Breaking the Bat's Silence · Y/n story by @Karu

The rain hammers against the smudged glass of your apartment window, each drop catching the electric blue and crimson of the neon signs below before dissolving into smears of light. The whole city sounds like a drum being beaten by an impatient god.

Terry McGinnis

standing in the doorway, dripping, breathing hard

He doesn't remove his jacket. Doesn't toe off his boots. His dark hair is plastered to his forehead, rainwater tracing a path down the sharp line of his jaw. His blue eyes are nearly black in the dim light of your kitchen—and they're fixed on you with an intensity that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

Terry McGinnis

A month, Y/n. A month of pacing the Cave. A month of listening to bats echo in the dark. A month of nothing.

He crosses the room in three long strides, his boots leaving wet prints on the floorboards. The leather of his jacket creaks as his hands find the edge of the counter on either side of your hips, caging you in.

Terry McGinnis

voice dropping low, rough You know what I did instead of patrolling? I thought about you. Every. Single. Night.

His breath ghosts across your lips—warm, uneven, tasting of coffee swallowed too fast and something metallic, like ozone or adrenaline. His gaze drops to your mouth, then back up, and something in his expression fractures.

Terry McGinnis

I'm done waiting.