Flight Attendant - Lando norris fanfic

04-The Ibiza Incident

Author note: This chapter will contain sexual harassment. (Marked with bold writting) Please if this triggers you, skip this part. 

August 2024

The next few weeks flew by in a blur of luxury flights and high-profile clients. I was quickly adjusting to the demands of private aviation, each new experience a chance to prove myself. But then there was the Ibiza flight—an experience that would haunt me long after it ended.

It was a Friday afternoon, and I was scheduled to fly Aaron Miller, a famous singer from London to Ibiza. The flight was supposed to be a straightforward two-hour trip. The client was notorious for his wild parties and bad behaviour, but I told myself I could handle it. After all, I'd dealt with difficult passengers before. How bad could it be? Well, really bad

Miller boarded the jet with an entourage of equally flashy friends, their laughter loud and grating. They reeked of expensive cologne and alcohol, the stench hitting me the moment they stepped onboard. Their eyes were bloodshot, their smiles leering as they surveyed the cabin—and me.

"Welcome aboard," I greeted them, forcing a smile. "My name is Cordelia and I will be assisting in anything you need today. Can I get you anything to start?"

"Champagne, babe!" the singer slurred, his grin too wide, too predatory. His friends cheered, their voices echoing in the small cabin.

As I moved to the galley to fetch their drinks, I could feel their eyes on me, undressing me, mocking me. I tried to push the feeling aside, telling myself that I just needed to get through the flight. It would be over soon.

As we took off, the atmosphere in the cabin grew more chaotic. The music blared, their laughter louder, more obnoxious with each passing minute. The singer kept calling me over, making suggestive comments that grew increasingly vulgar. I maintained my composure, serving them drinks with a smile that didn't reach my eyes. But inside, I was fucking screaming.

And then it happened.

I was in the galley, preparing another round of drinks, when I felt a presence behind me. Before I could turn, a hand grabbed my waist, fingers digging into my skin. I gasped, spinning around to find Aaron standing there, too close, his breath hot and heavy on my neck.

"You're too tense, love, let me assit you" he whispered, his voice thick with alcohol. "You need to loosen up." His hand slid down my back, squeezing my hip. I froze, my heart hammering in my chest.

"Please, let go," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, but there was no hiding the tremor of fear.

Instead of releasing me, he laughed, a dark, menacing sound that sent chills down my spine. His other hand snaked up, brushing against my breast. I flinched, my skin crawling where he touched me. "Come on, don't be shy," he coaxed, leaning in closer, his lips grazing my ear. "We could have some fun, you and me."

Panic surged through me. "No," I said more firmly, trying to push him away, but he was stronger. His grip tightened, and before I knew it, his lips were on mine, rough and invasive. I struggled, twisting in his grasp, but he held me fast, his hands roaming over my body.

My mind screamed for me to do something—anything—but I felt paralyzed, trapped in a nightmare. The only sound I could make was a whimper as his hand slid down, grabbing my thigh. Fire burned wherever he touched, like a brand searing my skin. My breath hitched, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes.

He started to pull me towards the small bathroom at the back of the plane. "Let's take this somewhere more private," he muttered against my mouth, his breath reeking of alcohol.

I was about to scream, desperation clawing at my throat, when I managed to wrench my head to the side, breaking the kiss. "Stop!" I cried, using all my strength to shove him away. He stumbled, momentarily thrown off balance, and I took the opportunity to push past him, putting as much distance between us as the small cabin allowed.

But the terror didn't fade. He just stood there, watching me with a dark, twisted grin. "You're gonna regret that, sweetheart," he slurred, but the threat was weak, his drunken state preventing him from following through.

I was shaking uncontrollably, my hands gripping the edge of the counter to steady myself. The rest of the flight was a blur, the minutes dragging on like hours. He didn't try to touch me again, but his eyes never left me, a constant reminder of what had just happened.

When we finally touched down in Ibiza, I could barely hold myself together long enough to see them off the plane. The singer staggered off with his entourage, not even sparing me a second glance. The moment they were gone, I collapsed into the nearest seat, my body trembling, tears streaming down my face.

I don't know how long I sat there, but eventually, I forced myself to stand. I had to get out of there. I needed to be anywhere but on that plane. I gathered my things, barely registering what I was doing, and left as quickly as I could. The drive to the hotel was a haze of tears and panic, my mind replaying the moment over and over again.

By the time I reached my hotel room, I was completely unravelled. I dropped my bag at the door, my hands shaking so badly I could hardly work the lock. Once inside, I rushed to the bathroom, barely making it before the sobs overtook me.

I stripped off my uniform, feeling filthy, like his touch had seeped into my skin. The shower was scalding, but it didn't matter. I scrubbed at my skin until it was red and raw, trying to wash away the memory of his hands on me. But no matter how hard I scrubbed, I could still feel him—his fingers, his lips, the way he'd made me feel so helpless, so violated.

Tears mixed with the water, streaming down my face as I slid to the floor of the shower, my body wracked with sobs. I felt dirty, used, like a whore. I'd never felt so violated, so powerless. I stayed there for what felt like hours, letting the water pound over me, as if it could somehow cleanse me of what had happened.

But it couldn't. No matter how long I stayed there, I couldn't erase the memory of his touch, the fear, the disgust. When I finally emerged from the shower, my skin was red and raw, but I still felt dirty. I wrapped myself in a towel and crawled into bed, curling up into a ball.

The darkness of the room mirrored the darkness I felt inside. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my mind unable to stop replaying the events of the day. I didn't sleep. I couldn't. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face, felt his hands on me.

For the first time since I'd taken this job, I wondered if I'd made a mistake. Maybe this world wasn't for me. Maybe I wasn't strong enough. And as the night wore on, that thought consumed me, leaving me hollow and afraid.

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Author note: This was very hard to write, but it was needed to explain and give context for what is comming. Lando will appear in the next chapter. Sorry its taking maybe more than usual, but it just felt right to explain Cordelias character, so the storyline makes sense. 

As always, thanks for reading. Lots of love, stay save. ❤