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eebydeebyderby · 1 year

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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

#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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buglover77 · 1 month

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GHOSTBUSTERS FROZEN EMPIRE SPOILERS

if I see one person judge Phoebe for her poor decision making in her gay awakening first sapphic situationship I am going to go rabid… Phoebe ejecting her soul for a pretty girl she met like a week ago is the most realistic teenage gay experience I’ve ever seen in media

#She’s so real for that #Classic babygay behavior #ghostbusters #phoebe spengler #melody #Ghostbusters frozen empire spoilers #Spoilers #gay #queer #teen angst #Cinema #ghostbusters frozen empire #ghostbusters afterlife #the spenglers #sapphic

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ssadumba55 · 3 months

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sorry for ghostbusters, mostly egon spengler posting on main in 2024 (i have too many niche random sideblogs) but.

trying not to think about egon on his own at that farmhouse in oklahoma. trying not to think about him waking up every morning and for a brief moment his mind has tricked him into thinking he's not alone. or about him heading down to his little lab in the shack using the pole that he definitely put in because it made him homesick for the firehouse. and he knows he's too old to keep using it but he does it anyway because while he's sliding for a moment, he can imagine at the bottom or at the top, peter, ray and winston are waiting for him. when he gets to the bottom, he actually moves out of the way and waits instinctively. but no one comes.

and he stops by that wall of callie every day and thinks one day i'm going to get to hold her. and i know it wasn't shown but he definitely has a photo of ray, winston and peter and he thinks 'one day i'll make it up to them. one day they'll understand and we'll be friends again.' I'm doing this for all of them.

meanwhile, callie, winston, peter and ray rarely think about him and if they do it's with bitterness because he left. he left and never came back and he'd become a raving lunatic, the few times they had heard from him he'd made no sense. he'd taken important equipment. he'd never been there for father daughter dances or dance recitals or graduations.

he thought about them everyday, he wanted to save the world so that they could continue living in it. even if that meant he wouldn't be there to enjoy it with them.

like. i know the real reason they had to kill him off was because harold ramis was gone, but do you ever think about the in universe implications of that?

it's kind of heartbreaking.

#milo rambles #ghostbusters #ghostbusters afterlife #egon spengler #ghostbusters spoilers if you havent seen it #IM SORRY #IM NOT AN ANGST PERSON #BUT I LITERALLY CANNOT STOP THINKING ABOUT THIS #and none of my friends are ghostbusters fans so i have to put it somewhere

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brokentvs · 1 month

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Who wants an AU where Phoebe is trying to cling onto the memory of Melody but can’t because when she took her soul out of her body she quite literally lost a piece of herself??

#phoebe spengler #ghostbusters spoilers #ghostbusters frozen empire #angst writing #mckenna grace #melody ghostbusters frozen empire #ghostbusters frozen empire spoilers #ghostbusters #incorrect ghostbusters quotes #author #fanfiction

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ivvees-blog · 29 days

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THIS MAN IS SO DROP DEAD GORGEOUS.

i'm offically a finn wolfhard account now.

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agent-whiskeys-sweetheart · 11 months

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Oxytocin (iii)

Pairing: Egon Spengler x F!Reader

Summary: While looking for a new research assistant Egon finds you, a parapsychologist whose always wanted to be a Ghostbuster. Little did you both know that there would be a lot more than research and ghostbusting that would bring the two of you together.

Warnings: Some angst. Mentions of sex.

“Spengs? Come talk to me.” Ray prompted, tugging him inside by his shirt sleeve. They closed the door behind them, walking back towards the lab. “Now, I want to know exactly what’s going on here.”

“What do you mean Ray?” Egon inquires.

“Don’t be obtuse Egon. I mean, what is going on between you and Y/N?” This causes the man to stop in his tracks.

“Nothing is going on between us. Why would you think that?”

“Come on. I’ve never seen you so happy in all your life. Something is different and I’m betting it’s her. Don’t think it escaped my attention that when I woke up you were both in the same bed.”

“That was nothing. She had a nightmare. I was comforting her.”

“If it had been anyone else you wouldn’t have let them into your bed like that. I know you Egy. Something is definitely different.”

“I suppose things are different. In a way. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like her quite a bit. I enjoy having her around. She makes the work fun. Everything with her is so easy.” As he said this Ray tilted his head, giving him a knowing look. “But that doesn’t mean I love her.”

“Of course it doesn’t.” There was a certain understanding in Ray’s voice that did not escape Egon’s attention. “Either way you should be more friendly. She’s been in the lab for weeks and you haven’t even asked her to lunch yet. You want her to stick around, don’t you?”

The other left him to think for a moment, disappearing into the lab. God, of course he wanted you to stick around. He looked back towards the door. You were surely gone now, having hailed a cab to your apartment. He wished you weren’t though. He wanted you to stay. He always wanted you to stay. Seeing you leave at the end of each day was the hardest part of his week.

Maybe there was something to be said for Ray’s observation. He had certainly been a lot happier since you’d come around. Every day was a new adventure with you and he looked forward to each and every one. Not to mention the feelings that stirred in him when you were almost hurt in the darkroom. He was so afraid for you. He didn’t know what he would do if you had gotten hurt. Then there was that night. With you in his bed. He hated admitting it to himself but god he could have laid there with you forever. Having you so close to him was like everything he had ever needed and wanted. When he had asked you about what you were going to say during the fire there was a large part of him that had hoped you were going to make some kind of confession. For some reason that would be so much easier than having to admit his own feelings. Oh god. That’s when he realized it. He did have feelings for you. Feelings outside of friendship. He was in love with you. How terribly inconvenient, he thought to himself.

Snapping himself out of it he finally followed after Ray, ignoring the overwhelming sense of love that flooded his brain. Despite everything inside his head screaming not to, he had decided. He would ask you out to lunch. It was the least he could do after all.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Monday couldn’t have come soon enough. You knew that the event in the darkroom meant that you had to be getting close to the truth. Something was trying to stop you which was exactly why you couldn’t stop now. You had to figure out what was going on.

When you pulled up to the Firehouse, you made your way to the lab like always. Peter was waiting for you by Janine’s desk, stopping you.

“Hey kid. I heard what happened on Saturday night. Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you Peter.” He patted your arm before letting you continue your path towards the lab. Once inside you saw that Egon was already hard at work like he usually was. You smiled.

“Good morning. Egon.” At hearing your voice he perked up.

“Y/N. Good morning. I’m glad to see you. We’ve got a lot of work to do today. Have a seat and I’ll explain my process to you.” You did so, scooting a chair over so that you were close to him. Pulling out his trusty notepads he began showing you charts, graphs, and plenty of examples of the current tests he was running on the slime. You studied everything carefully, making sure that you were completely up to speed before jumping into the work for the day.

The two of you performed a number of experiments that day, working your way from one to the next to the next. You were discovering lots of important information on what positively stimulates the slime and what negatively stimulates the slime. Before you knew it, it was just about lunchtime. Egon stood up and stretched. You joined him, needing to get on your feet after several hours of intense experimentation. You were about to head outside to hail a cab back to your apartment when Egon stopped you.

“Would you be interested in ... having lunch with me today?” He asked. The request took you by surprise.

“Sure. I’d like that.” You respond with a smile, walking back over towards him. He swallows thickly as you take up residence by his side again. “Where do you want to go?” You thumb your bag nervously.

“Wherever you’d like really.”

“How about Chinese?” You ask. This causes a small satisfied smile to creep onto his lips. You’re guessing he likes Chinese.

“That sounds perfect. I know just the place.”

With that the two of you head out the doors together, side by side, as you walk to a little Chinese place on the corner of the next street over. The walk was fairly quiet, however you both began to engage in pleasant small talk once you’re inside the restaurant. You each take turns ordering before finding a booth near the back. You sit across from each other, your legs brushing one another’s. You fold your hands on the table, eyeing Egon carefully as you breathe deeply.

“So, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” He replies.

“We’ve been working together for a few weeks now and this is the first time you’ve asked me to spend time with you recreationally. Why now?” You couldn’t help but voice your curiosity.

“Well.” He cleared his throat, his embarrassment was very evident. “Ray brought it to my attention that maybe I haven’t been as ... friendly with you as I ought to be. I do want you to continue working with me and if that means having lunch every now and again then so be it.” His response wasn’t quite what you were hoping for.

“I see. Well, after today consider the obligation over.” You give a small smile, trying to reassure both Egon and yourself that you didn’t care whether or not he wanted to have lunch with you. However, you knew the truth. You did care. You cared a lot. You couldn’t say that though.

“That’s not what I meant. I--” He stops himself for a moment. “I’m sorry. There’s something about you that makes it very hard for me to speak sometimes.” This is probably the most heartfelt Egon had been with you and you were intent on listening to every word he had to say. “I do enjoy your company. It’s not that I didn’t want to have lunch with you. It’s just that ... well, when I’m working I don’t think about much other than the work. Plus we’ve been making such good progress. I suppose it just escaped my attention that you might like more of a relationship with me. Since we are coworkers.”

“Right. Well, no worries. If you want to have lunch with me, I’m happy to spend the time with you. If not, it won’t hurt my feelings.” You were trying to be so casual. However as you spoke you internally cringed, hearing how forced your statement was. Something changed in Egon’s eyes as well. He seemed almost ... desperate. Needy.

“I’d quite like to keep seeing you. Outside of the lab, I mean.” God, he was right there. Right on the verge of saying what you wanted so desperately to hear him say. Just say you’re in love, you mentally screamed at him. Just say you’re in love because so am I. Head over heels. I’ll go to lunch with you for the rest of time if that’s what it takes, you thought. Of course thinking was all you were able to do.

“I’d really like to keep seeing you as well.” You assure him. Just as you’re nearly about to jump over the table to kiss him the waitress brings out your food. You sigh in relief, needing the moment to be over. You needed it out of your head so you wouldn’t do something you’d come to regret. As you started to eat you suddenly felt very self aware. As if you had already said something wrong. However, Egon soon broke the silence which you were very grateful for.

“So, I’m thinking when we get back to the lab it would be a good idea to test if the slime can be destroyed. We already know it can be positively and negatively charged but we still aren’t sure if there’s a way to get rid of it altogether. I’d love to hear suggestions.”

“Well, we can always try to light it on fire.”

“True although I’m not sure the rate at which slime burns.”

“No time like the present to find out.”

“Also true. If we’re going to try burning it, I think it might also be effective to freeze it as well. My hypothesis is that we’ll get a stronger result by freezing the slime however, there is something to be said for the use of fire.” You nodded, taking a second to eat. For some reason as you sat there and contemplated the slime and its effects, a certain memory popped into your head. A memory from a few weeks back, one that had stuck in your head ever since. Now might be the perfect time to bring it up to him. It’s just the two of you which has been the case less and less recently, Ray being around to help in the lab more.

“You know, there is one particular experiment that I’ve been interested in and as I understand it, it’s one that you’ve already conducted. I’m just curious if I might be able to see the results.”

“Absolutely. We’re equal partners in this, you have a right to see any research I’ve conducted thus far. What was the experiment?”

“I believe it was...” You’re trying to find the right words so as not to embarrass him however, you know it’s a futile task. “Sexual in nature.” His eyes immediately flash with recognition and he coughs lightly, surprised that you’d be so bold as to bring up the little comment Venkman had made a few weeks back.

“Yes. Well I would be happy to show you my research but it was inconclusive.” You raise your eyebrow at him, sure he’s avoiding the request. He catches on to this quickly. “It truly was inconclusive.”

“I see. Will you be continuing the experimentation to see if you can get a highly positive reaction from the slime?”

“I don’t know. We’ve been making such steady progress, it feels silly to backtrack now. However, I would be quite curious to see how positively we can charge the slime with ... such methods.”

“Well, sex does have a tendency to bring out some of the strongest human emotions. In my opinion, it might be worth a shot.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” He turns his head away as if lost in thought. Now was your chance. If you were ever going to instigate things, now was the time. Some part of you knew Egon wasn’t very likely to get things started between the two of you. So it was up to you.

“If you do continue the experiment, I’d quite like to be present.” Egon’s head whips around as he looks at you in disbelief. Surely you didn’t mean what you had said. Surely it was simply an obligation to science that had you saying these things. There was no way you’d actually be interested in sex with the man. However, he did love to imagine that it might be a remote possibility.

“If that’s something you want, I see no problems with it. You’ve been instrumental in all the research I’ve conducted thus far. It’s only fair that you be there for what may turn out to be our most effective experiment to date.” You nod, understanding the implications.

“Let me know when you’re ready to proceed and I’ll be there.” You assure him. You were going crazy. The two of you were sitting here, talking about having sex with one another as if it was just another experiment. Maybe that’s all it was to him. However, something deep down told you he was freaking out as much as you were.

With that, the two of you finished your lunch in awkward silence and made the walk back to the Firehouse. Egon let you go early that day. As much as you wanted to stay, you knew it was best to do as he said. Once you got home you were miserable. You were so sure you had done everything wrong and now there was no chance between the two of you. You needed him like oxygen and at the present moment, you were suffocating. You needed to do something.

Before you knew it your phone was pressed up to your ear. The number you had dialed had only been used on one other occasion but you were so out of it you’d do anything to stop feeling this way.

“Hey Ray.” You said when he finally picked up the phone.

“Hey Y/N. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I just ... would you wanna go out with me tonight?” There was a pause on the other end for a moment.

“Out where?”

“I don’t know. Just ... anywhere. I really just need a friend tonight.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so! I’ll be over there to pick you up in an hour. Oh yeah, and Venkman’s with me. Is it okay if he tags along?”

“That’s fine, Ray. But not Egon.”

“Understood. We’ll see you in an hour.” With that he hangs up the phone and you set about getting ready for a night on the town.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

When they arrive you’re wearing a nice button down and a pair of jeans. They’re in the Ecto-1, Peter sitting in the back so that you can have the front seat. You can’t help but smile when you see them.

“Hey guys!” You exclaim.

“Hey!” Ray says, ushering you into the car.

“If it isn’t our favorite little lady. Are you ready for a crazy night out on the town with two of the interminably famous Ghostbusters?” Peter chimes in, making you laugh. You turn in your seat to face him.

“I was born ready.”

“Now, that’s the kind of thing I like to hear.” Ray speeds off down the street and your hand instinctively finds the handle of the door, holding on for safety. You had only driven in the Ecto-1 one other time which was when you had visited the museum. Ray drove pretty scary then too. When you turned back around in your seat Peter was giving you a pair of big terrified eyes and you nodded in agreement.

“So, where are we going exactly?”

“Well, I figured we could grab a bite to eat. Then we can take a nice stroll through Central Park.” Ray says enthusiastically.

“Sounds great, Ray.” You tell him, settling back in your seat and saying a silent prayer. Soon enough, you’re at the restaurant. It’s a little diner that you’ve seen the boys go to before. You find a decent place to park and walk inside, taking in the cute and quiet atmosphere. There is a booth in the far corner that you all migrate towards, sitting down and picking up a menu. “You know, I’m kind of sad Winston couldn’t join us.” You say, flipping through the menu.

“I can go give him a call! He shouldn’t be too far out.”

“Yeah, sure! Let him tag along.” You say, prompting Ray to run outside with phone in hand. When he comes back inside he confirms that Winston is on the way. “Awesome. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him.”

“It’s been a while since you’ve seen anyone.” Peter adds. “Always cooped up in that lab with the brainiac. No wonder you needed rescuing.” You laughed lightly. If only they really knew.

“Yeah. Yeah, you could say that.” You say with a smirk.

The waitress comes over to take your orders so you all get drinks, telling her that you’re waiting for another member of your party. Shortly after the bell above the door chimes, signaling Winston’s entrance. As soon as he comes up to the table he slides in beside you, giving you a hug. “Good to see you! It’s been too long.”

“It really has. It’s nice to see you too.” Now that the whole crew is present, you call the waitress over and put in your orders. Once she disappears into the kitchen, Ray turns to you with a serious look.

“Okay. Tell us what’s going on.” Wow. He sure caught on fast. Then again, you really weren’t trying to hide anything when you called him.

“Oh, it’s nothing Ray. It’s just been a weird couple of weeks.”

“Tell us about it. We’re here to listen.” Winston had immediately caught on to the theme of this particular hang out. You sigh before taking in a deep breath, knowing you’d have to tell them something.

“You know, as I was getting out of college there was nothing I wanted to be more than a Ghostbuster. I saw you guys on TV and man, was I jealous. You were doing everything I always wanted to do with my life. When I saw the ad in the paper, I knew it was my chance. My opportunity to step into a better life. Now that I’m here, it’s been a dream and a nightmare all at once. Everything is so perfect, like nothing I ever could have imagined. Well, almost everything. There’s one part of the job I’ve come to dread as of late.”

“What?” Peter said, curiosity getting the best of him.

“Egon.”

“I thought you liked working with Egon.” Ray chimed in.

“I do. That’s just the trouble. I enjoy working with Egon way more than I think Egon enjoys working with me. I’m just so--”

“Crazy about him?” Peter asks.

“No. No, not ... crazy about him.”

“Come on, kid. You don’t have to lie to us.” Said Winston.

“I know. It’s just ... ugh!” You exclaim. “You’re right, Peter. The man drives me crazy alright. One minute I think that maybe, just maybe, he feels the same way about me that I feel about him. Then he turns around and says something that just reminds me he doesn’t. And today ... oh god, today. I’m so embarrassed. I said something I feel like I really shouldn’t have said and now I’m filled with so much regret about it. I mean, what do I do?” The others exchange a glance.

“Look, Y/N. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this since the two of you need to figure this out for yourselves but let me just say ... you shouldn’t be so worried.” Ray tells you with a sly smug little smirk.

“What does that mean?”

“I think what Ray is trying to say is that Egon has definitely got the hots for you.” Peter explains, reaching out to pat your hand.

“But, I -- How do you know?”

“Trust me, we’ve been friends with Egon for a long time. I can tell that something is different about him because of you. He just doesn’t know how to tell you. If you just give him a little encouragement, show him it’s not all in his head, you may be pleasantly surprised by the results.” Ray assures you, maintaining that stupid grin he has on.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” Wow. Does he really like you as much as they say? God, you really hoped so. Before you could put any more thought into it, your phone started going off. Looking down at the screen you saw Egon’s number displayed there. Great. That’s just great.

“Speak of the devil.” You say, excusing yourself to the sidewalk in front of the diner. “Egon? What’s up? Is something wrong?”

“Y/N-- I-- You--” He was cutting out so you couldn’t understand him. For a second you were sure you heard rock music blasting in the background. That couldn’t be right though. Could it?

“Egon? I can’t understand you.”

“Need-- You-- Firehouse-- Right. Now.” Just as you were about to ask what he had said he hung up. Huffing, you headed back inside.

“Hey guys. I’m really sorry to do this but Egon needs me back at the Firehouse. I’m not sure what’s going on, he was breaking up really bad. I think I should go meet up with him.”

“No worries. We’ll drive you back.” Ray said, standing and grabbing the keys. Peter slyly takes them from Ray’s hands.

“You know what, I think I’ll drive this time buddy.”

“Oh okay. Whatever you say.” With that you all headed back out to the Ecto-1, speeding off in the direction of the Firehouse. When you finally arrive you turn around, thanking them all for helping you before stepping out and heading in through the front doors. They watch you go before heading off again to grab something to eat.

Once you’re inside you can hear what you now knew to be rock music coming from the direction of the lab. Your brow furrowed as you slowly made your way through the dark Firehouse, unsure of what to expect when you finally went into the lab. Stepping through the door, you see that everything is a mess. There are papers and things strewn about the floor, clearing off nearly all of the work tables. The next thing that catches your eye is Egon. He’s near the back of the room, lying across one of the empty tables. There is a speaker on the floor below which he’s resting his foot on. As soon as you get close enough you can see that he’s got a mostly empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. Oh no. This couldn’t be a good sign. Not at all.

“Egon?” You say. As soon as he hears your voice he bolts upright on the table before jumping down and coming unbelievably close to you.

“Ah, Y/N. I’m glad that you’re here. Come sit down with me.” As he says this he turns the music off, pushing the speaker against the wall.

“Okay.” You say skeptically, sitting down on the couch. He takes up residence right next to you, his leg pressed warmly against yours. “What is all this, Egon? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah! Everything is great. I was just thinking about what you said today. About my little sex experiment. I think we should do it.”

“What?”

“You know, with the slime. I think if we had sex together we’d get a very strong positive reaction from the slime. That’s why I called you.”

“So this is ... a booty call?” You ask, unsure of what else to call it.

“No, no, no. Of course this isn’t a booty call. You don’t get feelings with a booty call and believe me, I’m all feelings right now.”

“Oh. Okay.” You weren’t sure if you liked where this was going or not. It wasn’t that you didn’t like the idea of being intimate with Egon but you wanted it to mean more than just some experiment. Plus, he was absolutely stinking drunk which didn’t ease your mind very much. “What kinds of feelings are you feeling right now?”

“What aren’t I feeling?” He laughs heartily.

“Okay. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course. You, darling, can ask me anything you like.” Oh god. Did he just call you darling? You were starting to believe Ray more and more as each minute passed. Maybe he did really like you. If he did though, why did he have to be drunk to act on his feelings then?

“Why are you drunk right now?”

“Well, I am not exactly the having sex type. Don’t get me wrong, I do love sex. I just haven’t had very much of it. I just needed a little bit of that liquid courage to get me going. I’m only human, after all.” You took in what he was saying. You honestly needed a bit of liquid courage yourself to deal with all this. You took a deep breath.

“I understand Egon and I’m very glad you’re interested in continuing our research but I think maybe now is not the time.”

“What do you mean? Now is a perfect time.”

“I’m kind of tired. I think maybe we should wait. Not to mention I don’t think it would yield any results with you being drunk.”

“Oh. I guess I hadn’t thought about that.”

“That’s not like you Egon. You always think things through.”

“I know I do. Recently, it just seems like I can’t think straight.”

“Why do you think that is?” You say hopefully.

“I have a hypothesis but I think I’ll keep this one to myself.”

“Okay Egon. Why don’t we get you up to bed?”

“That actually sounds like an excellent course of action.” With that, you put an arm around him to help him off the couch. Once you’re both standing you stagger out of the lab and up the stairs towards the bedroom. You don’t bother helping him change into pajamas. Surely he’s used to sleeping in his clothes by this point. You pull back the covers for him, helping him into the bed. Once he’s down you start to head for the door but he calls out, stopping you.

“Thank you. You mean so much to me. I’m glad you were here tonight.” You can’t help but smile at his thoughtful words.

“I’m glad I was here too, Egon. Sweet dreams.” You finally make your way back downstairs and catch a cab back to your apartment. When you lay down in your bed, your head is swimming with all manner of thoughts. Tomorrow was going to be a very interesting day.

Tags: @localsimpmigraine @theespookybitch @twinkie-buttercream @fizzyfazzy420 @boneless07 @holewithinahole @spengler-in-a-jar @the-hidden-pages @the-mechanical-angel @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @egonscalculator @sporesmoldsfungus @tedesquire @killerheelsonadiscodancefloor @emeraldborealis @bisexual-thoughtss @notquitecanon @finniestoncrane @lonelyridesinecto-one @tinyvesselhearts

#egon spengler #egon spengler x reader #egon spengler x you #egon spengler x y/n #reader insert #self insert #ghostbusters #ghostbusters x reader #oxytocin #part three #angst

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arrow-of-ravenclaw · 13 days

Text

during every melody and Phoebe scene, me and my dad were probably like Monica Rambo and Kamala in the marvels

my dad: how many chapters of your ghostbusters fanfiction is this adding?

me: a lot

#Phoebe Spengler #melody ghostbusters #i went home and wrote a oneshot about them #Will post it in about a week since it’s for whumpril #Hope yall like angst with a bittersweet ending

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egonspenglerishot · 14 days

Note

I want angst too!! I am a huge fan of well written angst. If you’re still taking requests, how about one where Egon is in need of rescue but also desperate to admit feels to the reader? Bonus if he feels genuine fear bc he may thinks he may never get to

*Slowly drags the idea away* DONT MIND ME…ILL…ILL TREAT THIS ONE REAL WELL-

I’m gonna fuck their shit up

“Don’t you fucking dare leave me ever again”

Egon x reader

Warnings; ANGST

Egons blood pulsed through his veins as he hid in a random room in the abandoned hotel. They’d gotten a call from just outside New York about an abandoned and haunted hotel. Of course Egon was curious and decided to go, and stupidly agreed to bring you with him. He mentally cursed himself at allowing you to come. He knows you can handle yourself but the spirit seemed like a douchebag, and had split you two up,

The radio wasn’t working and his brain was going 1000MPH trying to figure out what to do, course he had his proton pack and the trap but he couldn’t roll out the trap and hold the spirit. He heard the gurgling of the spirits breaths and covered his mouth as he leant against the surprisingly sturdy door. He couldn’t die. He couldn’t let this thing get him. There was no showers and sensory overload was a big no no right now. He cursed himself letting his heart get in the way.

He closed his eyes as the gurgling passed the door he was behind and onto the next room. His heart jumped out of his chest as the sound of a proton pack shooting and capturing the ghost echoed through the building. He wrenched the door open and there you were holding the ghost for all your worth. He rolled out the trap and as you lowered it he opened the trap finally capturing the good for nothing.

Egon was quick to rush over to you checking you for injuries and such. He held your face in one hand squishing your cheeks gently “don’t you fucking dare leave me ever again” you were surprised Egon never swore..did you mean that much to him. You ran your fingers through his hand and smiled gently as you leaned in. His hands instinctively rested in your waist as your lips met his. All that fear, all that tension finally melted away the moment you kissed him. The box rattled and Egon glared

“Shut up”

#ghostbusters angst #ghostbusters x reader #egon spengler angst #egon spengler x reader #egon x reader #egon is a cutie #egon my beloved #ghostbusters egon #egon spengler

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eebydeebyderby · 2 years

Text

I’m Sorry

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

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

General Info:

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

word count: ~5.0k

Content Warnings: blood, life-threatening injuries, trauma

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾☆.｡:*.｡.:*☆ ༓･*˚⁺‧͙

It’s a beautiful winter night with clear skies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. ETA four minutes…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Egon stays silent.

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

“ANSWER ME!” he roars.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾☆.｡:*.｡.:*☆ ༓･*˚⁺‧͙

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

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

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

Egon shakes his head.

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

Egon shakes his head.

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

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

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

Egon stays silent.

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

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

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾☆.｡:*.｡.:*☆ ༓･*˚⁺‧͙

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come in.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another silence.

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

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

Part 2

ao3 link

#egon spengler #ghostbusters egon #@mirandamnit #egon x reader #egon spengler x reader #ghostbusters fanfiction #ghostbusters imagine #ghostbusters #ghostbusters angst #egon angst #ghostbusters x reader #oc #one-shot #ghostbusters one-shot #egon spengler angst

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fluxy001 · 6 days

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Here's my first ever Phoebe Spengler fanfic if anyone is interested or cares. It is a bit angsty

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junijupi · 2 years

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this took liek ten hours my godz

#beginner artist #digital art #digital fanart #dsmp fanart #dsmpblr #wilbur soot #wilbur fanart #dsmp angst #revivebur #ghostbusters #ghostbur #illustration #color test #teen artist #procreate

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sleeep0 · 1 month

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#ghostbusters #angst with a happy ending #angst #wlw #sapphic #lesbianism #fanfic #phoebe spengler #melody #ghost x human

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egonspenglershusband · 1 month

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F/o's source material that has angst involving f/o

Me: hmm how could I make this more angsty?

Pro/Com.ship dni

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tinyvesselhearts · 1 year

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There's no place for us to stay (Egon x Reader)

Warnings: Heavy angst, hurt/comfort, Reader's father was a cultist

It's Chapter 10 of my Thing Is fanfic. Can be read as standalone.

It’s nine in the evening. You crack the window and roll down the blinds. New York is a noisy city at any hour and you’ve grown used to it— to the incessant humming of engines, puddled streets and distant laughing— but in the familiar cacophony of sounds you hear one that seems unusual. You lean towards the pane and listen. There’s nothing there for a few seconds but when the noise appears once more, you realize it does not come from the city.

Someone’s knocking on the door.

You approach it, steps quiet, muscles tense. One peek through the peephole sets you at ease.

“Egon?”

You unlock the door. He’s there: tired, hair tousled from the air outside, cheeks cold. His eyes are focused and a little too alert for your liking.

“…Hi.” He breathes out. “I’m sorry for disturbing you so late but it’s urgent.”

“Come in.”

“Thank you.”

Your apartment is small but rather neat. You move near your cot and desk, slide into the kitchen and switch on the kettle. Egon follows through the room, mindful of knick- knacks laying on the floor. He walks inside. Leans back against the fridge, facing you. You pull out a mug for him, put in a sachet and hop on the counter.

The space is narrow. Clean air seeps through the window. Heat radiates. You almost touch.

“The subject came round”, Egon informs. “Am I mistaken to recall that it was Yog- Sothoth who tainted your father’s mind?”

“That’s correct. Is it somehow connected to our new acquaintance?”

“I hate to say it but yes. He claims to be his child. I suppose it was a metaphor but you can see how it all ties up to a very saddening conclusion.”

“…My dad?”

He nods.

The kettle whistles and you move to turn it off immediately, then tilt it and watch the teabag sink in hot water. A cloud of steam hits your face.

“Honestly, it sucks. I knew it somehow but hoped… I just hoped…” You shake your head, putting the kettle away. “…Uh. It’s not that easy. I was a kid. I don’t remember a lot, just bits and pieces. Nothing usable, really.”

“You’ve mentioned your father kept a journal.”

“My father’s diaries are in my uncle’s possession. He won’t give them to me. I’ve tried to talk him into that but he… he won’t do it. Not after what my dad did.”

Egon stares you in the eyes and raises a brow.

“We could try talking to him together.”

“You’re unhinged.”

“True. But I look reasonable.”

You bark out a laugh but it’s comes out a little teary. You haven’t slept enough for a long time now. The thoughts invading your mind are hazy and corrosive, they bump into your feelings and make you dizzy. Head feels light. Eyelids heavy. There’s a single drop hanging in the corner of your eye— but it’s okay, it’s a wound that’ll heal— and you’re not even sure why you’re crying but you are. In a few seconds your laugh turns into a sob, then another.

You hide your face away, cover it with both hands. Breathing seems hard all of a sudden. Eyes flooded and helpless. You bite your tongue and wait for the pain to mend whichever part of your soul is cracking.

Egon straightens and that’s enough for your knees to touch his hips. He offers you a hand. You reject it.

“No, no”, you swallow a bile. “I’m alright.”

“You don’t seem alright.”

You shake your head. Wipe the tears away. Cheeks are wetter than you thought.

“You’re one in a million, Egon Spengler. It’s my issue and I have to cope”, you sigh, looking through the window. “Let’s get it over with. I’ll just grab my coat and we’re going to get those diaries. The sooner, the better.”

“Are you sure you’re in a condition to go?”

“Yeah, yeah. It’ll pass. I cry for no reason sometimes.”

You slide off of the counter, oddly brushing against his abdomen and chest. You don’t dare look into his eyes. There’s a task at hand— a task you haven’t been strong enough to fulfill by yourself. Uncle Neil’s going to be pissed. He’ll yell and remind you of all the things you wish you’d forget. You hate it. Dread it. Despise going back to your youth because it’s all tainted with a huge, dark splat— with underlying grief and horror, forbidden knowledge spoiling your home and you were aware of none of it at that point. What happened later poisons the entire memory. You shut it out and haven’t looked that way in a long time.

You fasten the buttons of the coat. Your hands are shaking. Egon helps you with it and gently wraps a scarf around your neck.

The streets are cold and uninviting. Whatever comfort you’ve found in New York’s bustling aura has vanished— it’s all white noise now, dirt and smog, and neon lights. You walk on and on, leading Egon through the infrastructural maze. A few shortcuts taken, a few crossroads passed and you end up in a familiar area— steep pavement escalates like stairs, every step you trudge heavier, dejecting. Cracked concrete tiles have given in to mossy tufts. The air is wet and filled with scents of gravel, exhaust, junk and rubber— all of them painting a tactile reflection of the New York which became your home. Tonight, though, it’s anything but.

When you approach the dark mahogany door it’s almost ten.

Your heart is racing. Uncle Neil might not even be in there. A part of your brain tries to placate the other but your body reacts for itself: cold sweat and shivers are hard to ignore. You reach out. Knock. Wait.

Footsteps come from the other side. Then, your whispered name. Whatever courage and strength you’ve had is gone right this instant and all you can do is squeeze your eyes shut. Don’t cry. Don’t cry, don’t cry—

The door cracks open. A familiar, slightly hunched old man rounds his eyes. His wrinkled features look warm but hardened by years of internal turmoil.

“Uncle—” you manage but his stern look diverts toward Egon.

“Who’s this?”

“Can we come in?”

He’s stalling for a good moment. He gives Egon a once- over, judges his hair, glasses, scarf and coat— and dear God, you’re grateful Egon’s right about looking like a trustworthy, reasonable man because uncle Neil doesn’t ask any more questions. He lets you in and closes the door.

“So?”

You swallow. You want to cling to Egon’s arm but it’s not the time.

“Do you remember when I told you about the men I met a while back?”

“…Are you serious? And you dare bring him home?”

“He’s a good friend. He knows what he’s doing”, you rush to say but it’s not leveled anymore, it’s almost desperate. “They’re scientists, uncle, not cultists.”

Neil’s teeth clench. Fists do, too. His face contorts into an awful expression you’ve tried to forget. It’s ugly, tough and unforgiving, and can only lead to a fight.

“You have learnt nothing. Stupid girl! You’re bringing doom on us all over again!”

“It isn’t like that! Please, just let me explain—"

“I can’t believe you’re doing this. And he’s, what, luring you in with some cheap tricks? You’ll go down right the same path Nancy did! One of them will charm you, get married and use you for whatever godforsaken practices they perform in the basement! And you…”, Neil shakes his head, fuming. “You’ll stand by and watch your life get turned into ruin.”

You clench your teeth and fists. You shouldn’t engage, you should focus now— it’s not about you, it’s the diaries, don’t let it escalate— but it’s late, you’re tired and a flood of raw emotion overrides common sense.

“Do you honestly think I’d ever commit to someone who takes interest in ghosts after everything that happened?” You yell. “All I’m trying to do is the right thing! It’s not just about us anymore!”

“And it should stay that way! Not every fight is worth your time and effort. You have to let some things go, honey. It’s not your burden.”

“You’re right, sir. It’s ours”, Egon interjects. “I’m doctor Egon Spengler of the Ghostbusters. We are professionals. You might have heard. It’s not about you or your family but people who are getting hurt right this moment. We have reasons to assume the spreading sickness is a direct result of your brother’s misconduct. Every bit of information could help, the sooner the better. I will personally make sure your niece stays away from danger.”

“She could be away from danger, weren’t it for you!”

“The wrath of your brother stalks generations. His children as well. I hate to say this but I believe she might have been subjected to some shady practices and has been haunted by them for some time.”

“The names are there”, you whisper. “Yog- Sothoth. I didn’t want to tell you, you’d panic, it would be the ranch all over again…”

You’re caving in but Egon’s stare is calm and unwavering. He keeps looking into Neil’s eyes: honest, sensible, composed— and after a long minute Neil’s anger finally abates. He sighs, glances at you and takes note of how you’re half- hidden behind Egon’s coat. It’s safe, you want to say. He’s safe.

Uncle Neil straightens up.

“Look at the position I’m in, doctor Spengler. Put yourself in my shoes. What would you do?”

“Keep my family safe at all costs”, he says, doubtless. “Even if that took a toll on me.”

They stare at each other some more and then the unthinkable happens— Neil sighs, yields and disappears in a room on the left. Hollow sounds of moved furniture come from behind the door and when everything quiets down, the old man reemerges with his hands full.

The diaries.

“I’ll give them to your friend— and exclusively him”, he states. “I am parting with it with a heavy heart. Believe me, there’s nothing I hate more than giving them away. The amount of evil this knowledge can cause is abominable. You, honey, are strictly forbidden from reading it. That’s for your own sanity. Can you promise me that? No reading, not even a peek, are we clear?”

“Yes, uncle. We are. I won’t read it, cross my heart.”

He turns to Egon. Extends his hand and passes two thick tomes to him.

“This is it, doctor Spengler. The pink diaries”, he seems to hesitate for a second but the moment Egon touches the covers, Neil lets go. “They’re your responsibility. She’s the apple of your eye. Protect her. Do what you must. Don’t let me down.”

“Understood, sir.”

---

Neither of you speaks for the better part of your walk home. The air is crisp. Bits of sand and dirt crunch beneath your feet. As some point you reach for Egon’s hand and he hooks a pinky around your finger. It’s not much— and oddly apprehensive— but you try not to think much of it.

You take a final turn onto your street when Egon breaks the silence.

“What was you reason for joining our team?”

“Don’t you remember? I wanted to apply to Uni, Studies of the Paranormal. That’s the closest I could get.”

“At your uncle’s house you said you’d never commit to someone who took interest in ghosts.” He sounds a little distant, lost in thought. “Job is a form of commitment. And this job, specifically, exposes you to the very thing you swore to avoid.”

You shrug and let go of his hand.

“It’s different”, you utter. “I wouldn’t get married to my job. Or start a family. It’s strictly professional, not personal, it’s just… different.”

“But it’s not. Your uncle has a point there. You keep saying you want to stay away from the paranormal for fear of getting hurt, and yet you seem strikingly attracted to it.”

The tone is leveled but for some reason it feels almost accusatory. Your brows knit.

“Can we… not?”

“I want to understand.”

“Not today. Please.”

“Why?”

“It’s been a hectic few weeks”, you explain. “I’m exhausted. Let’s not do this today, shall we?”

“You do realize it isn’t going to get any calmer as long as you’re with us though, right?”

“Alright, hang on. That’s… whatever it is—” you grunt, pent up exasperation finding its way out. “What’s the point you’re trying to make? Do you want to ditch me from the team? Is that your way of protecting me?”

“Absolutely not. I’ve spotted inconsistency in your viewpoint and it bothers me. You haven’t just applied for any job. You’re working with the specialists on the paranormal. You are personally committed. We are friends.”

“Okay! Okay, maybe I am attracted to the paranormal, maybe I adore learning about it and maybe I finally feel like I belong somewhere, alright? I’m surrounded by people who don’t treat it as a curse, who share the enthusiasm! Who don’t try to force a taboo on my past but help me understand”, you pant. “I want you to prove me wrong, I try to convince myself it’s temporary but I’ve grown fond of you and it’s only making things harder. I’m getting attached. Comfortable. And it’s horrifying.”

You’re at your wit’s end— so much so that you fail to recognize your body’s trembling— but Egon doesn’t seem deterred by this. He keeps looking you in the eyes, takes a step forward.

“Only because your premise is fallacious. All things are temporary. You cannot escape the inevitable but you can decide what to do with the time you’re given.”

“Wow. Thanks for spelling it out for me. It magically made me feel worse.”

“Because you misunderstand. Fighting the passage of time is useless. You’re wasting your time and energy on things you can’t control and it is the sole reason for your despair”, he says. “Why not focus on possibilities instead? Enjoy what life brings. Allow yourself to let go for a change.”

“Let go?” You wheeze. “That’s rich, coming from you. Working your ass off to the point of falling asleep on a microscope? Dating a mood slime in the name of science? Offering me to sleep in your bed just to collect data?... All you do has a cause and purpose, Egon. Have you ever tried actually feeling something?”

The silence that follows is terrifying.

A car passes by. Some fliers get pushed by a gust of wind, then tarnished as they tangle into somebody’s shrub. Yesterday’s newspaper lands in a puddle of mud. It drowns in the sewer.

“Thanks for walking me home”, you manage because there isn’t much you can say.

“Pleasure. I shall go back to the station and start reading before our subject wakes again.”

“…Yes. See you tomorrow.”

A bile in your throat is almost unbearable so you walk towards the entrance of your apartment building. Each step you take is begrudging. It almost feels like the mud from the street crawls up your ankles and sheens— wraps around your legs, slows you down— like your trudging gets heavier— like the words you said taste of dirt and grime, and you should apologize but you don’t know how—

“Do you really think I don’t feel anything?”

You turn around.

Egon is still there, hands shoved deep in his pockets. His cheeks and nose are red from the cold. He’s calm. He's patient. He’s a beautiful soul.

Somehow your heart sinks even further.

“…I’m sorry. It was insolent. I keep forgetting you could fire me.”

“We’re talking as friends now, not coworkers.”

“I should not have said that”, your voice shakes, “I owe you an apology. Please, forgive me. It’s lack of sleep and constant stress. And probably having to face some heavy family shite I fully intended to forget about. Shouldn’t have brought it out on you, Egon. You’re a good man. I'm sorry.”

“I could stay with you tonight.”

“No”, you say because the guilt’s consuming you. “Go back to the station, Ray’s fresh out of the hospital. He’s in no shape to keep watch over our guest all night. I’ll cope.”

“If anything happens—”

“I’ll call.”

“…Right.”

When you walk into your apartment, it’s dark and cold again. You notice a full mug of cool tea standing by the sink.

You close your eyes, grab it and pour it down the drain.

#ghostbusters #egon spengler #egon spengler x reader #fanfiction #egon spengler x you #ghostbusters fanfiction #egon spengler imagines #harold ramis #self insert #ao3 #angst #heavy angst #hurt/comfort

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