Hello Fanfiction universe! This is my first story; please do NOT go easy with criticism just because I'm new; on the contrary, heap it on me, don't hold back.

I won't yell at you for not praising the story or anything; if you think it is an absolute travesty, please tell me why, and I'll do my best to fix it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. All rights go to Marvel Studios for filming it and Stan Lee and Jack Kirby for creating them.

This is for my friend Jotunheim Storm, who made me feel welcome.

If you are a dreamer, come in,

If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,

A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer...

If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire

For we have some flax-golden tales to spin.

Come in!

Come in!

- Shel Silverstein

Come in children, do come in. Have some tea, and—what's that you say? A story? Why, of course you do—forgive an old woman for rambling so...Now what have I not told you before? Ah, have you heard the tale of the little girl and the prince? Oh, no, I don't believe it has come up yet...

A long time ago (when I was a young girl), just a few miles away, a great battle took place. It was a great city, New York, and the genius of the age, Tony Stark had built a great, hulking, monster of a tower with his name plastered on it. Self dubbed genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist, he was arrogant and pig-headed. He was also a superhero. (Don't interrupt now, children!) And SHIELD had put him together with another team of heroes to stand against the Jotun Loki. Can you guess which team they are?
Yes, the Avengers fought valiantly, but try as they might, even they could not save every last person. However, my father did not die from that (yes, I was there, now hush!), but rather a disease passed down from generation to generation (Yes, I did survive child, however do think I'm standing here now?). My dear father brought me to my caring mother, who was a waitress at a café. She was the waitress at the café. And she started dating Captain America, somehow. Maybe he had rescued her during the battle? I don't know, for I was with my father.

(*3rd person P.O.V.*)

"But Mama—" whined a six year old girl, "please, can I get the doll? She's special edition, only for a year, and—and," the little girl's eyes glinted as she had a sudden epiphany; "poor, poor, Daddy would have gotten her for me."

The girl's poor mother, Alyssa, paused at that. Her husband had been pulled off life support a few months ago, leaving her a single mother, struggling to keep herself and her daughter afloat. True, they had been divorced for years now, but he was a good man and kept the paychecks coming for his beloved little girl. But he was a poor man and Alyssa was ashamed she couldn't do better than him. She weighed her options for a moment and headed into the store.

"Just this once, Sophia," sighed Alyssa for what seemed the millionth time; "and not too lo—it's a hundred dollars?! I'm sorry, honey, but we don't have that kind of money."

"But, Mommy..." Stupid American Girl dolls, thought Sophia, too stupid expensive. It was the second time poor Grace had been rejected, one parent at a time.

At home, in their measly little apartment, Sophia was bathed and put to bed just as the doorbell rang."I wonder who that is..." frowned her mother. "Stay here, Sophia. Go to sleep." Sophia heard the door open and a surprised and girlish giggle... from... her... mother? "Why, hello, Captain," said her mother's voice. What's Captain America doing here? thought the girl. Oh! I know. Silly me! He's coming to give me a present! And with that thought in mind, she ran to the backpack he dropped to find the doll. Ruffling through she discovered a tube of lipstick. That's probably for me, too, she thought. There was a wallet that she ignored, a phone (a Blackberry—what's up with that? Were iPhones too complicated, or something?), keys...yada, yada, yada, but no doll. At least the lipstick was nice. She uncapped the scarlet tube and two tendrils popped out, attached themselves to the bronze doorknob, and zapped it.

"Erm...I think your kid discovered the taser, Alyssa..." said a voice above Sophia's head—and then Captain America was standing over her. Uh-oh. Better run.

"Gottagobye!" said she in one word and ran. Straight into her mother. Bad move.

"Sophia," sighed Alyssa for the million-and-one-th time that day."Sophia, I have to go out tonight. Steve is gonna go with me, but first you're going to stay at the Tower." Sophia was confused— what tower? "I mean Stark Tower; you know the big stick with a ball thing on top." Ohhhh. So THAT'S what 'the Tower' is. Sophia's thoughts were cut short by her mother—"Sophia, is that a taser?"

After they arrived at the Tower, Mr. Rogers handed Sophia over to an unsmiling man with a cool bow who was introduced as Clint Barton. After Alyssa was assured that Clint was trustworthy enough to be a babysitter, the couple left.

Two hours later, and Sophia had found out that Clint Barton was the most boring babysitter ever. The fact that she was left in an unlocked room plopped in front of an episode of Dora just proved that. And even worse, he left the room unlocked. Evidently, he did not expect her to leave the room. So, the little rascal noiselessly slid off the couch and tiptoed to the door. She peeked out; no one was in sight.

Sophia was on her way out, armed with her new taser (she had stolen it a second time; after Mr. Rogers had explained what it was, it seemed extremely useful), when an accented voice rang out in the corridor. "I do not advise you to sneak out, Ms. Evans, unless you would like Mr. Barton tracking you around the building."

And Loki should turn up next chapter!

So, what do you think? Good, bad, too short, okay? Be sure to leave your opinions in the reviews!

Also, does anyone know how to do the line-y line breaks? That would be helpful.

Well, until next time!