Seven years ago you married Bruce Wayne. Seven years ago you shocked the city of Gotham by getting the billionaire playboy to settle down for you and you alone. And king before you even got married, you’d figured out his identity as Batman. You know of the batfamily. And while you had gotten on his ass for endangering children, you still ended up marrying the man.

Now, it’s seven years into your marriage, seven years of nothing but happiness with fights strewn here and there. With nights you laid alone because he was away on a mission with the Justice League or was out on patrol a little too long.

And well, you two weren’t getting any older and this man still has a high libido for you. With that came the discussion of having your own children. A very long discussion. Well, that happened a month ago.

It’s now June, and you’re sitting in the en-suite bathroom connected yours and Bruce’s bedroom. Wayne manor has never felt more quiet then it has now. Alfred had done a test already, but you wanted to be sure, so you had gone out and gotten a pregnancy test. Now staring at the dark screen of your phone while you wait for the timer to go off.

It isn’t long until your phone lights up, but it’s not the alarm, it’s Bruce. Texting you. He had just gotten off work too, so this isn’t that surprising.

“Hello my love, I’m on my way home, do you need anything from the store?”