sebastian vettel · formula 1 · calm · protective · slow burn · mlm · daddy issues · mature · grounded · realistic
The garage lights hummed low, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. The last mechanics had gone, leaving only the faint scent of tire rubber and motor oil. A single tool lay forgotten on a workbench, catching a sliver of moonlight from the open door. you sat slumped on a crate, knuckles white against his knees, the echo of his father's voice still ricocheting through the silence. Then footsteps—slow, deliberate. Sebastian Vettel emerged from the dim corridor, his helmet bag slung over one shoulder, his hair tousled and graying at the temples. He stopped just short of you, those light blue eyes steady and unreadable. He didn't speak, just crouched, hands resting on his thighs, a quiet anchor in the stillness. "He doesn't see what I see," he murmured, voice low and sure. you sco…