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eebydeebyderby · 1 year

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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.

#egon x reader #Fav #Very good thank you for this good #Good yes yes #egon spengler #egon spengler x reader #egon spengler x you #ghostbusters fanfiction #One shot #Awesome writing I hope you are proud because you deserve it

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eebydeebyderby · 1 year

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meet cute || ray stantz/gn! reader

pairing: ray stantz / gn reader

word count: 1447 ish

summary: your typical awkward first meeting with the world’s softest ghostbuster.

warnings: n/a :)

a/n: the plan is to make this short on purpose as a warm up to longer fics after a long absence. we’ll see how that goes rip. also proofreading??? in this economy???

--------

You always knew when Dr. Stantz was working on the Ecto: you could hear his stereo blasting from blocks away, carrying the dulcet tones of muffled rock and roll through the chilly New York air. Since you’d been hired, you and Janine had decided to split the secretarial responsibilities on the days you were both scheduled: today, she was in charge of the technical things, and you were running errands: picking up the flight suits from the dry cleaners here, stopping for parts there, and eventually winding up at the only coffee house in all of New York that everyone could agree on before heading back to the firehouse. You looked a bit of a mess, but that was just par for the course at this point. You don’t work for people called “Ghostbusters” without expecting it to be a weird job – which it absolutely is.

Still, it isn’t the worst job you’ve had. In fact, it might be one of the better ones, despite the unconventional work conditions. Your bosses are, for all intents and purposes, relatively decent people:

Dr. Spengler doesn’t say much to you aside from giving you tasks, but he stood up for you without question when that one guy got mad at you for the state the boys left his house in.

Dr. Venkman drips with sarcasm, even when all he’s doing is asking if there were any calls when he was gone, but he buys you lunch when things are too busy for you to stop and eat. He got you a turkey sandwich when you’d asked for chicken, but it was a nice gesture, and the sandwich wasn’t bad.

Winston stopped and took over the phones the few times you’ve been overwhelmed, sending you to a back area of the firehouse to take a breather before jumping back into it. Of the boys, he seemed most in tune with you and Janine, helping with the customer service side of things when he had a chance.

Dr. Stantz spent a lot of time in the lab or working on Ecto-1. You hadn’t really gotten to know him yet, but he always gave you a big smile when he saw you, and the genuineness of it made your heart skip a beat and a blush to bloom across your cheeks. You weren’t even sure if he knew your name.

The music gets louder as you get closer to the building, balancing the tray of coffee precariously on top of the pile of books Dr. Spengler ordered from the library (considering his already expansive library and Dr. Stantz’s bookstore, you didn’t think there were books left for him to borrow, but the sizable stack in your arms deemed otherwise.) There was no way you were going to get the door open by yourself, so you knock. Of course, there’s no answer, just the sound of the stereo, clanging of tools, and chipper sound of Dr. Stantz singing along to the music. Shit.

“Dr. Stantz?” you call, to no avail, “Dr. Stantz? Can you get the door, please?”

Again, nothing. He’s in his own world, and it would be easier to wrangle your own ghost than to try to get his attention. Sighing, you try to grab the inner door handle from under the stack of books, the weight of them starting to sink in. You can’t get a good grip on it, so it just jiggles pathetically.

“Dr. Stantz!” you call again, louder. Infuriatingly, nothing. Still. The books are slipping from the top of the stack, the coffee going with them.

“RAY!” you yell, trying to open the door again, leaning on it to maybe stabilize the tower of books as your hand once again fumbles for the handle. Over the sound of the music, you can't hear him approach the door, and the doorknob jiggling from the other side doesn’t register until the door opens and you’re falling forward, directly onto the unsuspecting Dr. Stantz. The coffee and books go flying and the dry cleaning slips from your hand. You fully expect to hit the floor next, but instead find yourself in the strong grip of Ray’s arms.

Well. That’s embarrassing.

As he sets you on your feet, the apologies begin, piled on top of one another like the books at your feet.

“I am so sor–”

He cuts you off.

“No, I’m sorry, I should’ve–”

You cut him off.

“No, I should’ve been–”

“Well, my music shouldn’t be that loud –”

“I should have gotten a cab –"

“It’s okay."

“Its fine, I promise.”

You’re both blushy and awkward (and more than a little embarrassed) before the silence just becomes too much for him to bear.

“We haven’t really talked since your interview,” he wipes his hands on a rag and offers it with a boyish smile, “I’m Ray.”

Offering your own smile, you give your name and shake his hand – its large, calloused, and nearly completely envelopes yours. He’s already introduced himself when you were first hired, but maybe he doesn’t remember. Smart people tend to forget small things.

For a moment, you two awkwardly stand there before you both suddenly come to your senses and bend down to grab the fallen books.

“These for Egon?” he asks, reading the title of a particularly heavy textbook.

“Yeah,” you begin stacking them, “did any of them get coffee spilled on them?”

“No, don’t think so,” he inspects the next few books carefully before putting them on your stack, and you breathe a sigh of relief. The coffee can be replaced and the clothes rewashed, but the books would have cost more than your rent to replace.

You both reach for the last book, hands grazing each other, and you both freeze for a moment. You both chuckle awkwardly as he picks it up from a different angle and hands it to you.

“No harm done!” he proclaims.

“Yeah, shame about the coffee, though,” you mutter, shuffling the stack of books into your arms.

“How ‘bout I take those?” he offers. You want to object, but he has a sweet, expectant look in his eyes, and you can’t say no.

“Just don’t dock my pay or anything,” you try to joke as he scoops up the stack with ease.

“Oh, I don’t do payroll. That’s all Pete.”

“I know, I was joking.”

“Oh.”

There’s another awkward silence as you both head upstairs to the lab, only broken by you helping Ray navigate around the stack of books to Egon’s desk, where he sets them down with a THUD!

“Thank you, Dr. Stantz,” you offer a polite, professional smile, “Truth be told, I probably would’ve killed myself trying to get up those steps.”

“Its no problem. I needed to take a break, anyway.”

In all the weeks you’d been here, you’ve never seen this man take a break.

“Right,” you say, “well, again, thanks. Anyway, I should probably head back to the coffee house and pick up more coffee. Everyone’s been really nice since I started, but I don’t want to know what Dr. Spengler is like without caffeine.”

Ray chuckles a little at that, “Yeah, you really don’t.”

You exchange smiles and he walks you back down the ground floor, making light conversation as you reach the door. In the short distance between the lab and the front door, you’d already learned all about what he’s doing with the Ecto today (something about a killswitch) and how he and Winston did all the work on her and how he thinks there’s actually a ghost living in the glove compartment. You mostly listened, observing how his eyes light up when talking about ghosts and machinery.

When you reach the door, he’s still talking, only stopping when his foot nudges one of the unfortunate paper coffee cups from the previous run. He clears his throat, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head.

“I’ll keep the music quiet this time. Just in case.”

“Thank you, Dr. Stantz.”

“You can call me Ray, if you’d like.”

“Okay, then. Thank you, Ray.”

For a moment, its quiet, but not as awkward this time. Just holding the space.

Funny. You just noticed his eyes are two different colors: one brown, one green.

“Guess I’ll be back soon.”

“Guess so.”

And with that, as much as you want to skip getting the coffee and just stick around him and listen to more about the science of parapsychology, you have a job to do, so you head back onto the street and hail a cab.

Definitely isn’t the worst job you’ve ever had. Actually, you muse as you turn and catch him watching you get into the cab before closing the door, it might end up being one of the best.

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eebydeebyderby · 1 year

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I intended to do a songfic a day but IRL happened and... Well. I intend to.domthem but not sure how fast... If anyone is.reading these... Enjoy. This one is Reader x Egon.

The song prompt was Something's Always Wrong by Toad the Wet Sprocket... And I just use the title as dialogue. LOL me.

***

"Take a deep breath."

The pitch black startles and confuses you. The voice to your left, barely a whisper, is familiar, comforting.

You comply, or try to comply. You can't feel anything. You don't even know if you're breathing.

You hear a strangled sob.

Egon. You try to speak but nothing happens. You can't feel yourself move. Maybe you're not moving?

"Shh… don't panic. Please stay calm. If you're still there, just listen to my voice..."

He takes a breath, it sounds… rough… jagged. It is not clear air in clear lungs.

It is a battle for him to breathe.

"It took our vision." He says simply. "And then it took our… touch. I only know you're there because I know the sound of your breathing. We can hear. So please, please… if you can hear me… please take a deep breath."

You manage this time, you think, a slow, long, deep breath. You hear him sob, one short burst of grief and relief.

"Ray, Winston and Peter have just trapped whatever it was... I hope… it's super quiet out there."

It's quiet a moment. You hear his breathing change.

"This is bad. I can't feel anything… I think I'm… I'm…" He takes a shuddering breath. "But… before…" He moans. "I'm losing my train of thought…"

He is suddenly breathing fast, and you realize he's panicking. You take a slow deep breath, and then another.

He slowly starts to match your rhythm, breathing with you.

You experiment. You breathe his name in Morse Code.

"Oh, you clever, wonderful…" He falls silent and you hear him try to calm his breathing, trying to stop you from hearing him cry.

But sound is all you have.

When he's calm again, you breathe Love.

"I love you." He answers. "I'm going to be honest. I'm scared. The last thing I saw was you on the ground. I don't know what happened…" He hisses. "Something's wrong. Damn it… Something's always wrong… You get stuck in a blizzard, I get trapped by a monster… We keep… missing each other. I haven't had enough time with you. I don't want to… to… I want more."

The pleading in his voice is raw, you've never heard that from him before. You don't know if you're crying, you can't tell.

"Good thing we found you then?" Peter's voice suddenly echoes around you. "Ray! Winston! Got 'em! They have like a bazillion quills each in them! Come help me!"

"I can wait." Egon says. The pain in his voice says otherwise.

"Yeah, I knew you'd say that." Peter quips.

Suddenly you feel a sharp burst of pain in your toes, and slowly the feeling starts to return to them. Then Winston and Ray are here, you can hear their footsteps, you know them, and their voices. The pain bursts increase, traveling up your legs, slowly.

"Fun fact." Winston says calmly from Egon's direction. "You have to start slow, from the feet up… it could cause paralysis, seizures… Some of these are in… delicate places. It's gonna hurt like hell, OK?" Egon yells, a raw pain. "We aren't touching you if we don't have to but we do absolutely have to get the quills out and in order… or you'll die."

You hear Egon moan. Bless Winston for taking care of him.

You try to reply, but all you can do is wiggle your toes.

"Oh, don't do that." Ray says. "Stay still as you can. Don't know how fast the toxin moves but I guarantee movement speeds it up."

They work in silence, and eventually you hear Egon moan, and breathe calmer... And you think you hear him sit up. "Oh, fuck.

"Yeah, she got the worst of it… and that's gonna be tricky. Goggles broke, but did the job… blinding her but… not permanently. Okay, kiddo, I'm going to pull this one… it will hurt like hell. It's… real close… hold on…"

You scream as it's yanked. You see blinding white behind your eyes. "S… sorry." You manage to say. You can talk.

"Ok, it's just the ones in your eyes and the side of your neck left…"

You feel a hand wrap around yours, and you sigh.

"I'm here," Egon says weakly. "I've got you… it's almost over."

You groan slightly, and squeeze his hand. The pain is building, the numbness wearing off.

Everything hurts.

The last three bursts go at the same time, and you almost faint from the pain.

Sobbing, you open your eyes and see Egon silently crying. He pulls you into his arms and holds you for a very long moment before holding you in viewing range.

His whole face is covered in little spots, as if attacked by a pink sharpie.

"Yeah they're all over you too." He answers. "Can you talk?"

"Love you." You manage.

He pulls you close again and this time you manage to put your arms around him.

"I'm going to incarcerate this POS." Peter announces. "Get a drink or six."

"Sounds good." Winston says. "Not enough room in Ecto One for everyone."

"I'll stay, drive us all home. When you're ready. Take your time." Ray walks off and sits nearby.

You sigh and cuddle closer to Egon. "I intend to."

#Oh yes this is wonderful #Thank you for this food #Delicious thank you so much #The prose #The emotion #The rawness of it all #Fic #egon x reader #Whump #Hurt/comfort #I also love how you write Winston and Peter #reader x egon

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eebydeebyderby · 1 year

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Hey. Your writing is always SO lovely I want to tenderly gnaw on it and keep it in my pocket forever. Love you tumblr user eebydeebyderby <3

lmao that's so kind thank you <3

#anonymous

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eebydeebyderby · 1 year

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Keep you Safe (Part 2)

In which Peter misbehaves on live television, and Egon cares for Reader when she comes down with a mild bug.

A continuation of this one-shot, but it can be skipped without really missing any context.

Chapter 1

General info:

Egon x fem!Reader, established romantic relationship, hurt/comfort, the boys are dorks, good vibes

Part 2 of 5

Chapter content warnings: blood mention (very minor)

~4.8k words

previous chapter

Peter was notorious for behaving poorly during television interviews, so it came as a surprise to you that he was scheduled for one later today.

You had spent the past week completely engrossed in your research, and today was especially exciting: you were going to test the new enzymatic qualities of the Buerian plasmids you constructed from the ectoplasm samples collected from your last call. While you were waiting for the distillers to process your tinctures, you decided to spend time with Janine upstairs for an hour or two.

"I'm not keeping you from anything?" you asked.

"No, honey. Not at all. It's pretty slow today." Janine flipped open her binder. “We gotta 4:00pm later today, Ray has a solo at 8:00pm, aaaaand,” she said, sliding her finger down the page, “a 2:00am tomorrow morning. Typical non-human Class II things we always get. Peter also has that interview in about two hours." She shut her binder and leaned closer to you. "I just pretend to be busy whenever your brother comes out," she whispered. "You know that."

You nodded. “Do you know where Winston is? I haven’t seen him all day.”

“Tanya worked a double at the ER last night, so Winston called in to watch the kids and keep the house solo for a while so she can rest.”

The garage door scraped open and Ray drove in the Ecto-One, freshly washed and waxed. He rolled down the window and stuck his head out, beaming brightly. “Hi, YN! Hi, Janine! Good morning!”

"Ray!" Janine called out as he exited the car. "You're due a fresh coat of polish! Get your butt over here."

Janine, in an effort to help Ray quell his nail biting, had offered to paint Ray's nails every few days. So far, it was working well—Ray was nearing two weeks without having bitten his nails. She opened a drawer full of dozens of bottles of nail polish as Ray trotted over. "Pick a color, honey, and we'll get you nice and dolled up."

“Ooooh, there’s so many,” Ray said eagerly. “You pick this time.”

“Sure.” She rummaged through the drawer and pulled out an ocean-blue color, flecked with copper flakes. “How about this one? Lapis lazuli. It matches your eyes.”

“I like it! Let’s do it.”

Janine flicked the switch to her desk lamp a few times, but it remained dark. She tutted. “Lamp’s out. We’re gonna have to head to the restroom where I can get better lighting. YN, honey, can you watch the phone for a moment?”

“Yeah, of course.”

The two of them headed off. After a moment, the phone rang and you checked the caller-ID. It was the landline extension to Peter’s tiny office in the room over. You put the phone to your ear. “Ghostbusters. Whaddya want?”

Peter sighed. “Why do you hate me, dear sister?” he asked in the saddest voice he could muster.

You cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t hate you. What makes you think that?”

“You do. It was my second year of undergrad. You said you hated me after I told Egon about the time you were five and I convinced you that eating the paper in a fortune cookie guaranteed that the fortune would come true, and you ate the papers out of any fortune cookie you could get ahold of for two months.”

“Oh, yeah. I remember that. Actually, I do hate you.”

“Wait.” Peter lowered his voice. “Quiet for a second.”

“Why?”

“Shh…” Peter’s voice was nearly inaudible, only the tiniest of whispers. “Something…I think something…” He trailed off and you held the receiver closer to your ear.

“‘Something’ what? Peter?”

“I think…something…is gonna…”

“GETCHA!”

Peter’s voice boomed in your ear as he seized your shoulders, making you yelp and drop the phone on the desk. You slugged him on his arm. “Damn you! How did you get the downstairs phone all the way up here?”

Peter laughed, rubbing the sore spot on his arm. “I made a ninety foot phone cable. Isn’t it great?”

“I think it’s dangerous for you. You’re gonna strangle yourself like a turtle in a fishing net one day.”

Peter laughed again and harshly tousled your hair, which you quickly protested by batting his hand away. “You’re grumpy today. You feeling unwell or something?”

“No.”

“Yes. You just don’t know it yet. Oh, Ray! Janine! Fresh coat of paint?” he asked as they reentered the room.

“Yeah!” Ray trotted over and held out his hand. “Wanna see?”

Peter turned Ray's hand this way and that with narrowed eyes and pouty lips, like an appraiser looking over an antique. "Yeah, that does quite nicely on you. Matches your eyes." He released Ray's hand and turned to you. "Come down with me to the lab. I need to ask Egon for a favor."

"Why do you need me with you?"

“He’s nicer to me when you’re around because he has a crush on you."

You scoffed, a smile ghosting over your lips. “Fine. I’m heading down there anyway to check on some things. Come on.”

Egon was seated at his desk when the two of you clambered downstairs, peering into his microscope. "Hello, Venkman & Venkman," he said pleasantly.

"Do you have any empty cleaning supply bottles, Eegs?" Peter asked.

"There should be a clean Windex bottle in the recycling bin. Help yourself."

“No Pinesol?”

“Afraid not.”

Peter buzzed his lips in disappointment. “It’ll have to do. I need to head out and grab some Kool-Aid on the way to the interview. See you guys later.”

“Have fun!” you called out.

“Only if it’s at someone else’s expense!” he replied, disappearing up the staircase with his empty bottle in-hand.

Your distillers were finished running, and you spent the next hour or so prepping the stabilizing solutions for your enzymes while Egon fiddled with his microscope. The two of you worked in comfortable silence, the only noises being the rustling of papers and the old firehouse plumbing, until you piped up, “Hey, Spengs?”

“Yes?” he asked, not taking his eyes off his microscope.

“Where’s that plant of yours that got chewed up by a rat?”

“My buckler fern? I have it in one of the incubation drawers.”

“How’s it doing?”

“The prognosis is incredibly poor. It has a severe systemic bacterial infection and the trauma to the tissue has shown no signs of healing.”

“Can I try something?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

You walked down the cellar stairs into the incubation room and opened the drawer labeled ‘Dryopteris dilatata.” You pulled out one of the saddest plants you’d ever seen: a wilted, torn up, flaccid fern whose stems were bent over with the weight of its withered, shredded leaves. You carried it to your desk, delicately set it down, and prepped the smallest syringe you had with the fresh solution. Using a magnifying glass and a microneedle, you delicately injected a small amount into the vascular system of the plant’s rhizome. “There,” you muttered. “I hope this helps you feel a bit better.”

Janine’s voice crackled on the firehouse speakers. “Peter’s interview is in two minutes! Everybody take a break and come watch!” The audio blared in your ears and for a split second triggered a sharp pain in your head, but it almost immediately disappeared. Soon Janine came trotting down the stairs to the lab, her heels clacking sharply. She was quickly followed by Ray, who excitedly plodded down the stairs in his heavy boots.

Egon set aside his work and joined the others in the room next door, but you stayed at your desk, carefully jotting down notes about the plant and snapping a few pictures of it on Winston’s old camera.

Ray entered the lab, practically bouncing with excitement. “YN, are you coming?”

“I might. I might not. Depends how long I take with this nasty plant.”

“Come on!” Ray pleaded. “Peter’s your brother. You love him.” He paused. “Most of the time.”

“I see that guy every day. Just tape it over and I’ll watch it later.”

“No! We want you to come watch it with us. Please?”

“Okay, how’s this? Let me just finish up the notes and I’ll be over there. It’ll take maybe five minutes. I’ll miss some of it but I’ll be there for the rest of it.”

Ray’s face fell a bit, but he acquiesced. “Aw, okay,” he said. “We’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll hurry up, Ray,” you called after him. "I promise." You figured watching the interview would take very little of your time—Peter almost never hit the five minute mark before being cut off.

After recording a few of the plant’s specifications, you gathered up your workstation, placed the plant back in its incubation drawer, and headed upstairs. It took much more effort than usual to climb the cellar stairs; your limbs were achy and heavy, and a mild ache started settling behind your eyes. You plopped down on the couch next to Egon in the next room and he tossed his arm around you.

“—exactly happened on that call?” the host asked.

Peter was sprawled out on a couch across from the host, his head resting in Dana’s lap. “Y’know how the Flintstone vitamin bottles say to take only two a day? YN took three. Huge mess. Blood everywhere.”

"C'mon, Dr. Venkman, what really happened that night?"

"I dunno. I wasn't there. I was in jail."

Dana’s voice was icy when she spoke, “If you want this interview to continue in any meaningful capacity, Richard, I recommend dropping any topics that Peter explicitly said he wouldn’t discuss prior to our meeting.”

“Would you be willing to tell us what happened that night, Mrs. Barret?"

Dana locked her sharp gaze onto the interviewer. “What do you think?”

The interviewer nervously cleared his throat, his face burning under Dana's searing eyes. “Has your sister returned to going on field calls? Or has she considered it?”

“Yeah, she actually came with us last week on a lesser demonic call. Other than her attempting to tear me apart with her bare hands for no reason, it went pretty well. She knows her demon stuff better than anyone. It’s why our family is banned from most churches.”

“Do you think she’s really ready for field work again?”

Peter eyed the interviewer captiously. “Why don’t you ask her? It isn’t my question to answer.”

“But, does she—?”

“Excuse me for one moment,” Peter cut in. “I’m a tad thirsty.” Peter pulled his Windex bottle out of Dana’s bag and rapidly gulped down all of its contents.

Your eyes strained from the brightness of the TV; slightly twinging your headache. You buried your face into Egon’s chest to block the light, choosing instead to simply listen to the interview. It was already in its death spiral, you thought.

After a moment of shocked silence, the interviewer cleared his throat and asked, “Mrs. Barret, is this typical behavior for your husband?”

“No. It’s very odd,” Dana said, her voice cold and smooth. “He usually drinks Pinesol.”

“Okay!” the interviewer said much louder than he intended, fully flustered. “Thank you two so much for your time! We’ll end things a little early today.”

“Thanks, Dick. I’m Peter Venkman with my beautiful wife Dana Barret and I encourage everyone to mind their own goddamned busin—”

The broadcast cut to the middle of a vodka commercial. After a moment, it cut back to a reporter saying loudly, "Channel 2 News does not condone the act of drinking dangerous and toxic substances. Windex has also issued the following statement: please do not, under any circumstances, consume the contents of our products or use the containers for or around food storage."

Janine switched off the TV. “That was much more civil than Peter’s interviews usually are,” she mused.

You pulled away from Egon, scowling from the brightness of the room. “He behaves better around Dana.”

"You okay, honey?" Janine asked.

"I've had a bit of a headache for a while. Nothing bad."

You and Egon were working in the lab when Janine’s voice crackled loudly in the overhead speakers, “Severe weather warning for tonight! Everyone who doesn’t want to be trapped in here by a blizzard needs to leave in the next two hours before lockdown!”

The booming of the speaker rang sharply in your head and you closed your eyes for a moment, waiting for the worst of the piercing ache to subside before continuing your work. Just a few more tasks, and you were done for the night. You just needed to go a little bit longer.

"I'm going to continue working through the storm,” Egon said, “assuming there isn't a power outage. What are your plans?"

“I want to stay with you.”

He remained quiet, but a slight blush spread across his face. He cleared his throat. “Alright," he said quietly, resuming his work. "Try not to overwork yourself.”

“I should be the one saying that to you,” you said flatly, heading down into the incubation cellar. You pulled out the fern and a rush of excitement lit up your face. The plant's leaves were no longer flaccid and some of their color had returned. It was still practically torn to shreds, but the living parts had a huge burst of life. “Oh, wow…” you muttered. You quickly trotted up the stairs. “Egon! Look at our doomed little plant.”

He turned away from his microscope and raised his eyebrows. “That’s quite impressive. Is that the result of your Buerian ectoplasmic monoclonal enzyme immunotherapy?”

“Yeah.” You returned to your desk and carefully snipped off a leaf with a small pair of scissors. After preparing a quick slide, you placed it under a microscope. You gasped. “Look at this!” you squealed. “You can actually see the tissue granulation and cellular protein binding!” You were practically bouncing in your seat as you rapidly jotted down notes. “Almost none of this is the expected scar tissue. It’s mostly fresh tissue regeneration from specialized stem cell healing. I’ve only ever seen this sort of thing in placental stem cell therapy, and it was nowhere near this sort of efficacy or speed.”

Egon peered into your microscope and adjusted the focus a bit. "I'm impressed. This is some of your best work yet." He turned his head and caught you for a kiss on the bridge of your nose, gently grabbed your face to steady his aim, and planted a kiss on your lips.

You giggled as he kissed your cheek. “Ohh, thank you, Dr. Spengler. This is very high praise from a coworker.”

“I’m so proud of you,” he muttered, kissing your jaw. “You’re wonderful.”

You preened with his sudden burst of affection. “Do you do this with all your coworkers?”

“Only the ones I’m in love with.” His breath was hot on your neck and you gasped, digging your fingers into his hair.

“Now’s not a great time. We still have work,” you said airily, tilting your head to give him better access to your neck.

“It can wait,” he breathed into the crook of your neck, making you shudder. Then, without warning, he snapped a sharp bite into your shoulder.

“Ah!” You squealed, nearly jumping out of your seat. You smacked him. “Stop it! We’re in the lab.”

“We’re alone in the lab,” he purred in your ear, sending a pleasant shiver up your spine.

You scoffed, your face flushed with heat, and yanked yourself out of his grip. “Go finish your work, dork. And let me finish mine.”

“Alright, sweetheart.” He stood up and planted a quick kiss on your forehead. He cupped your face in his hands. “Aaand, one more.” He kissed your forehead again. “Hold on. One more.” He kissed your brow, nipped a bit at the bridge of your nose.

You giggled.

“Wait, that one didn’t count. One more.”

You laughed as he planted a sloppy kiss on your cheek. “Get off!”

Egon went back to his work station and you sat back at your desk with a huge grin on your face, absolutely beaming. Very soon, though, your boost of energy depleted. Your arms grew heavy and your movements sluggish as you delicately worked with the paper-thin leaf in your hand, trying to slice the delicate vascular system with as much precision as possible.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to relax some of the pain clenching your head, but it didn’t help. You shook your head a bit, narrowed your eyes to try and block out some of the searing brightness of the lab lights. You were tired, but you just had a few tasks left. Just a few things and you could go lie down in bed, relax in the dark and quiet, rest your sore body. Your eyes drooped and your hands started shaking a bit with the ache building in your limbs, but you used all the willpower you could muster to keep your near-microscopic movements steady. A slight chill went up your spine and you shook your head again, trying to shake off the unpleasant sensation. Just a bit longer, and you could lie down. Just a little more—

“Ow!”

You gasped as the lancet slipped slightly in your grip and sliced into the pad of your finger. You instinctively dropped the lancet and it clattered onto the table, spattering small flecks of blood on its pristine white surface.

In a flash Egon was standing behind you, lightly clamping a towel over your finger. “What happened?”

“I think I lost focus for a second.”

“Let’s get you patched up.” Keeping a protective arm around you, Egon walked you to the sink and sat you in front of it. You thought it was excessive attention for such a small thing as you let him rinse your hand beneath warm water—he'd fretted over any small injury of yours for the past three months. “It’s a fairly shallow cut,” he said looking over your finger. “You’ll be good to go with an antiseptic soak, Neosporin, a butterfly, and a two layer wet-dry dressing."

"I appreciate the level of care," you said, eyes half-closed as you pulled out a small box of bandages from the first-aid kit. "But I think a little soapy water and a band-aid should do okay.”

“Alright.” He furrowed his brows a bit after you wrapped your finger and tilted your chin up to get a better look at you. “I think you should retire for the night. You seem unwell. Your eyes are downcast and your movements are lethargic.”

“My head’s killing me,” you muttered.

He brushed the palm of his hand along your forehead. His touch was calloused, rough, and gentle as a feather. “You’re running a fever. With your permission, I’d like to run a quick test.”

You yawned. “Okay.”

He rummaged through the first-aid kit and pulled out a swab kit.

You leaned your head in your hand and your elbow against the table, your eyes closed.

“I’m going to place this in your nasal cavity to your nasopharynx, but it should take less than ten seconds. Stop me at any point you need.”

You kept your eyes closed. “Mm-hm."

"Stay still."

"Mm-hm."

You remembered Peter's shrieks when he got a nasal swab about a month prior and braced yourself for a moment, but nothing happened. You cracked an eye open. “When are you going to do the swab?”

“It’s already finished,” he said, screwing the lid on the sample tube.

"Oh. Is that it?"

"Yes. You did well."

"Why was Peter screaming when he got flu swabbed last month?"

"He mixed up the labels of his sample kit and Ray's, and mistakenly put chili oil on his own swab—which was then placed up his nose."

“Oh, okay. I’m gonna put away my plasmids and then I'm going to sleep.”

“I’ll put them away for you. You rest up.”

“Okay.” You yawned and slumped over the table, your head in your arms. "Here's good."

“Come on, sweetheart.” He scooped you up, cradled your head against his chest.

“But I wanna stay with you.” Your voice was slightly muffled against his coat as he carried you up the stairs.

“I’ll be up with you soon. Let me close up the lab for the night.”

“Aww, okay.” An unpleasant chill washed over your entire body and you shuddered, trying to draw yourself closer against his warmth as the two of you entered the bedroom.

“Cold?” he asked as he gently laid you on his bed.

"Freezing."

He slipped his coat off and draped it over you as you curled up on the bed. It was still warm from hugging his body. You tightly wrapped yourself up his coat, the faint smell of his cologne absolutely intoxicating. He pulled the blanket up to your shoulder and grabbed the blanket off Peter’s bed.

You yawned. “Isn’t it bad to cover someone up with a fever?” you asked thickly.

“No.” He tossed Peter’s blanket over you. “Not unless your core temperature hits 104℉.” He pressed his palm to your forehead, then slid his hand down to the side of your face. “And I don’t think that’s anything to worry about,” he said, stroking your cheek with his thumb. He leaned forward and planted a light kiss on the bridge of your nose. “Get some rest,” he muttered, his breath warm on your face. “I’ll be back soon.” He planted another light kiss on your brow and departed.

You were dozing when he returned about a half hour later, unable to will yourself to sleep, despite your fatigue. “Are you awake?” he asked quietly as he walked into the room.

“My head is killing me,” you grumbled.

“I’ll keep the lights off, then.” He gently shut the door. “You tested positive for influenza.”

You groaned. "Stay away, then. I'll get you sick."

"It's a fairly low risk, and one I'm more than willing to take." He walked over to the bed and helped you sit up a bit. “Here," he said, offering you two small capsules in his palm and a mug of tea. "A couple of antivirals and you should start feeling better by the morning.”

You took the pills and bounced them in your hand a bit. “Are these legal?”

“Not in the United States, no.”

“Mm-hmm. Yeah.” You popped the pills in your mouth and swallowed them with a few gulps of warm tea. You handed him back the mug and slumped back into the bed. You shut your eyes, unable to suppress the convulsions wracking your body. “I’m cold.”

You felt the mattress sink a bit with his weight as he slipped into bed behind you. He wrapped his arm around your middle and pulled himself against you, tucked your head under his chin and slipped his hand over yours.

You curled up beneath him, trying to draw yourself as close to his warmth as you could. “I’m so cold, Egon,” you said, shivering beneath him.

"I know, sweetheart." He tightened his grip around you beneath the covers, bundled up in his coat. "Try to get some sleep."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The blizzard was still raging outside when you awakened, completely whiting out the window, but some of the morning sunlight managed to shine dully throughout the messy bedroom. Your headache was much better, but it still strained your eyes a bit when you opened them fully. You were still curled up beneath Egon, his arm loosely wrapped around your middle. Judging by his breathing—heavy, steady, and relaxed, Egon was still deeply asleep. Wide awake, you glanced at the digital clock and realized that you were awake much earlier than was practical.

Slowly, carefully, you wriggled out of his grip and propped yourself up against the bed’s headboard. You reached over and swiped the book Peter had on the nightstand beside his bed—an old favorite the two of you grew up with and often intensely bickered about during late-night discussions with all the passion of two middle schoolers. You flipped through it to the page Peter had bookmarked with a small picture of Dana and Oscar, just before the halfway mark. It was a story the two of you practically had memorized, but it was one you could enjoy countless times. Reading until you were sleepy again was as good a plan as any.

Egon stirred. Still mostly asleep, he drew himself closer to you and rested his head on your stomach, clumsily tossed his arm around you. You pulled the blanket up to his shoulder and idly ran your fingers over his hair as you read.

You quickly became engrossed in your story and eagerly devoured a few chapters, pausing only to occasionally lean over and plant a delicate kiss on Egon's brow. Drowsiness eventually crept up on you enough for you to set your book aside and settle back into bed. With the icy storm raging outside and Egon wrapped in your arms, the two of you cozy and warm beneath the covers, you soon fell back asleep.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The storm ran for the entirety of the next day, rattling the windows and pushing the old building’s radiator to its absolute limit. You woke up alone; Egon had departed to the lab sometime before daybreak, but he’d left you some breakfast and a thermos of tea on the overcrowded nightstand. You spent most of the morning idling in bed with Peter’s book, dozing on and off and nibbling on some toast.

You trudged down the stairs, still half-asleep and cozily bundled up in his old coat.

He cocked an eyebrow when he heard you enter the lab. "You should be resting," he said flatly, not looking up from the boot on his desk.

"Yeah, but I missed you."

He tried putting on a strict face, but there was no hiding the pink tinge spilling across his face. He cleared his throat. “I’d be lying if I said I won’t enjoy your company. That being said, I ask that you don’t overextend yourself. You’re still fighting off a mild flu.”

“I’ll go back up soon. Just wanted to say ‘hi’.” You walked up next to him. “Whatcha doing with that boot? Waterproofing?”

“Adding a defensive measure. It’s Ray’s design. He got the idea from KGB weaponry blueprints he found at the Columbia Library archives.” Egon tapped the heel of the boot a few times and two tiny prongs sprang out from the front. “Carbon steel alloy with copper coating. Three knocks trigger the blades. A fourth knock triggers the fifty-thousand volt plasma taser.” He tapped the heel again and you recoiled as the prongs exploded with electricity, glowing a fluorescent green.

"Yeesh…" you muttered, watching the crackling green taser. "I know we can't injure ghosts, but they can still feel pain."

“I know it comes across as vicious. But, should we ever be immobilized or unarmed, this may be our last line of self-defense.”

You stood quiet.

He tapped the heel and the prongs retracted.

“Are we wearing them from now on?”

“Ray and I will present them at our next debriefing, and each of us will choose whether or not we want to equip them."

"I think I'm gonna go back to bed."

"Alright, sweetheart." He pulled you in for a quick kiss on your brow. "Get some rest."

You went upstairs and settled yourself nicely into bed with Peter’s book and some more toast, but not even fifteen minutes passed when Egon entered the bedroom.

You smiled. “Hey, Spengs. What’s up?”

"Forgive me if this sounds cloying," he said, closing the door behind himself. "But, I missed you."

You laughed and beckoned him over.

He pulled his glasses off and slipped into bed with you. You wrapped your arms around him, tossed your leg over him and pulled yourself close to him, pressing your cheek against the back of his shoulder.

Egon took a deep breath and sighed, allowing himself to relax and sink into the bed.

You were cozy and bursting with affection when an evil thought came over you. An evil, treacherous urge, an unspeakable act of ambush and violence. A betrayal of trust and love and loyalty, a delicious indulgence of debauchery and licentious brutality. You contemplated for a moment, stewing in your thoughts as he idly ran his hand over your forearm.

Giving into wickedness, you sank your teeth into his shoulder and he jumped. “Woah, hey!” He snickered. "What are you doing back there?"

"Nothing."

"'Nothing'?"

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

"Yeah. Those were someone else's teeth."

He chuckled and pulled up your hand to plant a kiss on your palm. "Am I safe to rest without fear of getting bit?"

"No."

"Oh, alright. I'll be in the lab, then." He tried getting out of bed, but you tightened your grip and kept him from pulling away.

"Okay, you're safe now. Will you stay?"

He snickered. "Of course."

#egon x reader #egon spengler x reader #ghostbusters fanfiction #ghostbusters x reader #ghostbusters #egon spengler #ray stantz #winston zeddemore #peter venkman #Reader is Peter's sister because that's an absolute recipe for chaos #reader insert #ghostbusters angst #ghostbuster x reader #keep you safe

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eebydeebyderby · 1 year

Text

A Gift

author’s note: hi, sorry for not being active. ive been dealing with life but im in a stable place now. please feel free to send in requests to keep me writing!

Pairings: Egon Spengler x reader

Warning(s): a bit out of character, i haven’t been active much in the fandom.

Not proofread

Every year was the same, you spend Christmas alone and spend New Years alone. You were okay with that, until you met Egon Spengler. A local Ghostbuster, you met him during one of his busts because you had called them for help. Your apartment was being weird and you put up with it but when you began to see floating people standing by the end of your bed? You immediately called them up and asked them to come help you.

After they arrived and dealt with the problem, a certain Ghostbuster recognized your collection of books that were filled with ecosystems. He asked about it and you told him that you had a hobby of reading about ecosystems. Eventually, you both began to talk about it while the rest cleaned up the place and haven’t noticed how much time went by until ‘Peter’ interrupted you two. When you were given a quota of the payment for their services. you were surprised to see that it was cheap and you decided to give the payment up front.

The night ended with Egon dragging Peter away who was protested about the quota you were given and Ray apologizing before shutting the door. After that, you were intrigued with the Ghostbuster named Egon and hoped you would see him again. Christmas was coming up, you didn’t really have friends to spend time with so you just decorated your apartment while watching old Christmas movies. Maybe, because of how alone you’ve spent most of your life, you felt alone for the first time after meeting Egon.

Was it a bad thing? You’d like to think it wasn’t, after all, you didn’t know anything about him except his name and that he collected spores and fungus. It was nice talking to someone, especially about stuff you enjoyed and now, you just yearned for company.

Out of curiosity and desperation, you took out your embroidery supplies and began to embroider a handkerchief. You were thinking about making him a customized handkerchief with his initial and some fungi on it. If he asks why you made him this, you’d tell him that the holidays was coming up and you wanted to give him something in return for giving you a deal on their services.

After a few days, you finally built the courage to go see him and give him the handkerchief. You baked cookies just in case he thought it was weird that you brought him something and not for everyone else. You put effort into your appearance, telling yourself that it wasn’t weird and it was okay. (Was it?). After a nice walk, you found that the Ghostbusters headquarters wasn’t far from your apartment and just a little walk away. Your nerves began to act up, you felt yourself shake a bit and you unknowingly chewed on your bottom lip as you got closer.

Standing outside, you cleared your throat and prepared yourself. Part of you wanted to walk back to your apartment but the other part of you wanted to go in. You didn’t know how this was going to turn out and that scared you. What if Egon thinks this is weird and turns you away? Pushing yourself, you opened the door and peeked inside. It was very large inside, a car, equipment, tables, etc. It looked cool, you’ve never seen anything like this.

“Hello?” You called out, walking inside and looked around.

You noticed a woman sitting at a desk, she was flipping through a magazine and chewed on gum. You studied her for a bit, her hair was red and she wore a comfortable outfit. You liked it, you wanted to ask where she got her cardigan from. “Uh, hello?” You held the container of baked goods a bit too tightly for your liking, you never had an issue with speaking to strangers. The woman looked up and put down her magazine,”I am sorry, I didn’t hear you. How may I help you?” She asked. Her accent was heavy, it was nice to listen to.

“Oh, umh, I’m looking for the Ghostbusters? I would like to speak with them if that’s okay?” You asked. The woman nodded with a little smile,”Of course, just give me a second. Wait here, please.” She stood up and made her way around the desk. She walked upstairs, you heard faints voices and footsteps. You began to feel more nervous, was this weird? Maybe, you should run off and never come back.

Before you had a chance to make a final decision, you heard them coming down the stairs and you felt yourself stiffen. Here’s now or never. You felt your face warm up a bit when you seen Egon, he wore a lab coat and a suit. He looked so handsome in his attire and you felt yourself stare a little too long. “Thank you for waiting, here they are,” The woman says with a gentle smile before returning to her desk.“Oh, it’s Egon’s lover.” Peter teased, earning a little shove from Egon. You chuckled a bit at that, you shook your head and cleared your throat. “My name is [your name], if you had forgotten. Uh, I just wanted to come by and thank you personally for helping me.”

You showed them the container of baked goods, Ray took it and looked inside. He gasped,”Oh, you’re such an angel! They look and smell wonderful!” He complimented, you smiled at him and nodded your head. “Thank you, I am glad to hear that.” You fidgeted with the end of your scarf. Peter looked at you and back at Egon. He rose an eyebrow and nudged Ray’s arm. Ray stopped eating to ask him what, Peter motioned his head to you. After realizing, Ray nodded and closed the lid to the container.

“Thank you once again, Peter and I have something to do! Egon, show our guest to the door!” Ray and Peter rushed upstairs without another word.

Egon gave a weird look up at them as they ran up the stairs and looked at you. The two of you walked towards the door but you stopped and turned to him. You gave him a little nervous smile,”I…Uh, I wanted to give you something, if that’s okay with you?” You asked in such a nervous voice. Egon nodded and walked closer to you. You reached into your pocket and took out a neatly folded handkerchief. You extended your hands to him, Egon gently took it and looked at it.

He examined it and found that his initial and some mushrooms were embroidered on it. He never had anyone make him anything like this and he wasn’t sure how to thank you. You gave him a little smile and Egon felt something. “You told me you have a collection of spores and fungus so…I thought adding that would be nice…Do you like it?” You asked. Egon nodded and folded it up,”Yes, I like it very much. Thank you,” He said, rather too quickly which you noticed.

You felt yourself chuckle at that and fixed your scarf. “Well, I should be going. It..It was nice talking to you again.” You said. Egon tucked the handkerchief into his square pocket of his suit and he nodded, stepping away. You gave him a smile before opening the door to leave until you both heard Peter.

“Just ask each other out already!” He yelled.

You gave Egon an embarrassed look and grabbed the collar of your scarf. Egon straightened his tie a bit and walked closer to you. “Let’s talk outside without being disturbed.” He muttered, opening the door a bit more for the two of you. You two stepped outside and you gave a nervous laugh,”Peter doesn’t have a sense of boundaries, doesn’t he?” You said.

Egon pushed up his glasses,”Unfortunately but that is one of his qualities as he says.” You laughed a bit at that and fixed your jacket as you felt the wind. “He’s right, I’ve been wanting to talk to you again.” He said which made you happy, he was thinking of you? You smiled at him, you really hoped this worked out because you really enjoy his company.

“Assuming, you’d like to. Would you like to go out on a date?” Egon said, quickly and you noticed it again.

You laughed a bit, covering your mouth and he felt a bit embarrassed, was that a no? You nodded your head,”Yes, Egon. I would love to.” You say, reaching over and fixing the handkerchief so that a little mushroom was peeking over his pocket. Egon smiled a bit? He cleared his facial expression before clearing his throat,”I will pick you on tomorrow at 8, if that’s a reasonable time?” He asked. You nodded and began to walk down the steps.

“I look forward to it,” You say, turning to him.

Egon smiled slightly, you smiled because he looked so handsome with a smile and you turned away to walk home. Egon watched you leave, fidgeting with his handkerchief and smiled upon remembering that you made it for him. A gift, from someone he found interesting and hoping would be more than that.

#Yes very good #I like #Yes feed me #Thank you for this food

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eebydeebyderby · 1 year

Text

Look at my blorbo. Look at him. I want to make him suffer. I want to drag him through the dirt until there is blood on his face and terror in his eyes and sickness in his body. I want to make him cry out for his loved ones. I want to make him fear for his life, yet at the same time, crave the sweet release of death.

And then I want to rescue him, and gently patch up his wounds, and soothe his fears, and wrap him up in a nice warm blanket and give him tea and cuddles and put him to bed and softly sing him his favourite song until he falls asleep.

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eebydeebyderby · 1 year

Note

Just discovered your EgonxReader stuff and it's my current addiction so I'mma need more of that good stuff asap pls and thank u

Maybe a nice lil sick fic where Egon fusses over reader? But really I'll take whatever you have cookin bc i need more Egon

Thank you for your kind words :) Yeah I love me some hurt/comfort. The current WIP will have some for sure in an upcoming chapter. I'm not the fastest writer so I appreciate everyone's patience.

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eebydeebyderby · 1 year

Text

Hands hands hands hands hands

#Hands #HANDS #HANDSHANDSHANDS

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eebydeebyderby · 1 year

Text

Keep you Safe (REVISED)

In which Reader returns to field calls after a three-month recovery, and Egon struggles with past trauma.

A continuation of this one-shot, but it can be skipped without missing any context.

General info:

Egon x fem!Reader, established romantic relationship, hurt/comfort, the boys are dorks, good vibes

Part 1 of 5

Content warnings: blood mention, a spooky little guy

~5.1k words

(I was unhappy with the previous version of this chapter, but I'll leave it up so that people can see the huge improvements that two great proofreaders (@bookswinalways and @mirandamnit(derogatory) can make between drafts.)

You gasped in delight. That’s it.

You closed the book in your hands and trotted across the room to Egon, who was peering intently into his microscope. “Spengs," you said, a smile spreading across your face, "I think I’ve identified your ghost.”

He pushed his chair back and looked up at you, openly adoring. “Tell me.”

“It sounds like a revenant of Buer to me,” you said excitedly, handing him back his field book.

He furrowed his brow a bit, and leaned back in his chair. “I’m not familiar with that entity.”

“It’s a lower level demonic entity associated with healing and eternal life." You scuttled over to the bookshelf and pulled out your large, tattered copy of Pseudomonarchia Daemonum, its spine held together by several layers of yellowing clear tape. “I’ve always wanted to get my hands on a Buerian ectoplasmic sample,” you said as you flipped through the withered pages and handed Egon the textbook, “but it’s assumed they went extinct when the Shandorian cultists slaughtered the only remaining nest back in the twenties.”

Egon shrugged, reading over the text. “Perhaps we were wrong in our assumption. The description seems to fit perfectly, and this is entirely unique from cases we’ve previously had.”

“Egon.” He couldn’t suppress the small smile creeping over his face from the giddiness bubbling in your voice. “If this really is Buerian, and if we could secure a live ectoplasmic sample and construct a viable protein expression vector plasmid, it would be an absolute game changer in our research. Just imagine if we could isolate the enzyme production responsible for Buer’s regenerative properties.”

“This creature is a Class IV quasi-corporeal specter,” he said, reading over your notes written in the margins of the tattered pages. “I'm sorry to say that I don’t think it’s possible to get a fully serviceable sample back to our lab on time for it to be of any use. It would destabilize far too quickly. The site is almost eighty miles out.”

“Well,” you said a bit hesitantly, “I should be able to stabilize it in the field long enough to get it back here in workable condition, but only…but only if I go on the call with you guys.”

Egon’s head shot up from the textbook and he locked eyes with you. You saw the split second of panic on his face before he almost immediately forced it back. It took him a moment to summon his voice. “If you believe that is best.”

For just a few moments, a tense silence smothered the lab.

"Yeah. I'm coming to the next call with you guys," you said, trying and failing to sound firm. “I could show you or one of the guys how to stabilize the sample long enough to get it here, but it’d take a few weeks. The entity will disappear after Sagittarius passes tomorrow. We’d have to wait at least another year for it to come back.”

You searched his face as he kept his gaze intently on the textbook, avoiding your eye. “You don’t seem too thrilled about me going.”

He swallowed. “It’s something I’d have to get used to again,” he said. “That's all.”

You sighed. "You used to get so excited when I'd go on busts with you…"

His eyes flitted to the thick scars torn along your forearm.

You followed his gaze and yanked your sleeve down to your wrist, your face burning. “I think more than enough time has passed for me to start going on field-calls again, don’t you think?”

He stayed quiet, his gaze still on your arm. After a moment, he cleared his throat and glanced at his watch. “It’s 2:58,” he said, a bit strained. “Our debriefing for tomorrow’s call is in two minutes, so we’d better head upstairs.”

“Please don’t avoid my question.”

He fiddled with his collar and clenched his jaw, avoiding your eye. “Can we discuss this later?”

You sighed again. “Alright.”

The other boys were already seated around the kitchen table and munching on snacks when the two of you entered. The homemade rat-trap Egon designed sat ominously beneath the table, sizzling quietly.

Winston popped open a can of seltzer and leaned back in his chair. “Any updates on identifying our mystery ghostie?”

“We’re looking at a revenant of Buer,” you said. “It’s a low-level demonic entity. Pretty mellow.”

“I thought the Shandor freaks killed them all off seventy years ago,” Peter said.

“I did, too,” you said. “But I think this one may be the last of its kind. In all honesty this call can be skipped because the demon is gonna disappear once Sagittarius is over tomorrow.”

“‘But’?” Peter prodded, sensing your excitement.

A small smile crept across your lips. “But I really, really would love to get an ectoplasm sample off it. So if you decide to keep it booked, I’m gonna tag along on this one.”

Excitement exploded between the three boys, their cheers and delight deafening in the small kitchen. Peter accidentally kicked the rat trap in his excitement and yelped with the jolt of electricity that shot up his foot. Egon remained quiet, his face a bit pale. Winston cracked open another can of seltzer and forced it into Egon’s hand, somewhat concerned that Egon was about to vomit next to him.

Once the boys tired out their celebrations, Ray asked, “What sort of danger are we looking at?”

“None, really. It won’t attack unless attacked, but it’ll try to scare the crap out of you. It’s really only a two-person job, so a few of you could stay behind if you’d like." Your gaze momentarily flitted to Egon, but he averted his eyes.

“Are you kidding?!” Ray asked eagerly, practically bouncing out of his seat. “Your first bust after three months and a one-night-only one-of-a-kind ghost? We should all go! If Janine was here then we’d make her come, too!”

“Anything special with this demon?” Peter asked, rubbing his foot, “Or is it just the typical ‘trap it in a salt circle’ routine?”

“We’re just gonna trap it in a salt circle and harvest some goo,” you said. “Nothing special.”

Winston finished his seltzer. “Anything else before meeting adjourned?”

“Yes, actually,” Egon said, his voice uncharacteristically authoritative, but a bit cracked. He cleared his throat. “I want you all to re-read the first-aid protocols and be especially cognizant of emergency procedures. I myself am taking the time to do so as soon as the meeting’s over.”

Peter cocked an eyebrow. “You’re giving us homework? Don’t you think that’s being a bit—ow!” he gasped when Winston kicked him under the table.

“We’ll get it done, doc,” Winston said brightly, getting to his feet. “Good chat, everyone! I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The meeting ended and all the boys went their separate ways: Winston, Ray, and Peter headed home, and Egon returned to the lab. You decided to stay in the kitchen and make yourself something to eat, both because you were hungry and because you wanted to give Egon a bit of space.

Egon had all the medical kits out on a lab table when you went back into the lab, a clipboard next to each one.

“Whatcha doing, Spengs?” you asked, placing a full plate on his desk.

“I’m double-checking the first-aid kits’ inventories to make sure everything is in-place.”

“Oh, I see. What’s that one you’ve got? I don’t recognize it.”

He tilted the ampule in his hands so it was a bit so the label was easier for you to read: Norepinephrine intramuscular injection. “This is for only the most dire of situations. It increases blood pressure in the event of severe but controlled blood loss to prevent hypoxia and subsequent organ damage. In layman's terms, it temporarily makes the remaining blood in the body more efficient at moving oxygen.”

"That’s a pretty intense little item there."

He placed it back into the kit. “There was a time where it was needed and not available. That is a scenario that must never happen again.”

The remorse of his voice made your heart sink a bit. “Makes sense,” you said, not wanting to make him pursue the topic any further. “Anyways, who’s your connection for all this kind-of-not-legal medical stuff you got a hold of?”

“My old roommate in my undergraduate dorm.”

You cocked your head a bit. “I thought Ray was your undergrad roommate.”

“Yes, he became my roommate after the first one went to jail.”

“Why?”

“Crime, presumably.”

You grabbed one of his coats off the coat rack and pulled it over your shoulders. "It's getting late. I'm gonna head home before it gets dark out."

"Alright, sweetheart." He walked over to you and pulled you in for a kiss on your brow. "I'll see you in a couple of hours."

Egon was still rummaging through the medical kits when Peter came trotting down the stairs. Egon, figuring that he was simply down there to swipe a treat from the sweets’ drawer, said, “Careful with the rat trap, Venkman. I don’t want you getting burned again.”

"Spengler." Egon turned around to see Peter standing in front of him, uncharacteristically serious. “How are you?”

The question threw Egon for a bit of a loop. “I’m doing well, thank you.”

Peter planted his hands firmly on Egon’s shoulders. “Eegs, bud, I love you,” he said in a surprisingly tender voice. “And I don’t want to sound like an ass, but I’m calling BS. You look like absolute shit. Winston is keeping emesis bags in his pocket because you look like you’re ten seconds away from throwing up. We’re worried about you.”

Egon sighed, suddenly looking very tired. He reached forward and grabbed Peter’s shoulder, returning the gesture in a rare moment of affection. “I think that, once tomorrow is over, we’ll all be better off for it.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Egon's face was stuck to the pillow in a mess of dried tears when he awakened, exhausted, his heart pounding in his chest. He instinctively reached forward to feel your warmth, but your side of the bed was empty and cold. The bedroom was bathed in the deep, rich blue of the cold early morning, illuminating its interior with a soft glow.

He stumbled into the restroom and cringed with the sharp ache that settled behind his eyes when he switched the light on, not yet fully shaken from the waves of sleep, his hands tightly gripping either side of the sink. He squeezed his eyes shut to give them a moment to adjust to the harshness of the fluorescent light and soon managed to open them without fuss. The reflection in the mirror was somewhat blurred without his glasses, but he saw the redness and swelling around his eyes, the rawness of his nose and the flush in his cheeks. He blew his nose with some toilet paper, splashed water on his face, but it did little to conceal his congestion or the discoloration on his cheeks. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He stood completely still for a moment, trying to calm the blood pounding in his ears.

He saw your silhouette sitting on the couch in the dim morning glow when he entered the living room, curled up near the armrest. You were scribbling equations in your notebook, trying to clean up the stats of your most recent experiments as your hot morning cocoa steamed on the nearby coffee table, perilously close to the portable computer. You were in pajamas, bundled up in his old coat that was far too large for you, cozy in the chilly winter morning.

It was really you this time. Warm, loving, safe.

And alive.

“You’re up early,” you said simply, switching your focus to your clunky laptop.

He came up from behind and snaked his arms around you, rested his chin on your shoulder, his flushed cheek pressed against yours. The position would very quickly grow uncomfortable for him, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to be close to you, to feel your presence pressed directly against himself, despite the muscles in his back already searing in protest.

You reached over your shoulder and ran your fingers through his plushy hair, still typing with your free hand. “Hey, Spengs.” You awkwardly craned your neck and quickly planted a few small kisses on his face, nipping a bit at the bridge of his nose, but it didn’t yield a reaction, as if he didn’t register it. You chalked it up to him still being half-asleep and resumed typing on the laptop.

"I can’t seem to get this ANOVA to run properly…” you muttered to yourself, staring intently at the laptop screen. “I’ve got the fixed effect models running. I’ve got all the means programmed in. I’ve got the confounds accounted for…” You idly flexed your wrist and stretched your arm up to relieve a bit of tension starting to build up from hours of typing. “The CSV is running. I double-checked all the data sets. Something is wrong…” you grumbled, unaware that your sleeve slipped down to your elbow, fully revealing the long, pale scars torn along your forearm.

The sight sent a harsh jolt of dread down his spine. He squeezed his eyes shut.

You were completely engrossed in your work as your fingers flashed over the keyboard, whispering obscenities at the numerous error windows popping up.

He reflexively tightened his grip around you, almost painfully. He started shaking and his breath hitched in his throat. You stopped typing. He felt the immediate change in your demeanor and he knew he'd been found out.

“Bad night?”

He didn’t answer.

You gently shut the laptop, its fans angrily whirring, and propped it up so the vents would cool. “Let’s get back to bed.”

In the bedroom, you slipped into the bed behind him and wrapped your arms around him, throwing your leg over him to pull yourself as close to him as you could, tucking his head under your chin. “Hey, Spengs.”

He grabbed one of your hands and pressed a kiss to your palm, held it against his cheek, feeling the slightest bit of the tension in his stomach unwind from the warmth of your touch.

You knew the answers to the questions you were about to ask, but you wanted to hear them said in his own words. “What are you feeling?”

A moment of silence passed.

His voice was thick and quaking when he was finally able to summon it, breaking the tremulous silence. “Dread.”

“About?”

“Tonight.” He cleared his throat. “It isn’t my decision to make for you, nor should it be,” he said, holding your hand to his chest. “And I really, really want to try and convince you to reconsider, but I shouldn’t, because objectively, your choice is perfectly rational.” He swallowed. “But, I’m terrified, and I want to want you to go, but I don’t. To be perfectly honest, I think yours is the best idea for putting a new foot forward, but I’m absolutely dreading it with every fiber of my being.”

"Maybe you should sit it out."

He shook his head. “I think I need this call much more than you do.”

You were inclined to agree, but you kept that to yourself. “I think it’ll be good for both of us.” You adjusted your position to one a bit more comfortable. “Try to get some sleep, Spengs.”

He stayed quiet, holding your hand tightly to his chest. He trembled from the tension radiating across his body.

“I’ll stay here for a while, if you’d like.”

He took a breath and sighed deeply, and you felt some of his tension relax.

“Thank you.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The Ecto-One was parked just outside the large tunnel of a decayed storm drain covered in layers of faded graffiti, with sickly pale yellow weeds growing in its numerous cracks. The day was just passing into evening, the sun sat swollen and red on the horizon as everyone readied their gear. The smog caused the glowing skyline to flicker, blurring the boundary between the city and the darkening sky.

All the boys now had their own emergency medical kit strapped to their proton pack, which added an additional five pounds to its heavy bulk. You opted to skip carrying a proton pack, instead carrying a large bag with refrigerated canisters and numerous tools for sample collecting. You stuffed a freshly harvested rabbit from the butcher into one of your oversized jumpsuit pockets, along with a few stones of Aztec turquoise.

Winston finished strapping on his equipment and looked around. “It’s exactly as we left it,” he said brightly. “Disgusting.”

“Oh, hey!” Peter trotted to the front of the tunnel and pointed to a large scorch mark. “This is where I blew up that one cult lady!” He put his hands on his hips. “Can’t believe it’s still here three years later,” he mused.

“Do you mean a ghost?” you asked as you prepped your streptolysin solutions. “Or did you blow up a live person?”

“Oh, I absolutely blew up a person. Oh!” He trotted over to another, much larger scorch mark. “And here’s where Egon nailed two at once!”

You snickered and glanced at Egon. Ray was muttering to him as the two readied their gear. Egon's hands were violently shaking as he struggled to secure the straps of his proton pack around his chest. Ray gently put his hands over Egon’s and held them steady until each strap was buckled into place. You turned away, providing them a bit of discretion.

“Why do I have to be the one to lure it out?” Peter whined.

“You volunteered for it,” Winston said. “But I’ll do it instead if you’d like.”

“No,” Peter said. “I want to do it.”

You held up the PKE meter, and it started glowing. “It’s resting in the tunnel.”

Peter poured out a half-circle of blessed salt with about a ten-foot radius, and stood just behind it, with its open end facing the tunnel.

“You remember how to lure it out?” she asked.

Peter nodded, rubbed his hands together, and cupped them over his mouth. “Oh, boy!” he hollered. “I would sure love to make a deal to acquire some supernatural knowledge in exchange for my delicious, tender Kosher-friendly flesh!”

You cocked an eyebrow at his crass phrasing, but now was not the time to acknowledge it.

The PKE meter flared in your hand just as the scent of rancid meat flooded the clearing.

Something began stirring from within the tunnel. Slowly, the demon uncurled from its sleeping position and stood up. Its flesh was partially rotted away and hanging from its skeleton, wet and gangrenous; it stood on gangly lion-like paws, emaciated; its arms dragged on the ground as it moved forward, painful and slow, very hesitant to put weight on one of its legs. The creature was grotesque, deformed and decaying as it slowly limped towards Peter, walked into the center of the circle and halted a few feet from him.

“Hello, beautiful,” he said pleasantly. “You don’t really look like the picture you placed in the Singles Newspaper ads.”

“Reddite carnem vestram, desertam a pastore vestro te ducere cognitionis deo,” the creature growled at Peter, its breathing labored and ragged between its words, unaware that you were rapidly pouring salt on the ground and closing the circle.

"Oh, I'm very flattered. But, I'm married. Dana already has claim to my flesh. You’ll need to take it up with her before we go through with anything."

You gave him a thumbs-up and he nodded back at you. “She’s trapped in there, right? No way to get out?”

“She could decorporealize her form and remanifest in her home realm,” Egon piped up, his deep voice somewhat strained. “But, in our world, she’s limited to the perimeter of the salt circle.”

“Good. I wanna see what will happen if I say something Christian-y to her.”

“Don’t say something Christian-y to her!” you, Ray, Egon, and Winston all exclaimed at once.

Peter stood at the edge of the salt circle and locked eyes with the beast, his mouth twisted into a devious sneer. “Bless you.”

The creature shrieked in outrage and Peter yelped as he was showered with a harsh downpour of ectoplasm. He stood rigid for a moment with his head ducked, absolutely drenched in thick, hot goo as the creature paced in the salt circle, shaking its head. “You never mentioned that she could slime the hell out of us,” he said, dripping ectoplasm on the ground. “Would’ve been useful info to have. Thanks.”

“I didn’t know Buerian entities could do that!” You couldn’t hide the excitement in your voice. “This is going to be the first documented report of it ever happening.”

“Guys, I’m gonna tap out on this one,” Peter said flatly. He walked a few paces, every movement accompanied by a wet squelch, and laid down on his back with his arms outstretched. “Goodnight.”

You started walking towards the salt circle. The creature snarled at your approach and Egon instinctively seized your forearm with an iron grip, but immediately let go when you gasped, “Ow!”

“I’m sorry,” he stammered quickly, struggling to keep the quiver in his chest from reaching his voice.

The beast cackled in delight. “Ab hoste maligno defende me, Anima Christi,” it croaked jeeringly, baring several rows of filthy human teeth.

“We don’t mean you harm,” you said, walking up to the edge of the salt circle and bowing. “Do you speak English?”

The PKE meter in your hand whirred excitedly and rapidly flashed through different color signals, jerking back and forth in your hand like a captured fish and almost jumping out of your grip.

The creature hissed again and backed itself as far as it could within the confines of the salt circle. "What is that?!"

"Spectrometer. It helps us find spirits." You silenced the PKE meter and stuck it in your back pocket, your head still bowed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m actually very excited to meet you.”

After warily eying you for a moment, the creature lowered its hackles and bowed its head in return.

“I brought you some gifts, and I have some questions if it’s okay with you,” you said, stepping into the salt circle. The creature cocked its head as you laid the rabbit and turquoise on the ground. “Who is your master?”

“I serve my Lord and Shepherd Buer, master of knowledge and power,” it growled, lifting the rabbit up by one foot and looking it over. “Commander of The Fifty Legions and the greatest of Kings. Praise be to Him.”

“Are you the last of his legion in our world?” you asked.

The creature hungrily sank its teeth into the rabbit’s belly with a sickening squelch and tore out a mouthful of innards, swallowing them without chewing. “Yes. Until my Lord ascends from the depths and lays claim to this world as an expansion of His kingdom.”

“Thanks for the heads up!” Ray piped up from behind the salt circle. “That is incredibly foreboding.”

The creature cackled in amusement, its teeth and chin filthy with gore. “It is upon the nature of your shepherd to keep you sheep ignorant of your impending slaughter. My ilk is that of knowledge, which you so scornfully cast away as the original sin for fear of what it may unearth.”

“How many languages do you know?” Ray asked.

“My good and generous Lord blesses me and my brethren with knowledge of all tongues of Man. Can you truthfully say the same for your Lord your kind so desperately grovels to?” It bit the head off the rabbit with a swift crunch and swallowed it whole. “Can you even guarantee the merit of your beliefs?”

“That’s a pretty loaded question,” Ray said. “We vacuumed up a chumbo out of a Caribbean restaurant last month, and an oni at the Shinto temple four days ago, so I don’t know what the heck is happening on your guys’ side of the realm. You should consider unionizing.”

“The sun is due soon," you said to the beast as it gnawed on its rabbit, "and you can't stay here. I don't want to leave you trapped here to cook at dawn, and I don't want to lock you away in a box to decay for your last few hours. Sagittarius will be over today. You should go home."

“Did she just tell it to go to hell?” Peter muttered to himself.

The beast chuckled at Peter's remark, but kept its attention on you. "You are the most cordial of exorcists. Perhaps the fearful grip of your Lord is slipping? Why does He so jealousy forbid knowledge in His domain?” It bowed its head again. “For your generous gift of flesh, I shall take my leave per your request back to the domain of mine Lord Father upon this dying breath of the sigil.” The beast quickly devoured the rest of the rabbit and crossed its arms over its chest.

“Nearer mine God to thee, oh great Lord of Buer. May it serve thee well.”

A pop, a flash of black flames, and the creature was gone, leaving behind a scorched mark in the dirt.

You pulled the PKE meter out of your back pocket and switched it back on, but it remained silent. “It's gone.”

"Woo!" Ray hollered, pumping his fist in the air. "A bust can't go any more perfectly than that!"

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard as much blasphemy as I did tonight,” Winston mused. “But she was very polite.”

You bent over and pocketed the turquoise, now colored black. “Oh, yeah. Higher intelligence demons are pretty affable. It’s easier to sway people by being friendly.”

“Yeah, I found her to be incredibly friendly, YN," Peter said bitingly. "Just like you said."

You walked over to Peter, who was still lying flat on his back with his arms outstretched, absolutely filthy with ectoplasm, and crouched down next to him. “How are you doing, Pete?”

"She slimed me…" he said flatly.

“That’s great!” Winston and Ray said in unison.

"Stay still," you said, pulling out a field sample kit from your bag.

"You and Janine are the experts," he said as you swiped a swab across his forehead. "How can I get this stuff out of my hair in time for our dinner tomorrow?"

"Let it soak in unrefined coconut oil for about two hours, then wash it out twice with lukewarm water and a shampoo with sodium laureth sulfate as its main surfactant. Don't use hot water because the slime will cook in your hair like scrambled eggs and be a nightmare to wash out."

Peter sat up. "Do you swear by this method?"

"Yeah." You snapped off the swab inside the collection tube and screwed on its lid. "It works pretty w—”

Plap.

“Ah!" you yelped when Peter slapped a handful of ectoplasm on top of your head. "My hair!" you whined. You ran your hand through your hair and pulled away a handful of hot, stringy slime, absolutely disgusted. "Peter!"

"You're a Ghostbuster again, girlie. Get used to—AAAAH!" he yowled when you tackled him over with a vicious snarl, spattering slime all over the place as you wrestled him to the ground.

“Alrighty, kids. Break it up before I have to call your parents.” Winston tapped your heel with his boot and you released Peter.

“Second time this month I’ve had to rescue you from your own sister, Venkman,” Winston said as you got to your feet, completely covered in a thick, mucousy layer of slime from head to toe and smiling like a goon.

You turned to Egon, who no longer looked like he was seconds away from becoming violently ill, and handed him back the PKE meter, now absolutely drenched in filth. He was still trembling a bit from residual nervousness, but the familiar gleam that had been missing for the past few months had partly returned to his tired eyes. "I'm proud of you. You did well."

You grinned at him with absolute delight, globs of fluorescent ectoplasm dripping off her head like raw egg whites. “I got my Buerian ectoplasmic sample.”

“Yes, I see. You’ve got about a gallon of it dripping off your head.”

“I think you need a hug, Spengs.”

"That won't be necessary. I feel much more reassured and my stress will greatly decrease in the coming hours once the cortisol in my blood is metabolized an—Oh…" Egon muttered in defeat as you pulled him into a tight hug with a sickening squelch, trying to get as much ectoplasm on him as you could. A smile slowly crept across his lips. "Oh, yes. Thank you, sweetheart. Yes, I love you, too."

"I also love you, Eegs," Peter said as he approached Egon with open arms.

"I love you as long as you stay at least five feet away from me right now, Venkman."

Peter put his arms down. "Yeah, alright. That's fair."

Part 2

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