#marvel doomsday

⸻

Central Park, Late Spring.

Bob wasn’t much of a runner, yet.

He liked walking. He’d only recently learned to enjoy the quiet discipline of it. No heavy footfalls, no pounding heart. Just motion. Just breath. A rhythm he could set. Something calm and human and entirely his own.

The chaos in his head, dark, howling, bottomless, was quieter when he walked. Especially here.

Central Park in the spring was like something from a memory he’d never had. Trees budding green again. Sunlight catching in the ripples of the lake. Children laughing distantly, dogs barking somewhere beyond the trees. The world felt simple when he was out here. Manageable.

His boots crunched lightly against the gravel path as he made his way to his usual spot, a bench by the water, partially shaded by an overgrown maple. The bench itself was old, paint worn off at the edges, wood slightly splintered at the armrests. But it was his bench. The one he rested on during each walk, always at the same point in the loop.

He sat down with a soft sigh, stretched his long legs out, and tilted his face toward the sun. Eyes closed. Breathing even. Peace-

THUD.

Something hit his knee.

Bob startled slightly, blinking down in confusion. A leash, frayed and pink with little daisies on it, was coiled loosely around his shin. And attached to the other end.

A golden retriever.

Tongue out, tail wagging like it was powered by joy alone. Its big brown eyes looked up at him like he was the best thing it had seen all day. The leash dragged behind her like an afterthought.

“Oh- hey, buddy.” Bob said softly, as if afraid to scare her off. “You… uh. You got loose?”

The dog barked once, as if to answer.

Then-

“Maisie!” a voice called out, breathless, somewhere down the path. “You little menace, come back!”

He looked up.

And there you were.

Jogging toward him, your stride uneven from the sudden sprint. A t-shirt clung damply to your back, your hair pulled messily away from your face, cheeks flushed from exertion and probably a little embarrassment. There was something raw and real about you, like you hadn’t had time to smooth yourself into what the world expected yet. Something golden about the way the light seemed to settle on you, drawn in like gravity.

Bob felt the breath knock out of him in a way that had nothing to do with superpowers.

You reached him with a huff, one hand clutching your phone, the other already moving to scoop up the leash.

“I’m so sorry.” you said, slightly winded but grinning as you crouched beside him. “She gets overly excited when people sit down. Thinks everyone’s her new best friend.”

Bob smiled, half-crouched next to the retriever. “She’s not wrong. I could use a friend.”

You gave a short, surprised laugh. It made his stomach do something it hadn’t done in years.

“She didn’t bite you or anything, did she?”

“No, she just… announced herself with enthusiasm.” He gave the dog a fond pat. “Maisie, right?”

You nodded, finally catching your breath. “Yeah. I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Bob.” he said, rising a bit awkwardly and offering a hand. You shook it, firm but warm.

“Thanks for catching her.”

“Of course. It’s not every day someone runs into you with a leash.”

Your smile turned shy at the edges. “No, usually I wait until the third date for that.”

Bob blinked.

You blinked.

Then you both burst out laughing.

The tension in his chest eased. Something about your energy was grounding. You weren’t looking at him like you sensed something was off, like people so often did. You were just… smiling.

You ended up walking together. Slowly at first, letting Maisie sniff her way along the path. You talked about how long you’d lived in the city, how your dog hated pigeons with irrational fury, how the best bagels were always from the sketchy places with no signs.

Bob told you he’d just recently gotten into walking every day. That it helped clear his head. That he liked being outside, in the real world. You asked what he did for work and he gave you the kind of vague answer that didn’t invite more questions, freelance consulting, logistics, a lot of government red tape. You nodded like you understood. Like you weren’t going to pry.

He liked that.

You laughed easily, shared the story of how you got Maisie from a rescue uptown, and how she’d managed to eat an entire rotisserie chicken when you turned your back on her once. Bob listened, enraptured. Every word from you felt like it mattered.

Eventually, the path forked.

“This is me.” you said, motioning left toward a small side path. The sun dappled your skin, your smile soft and open.

He pointed to the opposite direction. “And this is me.”

“See you around?”

“I hope so.”

You both turned, walking away.

Bob finds himself turning around to get one last glimpse of you just to properly engrave your memory into his head permanently. So he can brood and think about the time he was sure he met his future wife but forgot to ask for her number and couldn’t ask for it after because he was far too far already to ask without making it awkward.

Five feet.

Ten.

Twenty-

Then, the clatter of a leash.

“Maisie!” you gasped.

Bob turned just in time to catch the dog as she barreled into him like a guided missile. He braced, kneeling again, catching the leash before it tangled. Maisie’s tongue was already swiping at his face.

You came jogging back, hands on your hips, a groan half-laughing in your throat. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He stood, leash in hand, grinning.

“I think she’s in love with you.” you said, huffing as you reached him.

Bob looked at you, really looked.

His voice was quiet, but sincere. “Yeah. Me too.”

There was a heartbeat of silence between you.

You tilted your head, eyes flickering with interest.

He panicked.

“I mean- I didn’t mean me, I meant her-obviously, she- your dog- I just- uh-“

You laughed. A full, sparkling, head-tossing laugh that made Maisie wag her tail harder.

“Just- give me your phone, smooth-talker.”

He blinked.

You tapped your fingers. “Come on. Before she escapes again.”

He fumbled to pull it out, handing it over. You typed in your number, saved it with a little dog emoji next to your name, and handed it back.

“There. Now next time she escapes, you’ll have someone to blame.”

He looked at your name glowing on the screen.

“I’ll take that risk.”

Maisie barked again, triumphant, like she’d orchestrated this entire meeting with divine precision. Bob was still staring at your contact in his phone, thumb hovering over the screen like it was too delicate to touch, as if the moment might vanish if he blinked too hard.

You watched him for a beat longer, a smile tucked lazily in the corner of your mouth. There was something about him, tall and a little awkward, like he wasn’t used to being seen, really seen, but trying his best not to flinch when he was.

“I’ll, uh, text you,” Bob said, looking up, finally pocketing his phone. His voice was shy, but hopeful.

You nodded, stepping back, tugging gently on Maisie’s leash. “Good. And if you don’t, Maisie has your scent now. She’ll track you down.”

Bob gave a quiet, stunned laugh. “I believe it.”

You gave a mock salute and turned again, this time getting a few full strides before Maisie glanced back one more time, gave a soft whine, and mercifully kept walking with you.

He stood there, still half-smiling, until you and the dog disappeared down the winding path. The sounds of the park filtered back in, the breeze shaking the leaves above him, the faint honk of a distant cab, a couple laughing somewhere nearby.

And yet, everything felt different now.

It wasn’t until he sat back on the bench and

his fingers brushed the screen of his phone again, flicking it on to see your name one more time ”Y/N 🐾” glowing there like a small miracle.

⸻

Several weeks later. Thunderbolts tower.

Something had shifted.

It wasn’t drastic. No dramatic speeches. No cape swirling in the wind. But everyone noticed.

Bob was… different.

Lighter, somehow. More present. Like the edges of him, usually a little frayed from the weight he carried, had softened.

He was humming in the kitchen again, swaying slightly as he flipped pancakes with ease, the scent of cinnamon and maple drifting through the tower. Not unusual for Bob, he always cooked but there was something extra in it now. A rhythm. A bounce.

He didn’t pester John or clap back when John picked on him.

He smiled, a full, crinkled-eyes smile when Bucky called him Bobert.

And he hadn’t once spent the evening perched on the edge of the roof with a faraway look in his eyes.

It was deeply suspicious.

Yelena narrowed her eyes over the rim of her chipped mug, the steam from her jasmine tea curling around her face like mist. “You’re in love.”

Bob, mid-sip of his chalky protein shake, choked. Hard. He slammed the cup down and coughed until his ears turned pink.

“What?” he rasped.

“Don’t play dumb.” She leaned back, eyes sharp as glass. “You’re glowing. Like a woman in a shampoo commercial. Maybe Herbal Essences.”

Ava didn’t look up from polishing her blade. “He does smell like flowers lately.”

“Lavender and bergamot.” John added helpfully, arms crossed, brows raised. “He’s got that post-date aura. Like a dog who got into someone’s picnic basket and is too proud to feel bad.”

He is in love.” Alexei declared, pounding the arm of the couch like it was a gavel. “We must find her. See if she is worthy. Possibly interrogate her.”

Bob set down his smoothie and raised both hands. “Okay. No. First of all, no one’s evaluating anyone’s bloodline. Second, there is no girl.”

Yelena ignored him and reached for her phone. “He always leaves early. Walks the same route. Central Park. South entrance. Between 9:00 to 9:20.”

“You’ve been tracking me?” Bob blinked.

“You radiate suspicious energy.” she said simply. “We go. We spy. We report.”

“Absolutely not.” Bob said, half-laughing, half-panicked. “You are not stalking my-”

He froze.

Yelena’s eyes glittered. “My…?”

Bob sighed, pressing his hands to his face. “This is a violation of privacy.”

“This is family,” Yelena said smugly. “Deal with it, Bobert.”

“Don’t care.” Ava said. “If she broke his heart, he’d black out the sky.”

“She’s not going to break my heart.” Bob said quietly.

Everyone fell silent for a beat.

John grinned, nudging Ava. “Oh, he’s gone. Deep in the fluffy feelings.”

“Leave him alone.” Bucky muttered from the kitchen, pouring coffee. “Let the man have his peace.”

Yelena looked up with a sly smirk. “I will. After surveillance.”

“Yelena.”

“Fine.” she said, tossing her phone aside. “But if she shows up at tower, we’re giving her the talk.”

Bob rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks faintly pink. “She’s not showing up. She doesn’t even know who I really am yet.”

“Oh my God,” John whispered. “You met her as Bob, not The Sentry.”

Bob nodded.

Alexei let out a low whistle. “A civilian. You are in love.”

Bob just smiled softly into his hands, then reached for the waffle iron.

⸻

The Next Morning

The sun hadn’t quite crested over the tops of the brownstone buildings, but the world was already beginning to stir with the soft hum of morning life. The air was crisp and clean, the kind of morning that made everything feel a little more possible.

You jogged at an easy pace, Maisie trotting contentedly beside you, her leash loose in your hand. The rhythmic beat of your sneakers on the pavement echoed faintly through the quiet streets, punctuated only by birdsong and the rustling of early spring leaves dancing in the breeze. Your breath came steady, matching the easy cadence of the run, a ritual that had quickly become your favorite part of the day.

As you rounded the familiar bend, your eyes were drawn to the sprawling oak tree up ahead, the one that sat at the edge of the park like a quiet sentinel. The one where, not long ago, your world had started to shift.

And there he was.

Bob stood beneath it, leaning casually against the trunk like some lost chapter from a storybook, sunlight catching in the soft strands of his hair. He was wearing that same beat-up flannel jacket you’d teased him about, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, revealing forearms that didn’t match his otherwise gentle demeanor. His posture was relaxed, but there was a tension in his hands, like he was trying not to fidget too much, not to overthink how this moment would go.

He saw you and straightened, raising a hand in a shy wave. That smile, the one that looked like it started in his chest before reaching his lips curled faintly at the edges of his mouth.

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Not the jarring kind of panic, but the warm flutter that made your fingers buzz and your throat tighten just slightly. The hopeful kind.

“Morning.” he called out softly, stepping forward.

In his hands, like a peace offering or a promise, was a steaming cup of coffee.

You slowed to a stop in front of him, brushing a few loose strands of hair from your damp forehead as Maisie circled your legs before flopping dramatically at your feet, before giving him sincere kiss on the lips.

Even after the countless times Bob still can’t help but feel himself grow hot and red.

“You remembered my order.”you said with a grin, accepting the cup. The warmth of it bled into your palms instantly.

“Black, two sugars,” Bob said with a quiet nod sheepishly. “Just how you like it.”

There was something almost reverent about the way he looked at you, like he was surprised you were real, standing there in front of him, flushed from your run and smiling at him like that kiss didn’t just make him see stars.

You were about to thank him when a strange rustling noise rose from the dense shrubbery a few feet away. You turned your head, brows furrowed.

Then, you heard it.

“Oh my god, she’s real.”

“Shut up, John.”

“Bob’s got moves?”

“I told you he had game.”

Your eyes narrowed, confusion knitting across your brow. You looked back at Bob, who had suddenly gone still, his expression a blend of horror and resignation. He muttered something under his breath, something that might’ve been a prayer or a curse before dragging a hand down his face like a man preparing for battle.

“…Did your coffee just talk?” you asked, clutching the cup tighter.

And then it happened.

Like the world’s worst magic trick or maybe a particularly ill-conceived prank, five adults dressed in tactical gear emerged from behind the bushes, one by one. They looked like they’d walked off the set of some spy movie, complete with holsters, combat boots, and the deeply awkward expressions of people who had absolutely not been invited to the party.

You blinked. Maisie let out a low, confused whimper and sat up straight beside you, ears alert.

“What the…” you murmured.

Bob let out a breath like it hurt. “No. No, I’m not being hunted.” He gave you a sheepish glance, eyes full of something between embarrassment and silent pleading. “It’s worse. That’s… that’s my team.”

Yelena strode forward like a woman on a mission, sharp eyes locked on you with unsettling precision. She had the look of someone who could kill a man with a paperclip and still be the most charming person in the room.

“You’re very pretty.” she smiles, offering you a firm handshake. “Congratulations.”

You stared. “…Thank you?”

Before you could process that, another stepped forward, a tall man with slightly blonde hair and a sharp face, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. He gave you a polite nod, his voice low and oddly gentle for someone wearing enough gear to storm a bunker.

“I’m John.” he said. “Bobby here has never acted like this around anyone. Ever.”

Your heart rate kicked up a notch. “I’m scared.” you whispered.

Ava moved closer, her approach quieter, more thoughtful. She had a steadiness about her, like she was used to chaos and knew how to navigate it. She gave your arm a soft, almost comforting pat.

“So are we.” she said, deadpan.

Interrupting the two, Alexei decided it was his turn to say something but by grabbing her and picking her up to spin her around all while yelling to Bob who looked like he was going to pass out if he as so much dropped her by an inch. “Robert! Yes! I am so glad you will not be sad lonely sad man rest of your life!”

Finally after being put down to Bob’s protest and mummurs from the team “Too much buddy.” Behind her, Bucky followed, trying to look casual despite the overwhelming energy of intervention. Bucky, simply nodded once, arms crossed, eyes flickering between you and Bob like he was trying to decode a threat level.

Bob sighed audibly, then leaned in just slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t know they were going to do this.”

You stared at him, at his ridiculous, sweet face and the earnestness in his eyes. And against your better judgment, despite the absolutely surreal moment, your lips twitched.

“You’re lucky I love you, i would have ran screaming. Not every you meet The Avengers on your run.” you muttered.

A long beat of silence passed, broken only by Maisie giving a grumble of displeasure and flopping dramatically against your calf. Then Bob looked back at his team, then at you, and offered a half-resigned shrug.

“Well uh- Welcome to the family.” he said softly.

And somehow, despite the thick gear, the ambush, and the fact that your morning coffee had turned into a stakeout, you believed him.

⸻

That night, in the kitchen.

Bob sat perched on the counter, cheeks flushed a soft shade of pink, not from exertion, but from a quiet embarrassment as the team retold the morning’s story for what felt like the fifteenth time.

You had left with a smile and a wave, promising to call. That promise replayed in Bob’s mind, steady and surreal.

He wasn’t sure if it was real. If you were real. If something this ordinary, this good, could really happen to someone like him.

“She liked you.” Yelena said, eyes sharp but kind. “Even after meeting us. That’s real love.”

The words hung in the air, warm and heavy.

And then Bob… cracked.

He pushed off the counter, fingers running through his hair in nervous rhythm. He paced a little, then turned back to them, eyes wide, raw.

“I’m dating her.” he blurted.

Bucky, never missing a beat, deadpanned, “We noticed.”

“No, I mean really dating. She calls me. She texts me. She wants to know how my day went. She laughs at my dumb jokes and all of them. And she… she touches my hand like it’s normal. Like I’m not made of… whatever I’m made of.”

His voice faltered as he took a shaky breath.

“I didn’t think I’d ever get something like this. Not with what’s in my head. Not with what I’ve done or what I could do. But she looks at me like I’m just some guy she met in the park. And I want to keep being that guy. For her.”

Silence settled over the kitchen.

Then Alexei broke it with a loud clap. “Bob is in love.”

John raised his glass with a sly grin. “To leash girl.”

“To Maisie.” Ava added, a soft smile touching her lips.

Bucky simply smiled, steady and warm. “To hope of a regular life.”

Bob sank back down on the counter, dazed, full of it, full of something he hadn’t dared to hope for in a long time.