#ghostbusters imagine

[multifandomfanficss]

A Pretty Damn Good Solution

Egon Spengler x Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t” You sob, unable to focus.

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

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

“Good that’s two things.” He smiles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight, Egon.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

#egon spengler oneshot #egon spengler fanfiction #egon spengler imagines #egon spengler fanfic #egon spengler x reader #egon spengler #harold ramis #Harold Ramis fanfiction #Harold Ramis fanfic #ghostbusters #ghostbusters oneshot #ghostbusters x reader #ghostbusters imagine #ghostbusters fanfic #ghostbusters fanfiction

[janinemel]

Egon Spengler Relationship Headcanons

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

Pairings: Egon Spengler x reader (ROMANTIC)

Warnings: none (?)

Not proofread

General HCs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#ghostbusters #ghostbusters imagine #x reader #ghostbusters headcanons #egon spengler #egon spengler x reader

[gallwithapall]

Pretty science man pretty science man

#egon my beloved #dr egon spengler #egon honey #egon x reader #egon spengler #egon simp #ray my beloved #dr ray stantz #ray stantz #harold ramis #ghostbusters gifs #ghostbusters imagine #ghostbusters ii #ghostbusters 2 #ghostbusters #gb2 #gb

[tedesquire]

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

My Guy 

Pairing: Egon Spengler x gn!Reader

Contains: fluff

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That would be nice Mr….?”

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

“Who?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, that’s not my guy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

#ghostbusters #ghostbusters fanfiction #ghostbusters fanfic #ghostbusters x reader #ghostbusters imagines #Ghostbusters imagine #egon spengler imagine #egon spengler #egon #egon Spengler imagines #egon spengler fanfic #egon spengler fanfiction #egon spengler x reader #egon x reader #mod olivia #Gender nuetral reader #reader insert

[holewithinahole]

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

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

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

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

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“All of them?”

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

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

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

Which led you to your actual predicament.

“I don’t think it’ll work, Egon.”

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

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

“Not good?” you ask.

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

“Something big on the horizon.”

“Yes,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Egon kindly proposed,” you explain.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nice to meet you, Peter.”

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

You scoff. “You’ve got a date.”

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

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

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

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

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

“The basement.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then–”

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

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

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

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

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

Just a tad too much.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Awakening of Gozer

Perhaps you shouldn’t have gone home that day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hum. “I saw it on TV.”

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

“I believe we saved the world.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We crossed the streams.”

You freeze.

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

“It did work.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well… It’s normal, isn’t it?”

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

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

“The world?” He asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ghosts aren’t material per se–”

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

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

“It’s late,” he states.

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

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

“Goodbye, Egon.”

…unless it’s to run away.

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

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

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

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

#egon spengler x reader #egon spengler #ghostbusters imagine #ghostbusters reader insert #ghostbusters #non binary reader

[fandomnerd9602]

Y/N helps Lucky defrost…

Y/N: You barely survived a Class Two apparition

Lucky: I’m freezing

Y/N: well babe I can find a way to warm you up

Podcast: really?! now?!

Y/N: I have a space heater, Podcast! What else could I have been implying?

Lars: I think Podcast was implying your intention to perhaps mate with-

Lucky: not now, Lars!

#ghostbusters #ghostbusters fanfiction #ghostbusters fandom #ghostbusters frozen empire #ghostbusters imagine #podcast #lucky #celeste o'connor #ghost corps #lucky domingo #lucky Domingo x reader #lucky x reader

[eebydeebyderby]

I’m Sorry

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

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

General Info:

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

word count: ~5.0k

Content Warnings: blood, life-threatening injuries, trauma

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾☆.｡:*.｡.:*☆ ༓･*˚⁺‧͙

It’s a beautiful winter night with clear skies. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. ETA four minutes…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Egon stays silent. 

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

“ANSWER ME!” he roars.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾☆.｡:*.｡.:*☆ ༓･*˚⁺‧͙

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

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

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

Egon shakes his head. 

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

Egon shakes his head. 

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

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

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

Egon stays silent.  

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

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

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾☆.｡:*.｡.:*☆ ༓･*˚⁺‧͙

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come in.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another silence. 

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

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

Part 2

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

[emeraldborealis]

Snow Globe

Pairing: Egon Spengler x Fem!reader

TW//CW: Hurt/comfort, seasonal trauma, fluff.

Words: 3,105

It was December and Christmas was coming to the firehouse, one carefully placed decoration at a time.

The weather in New York City was becoming more and more bitter by the day, and it seemed the people were too.

In the warmth of the firehouse things felt a little better, a friendliness like a home welcomed you whenever you entered the huge double doors. Hanging garland and lights was also a sure fire way to brighten your own spirits and help keep away the seasonal depression.

With every ornament you hung on the Christmas tree that Winston had taken you to pick out and helped you bring in made a feeling of saudade fester inside of you.

The holiday season was something you always looked forward to, even through the bad memories and childhood trauma, you still tried to look forward to it. You decorated almost to the extreme with inherited decor, and you took part in every tradition and event. But you never really truly cared. It was just something you did, like brushing your teeth, a habit you felt was wrong to give up.

You tried to hang on to the good the season brought, instead of how every Christmas was typically ruined for you.

Pulling an old snow globe out of a box you turned it over and wound it up, before placing it down onto a windowsill with many other small glass decorations to watch the base turn while a music box Christmas tune played on repeat. The world around you seemed to fade away as you focused on the ever turning of the Christmas scene carefully sculpted and hand painted. Just as it had all those years ago, when you were just a little girl trying to block out the constant arguing and yelling of a poor, broken household.

The snow globe was your grandmothers, she'd left it and most of her other decorations for you when she passed. She was the one who when things would start getting violent between the adults she'd take you into the other room and wind up the snow globe. With a gentle smile she'd tell you to watch it while she mediated the adults.

Like an old friend you left the snow globe playing on the chilled windowsill to finish putting up everything else.

Occasionally one of the boys would walk in and help you for a minute, complimenting the work you had done alone. Saying how you made the firehouse feel more like a home, before eventually wandering back out.

You hummed along to a Christmas tune setting up some mistletoe on the garland in the doorway, something you had always wanted to do but never got the chance to.

"How's the tree doing? Is it all situated and comfortable?" Winston asked walking into the room admiring the lights and ornaments adorning the pine trees many branches, he took notice of the even placing of the ornaments, leaving no awkward gaps or overly cluttered areas, some ornaments were coupled together, but they were obviously a pair, so it would not make sense to separate them. He knew that each ornament was probably placed deliberately on the tree, probably in the same general spot every year. You weren't one for liking change.

The tree's scent filled the room and with each breath it brought a different memory to mind for everyone, most of them for most people being fond.

"Well, it's decorated, I don't know if it's comfortable. I can't imagine it is, considering it was cut down to be in someone's house for 3 weeks before being thrown away like it didn't spend years trying to grow to the size it is." You answered placing a few nutcrackers on a shelf adorning a blue cloth that glittered with small stars and fake snow.

"Well, she looks happy to me." Winston spoke, softly running his fingers down the needles of a branch.

"That's good." You came over to where he was standing, watching him for a moment. "Do you think Egon will like the decorations? He doesn't seem like the type who ever celebrated Christmas."

"I'm sure he won't mind them." Winston reassured you before turning to leave the room. "Well, I have work to do. Let me know if you need me to help you at all with anything."

"Will do." Most of the firehouse was already decorated, the lights had been tested for faults and burned out bulbs and everything was in the place that made the most sense to you. You tried to keep the main floor as lightly decorated as you could, not wanting it to look cluttered for clients but still wanting it to have some kind of festive feel to it.

You enjoyed completing tasks, you enjoyed efficiency in doing them too, so you liked decorating. You liked finding places for things and organizing them into scenes and neat clusters. You liked everything to have a place and to find one for it. You also liked the look of Christmas, you had this vision in your head of what a perfect Christmas should look like, and you always tried to replicate it, to have a Christmas like you saw in the movies. You also liked giving gifts to those you love. But nothing else about the holiday particularly struck your fancy.

Sitting down into a chair near the window you rewound the snow globe to listen to its familiar tune once more. You were positive that it would begin to annoy the others in the firehouse after a while, so you enjoyed it while you still could.

After a while you lost interest in the constant spinning of the snow globe and you wandered into the lab to do something else. Standing at the entrance to the lab you noticed Egon peering into a microscope and feverishly taking notes.

Walking over to him you greeted him. "Looking at something interesting?"

"Yes, I'm looked at some ectoplasm I had Ray collect for me on his last call and comparing it to an ectoplasm sample I collected last month. The differences in their molecular structure interest me." Egon answered without taking his eyes from the microscope, or his pencil from his notes. Egon was really good at multitasking, he could carry a legible conversation while calculating serious equations and doing his work.

"Does a difference in classification of the ghost show a significant difference in its structure? Or the intent of the spirits existence? Like malice versus sadness." You inquired quite intrigued by the study.

"That's what I'm researching." Egon answered still refusing to turn away from his work, it didn't particularly bother you. You knew he was still listening to you and would comprehend and remember everything you said. "Did you finish decorating the firehouse for Christmas? Ray told me it was looking good when he came down to grab something earlier."

"I did." You answered shortly. Thinking for a moment you then asked. "When you were a kid did you believe in Santa Claus?"

"No. I didn't receive toys either, I got science kits and things to further my education." He answered finally looking away from the microscope, but not to look at you, it was to check his notes were legible and to turn to a new blank page in his notebook. "Did you?"

"No. My family was too poor to do gifts from them and from Santa, and they didn't care for the tradition anyways. Thought it was all malarky." Shifting your weight from foot to foot you thought back to your childhood Christmas's. Something you were doing a lot today, and something you didn't care for doing. But the season itself was bound to bring memories to mind. "The holiday season was one of the only times I felt my parents actually cared about me, because they'd save up all year to be able to give me something. My mother was still always worried about money though, she'd start constant fights in December over it. She'd yell and scream at my father all day and all night, until he'd just leave. Go back into the office and work more just to get away from her. But he had his problems too."

"Do you feel you missed out on something growing up poor and without believing in Santa?" Egon looked to you only for a moment to gage your reaction to his question before he turned back to his microscope.

"No, it was just the way it was. Sure it was hard watching the other kids with their multitudes of gifts from both their parents and from Santa, and also their naivety to the seasons strain on the lower class. It was sometimes hard to see them have something to put their faith and hope in, when I had nothing but the cold hard bitter truth, fear and aloneness." You answered honestly, you felt comfortable sharing pieces of your childhood with Egon. You didn't feel that way with anyone else.

"I don't care for the belief in Santa, and I'm sure when all those kids found out he wasn't real their worlds were shattered. So, I wouldn't feel too bad for not having that, or gifts, or anything else. You had the truth, and in a confused world that can sometimes be the hardest thing to find." Egon offered his attempts to comfort you. His words did little to console the hurt child inside of you, who yearned for something to believe in. But through age, conditioning and experience you knew he was probably right.

"Yeah, you're right." You took a peak at his notes, they were filled with words and things not even in a million years you'd understand. A sudden shiver shot up your spine and you took notice of how cold the lab felt. "It's cold in here, so I'm going to go sit in the living room area and make some hot chocolate. Would you like some?"

"Yes, that sounds good. Thank you. Use my hot chocolate behind the canned soup, it's the best kind." He turned from his microscope to you to give his instructions, making sure you understood them. And to simply look at you.

"Is it behind the canned soup because you're hiding it from everyone else?" You quirked a playful brow at him, adorning his signature smirk. Something you'd picked up a habit of imitating from being around him so much, he didn't seem to mind though.

"It's very expensive. You can have some if you'd like though." He gave you the softest and smallest smile you'd ever seen. The sight of it made butterflies flit in your stomach.

"Thank you Egon." You returned his smile back to him.

"Of course." With his last regards he turned his spinny chair back around and began peering into the microscope once more, his pencil already scratching away on the paper of the notebook as his free hand adjusted a dial on the side.

Entering the kitchen you began searching through the cabinets behind the canned soup, reaching all the way to the back you felt a tin container, pulling it out you inspected it, it was Egon's hot chocolate, and it was definitely expensive. It was Belgian hot chocolate, actually from Belgium. You could only imagine the cost to get it here.

Grabbing a pot from the rack and the milk from the fridge you measured out two mugs and began heating the milk, adding heavy cream once it got warmer. You weren't sure whether you should add the powder to the mugs or the pot so you decided on the pot. You also weren't sure how much you'd need so you added little by little until it tasted how you imagined it should. Admittedly you'd never had Belgian hot chocolate.

As you waited patiently for the milk to warm you got bread and the fixings from the fridge to make sandwiches, you thought they might help balance the sweet thickness of the hot chocolate.

Pouring the warm hot chocolate into mugs you placed them on a tray along with the sandwiches and went back into the lab.

"Egon, I have your hot chocolate for you. I made you lunch too." Hearing your voice and promise of food and hot chocolate he turned away from his microscope and notepad.

"Perfect timing. I'll take a break from working and we can eat together." He stood from his chair and removed his lab coat, he hung it on a hook before he ussured you back out of the lab and lead you into the living room.

"Are you sure you're not going to get behind on your work?" You asked as you placed the tray on a small end table, taking one of the seats by the windowsill.

"No, I'll be alright." He took the seat across from you at the windowsill, before he grabbed his mug of hot chocolate from the tray and took a cautious sip, testing the temperature. "You did well with making this, good job. Did you decide to have some  as well?"

"I did." You answered grabbing your own mug, sipping on the hot liquid, it was unbelievably sweet, but so, so good.

Looking around the room he admired the decorations, noticing each and every one's placement. His eyes lingered on the mistletoe in the doorway for a moment longer than anything else, realizing you'd both walked under it but didn't stop. A sudden warmth blossomed in his cheeks and he looked towards the tree to stop his thoughts, clearing his throat and adjusting in his chair.

"Do you know what everyone's doing for Christmas? Is everyone leaving to spend it with their families? Are you leaving?" You asked curiously feeling a pit of anxious nerves in your stomach, you didn't want to spend Christmas without Egon. You were scared you wouldn't be able to make it through without his constant calm demeaner. Grabbing the snow globe from off the windowsill you wound it up before placing it back down to watch it turn, the soft music box's tune filling the room.

"I'm staying, I don't care to take time off for the holiday when I can instead get work done. I'm not sure about Peter and Winston, I believe Ray is staying too, said something about sibling drama he didn't want to deal with." Egon answered watching the way your eyes were trained to the continuous turning of the snow globes base.

"I see, I invited my cousin to make Christmas dinner here. I hope you don't mind, you're more than welcome to join. Ray too, I think he'd get along well with my cousin." Sensing his eyes on you, you turned to make eye contact with him.

"It's not a problem. I can help make the turkey if you'd like." He took his final swallow of his hot chocolate and placed his mug back on the tray with his plate from the sandwich he finished some time ago.

"That'd be wonderful, thank you." The final tink of the snow globe sounded through the room, you made no immediate actions to rewind it. Feeling content looking at Egon and being in the comfortable silence of each others company.

"Have you ever spent Christmas with your cousin?" Reaching you picked the snow globe back up and rewound it again. Thinking on how you'd like to answer his question.

"No, she's on the side of the family I hardly saw growing up. But over the past year or so we've been writing to each other, we're close enough in age and could both use a friend. She doesn't know what Christmas was like in my household growing up, so don't tell her. Please." You avoided his gaze and looked towards the snow globe again, his eyes followed yours and he too watched the entrancing turning of the snow globe

"I won't tell. Don't worry." He spoke softly, he wanted you to know you could have full confidence in him without it making you nervous. "Does the snow globe hold significance to you? I noticed it's the only decoration you keep touching and looking at."

"It does, but I'd rather not get into it. It's hard to talk about sometimes, if that makes sense?" At the direct question about the snow globe you had been staring at so intently almost this whole time, you turned to look at him instead. Maybe trying to subconsciously play it off as meaning nothing to you.

"Yes, It makes sense. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to." Noticing the snow globe had stopped playing, and that you were beginning to get a bit fidgety with your hands, Egon picked it up and rewound the bottom, setting it back down for you to keep watching.

"I don't know how this Christmas is going to play out. And that scares me, there's so much change so fast, and I have this vision of what I'd like it to be, and if it falls short of that I'm afraid I won't know what to do. My cousin has all these traditions she wants to do with me from her childhood, but what if I'm not the best person for her to spend the holiday with? What if I ruin her Christmas?" You rubbed your hands together staring intently at the snow globe, feeling more afraid and anxious than you had in a long time around the holidays.

Leaning forward Egon carefully took your hand in his, interdigitating your fingers, he hoped he hadn't overstepped a boundary or frightened you by doing so. He just didn't want you to spiral into panic. "It's going to be alright, I'm here for you, and I'm not leaving. I'll make sure your Christmas is a good one, even if I have to kick everyone else out of the firehouse to do it. But I won't because everything's going to work out, not necessarily how you planned, but it will work out. You'll have a great time with your cousin. She's not the problem, you're not the problem. You can get through this holiday season."

"Thank you Egon, for everything. The hot chocolate was delicious, thank you for sharing it with me. I'd never had Belgian hot chocolate before today." You gave him a small smile before continuing. "Well, I should probably clean up and you should probably get back to work." Egon nodded as you stood from you chair, you gathered everything onto the tray to clean up, he quickly followed suit in standing up and following you to leave the room.

"Oh- y/n?" You turned to him standing beside you in the entryway to the room.

"Yeah?" Leaning in he placed a soft kiss to the top of your head before pointing up.

"Mistletoe." He answered.

#egon spengler x reader #egon spengler #ghostbusters egon #ghostbusters fanfiction #ghostbusters imagine #egon x reader #egon #ghosbusters x reader #oneshot #x reader #reader insert #fluff #ghostbusters #fem reader

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

warnings: swearing

AN: yeah another ray stantz fic. It’s been a while.

I stood in the living room, about to call the restaurant to see if they could move the reservation when the door burst open.

“Ray! Finally!” I smiled over at him. Ray skirted around me with a smile.

“No.” He held up a finger at me when I went to hug him. “Some sort of ectoplasm. I blame venkman. Let me get cleaned up first.” He started towards the bedroom for his spare clothes. “What’s for dinner?” I turned back towards him slowly.

“Ray?” I asked in a small voice. “Our date?” Ray froze and hung his head.

“Shit.” He muttered. “I’m late arent I?” I nodded when he turned towards me. “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.” I shook my head and called the restaurant.

“Hello? Yes hi. I’m running late and needed to change my reservation? Sure. It’s under stantz…at 5:30.” I glanced over at Ray who was watching me carefully. I smiled at him and he shook his head as a smile made its way onto his face. “Is there anything at 6:30?” Ray nodded and went off to shower. “Great! Thank you so much!” I hung up and wandered into my bedroom. “Reservations are changed to 6:30 Ray!” I called out. There was a soft thud from the bathroom.

“Shit!” I giggled to myself while Ray muttered to himself. “I’m fine. Just dropped the shampoo. Thanks for asking.” I laughed out loud at that and rays laughter soon joined mine. He emerged from the bathroom soon after, a towel wrapped around his waist. “Hello.” He mused as he leaned down to kiss me. I bummed happily as I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. “Hey. Hey none of that now. You’re dressed up so nice. You do that and you’re going to get all wet.” I sighed as I pulled away from him.

“Why didn’t you dry off in there then?” I teased. Ray stuck his tongue out at me and kissed my head before grabbing the clothes he had laid out. Watching him, I smiled softly to myself. Ray looked over at me as he buttoned his shirt.

“What?” He asked. His hand slowly ran through his hair. “Did I not wash it all off or something?” Standing up, I walked over and hugged him. I buried my head into his neck and sighed.

“no. Just very happy to see you.” I breathed out. Ray hugged me tightly. “You are very handsome.” Ray chuckled and kissed my forehead.

“Thank you.” He mused. Pulling away, Ray took my hand. I followed him back into the living room where he let go of me to grab his jacket from my hall closet. “Ready to go?” Nodding, I wrapped my arms around his and followed him out the door.

#Ray stantz #ray stantz fanfic #ray stantz x reader #ray stantz fanfiction #Ray stantz imagine #dan aykroyd #dan aykroyd x reader #Dan aykroyd fanfic #Dan aykroyd fanfiction #Dan aykroyd imagine #Ghostbuster #ghostbusters fanfiction #ghostbusters fanfic #ghostbusters imagine #ghostbusters x reader

[arsonyte]

i keep thinking about this situation where an oc with a time machine doctor who crossover anyone bumps into the ghostbusters and accidentally drags them into the future or maybe just egon

how are the boys (from the 1980s) gonna fare in the 2020s?

egon and ray getting their hands on a cellphone and dismantling it for science probably even creating a new powerful device/pk-e meter from it

peter probably getting enamoured with tiktok? peter probably going on a debate with a tiktoker/influencer?

winston probably gathering future gadgets to deck up ecto1 in the past

egon spending hours in the grocery looking at future!snacks to binge

ray getting introduced to discord and looking up and joining occult groups

what else?

#ghostbusters #ghostbusters imagine #egon spengler #ray stantz #peter venkman #winston zeddemore

[ficmesideways]

Request for Anonymous Gif Source: Unknown

Imagine telling your partner Egon you’re pregnant with twins as his Ghostbuster career is taking off.

------- Imagine -------

You stared at the paperwork you had gotten from your doctor as you sat in the old firehouse’s bathroom, trying to slow your breathing. Egon’s new career catching Ghosts, god that sounded crazy even now, was just taking off. You didn’t know if he would be excited to add a baby to the mix, much less two. You left the bathroom and grabbed the open bag of chips from Egon’s desk nervously snacking as you went to find him. When you did find him he was scanning over a clip board with tons of paper attached to it. He barely even looked up when you said his name. Used to this you kept talking, knowing he would catch most of what you said as he continued to scan the pages in front of him.

He paused, his brain finally caught up to the words ‘pregnant’ and ‘twins.’ He looked at you then and smiled his typical small Egon smile. “I presumed you may be as your eating habits, moods, and even firmness of your lower abdomen all have changed marginally.’ You didn’t take offence to any of this knowing exactly who the man you were with was. You smiled then, “Well you ‘presumed,’ but are you…you know…happy? Excited maybe?” He smiled fuller, finally putting down his clip board and approaching you as if realizing that was the thing to do in a time like this. He looked down at you and then hugged you tightly and kissing the top of your head, saying one word that had you giddy. “Very.”

#ghostbusters imagine #egon spengler imagine #my imagines #gifs not mine #tw: pregnancy

[multifandomfanficss]

Never Listen To Venkman

Egon Spengler x Reader

(With platonic!Peter Venkman)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did Winston still go?” You ask.

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

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

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

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

“Do you need help?” He asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This conversation.” You fiddle with your fingers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is that stuff?” You ask.

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

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

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

“You should try touching it.” Peter suggests.

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

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

“What do you mean accidentally?” You ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No!” You gasp between sobs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course.” He smiles, turning around.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you need pressure?” He asks.

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

#egon spengler #egon spengler x reader #peter venkman #peter venkman x reader #ghostbusters #ghostbusters x reader #ghostbusters fanfiction #ghostbusters fanfic #ghostbusters imagine #ghostbusters oneshot #egon spengler fanfic #Egon Spengler fanfiction #egon spengler imagines #Egon Spengler oneshot #harold ramis #bill murray

[janinemel]

A Gift

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

Pairings: Egon Spengler x reader

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

Not proofread

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#ghostbusters #ghostbusters fic #x reader #ghostbusters imagine #egon spengler x reader #egon spengler

[gallwithapall]

No thoughts, just Egon adjusting his tie before going down the fire pole on their first mission

There is no end to my love for him

#egon my beloved #dr egon spengler #egon honey #egon x reader #egon spengler #Egon Spengler Ghostbusters #harold ramis #ghostbusters gifs #ghostbusters imagine #ghostbusters ii #ghostbusters 2 #ghostbusters #ghostbusters 1984 #ray my beloved #dr ray stantz #ray stantz #dan akroyd #bill murray #peter venkman

[tedesquire]

Could I have an Egon/masc presenting gender neutral reader fic where the reader is working in the lab and then Egon joins them. Making out ensues & then one of the other ghostbusters barges in and it’s funny idk I’ve never requested fics before so do what u want with this :3

Hypothesis, Conclusion.

Contains: fluff, sexual inneundos.

A/N: This is a gender-neutral fic with no reference to the reader’s appearance. I myself identify as a cis woman, so I’d appreciate any feedback on this. I want to make my stories as inclusive as possible.

-

“Hypothesis.” Your voice broke through the silence of the lab, looking up from your microscope to meet Egon’s chestnut eyes. “If we get something to eat, and soon, then we’ll be able to continue our research because I won’t starve to death.” You complained, leaning your fist on your cheek.

“Starve to death?” Egon prompted, the faintest hint of a smile at the corners of his lips. “Well, our experiment is of much import. I suppose I better begin the research process on this ‘hypothesis’ of yours and grab the spare menus.” You didn’t miss the teasing way he rolled his eyes as he finger-quoted you.

For the past few weeks the two of you had been experimenting with possible benefits of ectoplasm, Lord knows the Ghostbusters had enough samples to work from, being slimed so often. You had tried it in food, drinks, medicine, hair care products, and so far hadn’t found any positive results. It was pretty exhausting. 

“Hey!” You yelped, drawn out of your thoughts as Egon stepped past you, your palm coming to soothe the sting left on your ass from where he had smacked you. His steps quickened, the tall man soon out of sight. Some would consider it an inappropriate workplace, or if you were Peter, an invitation to something more illicit, but you had come to know that Egon was experimental- in more ways than one. 

You didn’t bust the ghosts, having been the gang’s research assistant at the university, but when they were let go, you followed suit, picking back where you left off in the basement of the firehouse. Like your colleagues, you had come to appreciate the science of the paranormal, and it didn’t help that you had a crush on one of your coworkers.

Who could blame you? The man was intelligent beyond measure, too blunt to ever lie to you, caring in his own way, and beyond handsome. That, coupled with the fact he didn’t live with his parents? Egon was at the surface of the dating pool the mid-80’s could offer.

You were surprised that the attraction went both ways, only figuring out Egon’s reciprocating feelings before he and the gang went to fight Gozer.

“Just in case I don’t return I think you should know…” Egon had never been all that great with expressing feelings, instead grabbing your shoulders and smashing his lips against yours. 

Romantic as hell, albeit a little too much teeth- but hey, everyone thought it was the end of the world. Just thinking about the kiss always made you heat up, your stomach doing somersaults. And what was more scandalous? Neither Venkman, Stantz, Zeddemore or Melnitz knew. 

Of course, they knew you had feelings for each other and every so often they would play matchmaker, but they had no idea you had been dating for months. You were going to tell them, you swore, but it was nice to keep the relationship under wraps, just for the two of you to enjoy.

“Your research documents.” You turned around at the sounds of Egon’s heavy footsteps on the iron staircase. Your eyes caught a glimpse of the stack of menus he held before wandering to the pale skin hiding underneath the collar of his button up, your teeth softly digging into your bottom lip. 

You took the menus from his grasp, letting them fall on the tabletop before wrapping your arms behind his neck, drawing the scientist in. A hand wandered to his neck, fingers dipping below the collar to feel the warm skin there, the other beginning to loosen his tie. You lingered on his Adam’s apple as he swallowed thickly, casting a glance to his lidded eyes.

“Egon?” You asked softly, fingers hooking around his tie and pulling him closer. His hands fell on the tabletop, caging in your body with his own. He didn’t dare speak, his breathing growing more labored by the second. “You’ve never had a hickey, have you?”

He swallowed once more, shaking his head briskly and letting his glasses slide down his nose. Could you hear his heartbeat through his ribcage? His blood pumping? Could you feel his breath brush against your ears?

“Oh, I think this experiment takes top priority.” You cooed, moving to nip his earlobe, trying not to smirk as he shivered. Your lips strategically moved to his now-exposed neck, teeth nibbling on his skin before sucking, drawing a low moan from the tall man.

Your hand traveled to the curls you love to tug on, pulling at the strands to make his head tilt back. The noises that fell from his lips made you hungry for more, your tongue soothing the tender skin before pulling off of him.

Another thing about Egon you found out in your relationship, once Egon warmed up he wasn’t exactly patient, as proved when his larger hands wrapped around your back, the only thing keeping you from toppling over as his lips met yours.

His lips were rough, his actions demanding as he is constantly breaking from your lips only to meet them again, and again, and again without ever leaving a second for you to catch your breath. You could feel the softest amount of stubble scratch against your cheeks as he kisses you, his hands digging into your back to practically bend you over the lab table.

You can taste the faintest hint of chocolate on his tongue, your Egon ever the sweet tooth. It’s only from the brief inhales of your nose that you can smell his cologne, a hint of sandalwood, and the scent of sanitizer he always uses when he enters the lab.

You don’t release you’re sighing into the kiss until you hear his growl, about to pull away to give him another hickey when you jump, feeling mist slap your cheeks.

You both pull away in shock, your cheeks heating in shame and horror at the sight of Venkman holding a spray bottle of the ectoplasm you both were messing with earlier.

“Peter!” “Jesus Venkman, what the hell is wrong with you!” You and Egon barked over each other to yell at the grinning fool in front of you, wiping the goop off your cheeks. 

“Now, now,” Peter tuttered, rubbing his hands together. “You’re both lucky I didn’t unspool the old firehouse to get you both apart. We’ve been calling you both from upstairs for your dinner orders, but imagine my surprise when I hear noises coming from the basement?” He gasped dramatically. “So being the caring friend that I am coming rushing down in case one of my two best friends are in danger? Only to find Spengler practically eating your face? Or were you eating Spengler’s?” You had never felt so flustered in all your life, your palm coming to rub at your temple, waiting for the floor to open up and swallow you. 

“Ohhhh, I see what it is.” You failed to notice Peter’s gaze on the purple bloom on Egon’s neck you had gifted him. “Egon clearly fell on a vacuum attachment and you were trying to ‘inspect the wound,’ play a little Dr. Spengler and Nurse, huh?”

“Peter, I swear to God I’ll castrate you.” You snapped, no true venom in your words.

“I bet,” He snorted. “Why don’t you worry about the stallion in your own hands first.” Your attention was drawn away from Peter as you grabbed Egon’s arm, who had lurched towards the smaller man. It was enough to make Venkman shut up, flinching and turning on his heel to race up the stairs.

“Oh my god.” You moaned,  leaning your head against his collarbone. “Here’s my hypothesis- and it’s a doozy. If you don’t kill Peter in the next two seconds then he is going to tell everyone because he can’t keep his mouth shut.” You shivered as his fingers came to rest on your head.

“Without having conducted any research myself, I think it’s a fair assumption that you would be correct; however, I don’t think you’re fully aware of the benefits Peter’s gossiping could provide.” Your brow furrowed, glancing back up to your boyfriend.

“Which would be?-” You were cut off from your sentence, Egon’s teeth attaching to your neck as he began to give you a hickey of his own. “I knew you didn’t have those degrees just for show.” You teased, your fingers carding back into his thick curls.

#ghostbusters imagine #ghostbusters imagines #ghostbusters fanfic #ghostbusters fanfiction #ghostbusters #mod olivia #egon spengler x reader #egon spengler #egon spengler imagine #egon spengler imagines #gender nuetral reader #reader insert #egon x reader

[holewithinahole]

It’s always the quiet ones | Egon Spengler x nb!reader

Summary: “You’re not sleeping with it, are you?” said Peter, before looking back at Egon. The awkwardness of the scientist is heavy with the implication. But the implication is far naughtier than they could imagine.

Ao3 Link

Warning: Shameless smut (that’s all there is), vaginal sex (non-binary reader), oral sex, semi public sex, sex near hazardous substances, non native writer

Hello! I’m back from the deepest part of student hell to drop something I’ve been working on for a little while. I just needed to be dumped by my ex partner to have the final push to finish it lmao It’s completely self indulgent, with my childhood comfort character but I saw that there’s demand on tumblr? You naughty people.

It’s not Arcane related, I’m still on hiatus because I don’t feel like I’m mentally able to write so much requests. I hope you’ll still pardon me! See ya in super hell.

Egon Spengler is strangely demanding today, you muse to yourself as he crowds you against the working bench and proceeds to ravish your mouth thoroughly and diligently, all talented tongue and sporadic nibbles. Broad palms push your hips, long fingers dip into your skin and you sigh against his open mouth. There’s something exciting in the way he suddenly decided he was going to have his way with you on the same table he experiments on, upstairs of Ghostbusters headquarters, at four in the afternoon. Even knowing the boys out and Janine on her well-deserved winter break, never in a million years you’d have thought Egon capable of such a naughty act.

This is oddly out of character.

Your eyes flutter open, your tongue cautiously lapping at his lower lip. His eyes are fixing something behind you, not even aware that you’re looking at him. You chuckle internally, your hands sliding inside his lab coat, feeling his ribs through his woolen sweater vest. Egon, still focusing on his unknown task, gasps softly when you grab his lapels and force his attention on you.

Throwing an eye behind your shoulder, you arch an eyebrow, smirking: “I knew you had something else in mind.”

Next to you, innocently sits a beaker, half-filled with a pink substance.

You hop on the bench. “What is this then? Slime?”

Egon nods, jaw tensed. You cock your head to the right, unbuttoning your shirt slowly, noting with delighted amusement his following gaze.

“Am I part of your newest experiment, Dr. Spengler?”

You can’t help the breathlessness that accompanies your statement. Your fingers graze against the newly exposed skin of your stomach and those brown eyes follow.

“Slime is a psychomagnotheric substance,” comes the technical explanation, a slight rasp at the back of his throat. “We’ve already performed several tests with Ray to assess its reaction to positive stimuli and—“

“You want to observe the positive influence of sex on it.”

His gaze finally jumps back to your face and you’re having a hard time hiding the fondness at the corner of your mouth.

“I do apologize if I overstepped,” he says, pulling away just a fraction.

Straightening up, you wrap both your arms behind his neck.

“Don’t we both have to be, uh, positively emotionally engaged in the activity for it to work?” You ask, sliding your fingers in his hair, fondling gently at his neck.

You physically feel the tension slowly leaving his body. Egon is all subtlety, discreet displays of emotions that you learned to observe and understand.

“Stimulating you enough should not be an issue.” The smirk that adorns his face is painfully attractive, it sends a thrill that travels to your loins.

He lowers his face, lips grazing on the sensitive skin of your neck, the hot tide of his breath on your skin makes you dizzy. “For my part, I have to be extremely focused on the experiment.”

You feel yourself being leaned backward on the working bench as his mouth continues its slow descent along the column of your neck. When he kisses your neck, something exciting runs underneath your skin: something akin to tickles and goosebumps all in one. Something that makes you want to either curl yourself up or expose your throat for more.

On your left, your eye catches something. Shoving Egon back gently, he straightens up, intrigued.

“Better keep track of everything then,” you smile, pointing at the tape recorder he uses to record himself tinkering with the experiments at hand.

You see the slight confusion in his eyes before the thought finally settles.

“It’d be for the best, yes.” It’s now painfully obvious that he’s hard in his neatly pressed pants.

He strolls to the device and turns it on as you shed your shirt, baring your chest completely. His eyes are boring holes into you behind his glasses that he pushes up his nose before starting the recording.

“Experiment number thirteen on generating a positive reaction from the slime.” Egon motions you closer with a curved finger and you happily sauntered toward him. “Today, I have an assistant.”

Oh, that mischievous twinkle bears heavy consequences. “I’ll have to ask you to comment on our future tests.”

“You’re the scientist here, Doctor,” you try to deflect.

“As this experiment relies heavily on your impressions, I’ll have to ask you to be vocal.”

Bastard.

Hands are soon back sliding up and down your still-clothed thighs. “Shall we begin?”

Any retort genuinely dies in your throat as he presses against you, his pelvis delightfully grinding against your lower stomach. That stunt with the tape recording was fruitful both for immediate results and for the long-term satisfaction of knowing Egon Spengler’s a kinky fucker.

Always the quiet ones, you muse.

For an instant, you could have been in your apartment, a blissful evening with Dr. Spengler on top of you. All roaming hands on your skin, slowly going down, down to business. Quick and efficient, that’s the way you both like it. But right at this moment, if you hadn’t memorized all their calluses and crevices, those hands could belong to someone else. Those hands that barely caress a nipple, enough to make your breath catch.

The deliberateness of how his knuckles rack over the sensitive area, pads of his fingers pinching, rolling, spreading this tightness in your guts. The more it goes on, the more you can feel yourself clenching around nothing.

“Stimulation of erogenous zones, specifically the areola area.” His voice is so even. “Your impressions?”

You frown. “It should be obvious.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t plug in the camera.”

The scoff shamefully turns into a soft moan thanks to a deliberate hard pinch on your right nipple.

“Specificities, please.”

“Damn it!” You sigh. “It feels good, all right?” You don’t like to talk during sex and he usually doesn’t either.

“Is slight pain enhancing the experience?” He asks, pinching both your nipples hard.

“Ah!” You don’t expect the surge shooting through you, your chest skin tugging almost uncomfortably as more wetness spreads in your underwear.

“Yes?” Egon asks.

“Yes!” You hiss through clenched teeth.

“Conclusive experiment then.” He dips down, sticking his tongue out to lap at the reddened skin, deliberately avoiding your nipple. “Although your slight irritation might be a predicament to our progress.”

No shit. “I wonder why.”

His mouth encloses the tip of your tit, suckling softly, swirling his tongue as a reminiscence of your kiss. You don’t even bother to suppress the gasp that leaves your mouth, getting lost in the moist entrapment, in the way his long nose nuzzles your supple skin, in the soft brush of his hair raising goosebumps in its path. Your fingers fully tangle in it, holding him close to you, pushing him into your chest so he can feel your heartbeat.

Perhaps a wonderful part of Egon’s brain will decide that your BPM is important data to collect.

You have a moment of awareness, registering that the only sounds that will be heard in the recording are your gasps and soft moans and the indecent slurps of Egon’s tongue. It makes your face flame up, your cheeks so hot you feel the perspiration on your skin.

What would be more embarrassing, you wonder, one of the boys finding the recording or getting caught right here right now?

“Focus.” The sound of Egon’s voice startles you. “It’s supposed to be positive reinforcement.”

“Uh,” you battle your eyelashes.

Egon straightens up, righting his glasses on his face. “Let’s move onward.”

“You—“ Agile fingers take hold of your pants’ button and pop it off, unzipping them before silently asking you with a tug to shimmy out of them. “He’s forcing me out of my clothes,” you say, directing your words at the tape.

“A necessary part of the experiment.”

Your pants are halfway across your thighs when he grabs hold of your waist and hoists you on the bench.

“Holy—“ You gasp, naturally wrapping your arms around his neck. Who would have thought you had a thing for displays of strength?

“Would you mind getting rid of your garments?” Egon smirks knowingly.

Grumbling, you untie your shoes and take the rest of your pants and your socks off, throwing them across the room. You now face Egon almost entirely naked while he still stands in his button-down and sweater vest, lab coat on top, with his pants slightly wrinkled – although unmistakably tented. Oh, and how could you forget the goddamn tie… You would have also gotten rid of your underwear if he hadn’t pressed his palm on your mount.

“Right down to business I see,” you pant.

He arches an eyebrow. “You’re burning up here.” The pressure of the heel of his palm squishing down your outer labia against your clit feels beautiful. “Your underwear is soaked.”

You’re torn between the rush of pleasure and the urge to slap him for how unaffected he sounds.

“This doesn’t soun—ah, very professional, Doctor.”

The alternating amounts of pressure have you moving your hips, searching for more, demanding a faster pace, a harder push. He remains desperately steady.

“Copious amount vaginal discharge,” Egon notes, and a huge rush of shame shoots through you. “More than average I’d say.”

“You’d say?” You choke out.

“You do appear to be wetter than usual although we’ve barely started our activities.” The bastard smirks.

Why is that, lingers in the air, a loud but unspoken question. And you’re now certain Egon takes his own immediate and long-term satisfaction knowing you’re a kinky fucker as well. You’re just a couple of degenerates and doesn’t that turn you on more than it should.

His palm presses more firmly against you and you can’t take it anymore, you need his finger on you, in you, anywhere but separated by this stupid piece of fabric.

“Stop— stop spreading it!” You cry out stupidly. “You’re ruining a very decent pair of underwear.”

Egon scoffs. “I am?”

The squish that follows is a betrayal from your body you’ll never forget. “Take it off,” you mewl.

So he steps back, stops touching you altogether, and raises an eyebrow at you. Groaning, you get rid of your soaked underwear, throwing it at a random place in the room, quickly forgetting about the uncomfortable wet sensation because Egon sheds off his lab coat in a swift movement. You are captivated by the stretch of his sweater vest against his chest, and even more entranced by the slow teasing appearance of his forearms as he rolls up his sleeves.

“Isn’t having a lab coat an essential security guideline?”

You keep spewing teasing sentences but you know that your sanity is hanging by a thread.

He hums: “When manipulating hazardous substances, yes.”

He finishes securing his sleeves in the curve of his elbows and steps in front of you once more. Your treacherous heart skips a beat; you don’t even understand why.

“Having your way with me right next to an unknown paranormal substance isn’t considered a hazard?”

“The slime is neutronized, there’s no risk of causticity for your skin,” Egon answers in all seriousness.

Right now, it’s his big callused hands that you want on your skin.

And he delivers by grabbing each thigh in each hand, spreading them almost uncomfortably. Fuck, you think because you can feel how wet you are as the cold sensation spreads from your core to the cleft of your ass cheeks. By the end of his experiment, you’ll have dribbled all over the table.

He leans to you and captures your lips in another searing kiss. The curve of his nose fits perfectly next to yours, as both your mouths mold into a new shape. All your senses are awake and aware: your taste buds sweet from the teeth-rooting chocolate bars he loves to eat, your skin shivering from pleasure, and the always-too-cold air of the lab. Your muscles are quivering from being all crooked, folded over a flat surface in that way.

Even at an even level, he towers over you with his height and the wide square-ness of his frame. You want to press against him, squish your very self on his body. Although he might not like his clothes to be ruined by your moistness, you entertain the idea in your head because nothing turns you on more than seeing Egon Spengler messy and disheveled.

“As I won’t be able to, I’m counting on you to voice out your comments,” he says against your lips.

You don’t have time to ask why, his face is already down between your legs. Your breath hitches, stops, leaves your body entirely.

Down to business, you reminisce.

He starts by peppering small kisses inside your inner thighs but it’s not worshipping, it’s edging. You sometimes feel his tongue lap out at your skin, you also shiver when he gently blows against your core, sending another wave of chills on your body.

“Egon…” you sigh.

As on cue, he decides to spread your labia open with his fingers, and dear God, you can feel his breath tickling your clit, an inch away from any real pleasure. An inch he soon reduces to nothing as he licks a long, fat stroke all the way up your sex.

It’s a real moan that escapes your mouth this time, already thirsty for the next move. He keeps lapping, up and down, flattening his tongue completely against your opening, drinking more of the wetness amassed in his median sulcus.

You’re slowly but surely being driven to the edge, just hovering over the precipice but there’s still so much that you need to finally accept to let yourself fall. So he takes your metaphorical hand and leads you closer by finally pressing his nose in your pubes, jaw slacking open as he delivers a strong suction right on your clit.

“F-Fuck!” Your hand grabs his hair, instinctively guiding him closer.

It went through you like a zap, a single strike of lightning. Your clit is tingling, your cunt dripping and your whole body shivering. But it doesn’t stop there as the very tip of his tongue teases you, a quick succession of round-way trips, delivered with accurate frequency.

His brows are furrowed; you can feel the crease in his forehead as you gently pass your hand in the hair at the base of his cranium, flattening his curls. The action makes his eyes snap up at you. You feel stupid for staring at him without saying a word but you lost all vocabulary with the simple sight of such a special man pleasuring you so unapologetically.

He draws back a little, the corners of his mouth and his chin are glistening.

Filthy, so fucking filthy.

“Any comments?” His voice is deeper than usual, slightly scratching.

“I’m kinda at a loss of words right now,” you say genuinely.

Egon nods and, as if endowed with an important life-or-death mission, dives in once more, this time ignoring your throbbing clit to focus on your opening. The feeling of his tongue breaching in, squirming inside is everything and nothing at once. You do openly moan, trusting your hips to his face, again and again, chasing this half-sensation of fullness. The pleasure is not a spike of hormones like having your clit sucked and suckled. It’s a diffuse sensation of pleasure, the simple erotic feeling of his slippery tongue massaging your walls.

He trusts in and out, everything around you is just blurred lights behind your eyelids but you snap them open when he starts rubbing your clit with his thumb without stopping his previous activities. You know this instant that you’re going to come on his face if he keeps delivering the most perfect movements to all the right places.

“Egon, please…” You squeeze at his curls. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

It’s with a raised eyebrow that he finally quits the warmth between your thighs. “Wouldn’t that be the desired ending point of our experiment?”

He grabs a paper napkin that was innocently left there by Ray when he brought food earlier and wipes his mouth off your juices before throwing it in the bin.

You watch his movements, catching your breath and your trail of thought. “I need more than that.”

“Please do specify what is that and how can I give you more of it.”

A gentleman and an asshole, all in one. You want so much to tell him to go to hell but you’re so far gone in preliminaries you don’t think yourself able to delay your primal need to be fucked.

“I’ll show you,” you say, motioning him closer.

He has this look where he’s slightly apprehensive of the logical pursuit of things but he steps in between your legs once more. Your left-hand slides behind his neck and beckons him closer, close enough for you to press your other hand to the front of his pants. His mouth opens slightly but he doesn’t move away so you keep palming him, feeling how he hardens against your fingers. Even through his loose-fitting pants, the hard line of his cock is flagrant.

Stopping your neck petting, you unbuckle his belt, lowering his zipper, and finally putting your digits on something more palpable.

“I thought we agreed that I had to focus exclusively on the experiment,” he sighs.

“Actually,” you slip your hand farther in between his pants and the tight fit of his cotton briefs. “I never agreed to anything.”

The hotness is making your hand moist but you reveal in the sound he makes when you push harder, full hand flat against the entirety of his dick, the tip of your fingers grazing the beginning of his balls.

“Remind me to have you sign a written contract next time.”

Despite his tone-down exterior, you notice his eyelids dropping, the small exhales leaving his parted lips because your eyes are fixed on his face, registering.

“Next time?”

There’s definitely a joke underlying your question but his dark gaze makes you question everything. Damn, he’s really into that, isn’t he?

Into you, displayed on his working bench to be examined.

“Egon, I need you to fuck me—” you choke out. “—right now.”

Strangely, there are no dry comments anymore. Only the hard click of his shut jaw and the slight fumble of his hand slapping yours away, diving into his briefs and finally – finally, getting out his cock. If you had more time, you’d put your mouth on it, just to have a taste of the glistening circumcised head. But for now, you stay perfectly content watching it disappear in the tight ring of his fist.

Realistically, you’ve stayed perfectly content for exactly five seconds.

“Come on,” you whine, spreading your legs. Ah, there is the aforementioned puddle.

“Yes,” he huffs. Yes, ok.”

With one hand, he grabs your left thigh, the other guiding his length closer and closer to your core, your heart beating furiously in your chest. His gland makes contact with your entrance. With it, he traces an unknown pattern on your lips, pushing its slit on your clit and mingling both your fluids together. Definitely driving you insane.

“E-gon—“

So he pushes inside, in one, unstopping, hard push until he’s sheathed, your body just a pliant scabbard. You choke on any retort, hissing, the stretch is obviously tight. Yet, deliciously aching, you engulf his length entirely and the sole sensation of your walls rubbed in that perfect way is almost too much. You tug him closer, finally pressing your sweating body to the unruffled surface of his clothes.

His big hand return to your other thigh and he fucks into you. His snaps are precise and strong; he completely erases any traces of pain with the fluid movement of his hips. You’re definitively panting, your hot breath bouncing back from his cheeks to yours and you forget about the weird twist of your body. Your squished position is making the column of his dick rub perfectly at the top of your entrance.

“Ah— oh fuck,” you close your eyes, lost in the heat.

Egon hums and hides in your neck once more, seemingly conflicted between kissing and teasing your skin with his breath. So close to your ear, you can discern the hitch in his pants, his hidden soft moans, and your heart sores.

“Can I—“ he whispers.

You turn your head to look at him, at his open face and big brown eyes and you know he could ask anything, you’d say yes. So, you nod.

He pushes you back gently on the bench, pushing away pencils and cables in a broad swipe of his arm. Some clatter on the ground and his impatience startles a laugh out of you. There’s a small rictus at the corner of his mouth that could either be a grin or a scowl; it only makes you smile more. Impatience is also starting to run wild underneath your skin. You spread your legs wider, your fingers lazily grazing your stomach up to your chest then dipping all the way down.

It’s indecent how you stretch around him; you love to feel it with the tips of your fingers. You’re stretching so wide your clit feels tight when you tug at it. It’s dry but it still grants you with a few shots of hormones. When you throw a look at Egon, you realize he’s watching, alternating with your face, the sight of his dick buried inside you and your self-pleasuring display. He sucks his thumb in his mouth, efficiently coating it before pushing your hand away and rubbing circles right on top of the bud.

The lubrication makes the action more pleasurable; reviving your calmed-down orgasm. Except, this time, you can feel yourself contract around his sex, as if wishing to suck him impossibly deeper. This small moment of trance, the calm before the storm, stops when he withdraws his hand, anchoring himself again to your legs.

From then, you don’t have to tell him anything: he snaps his hips forward hard. Your body pushes into the bench, your hand pointlessly grabbing the edge to keep you from slipping. From there, it doesn’t stop. He fucks into you ruthlessly, the position connecting him to you from tip to base. The buckle of his belt whacks the tender skin of your ass cheeks contrasting with the soft cotton of his pants. His right-hand pushes your thigh onto the flat surface of the table and your muscles are screaming with the stretch but they’re quieter than your moans.

“There— ah, please—“

He listens. The tip of his dick is lodged deep in your loins, the back-and-forth movement stimulating all the right nerves. You’re squeezing him, your folds moving with his cock, sucking him inside and locking him in, even when he pushes back. Sometimes the ridges of his head catch on your tight opening before plunging back inside, making you yelp. You wonder if you’re going to cum on his dick, too stimulated to prevent it.

You moan to the sounds of his slaps, to the rhythm of the bench creaking. Your eyes roll back when he aims a perfectly good shift and your free hand plays with your nipple, fueling the fire in your body.

“Shit,” Egon huffs out, his gaze glazy behind his glasses.

You understand. “Close too— just a little—“

He nods and aren’t his motions the best, the most precise… more erratic, quicker and shorter yes, but oh so good. You can feel the tell-tale tightening in your guts so you chase your own orgasm by pushing back, meeting his hips. His ball-sack slaps against your ass and your skins meet in loud smacks, definitely resonating in all the firehouse.

“Do you need—“

“No, no, just—“ you mewl. “Keep doing that, you’re perfect.”

The little moan he lets out travels through your body like wildfire. And there, you feel it: the hot spill of his semen inside you, coating your walls and it’s the mere sensation alone that finally pushes you over the edge. Your vagina cramps around his cock, your own ejaculation milky, dripping at the base of his dick and the noise is vulgar, loud and so fucking hot.

For a little while, he keeps trusting in, making sure everything belonging to him got stuffed inside you. It makes you clench harder, divided between chasing this almost-unbearable tightness or crying for him to stop. You have no idea if you’re actually crying but your cheeks feel hot as your body spasms, mouth lewdly hanging open, could you truly cum a second time from overstimulation alone?

But thankfully, he slowly slides out, both of you sighing. You immediately stick your hand down, feeling the dribbles of cum coming out of you, trickling down in the crack of your ass, on the table and on the ground.

Your breath finally settles down after a few minutes. Your eyes have drifted closed without you noticing. Your heartbeat is slowing down and you feel a deep wave of contentment replacing the past hunger.

“Hey,” his voice is back to its even self.

You crack one eye open. He holds one of the napkins, motioning you to sit up as he diligently wipes out most of your spend. The napkin is rough on your skin but you silently thank him nonetheless.

You throw a glance around you. You made an absolute mess. “Ew,” you scowl.

The little smile lightening his face makes your heart throb for an entirely different sentiment than before. You notice he’d already tug his cock back into his briefs like nothing happened. On the front of his pants however…

“Oops,” you chuckle. “’Guess you’ll have to keep working with your lab coat closed.”

Egon’s scowl of disgust is barely concealed as he unsuccessfully tries to wipe the remains of your self-lubrication on his cotton pants.

“I should change,” he states bluntly. One of his sleeves has slid along his arm during the act and his hair is truly a sight; you take great pride in his actual state.

“I think you look amazing.”

He stares at you for a couple of seconds before a beautiful crooked smile stretch on his face. You blame it on post-coital bliss but your whole body is screaming your adoration for this man.

“So,” your own voice cracks but you ignore it. “Successful experiment?”

Egon clears his throat. “I think more testing is required.”

Of course.

#egon spengler x reader #egon spengler #ghostbusters #ghostbusters imagine #ghostbusters reader insert #non binary reader