Summery - Egon has trouble expressing how he feels about her. When her date cancels Peter jumps at the opportunity to help his friend out.
There are many ways to express love, there's physical touch, compliments, or just flat out telling the person you love them. For Egon Spengler however showing love was complex. He never really felt romantic love for anyone, so, he showed in his own special way.
The only problem was she had no idea that he had feelings for her. The affection he showed seemed something that any normal friend would have for another. The other ghostbuster however knew immediately. They know by the way Everytime she came into the lab he made sure she had a stool to sit on. Even if it meant kicking Peter out of his seat so she could sit.
They knew by the way everyone time he was eating his snacks he would share. Which was unheard of. The first time it happened the three boys say there with wide eyes. "What?" She asked taking another bite of the Twinkie. "You're eating Spengs Twinkie." Ray explained and peter started to give Egon a knowing smile. "He offered," she shrugged. "Of course, why wouldn't he Egon is always so good with sharing. Isn't that right Spengler?" Peter chuckled leaving the room before he could get a response. Y/n just shook this off thinking nothing of it, and life went on.
Painfully Egon would watch her go on dates that would only break her heart. Knowing full well that he would never do that to her. Peter and Ray was done with his moping and small pointless hints. "You gotta do something." Ray insist but Egon only shakes his head and looks down at the file.
"Spengs, you can't live your life like this. Watching the girl you like go on dates with some other dude! That's, that's just I don't know what that is but it isn't good." Peter shook is head disappointed and Egon looked up at him.
"I don't like her." The two men looked at him expectedly, "it's more than that. It's difficult to describe. She almost has this hold on me, and I just can't seem to-"
"Oh, my God! Egon is in love. Who would have guessed." Venkman shouted hitting ray in the shoulder. "Well I had an idea." Ray mumbled, "no you didn't." Peter rolled his eyes grabbing the bag of chips off his desk. "So, what now?"
Their conversation ended with the door creaking open and some guy walking through awkwardly. He was taller and had dark hair and smiled at the men. "Huh, so Y/n has a type?" Peter mused looking at Egon. "Good for you buddy."
"Excuse me does an Y/n L/n work here?" The man asked sounding almost disgusted. "She does." Egon answered with narrowed eyes, "she like answer the phones?" They all shook their heads, and the man's smile dropped.
"She's not?" And Ray and Peter nodded with a smile. "She's a ghostbuster? Like an actual ghostbuster?" He scoffed, "what about it?" Egon asked and Pete wanted to make popcorn. "No offense, but come on do you wanna go out with a girl thats covered in ghost mucous?"
Egon stared at the man blankly, "it's called ectoplasm, and one would infer that any man would have no problem going on a date with a women such as Y/n."
"Look the whole ecto - what ever stuff isn't really my thing. Could you guys tell her that something came up?"
"It would be my pleasure." Egon smiled and the man left. "This is great!" Pete shouted, "how?"
"Egon don't you see, I tell her that the dates a no show. You come in all hero like, ask her out and boom the wedding bells might as well already be ringing." Egon looked at him apprehensive then he hesitantly nodded.
So, Peter waited and he jumped right up when Y/n finally walked in. "Y/n, can I see you in my office?"
"Can it wait, I want a shower I have a date tonight. Can't show up dripping in ecto." She laughed and Pete took in a sharp breath. "About that, he came in today and he said that something came up. Sorry Hun." She sighed looking down, "oh, that's alright. I wasn't that excited about it anyway."
"Well uh after you get cleaned up Egon was actually looking for you." She nodded and went up to the showers. Egon waited in his lab fixing his hair, and flattening his lab coat. "Hey Egon?" She called her voice not as chipper as usual. "Hey, hello how are you? She smiled, "I'm ok," she noticed how nervous we was and asked; " how are you?"
"Well, actually I um, I heard about your date cancelation, I thought, well perhaps you would go on a date with me?" He asked nervously adjusting his glasses his eyes never leaving the ground. "Egon you don't have to give me a pity date." His head shot up, "no it's not out of pity. It's out of opportunity. I have been wanting to ask you for some time." She looks at him with apprehension. "It's true. Y/n, I have had strong feelings for you since well college. Hell I've been in love with you since college. I watch you with these men and I can't help but think they aren't good enough for you." She stared at him and he closed his eyes tightly wishing he didn't say anything at all. "I apologize I just -"
"I love you too." She interrupted, "I have for some time and I was only going on those dates cause j thought they were my only option. I had no idea." She took his hand, "I love you, Egon." They gazed into each other's eyes leaning in and kissing each other lightly. It had such passion, and the kiss had such sparks that their breath was being taken away from their lungs. "Spengs! Did you ask her!? Did ya!?" Peter asked from upstairs, "Venkman! Let them be!" Ray shouted, "sorry Egon!"
I want angst too!! I am a huge fan of well written angst. If you’re still taking requests, how about one where Egon is in need of rescue but also desperate to admit feels to the reader? Bonus if he feels genuine fear bc he may thinks he may never get to
*Slowly drags the idea away* DONT MIND ME…ILL…ILL TREAT THIS ONE REAL WELL-
I’m gonna fuck their shit up
“Don’t you fucking dare leave me ever again”
Egon x reader
Warnings; ANGST
Egons blood pulsed through his veins as he hid in a random room in the abandoned hotel. They’d gotten a call from just outside New York about an abandoned and haunted hotel. Of course Egon was curious and decided to go, and stupidly agreed to bring you with him. He mentally cursed himself at allowing you to come. He knows you can handle yourself but the spirit seemed like a douchebag, and had split you two up,
The radio wasn’t working and his brain was going 1000MPH trying to figure out what to do, course he had his proton pack and the trap but he couldn’t roll out the trap and hold the spirit. He heard the gurgling of the spirits breaths and covered his mouth as he leant against the surprisingly sturdy door. He couldn’t die. He couldn’t let this thing get him. There was no showers and sensory overload was a big no no right now. He cursed himself letting his heart get in the way.
He closed his eyes as the gurgling passed the door he was behind and onto the next room. His heart jumped out of his chest as the sound of a proton pack shooting and capturing the ghost echoed through the building. He wrenched the door open and there you were holding the ghost for all your worth. He rolled out the trap and as you lowered it he opened the trap finally capturing the good for nothing.
Egon was quick to rush over to you checking you for injuries and such. He held your face in one hand squishing your cheeks gently “don’t you fucking dare leave me ever again” you were surprised Egon never swore..did you mean that much to him. You ran your fingers through his hand and smiled gently as you leaned in. His hands instinctively rested in your waist as your lips met his. All that fear, all that tension finally melted away the moment you kissed him. The box rattled and Egon glared
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."
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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
You want an angst request???? On the top of my head how about Y/n finally being able to see Egon one last time when she is helping the ogs save the kids in afterlife??? I hope that’s a good request lol
-👻
Oh shit…
Oh my heart-
“See you again”
Old!Egon Spengler x reader
Warnings; Angst…heart wrenching angst.
Your eyes widened and your heart raced seeing him again. You held your daughter Callie close as the ghostly figure of your recently passed lover and husband, Egon, appeared beside your granddaughter. He was holding the proton pack steady, helping her.
Your heart screamed for him, wanting him, to hold him again. With Egons help the original four defeated Gozer and saved the world. Once that was over you stood shakily and made your way over, hesitantly reaching out. Her hand made contact with his cold cheek as he leaned into your touch. He gave a weak smile as his fellow Ghostbusters apologized, his attention on you again. His last words ringing in your head.
“Don’t tell her, okay? Dont tell her that truth. Callie may be strong like you My Dove, but her heart is weak. I promise I’ll see you again..I love you…My Dove”
You knew Egon was dying. His friends thought he was crazy, they abandoned him. But you stayed. You had your child with him! You willingly stayed..and he was leaving. Tears stained your eyes as you realized he was wearing his old Ghostbusters uniform and memories flooded your brain..you pulled your hand away from his cold cheek and he kissed your palm, and you swore you felt the prickle of his beard again.
And he knew you were dying. Thats why you could touch him without him initiating it. A sad smile washed over his face as he leaned in and hugged her “I’ll see you again My Little Dove”
sjsndbd you can keep sending me asks i literally do not mind them i love your ideas sm. you're actually helping with muse it's insane.
But since you insist, i had an idea in mind, and then i forgot, and then i saw your reblog and remembered again so !!
could i possibly get another egon x reader (i literally love egon i am not sorry about this) where the reader is a little bit religiously traumatized and they have a call there, but they physically cannot step into the church bc 1) their family went to this church, and 2) everything is coming back after almost forgetting about everything so egon has to comfort them.
Sorry if that's a little dark but that's me being angsty 💀
*rubs hands together* I also have religious trauma so les goooo
“I promise you’re okay Dove”
Egon Spengler x Reader
Warnings: angst, religious trauma, implied 🍇
Panic set in even before you’d gotten into the Ecto 1. The call you’d received was from a church, the Catholic Church to be precise. The one your parents attended when you were young. Egon knew you didn’t like churches somewhat but he thought it was just because you were a scientist and you didn’t believe the stupid bible stories.
You took your meds and got into the Ecto 1 all kitted up and ready. As Ray pulled up to the church your stomach did flips and suddenly you were back to your 7 year old self.
You were only young, seven years old nearly 8. Your parents were taking you to Easter service at the church near your apartment. You were dressed up in a pretty blue dress with a little bow at the back and your hair curled. You never understood why exactly this was so important but you enjoyed the free chocolate.
Of course you’d never worn a dress of this style to church. It came to your knees and was very poofy and femme. The dresses you usually wore were ankle length, and a peachy colour. You didn’t argue though because good girls never argued. As you approached the church the pastor was welcoming everyone, and though you nor your parents saw, he was eyeing you up.
You sat beside your parents and swung your little legs as the ceremony began. You were old enough to volunteer with the little show they put on and let kids get involved with. Of course you begged your parents and it didn’t take much for them to allow you to. The service itself went smoothly, afterward while children were allowed to play outside on the clear patch of grass and adults were sat around picnic tables talking, the pastor called you over into the church. He told you that you looked very pretty in your dress and that he knew God intended you to find a man soon.
This confused you because you were only 7 and boys were so blehhhhh. But you just nodded and smiled and turned to leave. The pastor asked you if you could show him your stockings because they looked so pretty and you foolishly agreed. You thought nothing of it and never mentioned it to your parents. And that’s how it continued every Easter service up until you were 15 and finishing up school.
He tried to get you to strip, going as far as to drag you into the confessional booth and rip your dress. Without going into to much depth he had his way with you and only after you were able to escape and run out screaming and crying. Your dress was in shreds, you were a mess makeup running down your cheeks, and all your parents said was, “you shouldn’t have been tempting him with how short your dress was”
You hadn’t moved from your seat in the Ecto one for a good five minutes, tears were streaming down your cheeks your breathing heavy. Egon told the others to go ahead and he would catch up. They agreed and he waited for you to calm down and come back to the real world. They had things in the car for if Egon ever had a panic attack. He grabbed a sugary drink and something sour for you and that helped you come back to the present.
He held your hand gently and you looked at him. His heart broke seeing how upset you looked. “It’s okay now my dove, I promise you it’s okay Dove”
When the ghost was contained and you were safely in Egons baggy clothes in his bed swaddled up with your favorite drink and snacks Egon put his favorite music on and worked on some paperwork at the desk inside the bedroom. Not even Venkman had cracked a joke about the church, and that was rare.
i am writing your other one shot now! but i gained an idea and wanted to share hehe
so i was thinking an egon x reader where the reader has autism and they're overstimulated by everything that's going on around them and egon helps them out with it !! ( this'll make my autistic heart happy :) )
Look at his lil smile!
“Breath with me Dove”
Egon Spengler x reader
Warnings: mentions of panic attacks and overstimulation
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You paced up and down the lab as you took short breaths. You’d been working on the mood slime for hours now. Egon, Ray and Winston were out on call so that left you and Peter. You’d tried everything to calm down, wearing a spare jumpsuit of egons, sprayed some of his cologne that you loved and even put his favorite music on but everything just seemed to overwhelm you more.
Your breathing was getting worse and you knew that it meant a panic attack was on its way. You heard the Firehouse doors open and the three men come in laughing and joking, the smell of the traps hits your nose and you gag loudly and cover your mouth. You pace faster thoughts seeping into your brain, just as Egon stepped in. Instantly he knew what was wrong and went over standing infront of you “Hello my dove…what’s wrong? Can you speak? Do you need to write it down?”
You looked up and teared up. His voice was so soft and gentle. He always was, just as you were with him. “Can I touch you?” He asked and you nodded. He led you over to the corner where he’d set up a small area for you. A couch, sensory toys he himself had made, your favorite books and a mini fridge with safe foods inside. He sat you down and sat beside you “Breath with me dove” he brought you onto his lap and played with your hair taking deep breaths.
It didn’t take you long to begin following his pattern of breathing, the smell of cologne, smoke from his fellow ghostbusters and Twinkies filled your nose and soothed you. He kissed your forehead and held you close. Why you were overwhelmed and overstimulated became very apparent when he saw a glob of mood slime on the desk. You had spilled some and gotten it on your hand, no matter how much you washed it off, it seemed to still psychologically affect you.
He checked your hands and made sure that it was all gone as he whispered sweet things into your ear. He wanted to protect you, to keep you safe from the evil entities they encountered but you were so stubborn..and he loved that about you.
could you possibly do an egon x reader where egon is trying to fix a radio (reader's radio) and they later find out it's possessed, which is how they figure out there's some radio demon possessing all the radios in the city
(this might be inspired by a fic i'm writing with my oc so 👀 i just need the muse)
Oooooo hehehehehe
“Radio static”
Warnings: slight angst, mentions of possession etc
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Egon let out a huff of annoyance at the static coming from your radio. He’d offered to fix it but you just said it was the bad connection in the old Firehouse. As the radio cut out all together you let out a whine and pouted. “Spengieeeee”
He rolled us eyes at the pet name and went over “yes my dove? What seems to be the problem?” You pouted and huffed pointing to your radio “it just completely cut out!” He chuckled and sat beside you with his tools as he took the radio apart. Everything was perfect though, the wiring the boards everything was in order. Egon frowned and hummed gently, putting it back together.
“So what’s wrong with it? Do you think it’s just tired? Or maybe the wiring inside the wax coat is faulty?” You asked tilting your head. He shook his head and an idea popped into his head. He grabbed the P.K.E meter and held it up to the radio. It beeped like crazy the two antennae lifted almost all the way “I think we found our problem…but…this could be serious.”
You tilted your head confused as Egon left the room and went to consult Ray, after he’d been gone for thirty minutes or so you looked back at the radio as it began crackling again, a strained voice spoke out, “free…me” You backed away from it as the radio began moving…actually moving across the work desk. You called out for Egon, softly at first before the moving grew aggressive and the yelling more and more high pitched.
Egon and Ray ran in covering their ears, they dragged you out and Egon rubbed his ears in pain “whatever this is, it’s not just your radio. It’s..most the radios in New York..and if it’s what me and Ray think it is well we need to find the source and quickly.”
You hummed and and tilted your head in thought. Maybe this would be a good time as any to use your connections. You left the room and headed to the Reception Area, asking Janine if you could use the phone. She shrugged and you called up an old friend of yours that worked in the radio station.
“Have all radio stations checked and shut down for a few hours..the Ghostbusters need to run an investigation” your friend was surprised but agreed. Shortly after you hung up there was announcement on the radio telling listeners that radio would be offline while maintenance was carried out. You pressed the button to alarm the boys to come down and briefed them on what you’d done.
“if Egon and Ray are concerned we need to act fast. And don’t try stop me, I’m coming along” You looked at Venkman in particular as you suited up. Luckily Egon was at ease sharing his jumpsuit with you, plus he found out it helped keep you calm. Once you all arrived at the major radio station you headed in and did a full sweep. The P.K.E meter went crazy the moment you stopped outside the biggest radio studio door. You looked at Egon as he nodded and you slowly pushed the door open.
Inside was a tall, thin and pale entity, his breathing was raspy and sounded like static. You both readied your neutron wands and Egon radioed the other three to get upstairs immediately. Once they were all there, you opened the door fully, shooting your blast, holding the entity in place. It struggled against you until Egon shot his blast, securing it while Ray rolled the trap in. As he counted down, you prepared yourself for the opening of the trap, he gave the signal and the trap opened as you and Egon pulled the beams off and the spirit was sucked into the trap. You looked at the closed trap and a grin spread across your face.
“Well..that was…wow” you’d never actually done any of the catching. You’d been the one rolling the trap out or holding the P.K.E meter. This was the first time of many. You grabbed the trap and headed out along with the others where a hoard of news reporters and journalist were waiting. Peter gave an over dramatic speech of sorts and you rolled your eyes “What Dr Venkman means is, radio is coming back soon and we have a very important job to do” you shoved Venkman into the car and got in after him.
The way home was sleepy but peaceful. Once the trap was emptied and everyone all cleaned up and such, you flopped on Egons double bed still in his jumpsuit, minus the boots gloves and other accessories. You were so…worn out but Egon helped you change into one of his tshirts and some jogging bottoms. He kissed your forehead and you dragged him down into bed with you clinging like a koala “Radio static is annoying…” you mumbled sleepily and Egon rubbed your back “agreed” he mumbled and smiled as your soft snores filled the room. “Goodnight my dove”
