modern washing machine

Peppermint Tea (Washington x Reader)

Request: Can you do a gwash×reader where he’s sick and accidentally confesses his feelings?

A/N: yeah guys we’re still “on vacation”

Word Count: 748

It was practically dawn when the phone rang. You jumped up in bed startled and quickly grabbed the phone off the hook. “Someone better be dead,” you grumbled into the phone. “Just about,” George groaned.

You sighed. “How about I finish the job?” You mumbled. “What?” He asked. His voice was raspy, as if he’d been coughing. You grew concerned. “Are you alright?” You asked.

George was your best friend. Literally the best. You’d known him since you were kids. From the sandbox to college. You often received early morning calls from him.

Whether it was at 2 am and he was having major insomnia or at 6 am and he wanted to grab pancakes. He sighed. “No,” he groaned. “I’m sick. Dying.” You laughed. “You’re not dying. You just don’t have anything better to do,” you said.

He chuckled. “Then come over,” he said. You looked at the clock. “At 6 am?” You pointed. “Yes,” he said. “Please.” You stood up and grabbed your jeans because you knew you were going to give in eventually.

“Give me ten minutes,” you said, hanging up. Your apartments were just about five minutes away. You two lived in the heart of New York City as your other friends did. Your two friends, Alex and John, a couple, lived in a penthouse downtown.

In some way or another, you all were scattered around the city. You walked to George’s complex and hit the buzzer about twenty times. He answered on the twenty first, letting you in.

“That was 12 minutes,” he grumbled, opening the door. He was wearing pajamas under a thick white robe. And the notorious bunny slippers. He sniffed, letting you in. “Gosh, what happened?” You exclaimed, shrugging off your coat.

“I think I caught it from Thomas,” he said annoyed. You chuckled. “Well, he never did sneeze into his arm,” you sighed. He laughed. Then broke out into a sneezing fit. You nearly bent over in cackles. “I’m sorry,” you said weakly, rubbing the tears from your eyes.

You led him to the couch. “You need to rest,” you said. “You need soup and trashy television and more soup.” George narrowed his eyes at you. “Soup isn’t the secret to everything,” he said. “Yes it is. Shut up,” you insisted.

So he had soup. You ran back and forth between the cafe down the block and the apartment. He had nearly five kinds of soup and three cups of tea. You two spent the entire day watching 80s movies and reality tv.

You would yell at the television when something had happened. “Why is she the next drag queen?! What about the other girl?!” You yelled, standing on the couch at one point. George would laugh at you and join in.

It was nearly 7 pm when you’d realized how long you’ve been there. “I’ve been here all day,” you exclaimed. George blushed. “I’m sorry. You really didn’t have to,” he said. You smiled. “Yes, I did,” you said softly. “You’re my best friend. That’s why I’m here.”

George was quiet. “What is it?” You asked, seeing his expression sadden slightly. “What’s wrong?” He sighed. “What if we were more than best friends?” He asked suddenly. You laughed. “Really best friends?” You asked. You were confused.

“I’m sort of kind of really in love with you,” he blurted out. You were quiet. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to say that.” You shook your head. “Don’t be,” you said softly. “Don’t be what?” He asked. You looked at him. “Don’t be sorry,” you whispered.

“It was about time you said it,” you said, smiling softly. He blinked a couple times. “What?” He asked confused. You laughed softly. “I love you,
George,” you admitted. “As in more than really best friends. I have for a while.”

He smiled. “Well, it was about time you said it,” he said softly. You saw his eyes glance at your lips. “Can I–?” He trailed off. But he didn’t need to finish. You pressed your lips against his softly. His lips were warm and tasted like peppermint tea.

He broke off. “What is it?” You asked. “I’m sick,” he pointed out. “You could get sick too.” You smiled. “Well then you’ll have to take care of me,” you said softly, kissing him again. “Deal,” he said softly.

Laundromat in Fort Worth before modern washing machines existed. Fascinating image to really look at, especially in “full screen” mode. Incredible detail. Note how each station is numbered.

Rivetra Week: Ruined

When Levi heard the mournful screech coming from the bedroom, his stomach dropped, as did the teacup he had been carrying over to the stove. He pulled his cellphone from his pocket, fully prepared to dial the emergency number, his heart racing, his footsteps seemingly slow and cumbersome as he made his way towards the source of the screaming.

Practically kicking the door open to the bedroom, phone raised in the air ready to make the call, he found his wife clutching an old quilt, sobbing into the fabric.

“Petra.” His voice was short, shoving the blanket away from her, taking in her face, then his gaze dropping down to the tiny swell of her belly, five months pregnant with their first child.

Tears aside, she seemed fine.

Keep reading

Take A Break (Hamilton x Reader)

Request: Hamilton x Fem! reader request please? If your taking requests? I really like x readers where the reader gets injured and the character they’re being shipped with has to take care of them, and ones where the reader is sick and the same, I was wondering if you could make one? Only if you want to though, thank you for reading and I hope you have a nice day! : D

A/N: idk this one was kinda weird lol

Word Count: 752


You don’t think it was your fault. I mean, how would you have known that the floor was slippery?There was no sign or anything of the sort. You had it in your right mind to sue the whole damn building. But when the doctor asked, it was a whole different story.

“So, how did this happen?” She asked, examining your broken ankle. “I slipped on a wet floor in apartment building and fell,” you said firmly. “Tell her what really happened, (Y/N),” Alex chastised. You rolled your eyes. “What more is there to tell?” You exclaimed.

“Doctor, she was running like a mad woman and that’s how she slipped and fell,” he said. The doctor eyed you. “Is that true?” She asked. You pouted. “In my defense, I was running from a rabid dog!” You exclaimed. Alex glanced at you. “It was the neighbor’s puppy who got loose from his leash,” he said.

The doctor smiled slightly. “Don’t believe him, doc!” you insisted. “I swear, that dog had rabies or some shit.” She wrote some stuff on a paper and handed it to you. “This is your prescription for a pain reliever,” she said. “You have to wear the cast for about two months or more. Come back every two weeks so I can examine it.”

Alex started to help you stand up. “I don’t need your help, traitor,” you insisted. He laughed but helped you up nonetheless. You drove in silence the whole time, not speaking a word to Alex. He kept trying to start conversations, using all your vices. Food, books, movies. You kept strong not to speak.

That’s when you got inside. You hobbled around on your crutches in the living room. “Since you’re ignoring me, I’ll be in my study working,” he smirked. You fell onto the couch. Two minutes went by. You were bored. “Alexander!” You yelled. He came out. “Yes?” He asked with a smug grin. “Oh, stop it,” you scowled.

He sat down next to you, turning on the television. After a whole episode of trash television, he asked, “You hungry?” You pouted. “Do you believe that a rabid dog was trying to kill me?” You retorted. He chuckled softly. “Alright, honey. Fine,” he said, giving in. You grinned cheekily. “Okay. And yes, I’m starving,” you said.

He took up his coat and said, “I’ll be back,” then left. You flipped through channels, not staying on one for more than two seconds. The door opened about 15 minutes later. “Alex?” You asked, without turning around. “No, your other boyfriend named Alex,” he said. “Oh,” you said. “Well, you’d better hurry. Alex #3 will be back any second.”

He came up behind you, kissing your cheek. “Why would I be Alex #3? Not even number two?” He asked. You smiled. “Where’s the food?” You asked, grabbing your crutches. “No, no,” he said, taking them from you and setting them across the room. You stared at him blankly. “Why?” You asked.

“Because you’re not getting up today,” he said. “Why?” You repeated. “I’m going to be taking care of you. You need to rest after your traumatic puppy attack. Anything you want, I will get,” he said firmly. You smiled. “What if I have to take a–” you began. He glared at you sideways. “Okay, okay,” you said, laughing.

He kept true to his word. He did everything. You two binged on pizza and bags of chips and sodas. You watched old movies and bad movies and made fun of horrible sitcoms. He would sneak in tiny kisses and draw all over your cast.

At the end of the day, you were stuffed with food and nearly falling asleep. “Why’d you do all this?” You asked, leaning against his shoulder. “Why wouldn’t I?” He pointed. You smiled. “I love you,” you whispered. He smiled. “You love food,” he corrected. You laughed. “No, but really. I love you,” you said softly. He kissed you lightly without a word then you soon fell asleep.