#please note: i've never been pregnant so i have no idea if the movements i've described are accurate

[formulakay]

hey kayla 💞you could do a drabble on Toto that he and Y / N are married and she is pregnant and it's a race weekend and she has to go despite the baby sees it but she hides me with the Toto's white sweatshirt and for the lunch pose she joins Toto and Lewis and without doing it on purpose at the sight of anyone she lifts the sweatshirt to stroke her stomach and Lewis and shock to know that she is pregnant because no one was aware of it yet. of course if you can my beautiful kisssss 😊💞

hi anon! i know this is WAY overdue, but this request was too adorable to pass up!

i hope it's okay that i wrote it this way, but for anyone that wanted a glimpse at what post-part 5 Texts With Toto could be, here you go 😌

i can't do short, i can't do angst, so what you get is 1650 words of disgustingly sweet fluff. enjoy! (also - not edited, sorry)

*quick edit: for more of my writing, go check out @formulanaughty 😚 (18+ please!)

Surprise!

Toto Wolff x reader, rated: G (general), length: 1657 words, warnings: reader pregnancy (descriptions of baby moving, etc)

"Schatzi, you don’t have to go.” His reminder was the fourth of the morning. The summer break was supposed to have been the start of your long-term maternity leave but you found yourself desperate for some normalcy and familiar faces before your lives changed completely once again in just a few months.

"Toto, I want to go. I miss everyone, and this could likely be the last time I’m in the paddock before word gets out that there’s going to be another Wolff added to the pack. It's Wednesday, there probably won't be that much media anyways, so I’ll be fine."

Later, after you've arrived at the track and have settled in Toto's office, you grab your bag and kiss Toto quickly. "I'm going to get a quick walk in, but I might get stuck talking to folks."

"You're welcome to join Lewis and I for lunch if you'd like. I'll text you when. Be careful."

You don't get far before you're greeted by a member of the Mercedes team. You glance down, worried that the outfit you had chosen doesn't conceal your bump, but the flowing fabric disguises it as best you can at this stage in your pregnancy. You pause in the paddock to carry on the conversation, welcoming the usual bustle and chaos that precedes a race weekend. Three weeks off had been wonderful to spend at home, nesting and preparing the nursery for your new addition, but you had missed this part of your life immensely.

Eventually, you find yourself wandering back towards the Mercedes' hospitality trailer, cranky with hunger. Your phone vibrates with a text from Toto, stating that he and Lewis are on their way over for lunch. Knowing that they will likely get caught up talking to the team, you head to the coffee counter.

"Look what the cat dragged in! I thought you were taking some time off after the break?"

George's voice behind you makes you jump and you laugh at his teasing. You turn, carafe of coffee still in your hand. "George! I am, I mean, I will, I just missed you too much, I had to come back and see you before I left."

He pulls you into a quick one-armed hug before smiling down at you. "How've you been? Feeling okay?"

Your free hand brushes your stomach and you drop it to your side quickly before muscle memory makes you rest it on your small bump. "I've been good! Great, actually - what makes you ask?"

He nods to the carafe in your hand. "You never drink decaf."

"Oh! Yep, feeling fine. I'm already too keyed up being back in the paddock, I just don't need the caffeine adding to that. How was your break?"

George steps beside you and begins to make his own drink while you fill the cup with ice, add a small amount of cream and sugar, and cover with coffee. He begins to fill you in on his recent adventures, as he walks through the hospitality trailer with you, getting caught up in a story about his hunt for an apartment in Monaco.

After a few sips, you can feel the small being inside of you begin to roll, the gentle butterfly-like movements bringing a smile to your face.

A smile that is quickly replaced by a wince when the baby begins kicking. One particular jab causes you to stumble, the coffee sloshing over the cup's rim and down the front of your blouse.

George reaches out to steady you, his hand gentle on your elbow as you take a deep breath. "You're sure you're okay? I can go grab Toto if you-"

"No," you set the cup down on a nearby table and reach for a napkin, dabbing at the cold liquid, "I'm fine, just uncoordinated. I'm actually having lunch with him and Lewis soon. If you see them, will you let them know that I'll be right back? I just have to do something about this." You gesture down to the mess you've made on yourself.

"I will. Let me know if you need anything."

You lock the bathroom door behind you and pull at the coffee-stained shirt. It was one of Toto's old black Mercedes button downs - you had realized over the break that they were one of the few pieces of team wear that could disguise your growing bump. Although the coffee stain wasn't too visible, you knew that the lingering scent of coffee and cream could set off your nausea at any moment. You pull the shirt off and fold it neatly, pulling on the only other thing you had: your favorite sweatshirt, one you had stolen from Toto long ago. The white fabric was still somehow unstained and pulling it on always reminded you of receiving a big hug from your husband. You adjusted the fabric around your body, trying to find the best arrangement to hide your belly, but it seemed that no matter what way you moved, the cotton clung to your skin, making your condition relatively evident.

You resign yourself to making it work until you could track down another shirt and exit the bathroom, large tote purse clutched in front of your stomach.

Toto sees you cross the room and waves you over, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he pulls out a chair for you at the table. You have a moment to get settled before Lewis arrives, greeting you excitedly.

"You look fantastic," Lewis says, a wide smile stretching across his face as he settles into the chair across from you. "Did you two go somewhere tropical for vacation? Back to Barbados? Because you're seriously glowing."

Toto scoots his chair closer to yours, his knee bumping yours under the table as one of his hands comes to rest on your leg. You feel your cheeks grow warm but you shake your head. "We've just been at home! We had some remodeling to do so it was a relatively quiet break for us."

"You changed your shirt," Toto notices, glancing down to where his large sweatshirt covers your small frame.

"I had a bit of an accident with my coffee earlier and this was all I had in my bag. It's more comfortable than the shirt I wore anyways."

The chef swings by to chat with Toto and Lewis, mentally noting their lunch requests before turning to you. "Mrs. Wolff?"

"I'll have whatever salad you've got today, with chicken, please, no processed meat."

Toto gives your leg a light squeeze before he turns back to Lewis, both jumping right back into the conversation they'd been having before.

As you're digging into your lunch, another sharp kick is delivered to your ribs from within your womb, the sudden movement punching the air from your lungs. You subconsciously move a hand to your bump to cradle the active baby inside while soothing the all-too-familiar pain in your abdomen.

Toto glances over in alarm, his voice quieting mid sentence as his brows furrow. "You okay?"

You grimace as the baby continues its movements, a tiny hand or knee or elbow or foot jammed viciously into your bladder. You should be used to the internal acrobatics by now - it always happens at lunch time - but it still surprises you whenever it happens.

"Oh my god," Lewis says quietly, immediately drawing both yours and Toto's gaze. He's smiling, his face so bright it looks like he just won the World Championship. "I knew it."

"We haven't told anyone in the paddock yet," you say, the words rushed on an exhale as you arch sideways to relieve some of the tension, smiling when it seems to placate the tiny human inside of you. "We were waiting until some time after the break, but this baby moves around in here like they're trying to break out early. Surprise!"

Lewis sits stunned, eyes moving back and forth between you and Toto. "Wow. I'm shocked, but thrilled for you both. Congratulations! Oh man, a little Wolff. That baby is going to be adored by everyone in this paddock, you know."

Tears well in your eyes at his words, the realization of how right he is settling in heavily. "Thank you," you manage tearfully, wiping away the moisture at the corner of your eyes before it drags your makeup down your face. "We couldn't be happier." You turn back to Toto. "Well, the secret's out. I want to tell everyone, I'm ready for it."

He leans in to press a quick kiss to your forehead. "Okay Schatzi, let's do it."

Later that afternoon, you and Toto take a break and hole yourselves up in his office, the lights low and the door locked to avoid any interruption or intrusion. Toto makes you sit back on the couch with your feet in his lap, his deft fingers gently massaging the sore and swollen flesh.

You stare at your phone for a while, debating on what to share, before finally turning the screen towards Toto. An Instagram post of the same announcement you had sent your family is drafted, along with a short and sweet caption: Baby Wolff coming soon! You knew it would be better to share with people in person, but this covered all of the bases, and in 15 minutes the entire paddock would be abuzz with the news anyways.

Toto grins and nods, pressing the "Post" button before you can rethink it. He pulls the phone from your hands, pressing a button and swiping at the screen to turn the device off. He moves over you, his lips gentle against yours as he smiles into the kiss. "I'm proud of you, mama."

"You too, Daddy," you grin, watching the way his eyes narrow and darken.

"Did you lock the door?" he asks, his hands already creeping under the hem of his hoodie, smoothing over the stretched skin of your bump.

"Sure did."

"Let's celebrate."