with the slinky. Of course it was too much to think Ray hadn't noticed.

The shouting in his brain calmed down now that he was doing something with his hands so he just figured he'd get on with his day and not bring up the toy in his hands.

And if the paperwork got done a little faster today, that was just fine by him.

[atomic--peach]

🎶One of these things is not like the others🎶

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery

Warnings: swearing

Ray held me tightly as he rubbed my back. I was trying so hard not to cry, quietly sniffling against his chest. I felt the weight of Ray's chin on the top of my head and curled further into him, feeling him adjust his hold on me to accommodate me. Everyone in the room continued talking, ignoring the fact that I was moments away from a breakdown and not even Ray could stop it. When his nose made contact with my head, the dam broke. His biceps tensed as he tightened his hold on me, pressing his face further against my head. My shoulders shook with the effort to keep my sobs quiet.

"For fuck's sake..." My cousin trailed off. "What's wrong cry baby?" Ray tensed all over as the voice cut through the group. "Didn't get your way so you have to cry about it?" I shook my head and tried to break away from Ray. He wouldn't let me go and pushed me further into his chest.

"Where do you get off, saying crap like that to them?" Ray shot back. I curled my fingers into his shirt. "Haven't you done enough damage?"

"Ray." I murmured. He pulled back to look at me. "Can we go?" Ray nodded, taking my hand and leading me away from my family. The walk back to the firehouse was quiet, the only noise was an occasional sniffle or hiccup. Ray squeezed my hand every so often, making sure I knew he was still there. As we neared Tribeca Park, Ray pulled me closer to him. He led me into the park and sat down on one of the benched. Turning to me, he sighed as he reached over and wiped away my tears. He cupped my cheeks, rubbing his thumb over them even when all the tears were wiped away.

"I know there's no point in asking if you're alright." Ray breathed out. I shrugged and he leaned forward to kiss my forehead. "Remind me why we went." He breathed out as he pulled me to him fully.

"I honestly can't remember." I said softly, resting my head on his chest. "I know I'm turning them down next time." Ray nodded before kissing my head. "I don't even..."

"Don't." Ray warned. I pulled away to look at him.

"I don't even get what I did wrong." I whispered. "How is asking everyone to stop treating me like a kid not getting my way?" Tears started to well up again and Ray sighed. He pulled me against him and pressed his face into my hair.

"It's not." he said after a while. "Your cousin was talking out his ass. They expect you to have grown up, act like an adult, but when you do..." He shook his head. "They start yelling at you and making it your fault. It's not. It is never your fault with them. Their heads are so far up their asses they can't see how great you are. All that you have accomplished."

"It really isn't that much." I muttered. Ray scoffed.

"Yeah. Like helping save the city isn't much." He teased. "Without you, I would have gone completely catatonic, Peter would have been smushed by a marshmallow because Egon would have rather studied what happened then stop it and Winston would have been the only one left going after Gozer. So do you want to try again?" He squeezed my arm as I buried my face in his neck. "If anything you saved our lives that day. And I'm more than grateful and proud of you for that."

"Thanks." I mumbled, cheeks heating up. Ray chuckled and tilted my head up.

"Always." He whispered before kissing me softly. "You ready to head back to the firehouse? Or do you want to go back to the bookshop?" I shrugged.

"Can we just stay here for a bit?" I asked. Ray nodded and pulled me tighter against him.

"Sure." He said, pressing a kiss to my head. "Anything you want."

[toriisasimp]

I saw frozen empire and now i’m re entering my ghostbusters era. and what better way to jump back in than writing a fanfic. i will literally disassociate and write seven pages. watch me goooooo

[spenglercore]

CHAPTER THREE IS LIVE!

[agaypanic]

flying back home and i didn’t write shit while i was gone, i was too busy reading fanfiction about felix from saltburn and ray from ghostbusters😔

[tuliptired]

He’s Good People

Chapter 1: Ask me, I Won't Say No (How Could I?)

Pairing(s) Reader/Ray, Reader/Egon Reader/Winston

Summary: Janine's always told you that you had a strong "line of fate". Whatever that meant. When you lose your job and apartment, however, you're offered a (temporary) fix with her ever-generous employers.

Hopefully part of a series! A little Ray-centric- Check Ao3 for more tags and warnings.

read it on Ao3!

Today was the big day. You’d be working at your job at a major TV station for just about forever now, and it was about due time for a promotion. The pay was decent, enough to clothe and feed you and have the slightest amount left over, and you got to specialize in what you loved all day, everyday, while contributing to American television. The varieties of the entertainment industry. 

But you were starting to come to the realization that maybe your skills were a little underappreciated. You worked quickly, feverishly, and passionately, after all. You’d be damned if you said you hadn’t been dreading turning up everyday for a little while now. You put off asking, figuring that you should be grateful to be employed at all, but coaxing from your very opinionated best friend you gained while interning in Brooklyn proved fruitful, as she sat on the phone with you.

“You’re worthy. You’re deserving, they’re lucky to have you, you’re doing them a favor by showing up,” she repeated the affirmation to you, undoubtedly breaking a rule or two as she used her work phone from her receptionist job for a personal call. She'd been your biggest supporter, from every new hairstyle or investment, and she knew you were more than capable of whatever a higher position could offer you. You, on the other hand, stared at your reflection in the mirror. You don't really know what you'd do if turned down. You need this, your heart clenches a bit.  

You steeled your nerves, taking a deep breath in and a light breath out. “I am worthy, I am deserving, they’re lucky to have me, I’m doing them a favor by showing up,’ you chanted. The chord of the landline strained against the stretch you put it through from the kitchen to the bathroom. 

“That’s the spirit,” she praised you on the other end. Before you could respond, a sharp beep interrupted you, and she groaned lightly.

“Other line. Listen, I gotta go, but I want details. You know where to call me- and call me as soon as you get word,” she ordered you, causing the fear in your stomach to reemerge, the moment coming closer. But, her voice did make you feel better, in a way.

“Thanks, Janine, pray for me,” you half-begged, desperation unashamedly showing in your tone.

“Mazel.” The phone clicked.

You took what felt like the hundredth calming breath, and it was only 9 am. As you exited your apartment, the world woke up around you, the walk to the bus a little more packed as you made your way down town. On the bus, there was an ad for the Ghostbusters across from you. You laughed to yourself at its presence, a square poster of the 4 men simply standing in a line. The only other design is a little tagline- ¨who you gonna call?¨

You´d always wanted to ask Janine about her place of employment, naturally. She only ever brushed it off as a day job that took up too much of her free time, but you were a bit more curious than that. Believing in ghosts and spirits and monsters wasn't something you were necessarily taken with, but if there's a ghost up somewhere in Albany, it's not your problem. Leave it to the professionals, if they wanted a call so bad. Their pseudo-celebrity statuses were admirable, though- their ads for drinks and toys and services took up 70% of your network’s commercial breaks.

You were practically dripping with a mix of assuredness, sweat from your walk, and a tinge of fear as you clocked in when inside the giant, bustling company. The walk to your workspace felt like you were walking into war, going over every point you wanted to make the moment you saw your supervisor. He was a little hard to get to, really. He was even able to convince you that the due date he had given you in writing was much, much earlier- and you believed him, until you were working overtime with your entire department for the 3rd night in a row for something you had a month to finish.

You were intercepted halfway to your desk, and your confidence dropped to your toes as his smile wasn’t the half-there, busy and distracted one he often held. It was deliberate. He wanted something from you.

“Y/N! Goodmorning, goodmorning. I need a quick word with you.” God damnit. 

His sudden appearance derailed your ability to form respectable sentences, your fingers fumbling with the lapels of your shirt cuffs. “Actually, I was looking for you too,” your tone betraying you.

He led you into his office suite, a brown set of rooms that got less presentable as they went from reception to official-one-desk-two-chairs territory. He stopped you in the hall, where ambient lights illuminated pictures of happy talent, tv producers, and writers who struck it big under his guidance smiling big with awards in hand. “Spare a minute?” He put his hand on your shoulder. Asshole, you can’t refuse. You were already there.

He didn’t wait for an answer. “It’s been a real busy season, huh? Lots of work. Lots of talented stars. SNL’s really jumping off, isn’t it?” You smiled with a bit of pride, knowing the time you and your colleagues put into the success of an experimental show like it, albeit behind the scenes.

“I’m gonna tell it to you like it is, ‘cause you’re a smart kid. You went to Columbia, right?”

Flattery. You answered anyway. “Yeah. Yeah, I was gonna put some time aside for my masters,” you try and broach the conversation back into your favor. Tell him about your ambitions, your qualifications, and the job will fall into your lap.

He had an unreadable expression, his manufactured appearance unwavering. His mid length brown hair and brown suit nearly blended in with his decor. A blank slate was important in entertainment, he told you one day, you want to be what boys and girls want to see, he said. “You’re gonna have a hell of a lot of time then, kid.”

You blinked, words tumbling out your mouth before you could measure them. “I beg your pardon?” You asked earnestly. 

“Lots of work. Lots of talented stars,” he repeats. “It costs a lot to keep the boys and girls happy. Too much to keep certain departments as big as they are.” He swallows, picking up where he left off. “I figured, you’d feel better hearing it from a friendly face then some corporate robot, huh?”

You don’t remember how you got to the payphone, but you did, and you shakily entered Janine’s work number as tears and snot threatened to spill over the dam that was your face.

So there you were, her by your side, sitting under a tree in a nearby park, leaving work for a “personal emergency”, ignoring the voice of her boss as she made her way downtown. You felt bad, coating her shoulder in your sadness, but you couldn’t help it.

“He sounds like a total jackass,” she insisted. “I would’ve put my foot up his…¨ She looked down at you, your cries resigned to snotty sniffles. “You okay?” She asked softly.

You looked at her weakly. “Am I a loser?” You choked out, feeling absolutely miserable. This was rock bottom if you’ve ever been there. Jobless and bawling in a public park.

Janine grabbed your hands. “Don’t ever say something like that again. I’m telling you, your fate is something bigger.” Your eyes got glossy again, and she shook you around forcefully.

“No more crying! C’mon,” she hoisted you to your feet, head spinning and tears dried out of whiplash. Silently, you let her drag you to a grocery without protest, watching numbly as she stopped at a candy counter with you clinging to her arm. 

“10 Crunch bars. And as many of those red things that can fit in the bag.” The man behind the counter obliged, not without looking at the pair of you like a mother and her overgrown child. She took the paper bag, and loaded up another basket with the supplies to make your favorite dinners from the grocer, not forgetting a large tub of speciality ice cream.

“I can’t ask you to buy all of this,” you said softly, but your voice broke into a quiver as you realized what buying something entailed. “Now that I have no-no money,” your voice, wet and weak, about to break out into another session of hot tears.

“If you start crying again I’m leaving you at customer service,” She threatened as she opened her wallet, making her way to the cashier. 

“D’you think the corner takes applications?” You walked in tandem to the bus that’d take you home. 

“We can find out together. I’ve been telling you, there are men at Playboy who’d pay good money for-”

“WOW, Janine, your voice is a little loud, no?”

Her attempt at making you smile worked, and you felt a little better at her side on the bus. Stuffing the sack of candy in your bag, the bus rocked gently as Janine rested the large grocery haul on her lap. 

You were ready to just fall into bed, with or without Janine there, but your droopy eyes were snapped open upon seeing a white envelope taped to your front door. With further inspection, Janine watched sadly as you read that it was a water bill due ridiculously soon. The best you could do was knock your head against the plaster of the wall and hand her your keys.

You had a whole feast of food to be prepared laid out on your counter as you lay on the couch, weak and unwilling to do anything as you pressed your face into the cushions. “Is your oven always this…not on?” Janine’s voice came confused from the kitchen, a bundt pan full of box-mix-cake batter in her left hand.

“You’re joking,” you peeled yourself from the couch, crouching in front of the oven. One spark, nothing. Two, nothing. Three, four, five…not even a match could lit the stovetop nor the burners in the oven. You slid to the ground, defeated. “Kill me, Janine.”

You could hear her click her tongue, before a tiny bleeping filled the room. She apologetically moved her way to your phone, explaining that her boss(es?) were paging her. While you wallow on the kitchen floor, she dials in a number and waits, a little frazzled.

“I told you, it was an emergency.” Her eyes look to yours, silently asking for permission to spill the worst day of your life to some guy you don’t know. You close them, surrendering as you melt into the ground. Maybe this was rock bottom?

“I'm by the theater, it’s a bus and a brisk walk…you can manage without me for a night…4 grown men can’t problem-solve?...Peter- friend of mine got laid off, and they’re pretty upset, ok?...Yes. No, not that one…yes, that one. Ask them yourself, Peter.” She glances at you, annoyed as she holds the receiver out. Not having a speck of pride left, you trudge over, taking the phone limply. 

The line is silent for a bit, except for distant, deep voices you can’t hone in on, expect for the fact that they were arguing.

“Hello?” A voice starts.

“Hello.”

“Real sorry about your job, dear. Tell Janine to bring you around and we can show you a good-” Whoever the hell is on the other end is interrupted by a frantic voice, interrupting as they take hold of the call.

“Hello? This is Dr. Stantz. Uh, Ray is better. Janine told my friend Peter here about your work situation, we wanted to let you know we’re real sorry. Let Janine know she’s not in trouble, but she needs to get here soon, ok?” Dr. Stantz sounds genuinely sympathetic, and you can’t help but be comforted by his words.

“Thanks,” is all you can manage, if not rudely then a little flat.

“If you ever need anywhere to go, our headquarters are open! We have food, hot water, Janine,”’ he laughs on the other end, a little awkward. And a little on the nose for comfort. You react freely in the safety of the private nature of a phone call.

“Thank you?” You answer honestly. He clears his throat.

“If I could hear from Janine, please?”

You wordlessly pass it back to your unamused friend, and she listens to the other end.

A loud, low rumbling in your laundry closet cuts through the calm. You glance at each other, assuming the worst as you swing the door open.

Bubbles spill out onto the floor, your washer unit shaking and leaking onto the worn out wood. All things, this is what gets you the hardest. Your washer can´t break now. Out of all the horrible, awful things, your washer can not break now. You can't even cry, it's so ridiculous. Standing incredulously in ankle deep suds, all you can do is stare at the appliance spit and sputter liquid onto the floor. Janine breaks your bout of shock, pressing the phone into her shoulder so she can reach you. Her voice urges you to unplug it, and before you could break down again, you´re leaning against the lid, with the sudden realization that all the water and soap could start an electrical fire.

You have to lean your entire torso against the top, arms fumbling for the chord buried somewhere in the dark space against the wall. Soon, your legs are dangling over the edge. It would be a funny sight, if the machine wasn't shaking so monstrously underneath you.

Suddenly, there's a large hand on the back of your thigh. It was a cold, unnerving touch, sharp points digging into the flesh of your leg. As you could look back, to tell Janine to let go, your receiver drops to the ground. Her face is ghastly pale, and she´s suspended in a scream. As you look down towards the front of the washer, the large, reptilian claws try to grab you, to pull you into the washer with it. Your eyes widen, and you scream as you clamor to get out of its reach, to no avail.

Janine’s at your side, prying the digits off of your skin, the claws no doubt leaving marks in their wake. You climb to the top of the machine, legs to your chest, and she slams the door on the arms enough times to force it shut. 

Catching her breath, she backs up to the phone slowly, her eyes on you as if you yourself were whatever beast residing in your washer.

¨Ray.¨ She says his name as if there’s a 3rd party in your little apartment listening. ¨You´re coming to us.¨

4 men in brown jumpsuits are at your door. They look much more frazzled than they do in their ads. There´s…a crocodile? A monster? Living in your house? Your brain can´t form cohort thoughts as you blink, eyes drying out. One of them tries to console you as you sit in your armchair, breaths shallow and skin cold. You can’t even freak over the local legends standing in your home. 

 You only recognized one of them personally, from Janine´s birthday a few months ago. You couldn't stay the whole night, only dropping by to give her well wishes and leave her gift behind, but you can remember a brief conversation. You arrived around the same time, and he had opened the entrance to the building for you with ease, the handle notoriously always needing a bit of extra effort to haul the door open after being buzzed up. He walked you, explaining that her boyfriend forgot to pick up the cake, pointing to the box in his hand, which you shared a laugh over. In the time it took to get into her apartment, he explained that he was Dr. Ray Stantz, and he worked with her. You ingenuously told him he was the splitting image of a young comedian on the show you work for, to which he smiled, wide and a little embarrassed. Your conversation was cut short- Janine emerged from another room and dragged you over to some corner to see a mutual friend. 

One of the men flipped between the paper on a notepad, fixing the arms of his glasses. ¨If you don´t mind, we'd like to see the markings the ghost left on you.¨ He requests in a baritone voice, dark and monotone.

¨Egon!¨ Janine scolded him, rubbing your shoulders as you sat. 

¨Only if you´re okay with that,¨ another mediated, as ¨Egon¨ opened his mouth. He cleared his throat. ¨For research. Their research. Not mine. I’m not really a science guy-¨

¨Unbelievable,¨ Janine mumbled, ushering you up and out the chair. Before she could take you out the apartment, Ray grabs the doorknob- not to keep you inside, but to catch her attention. He looked at you both gently, if not a little urgently.

¨We´ll get rid of it no problem, promise. Real exciting thing you got living in your apartment.” He gives you both a soft smile, before opening the door and letting you out. Before you cross the threshold, she turns her head to address them as you grab your bag.

¨There better not be a hair out of place!¨ She shoots eaaaach and every one of them a look, the targets stiffening in the process. The man with the voice you recognize as Peter over the phone bids her farewell with a mock salute.

¨Yes ma´am, Janine!¨

¨I´m sorry about those guys. They´re,¨ she pauses, hand on her chin as you sit on the stoop, ¨the best in their field.¨ A little hard to believe, Peter had almost knocked down one of your trinkets on the way in and put it back a little too haphazardly for taste.

“They seem like interesting people,¨ is all you can manage. ¨Egon-¨

¨Don´t mind him. His brain´s big, but a little empty. He’s a peach.”

¨I was gonna say he was Columbia´s resident myth. I just couldn´t remember his name for the life of me.¨ 

Janine perks up a bit. ¨Oh? What was he like?¨ She pries, always in the mood for a little gossip.

You roll your eyes, albeit not really annoyed. ¨Well, I remember every girl in my major wanted to be the one to ¨break¨ him. Lots of turned down dates, lots of time wasted pretending to care about mushrooms,” you laughed at the memory. ¨He's still, just, not like that, huh?¨

Before she could answer, the entrance from the stoop is swung open, and said man is barrelling down the steps to the white van they tote around, hastily opening the backdoors and pulling something out.

¨What's wrong?” You and Janine say simultaneously. 

He turns to you, pausing mid-action. ¨Nothing,¨ he shuts the van door, making his way back up the steps at a much more measured pace. ¨Everything is fine.¨ Your apartment window slides open, impossibly quick.

¨EGON! Hurry up and get back here, it's got Winston!¨ Peter´s head is half out the window, face dirty and shaken up. Egon blinks once, and then resumes his pace back up to your apartment.

After what felt like half an hour, the 4 men stagger down the steps, worn and beat as you lift your head off Janine´s shoulder to asses the damages.

¨We got him,¨ Ray manages a weak smile, holding a machine billowing sickly chemical smoke.

¨He got us, ¨ Peter says flatly as he leans against Winston, who´s jaw is sporting a deep bruise. Hair disheveled, faces dark, and clothes stained, the men breathe heavily as they can finally relax, dragging themselves to the van. Janine stops Egon, taking his glasses off and saving a lens from popping out.

¨He was real mean,¨ Ray explains, ¨but a Class III of that size! Insane! I´d love to find out where he came from. Amphibious, malevolent ghost living in my washer- I´d pay to be you!¨ He´s excitable, even when his hands have light cuts littering them, his palms raw and pink.

“I’m sorry- I didn’t expect you all to get,” you pause to address their injuries. All things that will manifest after a hard-night’s rest. “So banged up.” You cringed.

“It’s nothing.” Peter started. “Eges, gimme your calculator, I need to run the bill.”

“No way!” Winston protested, hitting Peter on his tender arm, making the man recoil in pain.

“Don’t worry about the pay,” Egon cut in as he examined the trap in Ray’s hands. “We should be paying you , this particular ghost opens avenues for more experimentation. And I don’t mean that lightly.” His inflection remained the same throughout his entire sentence.

“More?” Peter complained.

“The workbench is getting crowded, Egon. Not everything can be a breakthrough.”

“You can never be too sure,” Ray insisted, opening the van door for the men to haul in. “If this thing’s connected to that beast back in Coney Island that we’re makin’ big strides.” He turned to you and Janine. 

You couldn’t help but ask, noting the deep scuff marks on the workboots each man wore. “Can I count on getting my deposit back?” Ray couldn’t quite meet your eyes.

He chuckled weakly. “Sure-”

“We blasted a chemical-leaking electrical machine inside an enclosed space with unregulated units of atomic energy. If you don’t want a malignant disease, I suggest finding a hotel,” Egon said from the front, the door still open. You could hear the thump of a boot against a car seat immediately after.

Janine bit her lip, thinking, suddenly unphased about how they didn’t heed her warning. “I’ve got my sister and her kids staying over,” she apologized. You weren’t mad, you knew how cramped her place could get, but also how much she cared for her family. Plus, Louis’ spring allergies would drive you up the wall. Ray’s frown deepened, before his face lit up. He got modestly close to you, lowering his voice.

“Tell you what, I wasn’t joking when I said we have space at the firehouse. Spend the night, it’s the least we can do.” He smiled softly in your little aside. His words reminisced of the one’s exchanged between dozens of young men and women during late nights at the TV station when they think no one’s around, and one of them is leaning against the wall. It was always sweet, and a little awkward knowing you’d have to make coffee across from them the next morning, but you couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. Lord knows it’s been a long time before anyone’s even thought of you that way.

You don’t have any other options, really. At least not on short notice. You eventually nod, apologizing for impeding on their space.

“Don’t worry about it! My grandma used to tell me- be a fine fellow if you want faithful friends at your funeral.” What a boyscout. You couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face.

“There’s that smile. C’mon, we’ll take you and Janine.” That definitely made you feel something, somewhere. 

In the front, Ray drove while Egon sat next to him, and in the back, Peter sat on your right, Winston on your left, and Janine ending up having to sit herself on your lap. Ray blushed and apologized as he turned down the radio once the car’s engine turned on, speakers playing 70s rock directly into your ears.

“We never formally introduced ourselves. Not me, at least,” Winston spoke up at your side, Janine leaning forward so he could see you properly. “That’s Dr. Peter Venkman, Dr. Egon Spengler, you know that guy,” he pointed to Ray who looked at him in the rearview mirror with mock-anger, “and I’m Winston Zeddemore.” What a friendly man. 

“You don’t like the sound of  ‘doctor Zeddemore’?” You asked quietly, noting how he was a little out of place with the group of scientists.

He shook his head, not offended. “Not me. I would be- my dad wanted me to go the minister route, but I’m former air force,” he explains. 

“He’s still smart,” Peter adds at his friend’s defense.

“I know I am,” Winston sits back in his seat.

“Hey, you two,” Ray starts as he gets closer to the firehouse, “we have a bust in a few minutes. We’ll be gone for most of the evening. You can sleep, eat something. Ask Janine to read your palm!” He adds enthusiastically. 

You laugh at that as the car pulls into the large garage. “She told me I had a strong “line of career”. Funny how that worked out?” She pushed your head back with her hand. 

“Fate! It’s also the line of fate, ” she reiterated as Winston scoots back to allow you both out. 

“Is it fate that you’ll find a bill for $1000 under our pillows?” Peter mumbles, as Winston slides the door shut again. You can see the guys bickering through the windshield as Ray pulls out, honking the horn twice and flicking on the siren.

Inside, Janine slumps into her chair behind the front desk as you look around in awe. As soon as you open your mouth to ask if you can help with anything, she’s herding you up the stairs.

“You’ve had a horrible day,” she states, “sleep.” Opening the door to a repurposed fireman’s quarter’s, you swallow thickly.

“I can’t sleep in their beds,” you protest.

She surveys the room, examining each bed. “Winston, Egon, that one’s definitely Peter’s..Ray.” She stops in front of his bed. “He won’t mind.” 

You can’t even retaliate before she’s out the door, shutting it behind her. Sighing, you gave in, unbuttoning the top few bottoms of your oh-so-professional promotion-guaranteed outfit. You were pretty spent. But to sleep in this nice man’s bed? Maybe you were overstaying your welcome. A yawn disturbs your thoughts. Okay, you were exhausted, and he offered…

You had the most melancholy nap of your life, the kind you can only achieve after crying all day. You tossed and turned a little, walking up in the weird not-sleeping-falling-back-asleep state a few times. You hugged the thick comforter around you, lulling yourself back to sleep as the natural smell of the bed made its way into your dreams. 

You dreamt of being in highschool again, crushing and writing diary entries about a boy who smelt nice and made you laugh. It all felt so cathartic, that when you eventually dragged yourself awake you realized where the nostalgic scent was coming from- Ray’s bed. Your face got a little warm as you were broken out of sleepiness, remembering where you were. As you slowly sat up, your back pressed against something behind the pillow. On impulse, you reached backwards, pulling out a worn, soft Smokey the Bear plushie. You smiled to yourself at the sight, forgetting your embarrassment.

You crept out the room, praying to whoever was watching over that the men hadn’t returned and seen you slobbering all over their pillows. To your relief, it was only Janine, nursing many papers spilled over her narrow desk.

“What’s this?” You read the documents, what seem to be job reports that get more and more detailed the more unorganized the desk looks. Janine has different colored stamps balanced on her lap, as she juggles with the stability of a thick, 3 ringed diary against her computer screen.

“Notarizing,” is all she says, trying to bite back her frustration. Moving behind her, you can see that her thick tome his open to a double page spread of the different ghost classifications. You found her problem- the hand writing in the journal was abysmal, notes were scratched out, rewritten, written over.

“Do you need any help?” You ask, picking up a paper that fluttered to the floor.

She sighs, pushing her desk chair out and rubbing her eyes. “I need a nap myself.”

She disappears up the staircase, and you hear a door unlike the one with the beds fall shut. Glancing at her desk- and at the clock, you lower yourself into the chair. It’d be a while until they were back, right? And you really couldn’t leave this mess for Janine. It wouldn’t hurt to give her a hand. Plus, stamps were always a funtime.

You’d been stamping for an hour. Your eyes bulged at the clock, and then back at the neat, orderly piles of reports organized by date and class. Suddenly, the garage opens, and the men file out. Ray smiles upon seeing you, holding pizza boxes in his hands.

“I’m sorry! Janine just needed a break and..” your voice falters as Peter whistles at your work.

“You look nice behind a desk. Maybe we should get an extra chair and keep you with Janine full time. And you could understand my handwriting,” he raises his eyebrows, zipping down the front of his jumpsuit.

“Thanks for helping her out,” Ray takes a look, pleased at the sight, passing the boxes to Peter who takes them upstairs. “You’ve got a knack for clerical work!” Odd compliment, but you’re willing to take it.

Egon’s curiosity gets the better of him, peering at the documents as he takes the stairs up. You swear you can hear him hum contently as he looks down over the railing, Winston behind him.

“Wanna eat with us? We didn’t know what you’d like, and we figured everyone likes pizza,” Ray starts to shrug his own suit off.

“I’m sorry, again. I take your secretary, your money, your room, now your food.” Ray shakes his head hard, closing his locker. He waves his hands dismissively. 

“I’m telling you, it’s nothing at all. You’re good people.” His colloquialism makes you smile, stubbornly. You cave, following him towards the stairs as he walks backwards toward it. As you reach the second floor, the other 3 men were already seated at a table, distributing the food amongst themselves. You freeze beside Ray, nerves picking back up for whatever reason.

He leaned over and whispered in your ear. “We’re not freaks, you know. Just, 200-something-pound men who walk around in onesies and share a bedroom.” You laugh yet again, feeling a little dumb whenever you’re next to him, giggling every few seconds like a teenaged girl. 

Upon seeing you smile, Winston smiled in turn and pulled a chair out for you, putting the ice he held to his jaw down for a second. Gosh, you’d have to apologize for that again. Sitting down, he even passed you a plate of food, the two biggest slices out of all the others.

“You live near the Benjamin Fairhooke theater?” He asks, knowing it’ll spark interest in Egon.

“Old spooky haunted Abraham Lincoln theater, Winston.” Peter takes a sip from a beer can.

“Lincoln was shot in D.C.”

“Never seen it.”

You wipe your hands. “Abandoned for years. Some kids got in trouble for sneaking in. They were pretty spooked- they say they saw a headless body walking around.” Egon perks up at that. “They’ve got some strict security there now.” Your brain pings for a second, remembering a not so legal secret you had been holding.

“I had a friend who used to do city maintenance there, before they abandoned the refurbishing project. He moved to the west, and left me with the masterkey.” 

Egon’s eyes widen, ever so slightly. “I’ve been trying to get a reading on that place, but Ray’s not willing to come with me.”

“Ray’s not willing to break in with you, Spenges,” he cuts in.

“Do you want the key?” You offer, before you could think about what you said.

Peter groaned, slumping back in his chair. “You’re encouraging him.”

“Very much so,” Egon nodded. 

After the food was finished, mostly by the 200-something-pound men not realizing how much food they really took. You didn’t mind- you were the guest, after all. Ray suddenly realized that it was fairly late, and you still didn’t have an official place to stay. As the guys stood up to get ready for the night, he spoke up quickly.

He looked hopeful. “You don’t mind staying the night, do you?” Before you could answer, he starts to speak again. “Our extra bed hasn’t been broken in yet, you can take mine if you’d like!” Neither of you realize it, but Peter’s watching with more intent than the other 2 men. 

“Where would you’d sleep, Raymond?” Peter’s suddenly interested in the paint chipping on the doorframe.

“The extra bed, I suppose”

“That’s no good, you’ll mess up your back”

Something was unspoken between the two of them, their eyes having a conversation of their own. Ray’s big brain slowed a bit. “The…loveseat?” He offered, as if asking for permission. 

Peter made a buzzer noise. “I’ve already tried- it’s too small. And ocupado. Janine. She’s tiny. We’ll wake her up, send her home- you two figure it out.” Peter corales the other two, confused men out the room and down the hall.

Ray looked stumped, and a blush was slowly creeping from his ears. He seemed to be battling something in his head, before he refused the force tempting him as he shook his head. “I can take the floor,” he decides.

“What! I can’t ask you to do that.” 

“You’re not asking me. I’m telling you.” He wouldn’t budge. He started to clean up the mess his friends ever so gracefully left behind, before you moved to help him. 

“Just let me,” you responded to his face. Ever the host. You cleaned together quietly, but comfortably.

“I want you to know,” he bent over to put a spray back under the sink, “that we know what it’s like. To lose our jobs.” He stood to face you. You had a flash a shame hit your features, which you really couldn’t help. To the Ghostbusters’ credit, they had a good way of making you forget things.

His face was understanding. “Really, we do. We started this whole thing ‘cause we lost our jobs. It was a dumpy feeling.” You purse your lips, turning your gaze down. His head followed your eyes, and your stomach felt a little woozy as he physically commanded your attention.

“I wouldn’t say it so much if I didn’t think you deserved it.”

You let out a soft puff of air out your nose at the potential to make a joke. “You’re ready to believe me?”

His serious face melted into that of pride, his mouth splitting into a full-toothed grin.

“You’re something else. Hell yeah, I am!” He squeezed your shoulder, before having you follow him down the steps and into a basement. He stuck his head into a door and said goodnight to Egon before entering what looked like a laundry room. 

He swiped a few articles of clothing on hangers, hanging over most of the room’s perimeter. There were t shirts, longjohn’s, plain sweatshirts, smocks, of varying sizes, though they look like they’d seldom been used. He settled on gray sweat pants and a gray sweatshirt, holding them up to you from a respectable distance to measure.

“The firemen before us left all this. Joke’s on them, right?” He folds them loosely, handing them to you before rummaging through a cabinet for a toothbrush.

Your face unintentionally twitches as he holds the plastic wrapped brush out to you, wondering if it’s been here as long as the clothes you had in your arms.

He glances down at it once, before waving your fears away. “Janine bought new one’s last week, I promise.” 

After muttering an apology and leaving for you to change, he leads you back to the sleeping quarters, opening the door slowly. Winston was fast asleep, always the first to be out when the day’s work took a particular toll on him. Ray listened to the silence for a second, piecing together Peter’s absence and the sudden running of the shower down the hall. He leans over, excusing himself to get ready for the night and letting you know there was a bathroom connected to the room, albeit very small. 

After a quick brushing of your teeth, you emerge at almost the same time as him. He nearly jumps out of his skin noticing his stuffed animal still on his bed, stuttering how’d that get there’ s and it’s for memorie’ s. 

“Don’t be mean to him,” you mock-scold him in a whisper. His cheeks are still pink. He’s wearing a matching pajama set- which was enough to make you shake your head and giggle to yourself.

He looks down, noticing his pink pajamas. “It’s light red . And you should be disappointed I passed on my Dr. Thirteen robe.” He remembers the bear still in his hands.

“You want him?” He holds the little toy out to you, Smokey’s been very clearly well loved, as his fur and outfit are fading slightly. “Take good care of him,” he looks as if he’s parting with a child.

“Promise.”

He makes his way to a wardrobe as quietly as possible, pulling out a pillow and blanket for his sleep on the floor. “You want new ones? Sheets, pillowcase? I’m not sure how nice mine are.”

Your mind flashes to the nice smell his bed had, and you promptly shook your head. 

He sets up on the floor, unconsciously choosing to sleep at your technical-side. You set Smokey up next to you, tucking him in, watching Ray lay out the bedding, before he sits back and sighs up at you.

“I know it’s not the Marriott. Sorry you hafta share a room with us.” Sure, he could’ve set his den up next to Winston, or taken Egon’s currently unoccupied bed, but neither of you were gonna complain. He refused to even entertain the idea of you sleeping on the floor of whatever the room the loveseat was in, so this was how it would play out. “I can imagine you don’t often bunk with people you just met before.”

“It’s just a night,” saying it was a little useless- you had no idea how long you’d need to stay with them. You had no idea about anything at all anymore.

He fell silent. “A night?” You couldn’t decipher why his voice had a despondent tone.

“However long you’ll have me.”

A pause. “As long as you wanted.”

The clock on the opposite wall was ticking softly. It was getting late, 11:30.

“Goodnight, Ray. And thank you, really. Thank you.” 

“Goodnight. I can…wake you up before the guys do, if that’s more comfortable for you. We’ll figure something out, ok?”

You nod, and he turns off the lamp on the side table above his head.

12:05. A freshly showered Peter opening the door to two bodies out of the three, softly breathing.

“Raymond Stantz. You were supposed to get into the bed, too.”

“Go to bed, Peter.” He pulled the covers over his eyes.

[bixiebeet]

Winston just wants to get home to his family's Christmas dinner, but some stormy ghosts have other plans. Egon finally admits his deep feelings for Janine, and sparks fly while he trains her to use a proton pack.

I finally posted again on Ao3! Proud of me hehehe.