#caffe setting

(part 2) (part 3)

Alternate Invincible | Mark Grayson x Reader

Summary: In a small café overshadowed by Invincible’s reign, the protagonist finds a brief escape from the chaos outside. When Invincible enters the café dressed casually, a mix of anxiety and curiosity arises. They engage in a conversation about fear and hope, revealing a complex dynamic between them. The protagonist recalls a past encounter where they saw Invincible’s face during a battle, a secret they keep.

As Invincible returns for deeper conversations, he expresses a newfound appreciation for hope, which he has lost sight of. Their discussions reveal layers of intrigue and tension, marking the beginning of a slow-burning connection in a world transformed by fear and power.

(This is also on AO3. User: bananasplit133)

The soft hiss of the espresso machine filled the air as you adjusted your apron, glancing around the small café. The warm, inviting atmosphere was a comforting reprieve from the chaos that had overtaken the world. Just a few months ago, life was vibrant and alive—people bustling in and out, laughter echoing over clinking cups. But that was before Invincible had descended upon the earth like a dark cloud, bending the will of the masses and turning your quaint town into a shadow of its former self.

You wiped down the counter, your mind wandering to the streets outside, now eerily quiet. Most people had surrendered to Invincible's rule, their spirits crushed under the weight of his relentless power. It was disheartening, but here, in the café, you could pretend for a little while longer that things were normal—that you were safe, surrounded by the comforting scent of coffee and pastries. As the bell above the door jingled, you looked up to see a tall figure step inside. The light from the outside cast an imposing silhouette, but as the figure moved closer, you recognized him. Invincible, but… without his iconic costume? — It was purely by chance that you glimpsed his face a few months ago. You had found yourself caught between a battle he was waging against a few superheroes and a closed road, leaving you no choice but to hide and hope the fight would wrap up quickly so you could escape to safety. The superheroes didn’t manage to inflict any damage on Invincible; his costume, however, was another story. You happened to be in the perfect position to witness it—the sight of his mask and several other parts of his outfit reduced to nothing but ashes. You never revealed to anyone that you knew what he looked like, but that image lingered in your mind for a long time. — He wore a simple black jacket and jeans, his dark hair slightly tousled, but there was an unmistakable aura of authority about him. Invincible stood at the entrance, his presence radiating a strange mix of intimidation and cockiness. You didn’t know much about him; he was a significant figure in this new world order, and the reputation he carried was one of fear and dominance. He glanced around the café, taking in the eclectic decor, and for a moment, his expression softened, as if a wave of nostalgia hit him for a bare second, though it quickly morphed back into a facade of casual confidence.

“Can I help you?” you asked, forcing your voice to remain steady despite the curious knot forming in your stomach. Why was he here out of all places?

“Just a coffee. Black.” His voice was low, edged with a self-assuredness that hinted at the power he wielded.

“Coming right up,” you replied, reaching for the coffee pot. As you poured the steaming liquid, you couldn’t help but observe him. Up close, he seemed less like the monster the media portrayed and more like a man who thrived on the chaos he had created.

You slid the cup across the counter, your fingers brushing against his as he took it. There was a moment of silence, a strange tension hanging in the air, and you quickly withdrew your hand, focusing back on your job. “That’ll be three dollars,” you said, trying to maintain your composure.

“Keep the change,” he said, sliding a bill across the counter. His gaze lingered on you, and you could feel the weight of his interest, as if he were trying to figure out what made you different from everyone else.

“Thanks,” you replied, attempting to sound casual. “Enjoy your coffee.”

He turned to find a seat, and as he did, you caught sight of the tense set of his shoulders. For someone who wielded so much power, he seemed burdened by something, perhaps even frustration. You felt a tug of curiosity for him, a desire to understand the man behind the facade.

As he settled into a corner booth, you continued to work, your mind drifting back to him. Why was he here? Why not one of the fancy bars or high-end establishments he could easily access? The question nagged at you as you served other customers, stealing glances in his direction when you could.

After a while, the café began to empty, the remaining customers drifting out into the night. Mark remained, nursing his coffee, lost in thought. You hesitated for a moment before approaching his table, curiosity bubbling beneath the surface. This could go south any second, but the questions that kept popping up in your mind were eating at you.

“Are you alright?” you asked softly, genuine concern lacing your tone. “You seem... miles away.”

He looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes before he offered a small, almost mocking smile. “Just thinking about how different things used to be. It’s easy to forget when everything feels... chaotic.”

You nodded, understanding all too well what he meant. “This café used to be a meeting place for friends and families. Now, it feels like everyone is afraid to come out.” “Afraid to live,” he added, his voice low and edged with arrogance. “I guess I’m part of the reas-”He leaned back, an almost smug expression on his face before you interrupted him.

“Are you serious? That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”” The moment the words left your mouth, you realized your mistake.

Mark leaned forward, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. “You actually think I’m the reason? How do you know that?”

You shifted on your feet, trying to regain your composure. “Well, I mean, it’s not like people aren’t scared of you. You’ve got this whole... Invincible thing going on.”

His gaze narrowed, curiosity morphing into suspicion. “And how do you know who I am?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of your admission. “I just- uh- had a little.. incident a couple of months ago, saw your face accidentally. Kinda hard to forget someone’s face when they’re highly-known”

Mark's expression darkened, a mixture of intrigue and caution. “An incident? You were close enough to see my face? That’s... interesting.” He leaned in closer, his voice lowering. “What exactly did you see?”

Your heart raced as you searched for the right words. “It was a fight. I was stuck in a situation where I couldn’t really move, and… well, you were there. You were busy with the other superheroes, and I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

He studied you intently, his expression unreadable. “So you’ve had a front-row seat to my ‘heroics’? You’re lucky you didn’t get caught in the crossfire.”

You bit your lip, feeling the tension in the air. “Yeah, I guess so. But I didn’t mean to pry or anything. I swear I won’t tell anyone. It’s not like I was looking to get involved in your... business.”

Mark’s lips curled into a smirk. “Good. Because trust me, you don’t want to be part of that world. Just remember, if anyone asks, I’m just Mark. Got it?”

“Got it,” you replied, trying to sound more confident than you felt. As he leaned back, the weight of the conversation hung between you, a precarious balance of curiosity and danger.

Mark cleared his throat before talking again. “As I was saying, I guess I’m part of the reason why everyone’s afraid to live nowadays.” He said, an almost proud smirk on his face. There was an unsettling confidence in his admission that made you pause. Most people spoke of him with fear, but here he was, revealing a side of himself that felt like a twisted game. You felt a mix of intrigue and wariness.

“It’s not just you,” you said gently, feeling the urge to ease the tension. “People need time to adjust. This café—this space—it’s a reminder of what we can have again.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze penetrating. “You really believe that?”

“I have to. Otherwise, what’s left?” You shrugged, a small smile playing on your lips. “And besides, I think people like normalcy. It gives them hope.”

Mark seemed to consider your words, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Hope can be a dangerous thing. But you, you’re different. You should know that clinging to hope isn’t always the best choice.”

“Or it can be a beautiful one,” you countered softly, meeting his gaze with unwavering conviction. For the first time, you saw a flicker of something complex in his demeanor. It was as if you were witnessing a brief glimpse of the man behind the mask—a man who thrived on chaos and understood the power he held over others.

“I’ll take your coffee anytime,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “It’s... refreshing.”

You smiled back, feeling a sense of warmth swell in your chest. This was not the reaction you expected from someone like him—someone who thrived on fear and dominance. It was oddly comforting, the way he responded to your kindness, as if it were a rare treat in a world where he was often met with distance and wariness. As the evening wore on, you found yourself intrigued by him, wanting to know more about the man behind the facade. With a final smile, you turned away, feeling the weight of his gaze follow you as you tidied up the counter.

The café clock chimed, signaling the end of your shift. Reluctantly, you glanced toward the door, the thought of leaving him behind a nagging ache in your chest. “I should get going,” you said, feeling a twinge of disappointment. “But I hope to see you again.”

“I’ll be around,” he replied, his voice steady. “This café is... different. I like it.” With a final smile, you turned away, feeling the weight of his gaze follow you as you tidied up the counter. As you finished closing, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something—a slow burn waiting to ignite amidst the ashes of a world transformed.

----

The next few days passed in a blur of routine, but thoughts of Mark lingered in your mind like the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Each time the bell above the door jingled, you felt a mix of hope and anxiety flooding your senses. Would he return? Would you have the chance to learn more about him, the man who seemed so different from the figure everyone feared?

You found yourself looking for ways to distract yourself from the uncertainty that stirred within. Your shifts were filled with the usual chatter of customers, the clinking of cups, and the familiar rhythm of brewing coffee, yet a subtle unease sat at the back of your mind. Each time someone entered, your gaze flicked toward the door, searching for the silhouette you had come to recognize.

When Mark finally walked in again, the atmosphere shifted slightly, his presence demanding attention without the need for grand gestures. He looked just as weary as before, but there was something about his demeanor—an air of contemplation, perhaps? You watched as he approached the counter, his expression thoughtful.

“Back for more coffee?” you asked, trying to keep the mood light.

“Actually, I was hoping to talk,” he replied, his tone serious yet laced with that signature cockiness.

“Sure, I can spare a few minutes,” you said, curiosity piquing within you. You were still getting used to.. whatever this was between the two of you. As you poured him another cup, your mind raced with questions. What did he want to discuss? Did he have something he wanted to share?

He settled into the same corner booth, and you grabbed a small notebook from behind the counter, more for comfort than anything else. You slid into the booth across from him, feeling the tension of the moment fill the space between you.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, setting the notebook down, your fingers brushing against the pages nervously.

Mark took a sip of his coffee, his gaze drifting to the window, where shadows of the outside world flickered like ghosts. “I wanted to thank you for what you said the other night. It made me think.”

“About what?” you asked, leaning in slightly, genuinely interested.

“About hope,” he replied, his voice steady. “I’ve been so consumed by everything going on that I forgot what it felt like to have something to believe in. Not that I need it.” His smirk returned, cocky and self-assured. “But it’s amusing to see someone cling to it.”

You listened intently, surprised by his admission. “It’s easy to lose sight of that, especially with everything that’s happened,” you said softly. “But it’s important to hold on to it, even in small ways.”

He met your gaze, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “You really think so? Most people think it’s a weakness.” “Maybe it is,” you replied, feeling emboldened. “But it’s what makes us human.”

Mark leaned back, a self-satisfied grin spreading across his face. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. Most people wouldn’t dare to say that to me.”

“Maybe they’re just afraid,” you offered, wishing to peel back the layers of his guarded demeanor. “Fear can make people act differently.”

“Or it can make them weak,” he countered, his voice low and dangerous. “Weakness is not something I tolerate. But you? You’re… intriguing.” He said after a few seconds of trying to find a fitting word. You felt a mix of unease and intrigue at his words. “I just try to be nice to people. Everyone has their own struggles.”

Mark’s expression shifted slightly, revealing a glimmer of something darker. “Being nice is overrated. It’s more fun to be feared. After all, fear keeps people in line.” You couldn’t tell if he was joking or if there was a genuine edge of seriousness behind his words. “Is that really all there is to it?” you asked, cautiously probing.

He chuckled, a low, almost sinister sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Oh, it’s just the reality of power. You wouldn’t understand unless you experienced it yourself.”

The conversation hung in the air, charged with tension. You wanted to believe there was more to him than this bravado, but you also recognized the darkness lurking beneath the surface. “I guess we’ll see,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light, even as unease crept into your chest.

Mark smirked, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. Maybe he didn't get much of it these days. “I’m looking forward to it.”

As your shift continued, you couldn’t shake the sense that this marked the beginning of some kind of connection between the two of you.