I the first fanfiction I ever wrote lurking about in the back of my finder today, and I decided to rewrite it to see how I had grown since 2012. Luna Lovegood/Steve Rogers if you squint. Reviews are my life, but flames will be used to roast marshmallows.

Oh! Before I forget . . .

I don't own shit:D

3/4/12

Every morning, Steve will leave the tower in favor of the quiet streets of New York City (At 1 AM on a Sunday). He will run all over the city, from the avengers Tower, to long island, and back. He never gave much thought to the fact that he ran so far. But he knew that it was good for him.

He never saw any one when he ran, because it was too early in the morning. So you could imagine his surprise when he saw a girl on a bicycle, Whistling Distractedly.

He was running faster Than she was biking and soon they were side-by-side. She sped up to his pace and turned. She smiled. Steve realizes How beautiful his strange companion seems. A pale face with outlined cheekbones, light blue eyes and long white blond hair blowing in the wind. short in stature But lean.

And turnips for Earrings. how strange.

"Don't feel sad. I know how it feels to be lonely. everyone I knew is dead too"Her airy voice cuts through the silence.

Steve looks at her in shock. How could she know?

Before he can think anything she asks"you Want to race? My bike against your two feet"

Steve looks up at the mysterious girl uncertainly.

"Sure."He smiles. They both take off down the empty New York road, The sounds of their laughter floating in Chilly air.

"That was so much fun!"Steve exclaimed looking behind him. The girl is gone but at his feet There was a small piece of paper with a phone number scribbled on it. Below the phone number, four words Stood out In sparkly purple pen.

Race me Again tomorrow?

=^=Linebreak=^=

3/2/15

Some mornings, Steve left the tower for a run. When his room in the tower was too cold for him, no matter how high he turned up the heat, and the ice trapped him every time his eyes drifted shut he would just leave. Remove himself from the world. He would run to Brooklyn, jogging down the familiar streets from his childhood, remembering Bucky, his mother, what little he knew of his father, and the early days of his life where the innocence made everything a little brighter.

It was just another one of those days. His feet pounded on the pavement, taking him through the empty back streets of his old neighborhood. The rhythm of his pace calmed his mind, making him leave behind the icy feeling he hated.

He almost tripped when a green bicycle pulled up beside him.

It was a beach cruiser, the kind he remembered from his trips to the coney island with Bucky when he was young. There on the back wheel sat a basket, filled with small murky bottles , a few loaves of bread and what looked like a copy of a magazine.

The person riding the bike was far less nostalgia inspiring. In fact, she was so strange that Steve couldn't take his eyes off her. She was thin and elegant, dainty and graceful in a fae-like way. Her skin was so pale it was almost white, and her hair so blond it could have matched her skin had it been a shade or two lighter. Her eyes were a pretty periwinkle, framed by dark lashes and glazed over in thought.

But the strangest thing about her was her outfit. The girl was barefoot, for one, her feet cleanly scrubbed as if she had just stepped out of the shower. A pale yellow sundress hung off her shoulders, climbing up her thigh as the wind pushed it back. hanging from her ears were what looked like small turnips, and on her head sat the most ridiculous sunglasses in existence.

"don't be sad." her soft voice almost made Steve trip- again. turning to look at her he saw her staring eerily back.

"All my old friends are dead too. But that doesn't mean we cant make new ones." She smiled, the wind blowing her hair around her neck and shoulders.

"How do you know-"

"-wanna race?" Her gaze was soft yet it bore into him, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"What?" Her smile didn't falter.

"Do you wanna race? My bike against your legs."

Steve stared at her slack jawed for a moment, not processing.

"I . . . Sure."

"Fabulous. 3, 2, 1-"

"GO!"