#if it was a mink magazine then this is exactly what it meant

[avengerscompound]

Small Gods: Lazy Mornings - 1

Lazy Mornings:  A Captain America Fanfic

Lazy Mornings Masterlist | More Small Gods

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count:  2361

Warnings: Mentions of injuries.  (smut on series)

Synopsis: Steve Rogers has trouble taking time for himself.  When his friends set him up with a person with a very unusual skill, perhaps he can learn that the quiet moments are just as important as everything else.

A/N: Reader is a minor god.  Idea expanding on the one in my fic Lazy Sundays though it’s a completely different story (just same minor god x steve).

IF YOU WISH TO BE TAGGED IN THIS LET ME KNOW.

Chapter 1

Steve was on edge.  The Avengers had just come to the end of a very long, and very grueling mission.  With the lack of sleep, niggling injuries, and stress of battle, that would have been enough to have him anxious and exhausted just by itself, but Tony had insisted that they have a party to unwind while Steve still had government agencies to liaise with, paperwork to fill out, and people to question.  So instead of getting his work done so that he could sleep off his injuries and actually unwind, he had to be ‘on’ as the public figurehead of Captain America for a bunch of strangers while he was still running on less than four hours of sleep and had a cracked rib.

As he made his way through the large, open room, Steve became aware of a strange phenomenon.  The people around the door were in full party mood.  People were dancing, talking animatedly, and playing games of darts.  But as Steve moved through the room, the mood got more relaxed.  There was less dancing and more just talking and sharing drinks.  The level of the music dropped so it was more muted and even though the song never changed it somehow felt like it went from an upbeat dance number to a soothing ballad.  The light changed in the room too.  Closer to the elevator bright-colored disco lights cutting through the dark.  Whereas, by the windows, there was a soft diffused gold light, almost like early morning light coming through a gauze curtain.  By the time Steve reached the couches that were set up on a platform against the windows on the far side of the room, everyone was just lazing back on the couches, casually drinking in the soft light.

Thor, Bruce, Wanda, and Clint were all sitting together with you.  Steve didn’t recognize you, but the soft glow in the room seemed to both highlight you and make you seem like you were in soft focus. You had a slightly ruffled look like you’d woken up recently from a very good sleep.  Clint was practically curled up next to you like a cat.

“Steven!”  Thor boomed, making everyone near him jump in surprise.  “Come here, I have someone I wish for you to meet.”

Steve tried to hide the frustration that suddenly bubbled up inside him.  His friends had been trying to set him up with people for months and months now.  He’d been on countless blind dates with people he had nothing in common with, and even more dinners with surprise guests he was forced to be on with.  He hadn’t expected it from Thor and he resented the fact that even after such a grueling few weeks he needed to now play a round of the dating game.

Thor got up and approached Steve, clapping him on the shoulder as he gave your names.  He leaned in, bringing his lips to Steve’s ear.  “You may feel the urge to pull away.  Resist it - for me.”

Steve sighed and nodded as you looked up at Thor.  “You’re not staying?”  You asked.

“Not tonight,” Thor answered.  “I wish to celebrate.”

You gave him a small nod.  “Well, you know where I am if you need me.”

“I do.  Thank you,” Thor said, letting Steve go and heading back into the party where Tony was talking animatedly with Hill.

Steve took a seat near you.  Clint looked up at him with hooded eyes, like Steve had just disturbed his sleep, but not enough to properly wake him up.  There was an odd feeling of lethargy around the couches.  Not in a bad way exactly.  Just an overly relaxed sleepiness that made Steve wonder if they’d been partaking in marijuana before he’d gotten here.  Along with the sleepy-looking Clint, Wanda had her legs tucked up under her and was staring absently out the window, while Bruce was relaxed back with a goofy looking smile on his face.  It strangely had the effect of making him want to get up and leave in case he’d forgotten to do something.

“So what do you do?”  Steve asked as he resisted the urge to go back down to the office and get his work done.

You smiled and shook your head like you found the question funny.  “I like to paint,” you say.  “And I make a mean breakfast.”

Steve looked at you puzzled.  He’d never come across someone who answered that question with their hobbies rather than their job.  He wondered if you didn’t have one and were embarrassed or if you did something you didn’t think Steve would approve of.  The thought you were a HYDRA agent passed through his head and he looked over at Thor.  “How do you know Thor?”  Steve asked and Wanda started to giggle.

“We run in similar circles,” you say.  “Though I admit, I do not know him well.”

“She’s not HYDRA, Steve,” Wanda giggled.

That knowledge made Steve relax a little and you smiled at him.  “You’re holding a lot of tension, Captain Rogers.”

“Please, call me Steve,” he said.  “We’ve been on a mission for weeks now.  It takes a lot of me.  Everyone really.”

You placed your hand gently on his forearm.  He normally didn’t like when strangers invaded his personal space like that.  He’d had a fair amount of sexual harassment since becoming a supersoldier.  However, there was nothing even flirtatious about the moment.  It was genuine and kind and made him relax even more.  “It can be hard to let it go,” you said.  “But you are done, and now you can take the weight off your shoulders.  No need to carry it tonight.”

Steve tilted his head.  “Are you a therapist?”

You chuckled again.  “I guess - of a sort,” you said.

Steve was perplexed by the vague nature of your answers and couldn’t help thinking people were hiding something from him like this was some big trick.  Though he couldn’t see any reason why Thor of all people would be the instigator of such a trick.

“Will you relax, Steve?”  Wanda chided.  “She’s just a girl Thor thought you’d like.”

Steve tried to do as he was told.  He had to admit that it wasn’t easy though.  You definitely had a calming influence.  Despite the loud music and drinking happening in the rest of the room, at the couches, it was like a slumber party.  Bruce looked as relaxed as Steve had ever seen him, his whole body open and still as he talked calmly.  Clint dozed on and off, waking to join in on the conversation and then dropping back off to sleep again, while Wanda was giggly, and about an hour in she said she was going to go to bed and paint her toenails.

Whatever it was that was affecting the others, Steve could feel it too, but in the middle of what was a raging party, Steve was unwilling to completely relax.

“You don’t like it here much, do you?”  You asked.

Steve shrugged.  “I don’t mind a party sometimes, but no… not today.”

“I bet it’s been a long time since you’ve had a home-cooked meal,” you mused.  “Would you like to come back to my place?”

“No,” Clint whined as Steve balked.  “Don’t go.”

“I don’t… that’s probably not a good idea,”  Steve said.

“I meant for dinner, Steve,” you said.  “I promise, no funny business.”

Clint sat up and stretched.  “You should do it, Steve,” he said.  “Live a little.”

Steve looked at Clint and Bruce who were both nodding in approval.  He sighed and gave a small shrug.  “I guess I’m coming then.”

You got up and offered your hand.  “Come on, I won’t bite.”

He let you lead him out of the Tower and down into the street where you flagged down a cab.  “I don’t usually do this,” Steve said, as he sat in the back with you.

“I know,” you said.  “That’s why Thor set us up.”

“You’re not…” he stopped, not sure how to ask the question that was swirling in his mind right now and have it not come out as either offensive or judgmental.  “Are you a sex worker?”

You smiled and shook your head.  “No.  I like my bed though.”

“Why are you being so vague then?”  Steve asked.

“I can tell you if you really want to know,” you said.  “But Thor thought you might fight it more if you knew.”

Steve tensed up and shifted away from you a little.  “Do the others know?”

“Oh, yes,” you said.  “And I know you don’t know me well enough to trust me, but I promise what it is, won’t hurt you.  I’m not evil or malicious.  I am not here because I have to be or I’ve been paid to be.  You truly have just been set up with a woman.  And I am that.  I like you and I just want to take you somewhere you can relax and just enjoy a comforting meal.  That’s all.  If you don’t trust your friend on this, just say.  I’ll tell you.”

Steve looked you over, trying to see the lie or the trick.  All he could see was genuine kindness.  He gave a nod.  “Okay.  Will you tell me eventually?”

“Of course,” you said.  “When we’re both sure of how we feel about each other, I’ll tell you.”

The cab pulled up at a block of apartments on the upper west side.  It was a large pre-war building, the kind that has been romanticized in hundreds of films and costs more than most people could dream of earning to live in.

He followed you in and the two of you rode the elevator up to your floor quietly.  The tall ceilings and recessed walls of the hall brought him right back to his childhood.  You let him into your apartment and for a moment Steve felt like he’d stepped into a storybook.  The light was soft and diffused, filling the room with a hazy golden luminescence.  The furniture all looked inviting and cozy, the deep soft-looking couches all had cozy mink throws on them and a collection of fat plush cushions.  There were a few large bookshelves both filled with a mixture of books and board games.  Your TV was large but not obnoxiously so, and your coffee table was littered with candles, magazines, and books.

“Get comfortable,” you said as you headed into the kitchen, leaving him alone in the living room.

Steve took a moment to look around your apartment.  There was something about the room that reminded him of the way he and Bucky decorated.  You had a different taste to either man.  Steve was more into straight lines and dark wood, and Bucky like black and chrome, whereas you seemed to lean more into creams with splashes of color here and there.  However, like with him and Bucky, you had a mix of old and new.  Steve liked to keep things from his past whether they be actual things he had owned or just items that reminded him of his mother or times with Bucky.  The things you owned seemed to go back further than what he owned, but there was a lot that seemed to center around the nineteen-twenties.  Though they didn’t stop there.  There were items representative of various decades littering your apartment.  From depression-glass bowls to porcelain animals from the sixties to a lava lamp and a small collection of Pez Dispensers.

Steve noticed a copy of the Hobbit that looked remarkably like the copy he got when it came out.  Picking up several books he noticed that many were first editions.

He went and sat down more confused about who you were than he had been before.  You came out with a tray and placed it on the coffee table in front of him.  Each was laden with pancakes, eggs, hash browns, and fresh fruit.

“It’s a little late for breakfast,” Steve said, looking at you with his eyebrow raised.

You shrugged.  “I’m good at a few things, but this is the one that’s quickest,” you explained.  “Otherwise we’d be up for a few more hours while I cooked.”

“Breakfast food it is,” he said and started to eat.  You took your plate and sat back, crossing your legs under you and balancing your plate in your lap.  “You have an interesting collection,” Steve said, gesturing to one of your bookshelves.

“Thank you.  I try not to get too sentimental about what I keep and let go,” you said.  “I know it’s a little eclectic but there are some things I just can’t let go of.”

“How long have you lived here?”  Steve asked.

“A long time. Practically forever,” you answered

Steve wanted to ask you what you did for you to be able to afford living here but knew that would meet the same vague answer - so he let it drop and ate.  The food was good.  Warm and sweet and full of fat.  It wasn’t long until Steve began to feel sleepy and content.  You took the plates back away and when you returned to the living room, Steve was practically asleep on the couch.  You came over and gently touched his arm.

“It would be more comfortable in bed,” you whispered.

“I don’t… I never sleep with women on the first date,” he replied, sheepishly trying to fight the drowsiness pulling him down.

“I have a spare room if you want it,” you said gently.   “Though I just mean sleep.”

Steve stood slowly and followed you down the hall.  You opened the spare bedroom.  “This is my guest room.”

“And your bedroom?”  He asked, part of him wondering if you’d drugged him.

“The end of the hall,” you replied, taking a few steps toward it.  He followed you down and as he stripped down to his undershirt you changed into a soft pair of pajamas.

He climbed into the bed with you and you wrapped him in your arms.  As he drifted off to sleep, he thought how strange it was that he felt as comfortable as he did right now.

// NEXT

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #small gods #lazy mornings

[multipleservicelisting]

The story behind Jackie Kennedy’s iconic inauguration outfit

Written by Matthew Ponsford, CNN

Remember when Jackie Kennedy attended her husband’s presidential inauguration with a perfect egg-shaped pillbox hat perched atop her head?

That’s because it was meant to be unmissable.

Everything that happened on January 20, 1961, was stage-managed to tell America that a new age was dawning. John F. Kennedy was set to become the first US leader born in the 20th century, the first Catholic commander-in-chief and the first president whose inaugural speech was beamed across crackly television screens in color.

“Ask not what your country can do for you — ask what you can do for your country,” he implored a nation in need of reassurance and leadership at the height of the Cold War.

President Kennedy with First Lady Jackie at his inauguration. Credit: Leonard McCombe/The LIFE Picture Collection/The LIFE Picture Collection via

Not everything worked out as planned. Eight inches of snow fell on Washington overnight, winds lashed and, among all this, one accident would end up infiltrating American wardrobes.

Jackie’s orb-like hat had been made to match a coat and fawn dress already created for her by her personal courtier Oleg Cassini. But it was also designed to look different: A cloth pillbox was exactly what everyone else would not be wearing.

In the freezing cold, many of the women sported stolid mink caps — except Jackie, who stood out as the beacon of a new generation, characterized by clean lines and elegance. She appeared on the steps of the Capitol like “the gorgeous petal in a dowdy bouquet of fur,” according to Thurston Clarke, author of “Ask Not,” a book about the 1961 inauguration.

Jackie’s distinctive headpiece was designed by Halston (real name Roy Halston Frowick). Later known as the creator of the free-flowing, slinky fashion of the 1970s disco era, Halston was then an up-and-coming New York milliner. He apparently spent hours sandwiched between two mirrors, shaping Jackie’s hat into a perfect, simple dome.

Except, of course, it didn’t end up like that.

Meet America’s first superstar fashion designer

That morning, as she reached up to clasp the hat in high winds, Kennedy accidentally gave it a dimple — a shallow indent, unnoticed but broadcast around the world. America swooned nonetheless. Kennedy’s deification as the ultimate first lady of fashion had begun with a misshapen hat, its influence stretching to imitators from high society to the rural Midwest. Halston later laughed that “everybody who copied it put a dent in it.”

Jackie’s ensemble that day — which she completed with a sable circlet and muff — has become one of the most celebrated of presidential inauguration looks. But there’s one thing we may have all been getting wrong: the color.

While most Americans will remember the first lady in duck-egg blue, complementing JFK’s steel blue waistcoat and tie, color film footage from “Halston,” a CNN Films documentary about the legendary designer, shows her inauguration outfit appearing pinkish. And researchers at the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum, where the outfit is stored, told CNN that the dress and hat were basically colorless — a neutral, fawnish beige and not even slightly blue.

The origin of the mistake seems to be a color photograph from Life Magazine. But the cover of the same issue featured a very different photograph: Jackie in far less vivid tones, closer to the off-white captured by the handful of other press photographers present (early color film often struggled to match real hues).

So when, in 2017, Melania Trump wore a powder blue Ralph Lauren inauguration suit likened to Kennedy’s, was it a tribute to an outfit that never existed?

was Melania Trump paying tribute to a dress that wasn’t really blue? Credit: Pool/Getty Images North America/Getty Images

Regardless of color, dimpled or not, the pillbox hat would become synonymous with Jackie’s style as first lady. She wore one the day JFK was shot, twinned with a raspberry pink suit. The blood-covered suit is locked away in the National Archives, with instructions that it should hidden from public view until at least 2103. The pink hat hasn’t been seen since the fateful day she last wore it.

But the eulogizing of the first lady’s “looks” risks relegating her to the role of a mere mannequin, when she in fact directed much of the new administration’s aesthetic — and not just when it came to fashion.

She may have spent fewer than three years in the White House, but during that time she brought in designers, including Stéphane Boudin, to modernize its interior. She also worked with legendary industrial designer Raymond Loewy, the man behind the Lucky Strike cigarette packet and classic Studebaker cars, to choose the enduring powder blue of the US presidential plane, Air Force One.

JFK’s inauguration marked the beginning of a new era of media-savvy presidents — and he had his wife to thank for much of it.

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