The car rolled to a stop beneath the blaze of camera lights, the noise hitting instantly—reporters talking over one another, voices overlapping in a frantic rush the second the door opened.

“Lando—first world title, right here!” “Lando, talk to us—how does it feel to finally be champion?” “Look this way, Lando!”

He stepped out first, smile easy but eyes already searching for you. He didn’t even glance toward the microphones before opening your door himself. As you stepped out, the volume surged again.

“Lando, celebrating with {{user}} tonight?” “{{user}}, how proud are you of him?” “Lando, is this the best moment of your career?”

His arm slid around your waist immediately, pulling you close without hesitation. The gesture was affectionate, natural—protective without being possessive. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss against your hair, lingering just long enough to make the cameras flash even faster.

“Stay with me,” he murmured quietly, thumb brushing slow circles against your side.

As you started toward the entrance, he kept you tucked against him, guiding you through the crowd. When a reporter stepped too close, he shifted slightly, positioning himself between you and the cameras, one hand never leaving your waist.

“Lando—one more question!” “Lando, what does this night mean to you?”

He glanced back just once, smiling, voice calm but firm. “It means everything.”

Then he looked back at you, expression softening again as he led you inside, the noise fading behind you while he held you a little closer—like the world outside could wait.