Trevor Spengler One-Shots

Ghostbuster - Trevor Spengler x Ghost!Reader

Trevor's... well...

He's new.

Turns out, ghost busting is the kind of thing you can learn on-the-job, especially when you have Dr. Peter Venkman mentoring you and your little sister backing you up. Him? A Ghostbuster? Never.

Somehow, though... he's become good at it. Excellent, even, at a job that six months ago, he didn't even know existed.

It gets a little easier every time he slides on that cream-coloured jumpsuit, a little easier every time he climbs into the Ectomobile.

The part that doesn't get easier, though?

The people.

Turns out - funnily enough - that most of the people that call the Ghostbusters aren't really fans of ghosts. They want them out. Pronto.

Trevor - eh. He's a little more... what's the word? Easygoing.

He doesn't like ghosts, exactly, but he certainly isn't afraid of them. Live and let live, that's what he'd say. Well... more like live and let die.

Then again, that's not what he gets paid for, is it? People want ghosts out. He handles it. He's a flashier exorcist who happens to like what he does. How many people are lucky enough to say that?

He sighs, shutting the door of the Ectomobile behind him, Phoebe - his little sister - trailing behind him, dragging equipment through the dirt. Phoebe, she's much better at this job that he is. Trevor's more of the business man, the guy who calms the residents of the home down and assures them that it's gonna be fine, just fine, while Phoebe handles the ghosts and traps them in her proton pack.

"Keep up, Trev!"

"Okay, okay!" he exclaims, following Phoebe through the door. The house is massive, he notes-

And almost immediately, he's face-to-face with a crying woman.

"Oh, thank God- come here, honey, the Ghostbusters are here-"

Trevor cringes at the name. Phoebe, however, stands up a little straighter.

"Good to meet you," the woman's husband states stiffly, shaking Trevor's hand and acknowledging Phoebe with a nod. He reaches out, as if to shake her hand too, then withdraws when he sees how grimy her hands are from hauling in the equipment.

"So... what seems to be the problem?"

The man doesn't crack a smile.

"Ghosts, of course. What'd you think we called you for - plumbing?"

"Just doing my job, sir - where is the ghost, exactly?'

The man jerks his head towards the top of the stairs.

"In the attic."

"I see. And... are they violent? Confrontational?"

"No, no - just refuses to leave, is all."

"Is the spirit human, or something else?"

"Human. Female. Around your age, I'd guess."

This... unnerves Trevor.

"Do you know what the spirit died of?"

"No. She was here when we moved in. We moved from California - I'll tell you what, they sure didn't mention her in the paperwork-"

"Thank you for your time," Trevor manages, scrambling to the top of the stairs. Phoebe lifts the proton pack up, as if reminding him.

"Yeah, I'll be back for it in a minute, Pheebs..."

He pushes the attic door open, sticking his head inside.

"Hello? Anybody home?"

"Hi," he hears a whisper from the darkness, like a cool rush of air against his neck.

"Hi," Trevor responds. "Can I... can I see you? Can you come out?"

"I'm right here."

He glances to his right, and there she is, just as described - human, female, his age.

Not very much to be afraid of, at all.

You pat the couch cushion next to you, knees drawn up close to your face, and Trevor sits beside you, feeling incredibly uncomfortable.

"You... you know why I'm here, right?"

You nod.

"...They want to get rid of me."

"Yeah," he exhales. "Yeah, they do-"

"Trev!" shouts Phoebe, bursting through the door. "I got the proton pack - oh, hi."

You wave at her, shrinking back at the sight of the proton pack.

"Put it down, Pheebs," Trevor orders her. "It's okay. We're not gonna zap you."

"...I don't want to go in that."

"I know, darlin', I know-" he runs his fingers through his hair, feeling frustrated. "Look... if we could just take you out of here in it, we can take you somewhere else, okay? Somewhere... nicer."

You look at him with big, sad eyes.

"Promise you'll let me out?"

"Yeah - yes," he agrees. "Yeah. I promise."

You swallow.

"Okay," you manage, clearing your throat. "I'll- I'll go."

Phoebe looks you up and down, appraisingly.

"Huh," she states. "I like her."