#ask ray stantz

[ask-raystantz]

walter peck is right

What do you mean? He tried to shut down the containment unit back when my friends and I were the Ghostbusters. He’s the reason Gozer nearly killed the entire city.

It’s unfortunate that you think he’s right.

[tuliptired]

could you possibly write an Egon Spengler / female reader love triangle fic! With a lot of jealousy on Econ’s part? I love your Egon fics!

I Wish That I Had Jessie's Girl

Pairing: Egon Spengler/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Minor violence and being not so nice to a lady (its not Egon dw)

its been a minute...wtf yall know about plumbing???

better formatting on Ao3!

You put the phone down dreamily, smiling to yourself as Janine clung to your shoulders, having listened intently to your call. It was Duke, a friend staying with your neighbor. You had taken to talking one morning, you let it slip about your place of employment, and soon enough the boys were ridding his boiler of a spirit. He would call you during work hours, simple things like asking if you made it in ok, if you had dinner waiting- things that didn’t warrant calling a ghost hotline, but he was so sweet that you couldn’t resist. He had the cutest accent you’d ever heard, and not to mention the pure charisma he exuded with sandy hair and tanned skin. You sighed, leaning on your hand as you remembered him saying he “just wanted to talk to the sweet girl on the other end.”

Before you could indulge in your debriefing with your friend, the garage opened, and outpoured four men in brown. It didn’t take a genius to guess what they missed, brains filling in the blanks as Janine shook you around and you both giggled like highschoolers. 

“That line is for work calls,” Peter scolded you lightly, picking up the phone and inspecting it. Janine rolled her eyes, going back to whatever was on her computer and you looked down at your paperwork, a little embarrassed.

“You don’t get it,” Janine typed fast. The men groaned, as Peter fell into Ray’s arms dramatically.

“Oh, I get it.” He did his best at mocking your voice. “Oh, Duke, run away with me into the sunset!” Ray played along, doing a worse impression of you as your face burned from the teasing. “Duke- let’s go horseback riding on the beach!” 

Winston joined in, sounding like a belle. “Run up the phone bill, Duke!” 

As you tried to speak up to put an end to the symphony of phony-you, Peter interrupted you. “Duke, I haven’t had a real date in months- of course I’ll marry- ow!” He rubbed his forehead, eyes flickering from the spot he was struck and the golf pencil clattering to the floor. Soon, the other two men were pelted as well, covering their faces as you tossed writing utensils like rice.

You placed the container down. “It’s not my fault if he’s a romantic,” you defended yourself, straightening your clothes. Ray and Winston raised unbelieving eyebrows at you, bending over to pick up the mess. 

Ray stood with a small handful, unbending at the waist. “Just don’t know why you’re so obsessed with him, that’s all.” He had the cadence of a worried older brother, which made you uncross your arms. 

Janine leaned in to you. “Knows guitar. Beautiful brown eyes. A little dumb.”

You nodded. “A cute smile.” 

“So tall!”

“Deep voice.”

“Southern voice!” 

Ray looked offended then, placing a hand on his heart. “I’m southern! What makes him so special?”

Janine pushed her glasses up with her ring finger, crystal chain swinging as she did. “Kansas doesn’t count.”

“Well, excuse me if I’m not as good as Mr. Baywatch,” he stood with his hands on his hips.

Winston looked at something over your shoulder. “What do you think, Egon?” That’s what you were forgetting- you mentally cursed yourself for foregoing the quiet man as he started up the stairs. He paused, looking over the banister. 

He was silent, mouth opening but words hesitant. “I wouldn’t be tripping over myself for a plumber.” The rest of the men erupted in laughter, Janine telling them off, swatting at them as she said that they were just old and bitter. Your head fell into your hands, mind spiraling with ways you’ll get them to let it go.

You sat behind your desk, sipping on the coffee Egon had brought you. Just the right kind from just the right shop- in exchange for your help in the lab. The liquid warmed your insides as he watched you, waiting for a verdict. 

You put the paper cup down. “It’s the right kind,” you admitted. He didn’t budge. “ Thank you , Egon.” He was satiated, as the door opened and you turned your attention away. It was Duke, the sudden appearance making you jump, quick to fix your hair and tug on the hem of your shirt. He was all smiles, sauntering up to you with a few things in hand. Egon looked unamused, making a small amount of space for the man.

“You have another ghost?” You beamed up and him, nervous in the air of the spontaneous visit.

He laughed, voice rich like honey. “Hey, sweet girl- I can’t see you?” You shook your head light heartedly, subconsciously leaning forward in your seat. He held up what was in his arms. “Brought you something.” a little coffee cup with a yellow sleeve, and a thin batch of flowers. “You didn’t already have, right?” He hesitated before he put the cup onto the wood. Your eyes widened a bit, as he hadn’t noticed the forgotten favor from Egon that you quickly placed in a short, open drawer space underneath the actual table top. You felt bad, doing it in front of your friend, but he’d just have to understand, right? 

“Not at all,” you assured him. “Thank you, so much. You didn’t have to.” You brought the drink to your lips, taken aback by the taste. This was the kind you hated. From the place you made a point not to visit. You smiled weakly, taking the flowers in your hands. Pre-cut flowers, destined to die in a week.

He grinned back at you, before something flashed behind his eyes. “Before I forget- the bathroom pipes in your walls? The ones running through your bedroom? They’re sounding a little shaky, you might wanna get them looked at.” He leaned a hand against your desk, the other in his back pocket.

You heard a small snort that didn’t come from either you or the man trying to court you. You nodded, once. “Thanks. If my apartment floods with toilet water I’ll know who to call.” Duke looked around at your workplace, either impressed or concerned as he craned his neck towards the ceiling.

He let out a low whistle. “This place has to be at least half a century old.”

“Octogenarian.” Egon spoke up, evading your gaze as he stared down the other male. 

“No kidding,” Duke stilled, before looking around again. You cleared your throat, placing a hand over his.

“Thank you, again. I don’t know anyone who’d go out of their way like this for me.” You locked eyes for a minute, just smiling at each other before Egon interrupted, again.

He started toward the lab. “The samples are ready.” You sighed out your nose, remembering how these were the ones you were particularly excited to look at under the microscope. 

You patted his hand apologetically, before getting up as Egon disappeared into the firehouse. “Duty calls. I’ll see you later?” Duke looked a little disappointed, but he agreed nonetheless.

“Later,” he gave your hand a squeeze as he strolled towards the exit. 

Egon had a few slides set up, as well as seedlings and sprouted plants off to the side when you arrived. You sat in your designated wheely, short-backed chair, silent and a hefty amount of awkward as he messed with something behind you.

“He got the wrong coffee.”

“I know.”

“And you hate store bought flowers. He tried to charm you by offering to fix your pipes.”

“I know. ” You swiveled around to face him, self-conscious as you remembered the fact that Egon was standing there for the entire ordeal.

You closed your eyes as you put your hands out. “Look. Everybody makes mistakes. So what if I’ve mentioned it to him a few times.” Egon ceased what he was doing and gave you a single look as you slumped back in defeat. “Just drop it.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he turned the microscope’s light on, “now, these are samples of Platanthera ciliaris grown with ectoplasm, rather than cut prematurely with store bought fertilizers-” You cut him off with a light punch to the arm. He slid the scope in front of you. As you put your eye to the lens, your mind blanked upon looking down at blurry shapes and colors. This part always got you. 

“How do you…” You gestured to the knobs on either side without raising your head. He was quiet before placing light fingers on your right hand, guiding the knob forward, your skin prickling at the touch. Nothing changed as he retracted his hands.

“It’s still not…” You were about to sit back, to let him try it himself, when there was something in your way as wheels screeched across hard floors. A warm body, a respectable distance behind   your own, and warm hands encompassing yours. He silently guided the knob again, back and forth until the slide was clear.

You hoped he couldn’t feel your heart through your clothes as you swallowed. “That’s- good. I can see.” Your breath was taken away at the sight underneath you, yellow and orange and green cells as far as the slide went. Little square boxes, reminiscent of sliced citrus fruit sitting in the long tendrils of the plant. With the ectoplasm, their cell walls grew thick, and seemed to breathe, coiling and writhing. Before Egon could back away, you voiced your awe.

“It’s beautiful,” you said honestly. He stayed where he was.

A beat or two of silence, but he spoke eventually. “I know. It did wonders for their growth. It makes me think, what could this mean for human development?”

You watched on as the cells seemed to twitch, reminiscent of an animal stretching itself. “Living, retentive material on a living, thinking human being? Is that ethical?”

He didn’t say anything as he raised the brightness for you. “I’m unsure.”

You could see even better now, the remaining bits of dirt clear on the root of the flower. “Venkman could help.”

“Perhaps he could.” 

It was comforting, the way he was close to you. Undoubtedly, he was in a bit of an awkward position- his lower body was rolled away from the small of your back. But it was almost funny the way he nearly let all of his weight rest on you, while barely touching you at all. The scientist didn’t go out of his way to touch people, and when he did it was stiff and rigid. But he was languid now, deep breaths in tandem with yours as you reveled in the quiet. He started going out of his way for you very far into your employment, and your coworkers swiftly teased you both for it in the privacy of a room the other wasn’t occupying. He let you have the good chair, he brought you the good coffee. He let you watch on and talk endlessly while he worked, something that the other men didn’t have the privilege of. He listened to you divulge him in a topic he never previously cared for, as you ate all of his food. So to be touched, as brazenly as this, was simultaneously surprising and expected. He was your friend. But he was Egon, so his pelvis would stay out of contact with your body as he leaned forward onto you.

But the presence was lost, as the scrape of wheels against the ground made you raise your head, a bit disappointed. He had a little slide in hand, with another flower. It was your favorite, marked “ectoplasmic”, incased in clear material. He had the ghost of a guilty smile as you took it from him, marveling at the new color created. 

You managed to glow so hard you nearly felt your cheeks ache. “You’re spoiling me.”

Janine was bored, taken to filing your nails to match her own in the middle of the slow day. The compact radio on your side of the desk went on, playing your station of preference as you let her work on you. She stops filing, blowing the dust off the edge.

She eyes you for a moment, before going back to your hands. You narrow your eyes as she keeps her head down. “What? What was that for?”

“Your aura is all outta whack.”

You frown. “Well then, I apologize for my ‘aura’.” Janine wasn’t pleased, cocking one eyebrow as she dragged the file back and forth. 

She sits up a little straighter, bringing your hand up to her eye. “This is bad. I’ve only seen something like this in my sister.”

You sneak a look down at your nails. “Your boy-crazy sister?”

“I’m telling you- this is bad.” Janine drops the file, holding your hand. “And I can tell what’s happening.” She takes a pause, as if her next words will hurt coming out. “You’re in love.”

“Alright, you got me,” you pull your hands back, surrendering sarcastically. The little woman grabs them again, insistent.

“So you’re not in love with Duke?”

“I mean-”

“So you’re stuck between two lovers?” 

Taking your hands back again, you roll away from her, eyes widening and voice reaching a ditzy pitch. “I am not in love with Egon!”

She has an expression reminiscent of a psychiatrist as the light catches in her glasses. “Honey. I never mentioned Egon.”

You freeze. Without thinking, you rise from your chair, only to be pulled back down. “You’re just confusing me,” you protest.

She cages you into the receptionist booth. “The only thing confused is your heart. You’re stuck between two guys and now you have to choose one.” You scoff, crossing your arms. She keeps on, voice lowering a bit as if she remembers the men upstairs.

“I see it, we all see it. Except the two eggheads,” she flicks you between the eyebrows with manicured nails. “Friends and coworkers don’t do what you do.”

The spot on your face stung. “I’m telling you, he’s just my friend,” you almost pleaded.

Janine’s eyes nearly rolled off her face. “Of course. He lets you bother him all day because you’re friends? He’d lay himself out on the ground for you to walk on if you asked. You just don’t think he would because you’re too scared to lose him if you make assumptions.” She presses a finger to your chest. “But you should’ve seen the two of you the other day.”

Your blood runs just short of icy. “You were there?”

“Egon does not touch people. And there you were, this 6ft scientist hanging off of your back like a koala.” She smirks to herself as she lets up, rolling back to her spot and starting to work on her own nails as you sit there, stunned. “You like the big-weird-doctor,” her voice teases you.

There’s nothing for you to do but roll back to your own spot, silent as she keeps going. “And you’re not gonna say anything to Duke?” His name snaps you back to reality as you turn your head to face her.

“I don’t…” You try to argue your case, barren as it may seem, but it served no purpose when nothing came to mind.

“So you’ll say something to Egon?” Her face brightens with hope.

“I…” Nothing, again, as you search the floor for some sort of answer.

“So you won’t say anything to anyone and you’ll die an old hag?” She whines, setting the file down against the wood, eyebrows furrowed as you throw your head back, squinting at the ceiling.

Your brain was scrambled, not knowing whether it was on the offensive or the defensive. You make a resolve without thinking, tone self-assured. Or, in denial. “I don’t think you know what you’re talking about. And I’ll…be with Duke because he actually likes me.” She starts to speak, but her words are cut off by a low, shaky rumbling reverberating throughout the firehouse. Both pairs of eyes instinctively flit downward, until a creaky note followed by a loud spraying noise and a curse resound from above you. 

The voice of the man in question cuts through the very loud chaos happening in your walls, calling down the hall. “The lab sink! It’s flooding!” The sounds of running water and creaky metal fill the space. Amidst the noise, you can hear Ray announce that “he’s got it!” as he makes it to the lab along with two other sets of feet, and you rush to the staircase.

“No, you don’t! You’re an engineer, not a pipefitter!” You leant on the railing, waiting for a response. You got one, as the madness quieted for a second, Janine coming out from under the desk. In an instant, it erupted again, even worse as you and Janine’s hands went flying towards your ears. There was a hellish cacophony of metal, gushing water, and creaking inside and outside the wallpaper, comparable to construction. You stumbled back to the desk, fingers pressed into your hair.

“Who do we get? What number do we call?” Janine hands you the phone, yelling over the endless pandemonium.

You have to yell back. “No one, after the work Ray did- no commercial plumber would come within 50 feet of our driveway if he wanted to keep his license.”

She shakes the phone at you, exasperated. “Well, what do we do? This place is falling apart!” You’re forced to take it then, holding back a sigh as you bite your cheek and punch in the only number you knew to contact.

Duke was underneath the sink unit, working hard as he lay on the towel you gave him to stay out of the inch of water that accumulated onto the floor. “It’s a good thing you called me when you did,” he marveled as he reached for a tool in the worn satchel you held like the daintiest picnic basket.

“I can’t tell you how glad I am that I did.” He sends you a smile from the ground, and you return it, until you hear the slosh of something dragging against water. Duke looks to the side, and you do the same as you look up, expression flat. Egon was in his chair, working at his workbench like there wasn’t centimeters of stagnant water at his ankles. You knew he was freaked out of his mind, he was just being difficult.

“Egon,” you inquired sweetly.

“Hm?” He was playing innocent.

Your voice retained the same sweet cadence. “Why are you here?”

Egon gazed at both of you incredulously, like he had no idea what he was doing wrong. “It’s my own laboratory, I think I reserve the right to be here.”

Your jaw clenched. “Of course. Hey, Duke, tell me again about your football team,” you hid the venom in your voice as your stare didn’t leave Egon’s sitting figure.

Duke shined when he recalled his years in high school sports. “Oh man, you have no idea. I was the best running back in Valentine. I was riding high, ‘till I tore my ACL. Could’ve gone pro.”

Egon spoke as you were about to praise the former athlete. “Interesting you mention football injuries. Many players can develop CTEs and never notice.” Duke blinked, nodding slowly.

“My head’s okay. I think.” 

“I’m sure. Poor impulse control, rage issues, and eventual dementia but- there’s no way we’ll know until you’re dead.” He shrugged, smile lopsided.

“And what a cute cadaver you’ll be, with cute Duke Juniors at your side after they do the autopsy,” you bent slightly, voice saccharine and expression strained as you got Duke’s attention again. It felt mean to think this, but he was a little easy to please.

“It might not be the CTE that gets him, after all. In fact, plumbers are easily at risk for infectious diseases. Hepatitis, staphylococcus. On account of the fecal matter and septic water.”

Before you could distract him, Duke looked offended, brows knitting together. 

“Nerds like you don’t get sick? With your samples and your tests?” He glanced at Egon sideways.

Egon simply shook his head. “No. Because I’ve never swam through human shit for a paycheck.”

Duke almost got up from his spot underneath the sink, sitting up on his forearm and pointing a tool towards the seated man. “I didn’t go to some big school for years just so I could be called doctor like you did. You don’t even patch anyone up,” he retorted harshly. Egon, the man who avoided confrontation, seemed smug and amused by the insult, ready to spit back himself.

You squatted to be level with him, internally thankful that your legs were strong enough to prevent you from falling backwards into standing water. “I’ve never told you how cool I think it is that your truck is so tall. I didn’t even know they made them that big.” God, you sounded like a cheerleader as you rested a hand on his chest, but it worked.

He was content with that as he wiped his hands off on a rag. “Y’know, sweet girl, I’ve been meaning to ask. Tomorrow’s Friday, wanna come out to the bar on 5th and Franklin? I’ll show you a good time.” He spoke low, eyes lower. Egon didn’t give you time to respond, as he was fully turned towards the both of you, face more than annoyed.

“She hates that club. And she told you that, because it has to do with why she doesn’t have her license, and she tells that story to everyone. Were you the exception, or did you just not care enough to remember? Because she won’t jump into bed with you on the spot?” For the second time that day, your blood turned to icy as you stood up fast, water splashing onto Duke’s shirt underneath you going unnoticed to everyone in the room but him as he grabbed the hem. 

You could barely control the anger in your voice as it rose in volume. “Egon,” was all you had to say, firm and frustrated as you stood with hands on your hips. He looked like a scolded child, wordlessly wading through the flood and following you outside.

You stood standing across from each other, Egon very interested in your shoes. “What the hell is wrong with you?” You questioned him, infuriated as you pinched each of his ears, pulling him down as he winced in pain. 

When you let go, he weakly soothed his red cartilage. “You don’t understand,” he muttered, immediately regretting his choice of words as your eyes lit aflame.

“What don’t I understand? That you didn’t mean to be a jerk to the guy trying to ask me out?” Egon took your reproach, until he couldn’t anymore.

“He doesn’t really like you,”’ he said reluctantly. 

“How would you know?” You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes. Was this why he was being so petty?

Egon sighed, before looking frustrating and starting off on a tangent. “He got you the wrong coffee, the kind that gives you a stomachache. And he got you store bought flowers that died within a week. Anyone who’s ever known you will know to get you a potted plant so you can keep it alive yourself. Not to mention that you’d have more stimulating conversation with a mailbox than him.” Egon looked choleric and uncomfortable as he tried to reason with you, voice raising slightly.

You took a step towards him, lowering your voice as you weren’t all that far from the lab- only down the hall. “At least he’s trying! In all the time you’ve known me, how many people did you know to actually try?” It sounded pathetic out loud, but it was true, right? For as long as you could remember, you knew that you’d eventually have no more room to nitpick. He had a brief, hurt expression, eyebrows flying together and mouth open slightly. He looked away once, before nearly begging you.

“He’s only trying because he thinks you’re a challenge!” He put both hands on your shoulders in a moment of desperation. “I’ve lived among men all my life. Even the most mild mannered guy has only one thing in mind, taking you to a club like that. He lets you talk and talk because you won’t think twice when-”

You pushed yourself away, a cynical smile as your face burned inside. “Oh, I’m sure Janine would be surprised to hear that coming from you.” You stepped toward the door, ready to open it and accept his invitation. Egon took a step towards you, as if you were an animal.

“What? I’m trying to tell you, he is an insincere neanderthal of a man, and he’ll do nothing but treat you like dirt.” You were ready to snap then. This was all too much for you, abstract emotions having nothing to do but manifest as frustration. Janine’s words mixed with Egon’s, resounding as negative affirmations through every corner of your head. 

This was all so confusing, and now here he was, telling you that the love you were receiving for so long was superficial. Wasn’t he supposed to be your friend? That hurt most of all, memories of the handful of times you were alone at night, spilling your thoughts out. You were tired, and he did more listening than talking, but you can remember him reassuring you that “ someone will love you. He’ll stop being scared and he’ll tell you with a beautiful flower in hand.” Who cares how you felt about Duke? The love he promised is here, and now it’s up to Egon to tell you it’s not true? You could barely feel tears in the corner of your eyes, disdain making them dry.

Taking a slow, yet shallow breath, you grabbed the door again, turning your back to him. “And you’re being an ass. As far as I’m concerned, you’re not at liberty to tell me who I should and shouldn’t be with.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look back at him, but if you did you’d see the visual representation of someone’s heart breaking into splinters. “I’m gonna go out with him and have fun. And drink.” With that, you were back in the lab, a little shaken as you put on a faulty smile, cheerily saying yes to his invite.

The next day came, and Peter let you go early since they’d finished all their scheduled jobs and Janine was still around. As you thanked him for excusing you, Egon stood wordlessly at the workbench.

You got nice and dressed up, perhaps a little better than you would otherwise. But this was for you, and partly to prove a point. Duke let you know how nice you looked during the ride from your place to the bar, granted he spent the rest of the drive going on about the truck itself. You seldom paid attention, mind so focused on enjoying yourself that you forgot to be in the moment.

At the door, you had to use a different form of identification to get in on account of this same club’s (teenaged?) bartender swiping your license to use for herself. Duke made some wayward comment on you proving that you were of age in some clandestine way, and you just sighed out your nose, handing the unamused bouncer your ID. 

The inside was hot, and loud. You couldn’t walk too far without bumping into someone. You only frequented places like this with friends, so a date was new territory as he sat down at the bar without looking back. He ordered a large beer, for himself, and insisted that you order another drink after you had nursed yours. You declined, you needed to remember tonight, and he seemed almost annoyed at that. The air was a little tense- it was hard to have a good time when only one person’s throwing back. It was only getting better when you did the cheerleader thing again, letting him pick you up with one arm and impress you with another round of shots. You suggested he slow down, and again denied another drink, and he seemed irritated again. You felt a little despondent yourself as he wouldn’t talk, before something across the bustling room got his attention and he halfheartedly excused himself. 

It didn’t take long before you found him in the corner of a bar, trying to impress much younger, much drunker girls. Drunken asshole. You dragged him back by the wrist, talking sweetly to him as you promised him a dance earlier in the night. He got excited, beating you at getting to the floor. As your sultry air fell, you caught a glimpse of bright colors in one of the booths, pointing in your direction. God damn it.

“What are you doing here?” You leaned against their table exasperated as 3 out of 4 of them beamed at you. Winston, Peter, and Ray each had the same dress shirt, buttons undone and sleeves rolled up to different degrees; in purple, red, and green respectively. Egon opted for a dress shirt he had at home, a simple light blue under a sweater vest and tie. He looked nothing sort of tense in the crowded environment, even more so now that you were in front of them. You scrunch your nose in sight of their outfits. “Did your tour bus break down?”

Winston put down his glass. “How’s your date going?” You closed your eyes and raised your eyebrows.

Peter looks over your shoulder at Duke making his way through the crowd. “He looks juiced.”

“It’s fine. Why are you here?” Ray smiled, putting a hand on Egon’s shoulder. 

“Can you believe this was Egon’s idea? Here, no less?” The man looked into your eyes sheepishly as you glared down at him. 

“Oh, I can believe it. Well, I hope you and Rosenberg enjoy your night.” You gave Egon a mocking grin, before departing to find Duke. You did, and he was, again, with another girl. You got his attention, and he was excited to dance- just extremely handsy. So much so that you had to hold his wrists to keep his hands on your waist, rather than your front or rear. 

Eventually, he spoke low and into your ear, but it wasn’t the titillating, sensual way that one would towards someone they were trying to romance. It made the hair on your neck stand for the wrong reasons as it registered as sleazy, predatory. Drunken words:sober thoughts, Janine’s voice sounded in your mind. 

“C’mon, let’s go to my place,” Duke finally ended his slurry of obscene suggestions as his hands tried at grabbing your wrist, motioning to lead you out to the apartment he didn’t even own. You resisted, heartbeat racing as you tried to politely let him know you were fine here. His half lidded eyes became aggravated as he tried again to drag you out, this time with a tighter grip and a stronger force. You couldn’t stop his strength as he started to pull you away from the safety of a crowd and towards the dimly lit exit, fingers digging at his in a desperate attempt to free yourself from the grips of this man with a getaway car and a plan. 

You were able to escape his tight hold, and he spun around, irate. “I went through all this trouble to listen to you bitch and moan about stupid shit, and you won’t even sleep with me?” As you stood there, dismayed, he managed to spit out a disgusting, derogatory insult at you, looking down at you in the flashing lights of the club. Drunken bastard. 

You were appalled, and before the record could change, you brought your hand up and to the side of his face, hard. He was stunned by the slap, cheek red as he looked back at you in disbelief. Your fear turned into great offense and disgust at the sight of the man in front of you. In an attempt to regain his pride he took a step forward, enraged and embarrassed. As he got almost chest to chest with you, he reached for your neck. 

Before he could choke you out, there was a hand on his shoulder. Almost as quickly as he looked over his shoulder, there was a fist connected to his other cheek, and you could swear a tooth or two came flying out. 

It all happened so quickly that you could’ve blinked and gotten to where you were, talking to a police officer outside as Duke and Egon were seated on the curb, handcuffed. The officer nodded as you gave your statement, and let Egon, who was sitting calmly, off with a warning as he wasn’t intoxicated and acted in your defense, while Duke hurled expletives and beer from his spot against the road. The car sped off with him in the backseat, and you tiredly sat down next to the tall man, stretching his wrists out from the handcuffs.

“Hey.”

Egon’s face was illuminated by the fluorescent lights of a 24 hour grocery behind him in the entertainment filled street. His brown eyes were soft and slightly rounded, albeit worn. “Hi.” He looked at you expectantly with a trace of worry as you scanned him. He looked beautiful at night. “Are you okay?” He bashfully held both of your hands in his.

You nodded. He didn’t seem to believe you, examining any part of your body that was exposed. You pinch his ears again, pulling him down. “Thanks for spying on me,” you let him go, “But. Thank you for being there, really. I’m sorry I didn’t listen when you were warning me.” He looked guilty as he rubbed the tops of his ears.

“I should be apologizing. It’s not my place to police what you do. I’m sorry I acted childish.” You let out a small huff, leaning your head on his shoulder. He was a warm refuge in the cooling air of the night.

“But, you wouldn’t have had to if I just rejected him.” 

He hummed. “True,” he agreed without thinking. He realized what he said as you let out a short laugh. “Objectively, it is true. But you shouldn’t blame yourself for him being disgusting. This could’ve been avoided if I had just gained the courage to tell you.” You sighed, before freezing.

“Tell me?”

It was his turn to freeze, eyes on the ground as he sat still. You shook his shoulder a bit, trying to convince him to let you in.

“Tell me what? C’mon, no more secrecy from now on.” He pursed his lips, sitting like a deer in headlights. He swallowed, battling something in his head before he rose silently, stopping in front of the tiny grocery store. You watched on as he robotically made it past cut and wrapped bouquets, artificial and destined to wilt soon. He stopped in front of a little potted thing, tiny compared to the others on sale but precious and hardy in its own right as its blossoms were finished blooming.

Egon took a breath in, and you stood to be with him. “I promised you. That the love of your life will be there with a flower in hand.” He looked between you in the pot. “If you’ll have me?”

The sounds and colors of the club melted away, painting you both in light like oil portraits. How blind you were. He looked grecian, his nervous face bathed in blue.

 “Of course. Even if you had to act like a caveman for me to realize."

[spenglersweetheart]

Hello it’s me again with another Ray request

Ray with a reader who can sing, like they sing ballads and stuff like that and always wanted to be on broadway but had a passion for science instead. I just wanna sing for my baby 😭😭😭

this is actually so adorable 🥹 fun random fact about me i used to be a musical theatre major lol

─────────────── ✦ ───────────────

Sing Me to Sleep

Ray Stantz x Reader

WARNINGS : none!

─────────────── ✦ ───────────────

THE GHOSTBUSTERS WERE KNOWN NOT TO REALLY SLEEP. You would often find yourself walking through the halls as well most parts of the night. It's weird, really. Making sure that the rest of them went to sleep before you went to sleep. Maybe you just cared more about their sleeping habits than yours. But, it could be something else.

You were actually downstairs at the Firehouse, as you're the one who relieved Janine out for the night. But after you did that, you head upstairs to the sleeping quarters. When you got up there, you immediately scoped out the room to see who had been sleeping.

Your eyes land on Egon. You know he's asleep. He sleeps like a rock. He's flat on his back. You find Peter, who's asleep. He's drooling on his pillow. Winston was asleep, too. Although he slept on his side, you can slightly hear him snoring.

Your head tilts to the side. You walk over Ray's bed and you find that he isn't asleep. That he's just turned over. You lean down to him, slight worried expression written all over your face.

"How come you're not sleeping?"

"Can't sleep," Ray told you, "I've been tossing and turning all night."

"Really? How come?" You ask him.

"Dunno."

This was the second day that Ray had gone without sleep. You weren't going to let that happen. You wanted him to rest. You guys were always busy. It's like that time that you caught Egon sleeping in his lab and his eyes were still on the microscope.

He looks up at you. "Could you sing to me?"

Only Ray knew this, but you were a singer. Not very professional, but you knew most of the technique. Your dream for the longest time was to be an actress on the Broadway stage. Though, you didn't know if you were ever going to get there.

"Sing to you," you repeat. You thought for a moment before you asked, "What do you want me to sing to you?"

Ray gives a shrug. "Anything really," he answered, "Maybe one of those showtunes you hum around here."

A chuckle escaped your lips. You motion him over. He laid his head onto your lap. Your first instinct is to run your hand through his hair. You do this repeatedly, just to soothe him. You start to sing.

"Don't cry for me, Argentina / The truth is I never left you / All through my wild days / My mad existence / I kept my promise / Don't keep your distance."

Evita was a show that has hit you in your feels. You saw it and your life was changed when you walked out of that theatre. And to think that they were actually making that into a movie. You look down, as you sing to Ray, you can see his eyes closing. You keep singing for him.

"And as for fortune, and as for fame / I never invited them in / Though it seemed to the world they were all I desired / They are illusions ..."

Between the singing and the repeating of your hand running through his hair, Ray had fallen asleep in no time. When you notice this, you carefully set his head down on his pillow. You run your hand through his hair one more time before you give a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"Goodnight, Ray ..." You whisper to him before you carefully stand back up.

You left the bedrooms, humming the song that you just sang to him. But before you leave, you look back, just to make sure that he's sleeping. And when you find that he is, you make it out of the room before going home for the night.

[strange-aus-and-crossovers]

idk if ur taking requests still atm but...

cursed request:

magical guardian ghostbusters

I can only imagine you’re asking for the magic girl anime ghostbusters. Which means you want the boys in dresses. As if I could ever top the manga storyline where they went against a fashion demon. Tho I do think they should have switched Egon’s and Peter’s dresses.

But also I will absolutely give you what you want.

[ask-nadeem-razmaadi]

How do you get on with the others?

Pretty well, I think? Most of them check in on me now and again. Turns out the experts don’t want to leave a pyrokinetic unmonitored, who knew!

I see Lars and Lucky the most, so I get on with them. Took Lars a while to warm up but he tolerates me now so I think that’s good? Lucky hasn’t stopped making sex dungeon jokes but otherwise they’re a fun kid to be around.

Dr. Ray’s been really nice, he’s helped me learn more about pyrokinesis and still somehow hasn’t given up on me after I’ve been literally the worst student ever?? Shoutout Dr. Ray. That Podcast kid’s been helping out too, although he did swing a hammer at me so I don’t know.

Dr. Venkman was an asshole the first time I met him. Didn’t think I’d end up liking him. But honestly, other than Dr. Ray he’s probably helped me out the most. It’s wild being able to just say ‘Dr. Venkman’ like that, dude. Like yeah, that Dr. Venkman, the talk show guy from when I was a kid. Him. I know him.

Mr. Zeddemore’s also been pretty nice. He’s been letting me come by the lab since I’m technically ‘under supervision’ or something. Mr. Zeddemore’s the easiest to understand if I’m honest, he feels the most normal.

Callie Spengler scares me and I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m a bad influence on Trevor. I’m sorry Mrs(?) Spengler.

I don’t really see Trevor or his sister much but hey, I definitely know what it’s like to not be the ‘smart one’ in the family, so I guess I just hope the Spenglers are nicer about it. He’s a good kid and definitely has a lot more going for him than I did at 18.

I’m definitely inviting Gary round to play video games at some point.

Ms Melnitz isn’t happy that I burned the front desk but she’s happy that I helped stop everyone from dying so I think it balances out. She told me ‘Well done’ one time and I think I almost died on the spot.

It’s honestly weird as hell knowing the Ghostbusters like, personally. I literally grew up with half of these people on my TV. What even is my life right now?

[psychokinetic-ectoplasm]

Ray x reader and the readers a ghost

I finally came up with something for this! I wasn't sure exactly what you wanted, so I did my best. If you'd like a part two, I'll happily write one!

Also here on Ao3

Ray x Female Ghost Reader

Implied NSFW stuff, but nothing explicit

To Be Together

Ray glanced behind him, making sure none of the guys had followed him, before slipping through the door and shutting it behind him.

"Are you here?" he called quietly into the dimly lit room.

The curtains across the room moved as if caught by a breeze, and a now all-too-familiar chill went over him, making him smile and close his eyes. There was then a featherlight touch against his cheek.

"Of course, I'm here."

Ray opened his eyes, finding your ethereal face smiling back at him.

"I always am."

You moved forward again and kissed Ray on the lips this time. Ray sighed happily and kissed you back. It had taken him a bit to get used to the feeling of kissing a ghost, but now he greatly enjoyed it. Everything with you had been new; each touch felt like a whisper across his skin. Sometimes he actually saw you, sometimes he didn't.

It had begun gradually. There were multiple ghosts at this particular location, most of them causing trouble. Rambunctious spirits of rambunctious hosts who met their untimely ends in a house fire years ago. The house had since been restored with as much of the original kept in place as possible.

The new owner complained of noises in the attic and called the Ghostbusters to investigate. Sure enough, they found loads of activity. The house was huge, however; too much ground to cover in one day, so it resulted in multiple trips.

Ray found you mostly by accident. Out of all the ghosts there, you stayed confined to a single room, what had been your room once upon a time.

Ray had split off from the other guys, going off on his own. He wasn't entirely sure why. He just felt compelled to. When he'd opened the door to the room, he spotted only a glimpse of you through his ecto goggles and instinctually fired off a proton stream. You'd screamed.

It was such a human sound that Ray briefly panicked, worried that he'd fired at someone living, but upon ripping the goggles from his face, he saw that you were indeed a ghost, but not like the others in the house. You knew you were a ghost, but you didn't act like one. At least, not like any ghost he had ever seen.

You were scared of him at first, hiding behind the window curtains. Ray had carefully approached you, promised you he wouldn’t fire at you again, and slowly, you floated out so he could properly see you. You spoke. You thanked him. And he was in love.

Over the course of their trips there, Ray kept you a secret — the guys wouldn’t understand — and continually slipped away to see you. He learned how you'd died. You weren't a part of the other group of ghosts causing trouble. You hadn't even been close to the fire itself, but you'd died of smoke inhalation.

Ray was apparently the first person you had ever revealed yourself to, as you usually kept yourself hidden when the maids came in to clean the room. Ray was flattered. So much so that when you expressed just how happy you were that he happened by, that he wasn't scared of you or wanted to get rid of you, he couldn't help but admit that he liked you. That had been the first time he'd ever been kissed by a ghost. 

Well, it was as close to a kiss as a ghost could get. And to Ray, it was perfect. Perhaps it was all just his brain tricking him into thinking he could actually feel it, knowing he should have been feeling a kiss. Every time he saw you, he kissed you. And sometimes you kissed him when he couldn't see you. That had excited him even more.

All of this eventually led to more. The light touches you left on him leaving goosebumps in their wake, culminating into much more… intimate things. The pleasure he experienced during these encounters was unlike anything he’d experienced before. There wasn’t much he could do to pleasure you, but you seemed thrilled just to be able to kiss him and please him.

And that evening was like the others, of you giving him such pleasure… pleasure he so wished he could return — he sure tried to, but you couldn’t exactly feel pleasure the way you used to when you had been alive. He figured you were humoring him, but he knew touching you — as close to a touch as possible — did nothing for you.

At that particular moment, you were on top of Ray with him back in his uniform, and while Ray could feel you, it wasn't like the weight of a body, but there was a definite press of something against him. You had your head propped up on your hand, looking down at him.

“What are you thinking, Raymond?”

Ray shook his head and lifted his hand to caress your cheek. “I often wonder what’s keeping you here. Not that I’m complaining! But… I wonder what’s keeping you from moving on.”

You smiled. “Maybe I needed to meet you.”

He chuckled in return. “Maybe. Have you ever tried to leave this room?”

“Yes. But I always end up back here.” You sighed. “I wish I could leave. I wish I could go with you. Be with you.”

Ray frowned in thought. He had wondered about that, too. “I don’t relish the thought of this, but… Maybe we could trap you, transport you that way. That seems to work. Take Slimer, for instance. He manifested at the Sedgewick Hotel, but we were able to move him, and now he hangs around the firehouse. But, then again, you're a bit different from Slimer…”

“You would finally tell your friends about me?”

He sighed. “I'd have to. And it's not that I don't want them to know about you. I just… I don't know how they'd take it.”

“They wouldn't accept that you have a ghost girlfriend?” you teased.

Ray smiled a bit. “Well… It might take them a bit to get used to.”

You were just leaning in for a kiss when the door suddenly burst open, and Peter appeared, neutrona wand at the ready. Ray shot to his feet while you, startled, floated back toward the window.

“Sleeping on the job again, Ray?!” Peter exclaimed. “Help me blast her before she gets any ideas!”

“No, wait!” Ray exclaimed, jumping between you and Peter. “She’s not one of them!”

Peter lowered the particle thrower and rolled his eyes. “What do you mean, she’s not one of them?! She’s in this house, isn’t she?”

Ray sighed. This was why he hadn’t told them. They wouldn’t understand.

He could feel the equivalent of your hands on his back, which calmed him. “She might have died at the same time as the others, but she's not one of them! I swear! She's different; she's—”

“She was hovering over you all… menacingly!”

“We were—!” Ray broke off, wincing. “We were cuddling…”

Peter blinked. “Cuddling— Ray, don't tell me you're fucking a ghost!” he said, joking. When Ray remained entirely serious, Peter's smile fell. “Ray… don't tell me you're fucking a ghost…”

You were now floating at Ray's side, drawing his attention. He smiled fondly at you. “I love her, Peter.”

You smiled, too, and Ray leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.

“Hey, Pete, what— Ray, look out!”

“Whoa, whoa! Easy, Winston! This is a friendly one.”

Ray looked over to see Peter pushing Winston's hands down to get him to stop aiming at you; meanwhile, Egon appeared on the other side of Peter, PKE meter in hand. 

Winston gave Peter an incredulous look. “A friendly ghost?”

“Hey, the spud has his moments.”

“Slimer’s different.” Winston motioned to you. “That's— She's—”

“She's not going to hurt you. Or me,” Ray quickly said.

“I am getting different readings from her,” Egon said. “Much different from the other ghosts in the house. That and those were very obviously violent. This one doesn't appear to be.”

“She's not,” Ray insisted.

“Well, she wouldn't be with you if you were sleeping with her,” Peter reasoned.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa… Sleeping with her?” Winston questioned. “Ray, are you sleeping with her?”

“What does it matter?!” Ray exclaimed.

“How do you sleep with a ghost?!”

“Are you really ready for that answer, Winston?” Peter asked.

“Can we get back to the matter at hand?” Ray interrupted.

Peter glanced at the others. “And what matter is that, Ray?”

Ray looked to Egon. “She says she can’t leave this room. If she tries to, she just ends up back here. Do you think we could move her? You know, trap her and move her to a different location like we did with Slimer?”

“It's possible. But unlike other spirits, like Slimer, who's like a manifestation of gluttony, she's obviously kept her corporeal likeness.”

“Meaning…?” Peter prompted.

“Meaning, she hasn't been corrupted like some of the other ghosts here. She remembers who she was and can speak and be reasoned with. She should have simply moved on when she died, but something must be keeping her here, tied to this room.”

“There's nothing special here in this room,” you said. “It isn't even my room. It's not my house. I was a guest here.”

“Perhaps not, but that still doesn't negate the fact that this was your manifestation point.” Egon looked back at Ray. “I honestly don’t know what would happen.”

“Are you two suggesting we take her home with us?” Peter asked. “She’s not a puppy, Ray, she’s a ghost.”

“A ghost who can hear you,” you intoned.

Ray took a breath. “The way I see it, we were hired to rid this place of ghosts, right? She fits that description. So, we’ve got to do something with her regardless. It just comes down to putting her in the containment unit or not, which I won’t let happen.”

Peter, Winston, and Egon all exchanged glances.

“Well… How do you feel about having a dead lady floating around work, Winston?” Peter questioned.

Winston shrugged. “I could get used to it.”

“Egon?”

“She’d be fascinating to study.”

“You would think that.” Peter looked at Ray. “Alright, Ray, you can bring her home with us. Just make sure she’s house-trained and only sleeps on your bed.”

Ray shook his head before turning to you. “Alright. You’re sure you want to try this?”

You covered his hand with yours. “Yes, Raymond, I want to. Whatever happens, at least we tried.”

He smiled. “Yeah. Ghosts usually don’t like being captured, and I’m not sure if you can feel pain, but…”

You cut him off with a kiss. “I can handle it, Ray.”

“Of course, you can.” He unhooked the trap from his belt sitting nearby. “I’ll see you soon, sweetheart, I promise.”

The smile you gave him filled him with hope and determination. One way or another, he’d make this work.

[ask-dr-spengler]

This is like the 4th time this week where ray ends up getting possessed

[muschiettistrashmouth]

Can I get some super cute stuff of either Egon or Ray or both please

Oh my gods, YES! Thank you for this, I'm gonna write both! I love you for this ask ♥

I'm going to post them this week, ok? Thanks for the ask!

[spenglerssweetheart]

Guys send in reqs I need stuff to write the ideas are not flowin naturally rn.

[ariel-seagull-wings]

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character? and 23. Favorite picture of this character? for Ray c:

12. A couple's hobby that he would enjoy is amatheur kart racing.

23.

[ask-raystantz]

OOC- Happy pride! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

Found these images of Dan on Pinterest. Thought I would share them with you guys.

And yes, I myself am in the LGBT. Any homophobia/transphobia/any kind of discrimination will not be tolerated and you will be blocked.

[tuliptired]

One-shot for Egon? Egon and the reader that constantly throws him off guard with their flirting?

Shut Up, You're Stupid, Just Kiss Me

Pairing: Egon Spengler/Gn!Reader

if you saw me post this to the wrong ask you actually didn't

better formatting on Ao3 😔

Another one of these benefit-things. Egon understood the whole spiel- show up and look nice so the city doesn’t shut them down and a few nonprofits can look generous. But they got repetitive quickly. He didn’t even know why they were invited to this one. But, Ray insisted that it’d be good for them- and possible investors. Everyday sacrifices.

Ray and Winston always handled the networking part of the night, while Peter sat next to him at the bar, absolutely bored out of his mind as he toyed with an empty glass, head in his hand. Egon didn’t drink, but for some reason these bars were the only seats in the entire ballroom. It never made much of a difference, as he always spent the majority of his time observing the guests or the bottles on the wall, or wondering what he’d do when he got home. 

“Egoooooon,” Peter whined for the 10th time that night as his head hit the bartop. “I don’t know what to do.” They’d been through this. 

“Do what you always do. Get drunk. Talk to women.”

Peter’s cheek lay against the wood as he turned to face him, eyelids lower than usual. “But I miss my girlfriend.”

“Halfway there.” Egon righted his forgotten glass as it threatened to roll off the bar.

“You don’t get it, man. I’m committed now.” If that was a solemn vow or a complaint, it was hard to tell. 

A pair of women stood next to them at the bar, giving quick apologies for the close proximity. Peter notices Egon’s shoulders square, and suddenly becomes very interested in tonight.

He perked up quickly, leaning into Egon. “Y’know what would make my night? Seeing you take a chance. Don’t shake your head- you know I’m right.” Egon shut it down silently, shrugging off Peter’s hands. Peter was right, he hadn’t “taken a chance” in what felt like forever. Peter’s voice continued to try and convince him, as it was tuned out into a low vibration of sounds. 

Romance- or love, didn’t scare Egon. He was a grown man, after all, and he figured he understood it well enough. But that was his downfall. Person A is attracted to Person B, and they start dating- it was a simple equation. Peter and Dana defied the equation at times. But they put themselves back into it. Louis and Janine bent the rules of the equation. Could he do that? Could he break the rules, make new ones, to law that evolves every moment? Peter’s voice turned into a ring. This didn’t matter. People didn’t look at him.

He first experienced that realization in high school, the week of a dance. Big ears, big glasses- but Peter had a date. Peter always had a date. Did he want a date? Someone to hold when it was dark? To blush with as they got dressed up together? He was only human. But would he ever get that? All signs pointed to no. So, he stopped worrying about it all together. It was easier to ignore while his nose was in a book. 

Peter was practically draped over his shoulders. “Do you want me to die, Spenges?” 

“Can’t you bother someone else?” He didn’t mean to snap. It was just an unpleasant moment of awareness, it always was. 

Peter was unmoved. “Oh, Egon. Is it ‘cause they’re girls?” He jumped from his stool as Egon decided to remove himself from the bar. “Sit, sit, sitsitsit. I’ll go and find Ray. I think you need a nap, anyway.” Peter disappeared into the crowd before Egon could join him. 

Loneliness. Maybe he really should start drinking. Or, coat tailing after Peter found Ray to get out of here sooner.

He couldn’t stew in his increasing misery for long, as he felt a presence behind him. As he turned around to be freed from tonight, to stick to Ray or Winston’s side like a lost kid, he was met with a different sight.

Oh god.

“Mr. Spengler!” Your cheery face beamed. “It’s been a while. Is anyone sitting here?” Not anymore, you were already lowering your butt into it. 

He remembers you well. He was required to take an Humanities class, something about ethics and morals in STEM students. You were a TA, the professor explained  not necessarily going into that field, but taking the opportunity anyway. Egon considered himself to be well-rounded academically. But you were near tyrannical. In a class of liberal arts, english, and history majors, he stuck out like a sore thumb. You picked on him relentlessly, engaging in back and forth discussion that the rest of the lecture watched on. Even the professor.

Independent analysis- each student assigned a poem and asked to dissect it. “But, Mr. Spengler, surely you’re not insinuating that the speaker didn’t grow throughout her poem?” Your voice was loud, though the hall was smaller than normal and his seat was much closer to the front than he remembers it being yesterday.

You were always on the side of emotion and subtext, him on the side of logic and literalism. “In 6 stanzas, she wrote about flowers. I’m insinuating that her perspective did not grow in those 6 stanzas.”

You turned your back to him, moving to the large chalkboard. “Are you sure you’re not dancing around the fact that your assignment was an allegory for sex?” The class broke, and his face flushed into a bright, knowing red, as you flashed him a bright, knowing smile.

Relentless torture. You’d stop him before he could leave the hall, a timed essay in your hands that you’d returned to everyone but him.

“Interesting topic,” you offered, after an hour of grilling him. As he reached for the paper, you pulled your hand back.

“Your writing is improving. You do exceptionally well when it’s something you enjoy.” You let him take it.

You start for your things by your desk, before calling out into the empty room. “And you’re cute when you actually try!”

So he decided that he hated you. It was the only plausible explanation. He left your debates cherry pink , stumbling over his own words. He could have sworn that he was beyond intelligent. But when he stepped into that room with you he became a bumbling idiot. And hate was a powerful thing. He found himself contemplating what would occur that day as he made his trek across campus. He was sure he’d understood the essay he was assigned to the point of being able to recite it. That would show you. But you shut him down, and up. No matter how calculated and practiced his responses were, you tore down his guard with your comments. How could someone who made him feel so stupid say such…things? He sat alone at night, pondering his ailment. You confused him to an intense degree. Sweaty palms, increased heart rate- this was hate, white and hot. 

The morning before he graduated, preparing to return in the fall for his doctorate, he appeared in the desolate classroom, as you cleaned out filing cabinets. 

You looked up from underneath the desk, the smile he’d seen for a whole semester spreading on your lips. “Your reception outfit is nice, Mr. Spengler.”

God damn it. Why was he here again? The grip on his bag tightened as he scoured through his brain for any recollection. You had a box in your arms, simply passing him.

“Don’t change,” and the door shut behind you.

How he hated you. 

“It’s nice to see you again,” you managed to order a drink while talking directly to him.

“Of course.” Sweaty palms, increased heart rate. 

You sipped your glass. “You finished your doctorate? No more school?”  

He adjusted to spontaneous conversation, albeit slowly. He didn’t face you as he responded. “No more school.” You let out a noise of surprise.

“Doctor Spengler. I like that.” His ears burned. 

“And you’re doing the ghost-thing?” Oversimplification. But he found himself not caring when the words fell from your lips. 

“Full-time.”

“I get your ads 24/7. You look great in a jumpsuit.” His long legs jerked against the underside of the bar, and he heard you stifle a laugh. His stomach soared. Vitriol.

There was a hand on his arm. That commanded his attention. If he wasn’t full of…rage then, he was now. 

You murmured. “I don’t still make you nervous, do I, Dr. Spengler?”  He couldn’t breathe. As he opened his mouth, the only sounds that came out were stammers. You just laughed, squeezing his arm as you rose from the stool.

“I’ve gotta get going. Goodnight, Dr. Spengler.” You were gone before he could blink.

Nights later in the firehouse, in the safety of his lab, he couldn’t focus. How ironic? As he trotted down the steps for fresh air, the phone rang out. Janine was out for her lunch, and the others were still on the road from a last minute job. He sighed.

“Ghostbusters.” 

“Hey, Dr. Spengler. I enjoyed seeing you again and,” He held the phone to his ear with two hands. “I was wondering if you’d like to get dinner tomorrow night?”

He hated you. He’d show you just how smart he was by hanging up, ending this (one-sided) college feud.

“We’re back,” Ray’s voice startled him as he leaned against the desk’s edge staring at nothing. “Did we get a call?” He looks to the phone, resting on the tabletop rather than its proper place. Egon swallows.

“Just one.”

“Okay?” They wouldn’t accept his answer. He averted his eyes.

He conceded, letting himself lean back against the desk again. “An old TA.”

Ray’s eyebrows shot up. “The one who used to needle you all the time?” Ray had never met you, but he recalled Egon’s bad moods after having left your class. 

“Egon’s got a bully,” Peter directed at Winston as he did something in his own open office, behind Janine’s desk. “What’d they want?”

He took a short breath. “Dinner.”

Peter whistled. “Gutsy,” Winston offered as he sent Peter a look of shared surprise. Ray kept his attention on Egon.

“Good on you for saying no.” Egon was silent.

Peter reappeared. “You said no, right?”

More silence. Egon was a weak, weak man. Peter put him in a headlock, pulling him in tight as Ray’s eyes blew out, wide, and Winston laughed in disbelief. 

“Spenges is a big fat masochist!”

A woman walked in for an in-person consultation, confused at the sudden spectacle.

“Would you be quiet?”

You were (fashionably) late. 5 minutes and 23 seconds, to be exact, but he wouldn’t mention it. Not while you were going on about losing your house keys before you were about to leave. As you talked, he couldn’t help but notice how nice you looked in the warm lighting of the restaurant. Jealousy, perhaps?

So he let you talk. And talk. But he didn’t find himself searching for other stimuli like he normally did with characteristically chatty people. You seemed nervous, cringing a bit after every poorly measured story or unintentional confession. He had a bit of an upper hand. He smiled to himself, albeit small.

“What?” You grinned back, probing him. 

“Nothing,” he took a sip from the water he’d been nursing in place of wine. His expression was smug, hidden behind the lip of the glass.

“How’d you stay single, with a face like that?”

He choked on his water, setting the glass down as he coughed into his elbow. You had your head in your hand, leering at him like he was food. “I beg your pardon?”

“When you were post-grad? Guys and girls lined up outside your office to speak to you. And it wasn’t for your brain.”

You were messing with him, like you always were. But he’d bite. “They were eager to learn.”

You drew your hands up, incredulously. “Yeah, eager to learn what you looked like naked.” For the first time in his Jewish upbringing, he felt compelled to utter the name Jesus Christ.

The night went on for a bit longer. Against his better judgment, he started to find you funny. And witty. And incredibly alluring. You strung him along for 10 minutes about a classic of fiction, only to reveal that it was a personal story of your sexuality. And then you did it again, this time making a comment about his rear end. He couldn’t help but be startled every time.

You let him go on a tangent about his studies at one point, watching and listening intently. He felt the feeling rise in him again. This must have been full revulsion, because he couldn’t stop bouncing his leg. His cheeks began to grow sore from prolonged, uncontrollable smiling- what he considered to be himself reverting back to primal reactions from how hot his hatred burned. You fell into your old ways, going back and forth about a classic he’d read between then and college. He felt like he did in that lecture hall, temperature increased and body leaned towards yours.

“Assine point of view, Dr. Spengler,” you crossed your arms. The name made him feel like he’d collapse onto the floor every time you said it, however the scene was made in a fancy restaurant. 

Begrudgingly, he spoke up, voice weaker than it had been in hours. “You can call me Egon.” He absentmindedly picked up his glass.

You shook your head, twice. “Dr. Spengler is fine. It's pretty fun to say in bed.”

The glass in his hand shattered in his white knuckled fist. That’s how you both were escorted out the establishment, partially for the glass now strewn into the carpeting as well as his palm, in addition to his failure to react to the staff shaking him around. You guided him outside, the cool air doing him some good as his hand was wrapped haphazardly in white napkins.

“Sorry. About your hand.” You broke the silence, assuming an arbitrary direction as you continued in the path of your apartment. 

He was in his own world. Nay, his own universe. He stopped you as a cool wind blew through the sidewalk, rustling a nearby tree. 

“I don’t understand. I don’t know what I know anymore. I hate you. And you hate me.” 

His face was one of desperation, while yours was one of dismay. He continued.

“When I talk to you- when I see you. I feel the intense-st emotions, most of which I never thought I’d experience. I sweat. Too much. I forget what was on my mind. I look like an absolute moron. And- I never knew what that meant. So it had to be hate. That’s why you treat me the way you do- you laugh and smile and call me an idiot while calling me handsome because you hate me, too.”

He never vomited his soul out like that to anyone. Only a handful of times, really, to his closest friends. You only blinked, before a new expression drew over your features. Your face melted into a smile, to his surprise, as your arms suddenly found their way around his neck. 

“Come inside, Dr. Spengler.”

He woke up the next morning- in your bed as you slept soundly. How he hated you.

[spenglersweetheart]

I have no idea if your requests are open but could you a fluff fic with Ray Stantz and his significant other where the S/O comes home and literally just lays on him. Like they just wanna be close to him so bad 😭😭

Please and thank you!!! Have a good day!!!

i am taking requests !! this is actually so cute omg

─────────────── ✦ ───────────────

Laying On You Makes Me Feel Better

Ray Stantz x Reader

WARNINGS : none!

─────────────── ✦ ───────────────

YOU PRETTY MUCH HAD A TERRIBLE DAY AT WORK. In fact, your day pretty much started off terrible. First of all, your alarm clock didn't beep, and you were about an hour late to work. You had to sit there for about thirty minutes while your boss drilled you about it, and then had to go do your job immediately after that.

Then, you spilled coffee on your favorite work pants. It was embarrassing to have to walk around with a coffee stain on your leg. And then, on your way back from work, some idiot almost crashed into your car because they weren't paying attention to the road. You ended up screaming into your steering wheel on the way home from work.

There was one thing that you were looking forward to. You were going home, yes, but you were going home to see Ray. He comforted whenever you had a bad day. Hopefully, he will be there by the time you get back. You knew that he had the ghostbusting business, and sometimes it was busy.

You drove home, luckily, with no injury, just the coffee stain that complimented your white work pants. Hopefully you were still able to save them in the next wash. But if you weren't, that would just be another thing that ruined your day.

You close the door behind you when you finally get to your apartment. You drop your bag down by the door. You see Ray, who's on the couch reading some occult book before he raises his head to see you.

"Hi, honey, how was──"

You didn't even let him finish his question. You had lied down on the couch. Specifically you lied your head onto his lap. A slight grumble escaping your lips.

"Your day?" He finishes, fully putting his book down. He frowns, seeing your current state, "What's the matter?"

"I had a horrible day," you tell him, "I woke up late, I was an hour late to work. I spilled coffee on my favorite pants, and I almost got blindsided on the way home."

A sigh escaped his lips. "I'm sorry," he says sadly, "Is there anything that you want me to do?"

"You can just stay right here," you answer, "I just need you to wrap your arms around me. Laying on you makes me feel better."

Ray gives you another smile. He wraps his arms around you, giving you a kiss to the cheek.

"Then you can lay on me however long you want," he says quietly.

─────────────── ✦ ───────────────

── ♡ ( AUTHOR'S NOTE! ) :

i do apologize for this being way shorter than some of the other ones but i hope you enjoy it!

[theselfshippingwitch]

4 & 6 for Ray?

- @catships777

4. Show me an image of your f/o, please!!

this is the face he makes when he's driving after a big scary ghost... good for him

6. They gave you a gift!! What is it?

He brought me flowers... and a copy of House of Terror #41!

[spook-central]

Thinking about Ray in this specific outfit?? Me??

Okay yeah you got me it’s an ongoing thing 😩

[psychokinetic-ectoplasm]

Hello! I been dealing with eating disorders for a time and reading your writing makes me happy, I was wondering if you could write something about Ray being supportive about this :D thanks

Thank you for this ask!! I hope I did your request justice! This is rather out of my depth, but I did my best. I hope you like it 😁

Also here on Ao3

Under the cut for length

No Matter What

You hadn't expected Ray to drop by when he did, still in his flight suit from having been on a bust. Thankfully, he was slime-free, and while you were happy to see your Ghostbuster boyfriend, you still wish you had known he'd be coming over.

Your only warning was a knock on the door before he opened it. He had a key, after all.

“Hey, sweetheart, you in? I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by to see you. Oh, and uh… the guys dropped me off, so I could use a ride back to the Firehouse later if you don't mind. If not, I can take a cab.”

As he spoke, his voice was getting closer, letting you know he was headed your way into the kitchen. You had just done your grocery shopping and still had bags on the counter. Bags of multiples of the same things. There was no way you could keep him from seeing, so you simply stood there, bracing yourself. This wasn't something you'd ever really talked to Ray about…

Ray stepped into the kitchen, grinning when he saw you. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” he greeted and pecked your lips.

“Hi, Ray.”

“Sorry for just dropping by like this. I probably should've called.” He looked at the counter. “Oh, hey, let me help you put all this away!” Ray stopped short, apparently realizing just what all you had. “Wow. You certainly stock up.”

Your face got hot. Well, there was no use hiding it now… “It's pretty much all I'll eat.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, it's… well, I have this thing... an eating disorder…” you admitted, unable to look at him. “I have my whole life. It's just… something I've learned to live with. There are only certain foods I'll eat that won't make me feel sick.”

In a way, finally getting this out in the open felt like a huge weight lifted from your shoulders, but you still wondered about his reaction. You'd been in a relationship with Ray for months now, but somehow, you'd managed to play this off as you just being a picky eater. 

“Is that why you, uh… never wanted to go out to eat on dates?”

You nodded, still not looking up.

“Hey… You know you don't have to hide anything from me,” he murmured, trying to get you to look at him.

“I know, but…”

Ray took your face in his hands and sweetly kissed your forehead. “No, no ‘buts.’ No matter what it is, I'm with you one hundred percent. You're not alone in this.”

“Even if I'm being picky?” you asked, looking up at him with a wan smile.

Ray drew you into his arms and cuddled you close. “You can be as picky as you want. I just want you happy and healthy.” He smiled warmly and nuzzled your nose. “And you know I love you, sweetheart. You and all that entails.”

You blushed and ducked your head, nodding. “Yeah, I know.”

He put a finger under your chin and tilted your face toward his, his lips softly pressing against yours. “Then you know you have me, forever and always, no matter what.”

You reached up to lightly caress his cheek, a bit mesmerized by the softness in his gaze. “I love you, too, Ray.”

It might take a little bit to get used to, but you believed him. How could you not when he was looking at you like you hung the moon, like you were the single most wonderful person in the whole world? Only Ray could do that. He could make you feel that you could take on the world with him by your side. And you wouldn't have it any other way.