could you do a schumacher!daughter reader fic pretty please😇 somethin g soft and sweet
anon you read my mind <3
little schumi (ms7!daughter)
(p.s. i showed by father this gif and he has tears in his eyes, side note: my dad loves michael schumacher)
The familiar scent of burnt rubber and ozone hung heavy in the air as Y/N Schumacher navigated the bustling Formula One paddock. Unlike her brother Mick, who was gearing up for qualifying, Y/N never felt the pull of the racetrack. Instead, she gravitated towards the human stories that unfolded around it.
A gruff but gentle hand landed on her shoulder. "There you are, little Schumi," boomed a voice that could only belong to Kimi Raikkonen. Y/N grinned, returning the signature Kimi side-eye. "Kimi! Did you see Valtteri's new helmet design? It's outrageous!"
Kimi snorted. "Looks like a flock of angry parrots attacked it." They shared a laugh, their easy camaraderie a testament to the years Y/N had spent soaking up the paddock atmosphere. Every driver, engineer, and mechanic knew her, a familiar smile in a world of high-octane adrenaline.
Fernando Alonso, a close friend of her father's, spotted them and sauntered over. "How's my favorite Schumi doing today?" he asked, ruffling her hair. Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. "Don't you have a qualifying session to win, Fernando?"
"Practice makes perfect, but spending time with you is always a priority, pequena," he winked. Y/N knew the playful banter was a way to deflect from the unspoken. Her father's condition was a shadow that loomed over the entire F1 family.
Just then, a young reporter, all bright eyes and eager questions, approached Y/N. "Ms. Schumacher, a few words for Sky Sports? Can you share your thoughts on your father's health?"
Y/N's smile faltered. Everyone knew this was a touchy subject. Sebastian Vettel, who was just passing by, overheard and stepped in. "Let's leave Y/N out of this, shall we?" he said, his voice firm but kind. "She doesn't owe you a public statement."
The reporter looked flustered. "But sir, it's a question everyone wants answered." Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "And everyone will have to understand that some things are private, especially when it comes to family." He offered Y/N a reassuring smile. "Come on, Y/N, let's grab some coffee before the chaos starts."
Grateful, Y/N linked arms with Sebastian. The paddock might be a competitive arena, but the drivers, the ones who understood pressure and risk, formed their own kind of family. They understood her silence, her need for normalcy in a world obsessed with speed.
As they walked, Y/N overheard snippets of conversations. "Poor Y/N," someone murmured. "She must be going through hell." Another voice added, "Leave her alone, haven't they been through enough?" Y/N offered a small, sad smile. It hurt, but it also warmed her heart. Her father, with his quiet strength and unwavering determination, had built a legacy that transcended wins and podium finishes. He had inspired loyalty, respect, and a fierce protectiveness that extended to his daughter, even in this fast-paced, unforgiving world.
Reaching the small coffee shop tucked away in the paddock, Y/N settled into a booth with Sebastian. "Thanks, Seb," she said, her voice soft.
Sebastian squeezed her shoulder. "Anytime, Y/N. You know, your dad would be proud of you. The way you handle yourself, your kindness… it's something special."
Y/N smiled, tears pricking her eyes. Maybe she wouldn't be on the racetrack, but here, in the heart of the paddock, amongst the roar of engines and the smell of racing fuel, she felt a part of her father's legacy.
time skip
The post-race debrief was abuzz with post-adrenaline chatter. Y/N, perched on the edge of Lando Norris' chair, listened with a half-ear as he recounted his epic battle with Daniel Ricciardo on the final lap. They may be from different teams, but their young love story was a paddock favorite.
"…and then I went for the undercut, and bam! Second place!" Lando finished, a triumphant grin splitting his face. Y/N leaned in and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Amazing job, my champion," she whispered, earning a playful swat on the arm.
Suddenly, Charles Leclerc burst through the door, his phone held aloft. "Did you guys see this?!" he exclaimed, brandishing a news article. Max Verstappen, who was sprawled on the couch next to Lewis Hamilton, snatched the phone. "What is it, Charles?"
Max's eyes narrowed as he scrolled through the article. "Seriously?" he growled, throwing the phone onto the coffee table. Y/N's heart lurched. It couldn't be good.
Lewis picked it up and read aloud, his voice heavy with disapproval. "'Mick Schumacher: A shadow of his father's talent?' This is ridiculous!"
Y/N's blood boiled. How dare they criticize her brother, especially so harshly? She felt tears prickling her eyes, her fists clenching. Before she could react further, Lando was by her side, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders.
"Hey, hey," he soothed, his voice a low rumble. "Don't let them get to you. Mick's a phenomenal driver, everyone knows that."
Carlos Sainz, ever the comedian, piped up from across the room. "Besides, who needs talent when you have good looks like Mick, right?" he winked, earning a playful shove from Charles.
Y/N forced a smile, her anger slowly simmering down. She knew they were trying to lighten the mood, and she appreciated their support. "Thanks, guys," she sniffled. "It just… it's frustrating."
Lewis, his calm demeanor ever-present, spoke up. "Let the results speak for themselves, Y/N. Mick's still young, and he's already proving himself. This kind of trash talk doesn't deserve your attention."
Max, still fuming, grabbed the phone again and typed furiously. "There," he declared, showing the screen to the rest of them. "I just tweeted my support for Mick. Let's see how those journalists like that."
Y/N let out a laugh, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. These weren't just her teammates, they were her family, her chosen tribe. They understood the pressure, the scrutiny, and the unwavering loyalty that bound them together. They wouldn't let some random article bring her down.
Lando nudged her, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Besides, you know who the real untalented one is," he whispered, leaning in close.
Y/N playfully swatted his arm. "Oh yeah? And who's that?"
Lando winked. "The one who keeps losing to me on the simulator, obviously."
Their playful banter erupted into laughter, the tension completely forgotten. Surrounded by her closest friends, Y/N knew that no matter what the headlines said, she had her own championship team, one that valued love, support, and a good dose of healthy teasing.
time skip
The air crackled with a bittersweet energy as the F1 paddock celebrated Michael Schumacher's birthday. Banners emblazoned with his iconic number 7 adorned the pit lanes, and mechanics sported specially designed caps. Yet, beneath the celebratory facade, a current of unspoken grief hummed.
Mick and Y/N Schumacher stood shoulder-to-shoulder, a united front against the tide of emotions. Their gazes were fixed on a freshly painted mural across the track. It depicted Michael, mid-race, a determined glint in his eyes, the car a blur of red. The artwork was a poignant reminder of the man they missed terribly.
"It's amazing, isn't it?" Y/N said, her voice barely a whisper.
Mick nodded, his jaw clenched tight. "They captured him perfectly." A beat of silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Finally, Mick spoke, his voice gruff. "It hurts, doesn't it? Seeing him… but not really."
Y/N reached out and squeezed his hand. "It's the worst kind of absence, Mick. We know he's there, but…" she trailed off, tears welling up in her eyes.
Mick pulled her into a side hug, his protective aura a familiar comfort. "I know, Y/N. I know. But you're not alone. We have each other, and we have Mom. We'll get through this, together."
Y/N leaned into her brother's embrace, finding solace in his strength. "I know," she murmured. "It's just… I miss him telling me bad jokes after qualifying."
A choked laugh escaped Mick. "Yeah, those were the worst." He paused, then added, "But he still loved them, didn't he?"
Y/N chuckled, a tear rolling down her cheek. "He did. He loved seeing us laugh."
They stood in comfortable silence for a while, the paddock noises a distant hum. Y/N looked up at the mural, a flicker of determination replacing the sadness in her eyes. "We'll make him proud, Mick. Both of us."
Mick met her gaze, his blue eyes mirroring her resolve. "We will. We owe him that."
A hand landed on Mick's shoulder. Sebastian Vettel stood beside them, his expression solemn. "He is proud of you both," he said softly. "Every single day."
Y/N and Mick exchanged a grateful smile. In that moment, surrounded by the people who knew their father best, they felt a surge of strength. Michael Schumacher's absence might leave an aching void, but his legacy, his love, and the unwavering support of their F1 family would forever keep his spirit alive.
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