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hxzxrdous · 11 months

Note

WAitt omggg how about a student working as an apprentice or smth at CIA and Lorraine is her mentor ???

Atomic Blonde

Platonic Lorraine Broughton x teen!reader

TW: A smol panic attack, :) maybe a warning that I was trying to be funny but failed?

Summary: Basically the plot of the whole movie except the reader unknowingly saves the day, yaay ‼

THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT

"Well, ladies, I hope you're ready for this," The MI6 superior, Eric Gray said, taking a deep breath as he began to brief Lorraine and you on the situation in Berlin and the death of Gasciogne.

"...We promised Spyglass immunity in exchange for a document on microfilm, code-named The List." Gray spoke, pointing behind him at the projected images.

"Hidden in a Swiss watch, no less." Head of MI6, James Faulkner added, shifted in the leather armchair.

"The list contains every active clandenstine officer, all their shady deals. It's an atomic bomb of information that could extend the Cold War for another 40 years. You two will fly over to Berlin and connect with our man, David Percival. Get the list, bring it here and trust no one."

Lorrained looked over at you and back at Gray. "What's the deal with the kid? She'll have to go with me?"

"Indeed she will. Y/N's fresh out of high school, she applied through the new undergraduate scholarship program we're offering. She's going to be your intern and you're going to be her mentor." Gray replied giving Lorraine a file.

"You should know that sending somebody so young and inexperienced into a job like this puts all our lives at risk, especially hers. She's not ready to be here and I won't have her anywhere near me, especially while I'm working." Lorraine spoke in her distinct British accent, her grip tightening around the file. "And I didn't sign up to be a babysitter."

Gray maintained his composure and replied, "She may not have extensive experience, but she received training from her father, Emmet Kurzfeld." He gestured for Lorraine to open the file, emphasizing the information contained within.

"Y/N Kurzfeld?" Lorraine mused and lifted her eyebrow as she glanced at the file. "Nepotism on a whole another level." She muttered. You gulped down nervously, your eyes fixed on the floor.

Lorraine sighed, pointing to you with her index finger. "You're going to watch me while I work. You are not going to get involved and you are not going to do anything without my explicit permission. Is that perfectly clear? I need to know you understand what I'm saying, Y/N."

"Yes, ma'am, I understand. I won't cause any troubles, I promise," you quickly replied, nodding your head.

"You're Elizabeth Lloyd, a Cambridge-educated lawyer sent by James Gasciogne's family." Gray handed Lorraine the forged ID and passport and then turned his attention towards you.

"You, Y/N, you will recieve your cover documentation tomorrow. You'll go to Berlin two days after agent Broughton, you'll communicate with eachother only if necessary. Your role will be to observe her activities from a distance."

"And keep an eye out for Satchel, a KBD double agent who has been MI6's problem for years." 'C' added, tapping the armrest in frustration. "An absolute pain in the ass."

Two days later; location: Berlin - airport

Arriving in Berlin in the evening, Lorraine picked you up from the airport. "Brown suits you, ma'am," you remarked, admiring her wig. "Thank you, Y/N. And feel free to call me Lorraine," she replied, raising an eyebrow. "Come along now, I'll arrange for a taxi to take us to the hotel," she added, taking hold of your suitcase. "Will I have my own room?" you asked as you got into the taxi. "Certainly. But don't get too excited; it's right next to mine. If you cause any trouble, I'll be the first to know," Lorraine responded, casting a stern look your way before adjusting her sunglasses.

Upon entering the hotel, Lorraine immediately parted ways with you in the lobby. You glanced around, taking in the surroundings, while she headed off. Your gaze fell to the vibrant green carpet, marred slightly by the presence of an eye-catching orange couch. "Um, I have a room reservation under Monika Weber." You showed the girl at the front desk the forged ID, offering an innocent smile. The receptionist handed you the room keys, her feet finding their way back up onto the desk. "Enjoy your stay," she replied, her attention drifting back to the Bravo magazine, or more accurately, the captivating image of Modern Talking gracing its cover.

Walking down the hallway and into your room, you closed the curtains and began unpacking your suitcase. Startled by a knock at the door, you called out, "Who's there?"

"It's me, Lorraine," came the reply from the hallway. "Oh, right," you responded, opening the door and finding yourself taken aback by the sight of Lorraine in an elegant black dress.

"Are you going out? Can I come with you?" you asked, hoping for a positive response. "No, pumpkin. The club I'm heading to is strictly for those above 18 years old," she explained, placing her room keys behind the red lava lamp on your table.

"Haha, so funny... I thought people can't drink while working." You replied sarcastically. "Besides... I'm not really into partying anyway. Maybe you could at least read me a bedtime story before you go?" you suggested, crossing your arms and adopting a sarcastic tone again.

"Isn't it past your bedtime?" Lorraine smirked before turning and leaving. Rolling your eyes, you moved the lava lamp when something caught your attention—Lorraine had forgotten her room keys. Observing her blonde hair disappearing swiftly out of the hotel, you contemplated for a moment before deciding to seize the opportunity. Quietly, you tiptoed towards her room, clutching the keys.

"I bet she has a rad wardrobe." You thought to yourself. With a sense of curiosity, you opened the closet, tempted to try on some of Lorraine's coats. The black ones, in particular were really bitchin', bad to the bone. You chose the first one that caught your eye, slipping it on and relishing the feel of the fabric against your skin. However, as you explored the coat's pockets, your hands accidentally came into contact with a wire-like object, causing it to snap. Panic coursed through you as you hurriedly returned the coat to its place, desperately hoping that Lorraine wouldn't discover the damage you had caused to her spying equipment. With a sense of guilt, you retraced your steps back to your room, carefully returning the keys to the spot where Lorraine had left them, before climbing into bed.

As you were beginning to drift off to sleep, several hours later, you heard the sound of Lorraine entering your hotel room and retrieving her keys. "Goodnight, Y/N," she whispered softly before leaving.

Next, morning; location: Your hotel room

You awoke early in the morning, still battling with jet lag and feeling a lingering sense of tiredness. As you opened your eyes, you were greeted by the sight of a brown-haired woman standing at the foot of your bed. "Jesus, Lorraine, barf me out." You sat up, rubbing your eyes.

"I apologize, dear. It's just force of habit," Lorraine responded, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. She placed some snacks and money on your bedside table. "I brought you some snacks from the lobby. If you get hungry or thirsty, just call for room service."

"Do you have brown eye contacts?" You squinted at her, tilting your head curiosly. "Yeah, I have to go see what I'm up against in the east, therefore the disguise." She explained with a smirk. "That's really not fair. Everything suits you," you remarked, a tinge of envy in your voice.

"Um... Lorraine- would you be angry if I like... accidentally... broke... the wire in your coat?" you finally mustered the courage to confess, averting your gaze and staring at the floor.

"The wire? What wire?" Lorraine inquired, raising an eyebrow. However, after a moment, she sighed. "Well, no, I'm not mad. Accidents happen. I'll be back in the evening. Stay here, watch some TV, or maybe go chat with that girl at the front desk. I think she's around your age," she suggested before leaving once again.

"Internship, bullshit. More like boringship. Scam. Bogus." You muttered under your breath. You walked into the lobby, sitting down beside the front desk girl who was listening to her walkman on the tacky orange couch.

"Want a gummi?" she offered, extending a red pack of Hitschler's bubble gum to you. With a shrug of your shoulders, you nodded and accepted. "My name's Klara," she introduced herself with a slight smile. "So, what brings you here all alone?" Klara inquired, her German accent coloring her words.

"My father's side of the family is German, but due to the Cold War, I haven't been able to see my grandparents for a long time. I decided to... you know... get to know Berlin before they come to pick me up next week," you explained. "Get to know Berlin," she echoed, blowing a bubble with her gum and popping it. "Berlin ist eine Stadt, verdammt dazu, ewig zu werden, niemals zu sein," she said cryptically. "Thank God we have music." Klara stood up, offering you her walkman. "Need Your Passion by Sweet Connection." She pointed at the walkman before you listened to the tape. You spent your whole day talking about music with Klara, while enjoying the snacks left behind by Lorraine, and watching MTV in the lobby.

Morning; location: Still your hotel room, hun

You woke up in the morning with a pounding headache. "Hey, Lorraine, I think I have a migr-" Your words trailed off as you took in the unexpected sight before you. Your hand flew to your mouth in surprise as you saw Lorraine in bed with a young woman. "Uh... I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry... Please... continue?" you stammered, your face flushing with embarrassment. You quickly closed the door, berating yourself for your poor choice of words, and retreated back to your room. Anticipating an uncomfortable conversation, you locked the door, hoping Lorraine wouldn't bother you.

"Y/N?" you heard her call after you. "I don't want to talk!" you replied from inside the room, your voice laced with frustration. "Y/N, please..." Lorraine's voice carried a mix of sternness and tenderness. "Is this some new spying technique or something?" you couldn't help but inject sarcasm into your words.

"I... Her name's Delphine Lasalle. She's a new French agent. We can trust her," Lorraine explained. "You know, I'm not bothered by her... I just feel embarrassed that I saw..." you began, your voice trailing off.

"It's fine. It's not your fault. I forgot to lock the doors and change the 'do not disturb' sign. It just happened so quickly... and... yeah," Lorraine interjected, understanding the mix of emotions swirling within you.

"Could you at least introduce me to your new 'source'?" you asked, deciding to open the door and unlock it. Lorraine smiled and nodded. "I'm meeting with your father later. If you want, you can come with me?" she offered.

"Good for you, but I'd rather stay here," you replied, choosing to remain in the room.

"That's alright. Tomorrow, I'll be busy again. I have to get Spyglass across the border. The Russians are after him because he memorized the whole list." Lorraine ruffled your hair before saying goodbye.

Next day; location: Hotel lobby

Amidst your daydreams, Klara's voice jolted you back to reality. "East Berlin peace leaders have organized a demonstration today at Alexanderplatz. Want to come with me?" she asked. "Sure," you nodded, grateful for the distraction. Klara noticed your pensive expression and inquired, "What's on your mind, Monika?"

You paused for a moment, contemplating your response. "I don't know... I guess I can't wait to see my grandparents again. I miss them so much," you hated lying, but that was your work. You can't trust anybody. Sensing your longing, Klara offered her support. "I'm just about to finish my shift. Let me distract you and help you get ready for the protest," she suggested, standing up from her desk.

Later, the same day; location: Alexanderplatz

"So many people-" you looked around the crowded street. "I don't like it one bit, I can't see sh*t." You said to Klara when you noticed the familiar blonde a few meters before you, walking along with Spyglass. you complained to Klara, frustration evident in your voice. Suddenly, a piercing whistle cut through the air, prompting everyone to open their umbrellas. You sensed that something was about to happen, and your anxiety began to rise. The crowd seemed to close in around you, intensifying the feeling of being trapped.

"Not now- not now- Christ-" you thought to yourself, your vision getting blurry from the tears that threatened to fall when you bumped into a guy, recognizig him as Percival. "I'm so sorry, sir!" you blurted out, realizing that he was aiming the gun towards Spyglass, you noticed hus gun had fallen out of his pocket. Overwhelmed by panic, you made a split-second decision and decided to run in the opposite direction, making your way back to the hotel.

"What the f*ck," you whispered to yourself, trying to steady your breathing, but finding little success. You picked up the lava lamp from the table, fixating your gaze on it as a means of distraction. Sinking down to the floor, you leaned against the wall, hugging your knees tightly. Exhaustion washed over you, and before you knew it, you drifted off to sleep right there.

"Y/N?" Lorraine knocked on the door, entering inside when she didn't hear your answer. "Y/N?" She crouched down infront of you. "What happened, Lorraine?" You asked, lifting your head up, rubbing your eyes. "I'm fine. You saved Spyglass from a bullet, I was able to get him across safely. You're going to tell MI6 he is dead, alright? But now it's my turn to ask: what happened to you?"." Lorraine expression turned to worry.

You shrugged your shoulders, unsure of how to put your emotions into words. "A friend invited me to the protest, but I started feeling overwhelmed by the crowd and the umbrellas," you explained.

Lorraine's concern deepened as she assessed your well-being. "Are you feeling better now?" she inquired gently.

"Yeah, I think so... You should go retrieve The List. I think we both know who has it," you responded, mustering determination. Slowly standing up, you added, "Maybe I'll go spend some time with Delphine in the meantime?"

Later in the evening; location: Delphine's apartment

"Um- where's the toilet, Delphine?" You asked, clutching your lower belly. Feeling a chill, you closed the window that was wide open. "Right there on the left." Delphine replied, pointing the way. As you entered the toilet, the realization dawned upon you, explaining both your migraine and emotional state.

"Um, Delphine, do you have any pads!?" you called out, feeling a slight blush creeping up your cheeks.

"No, I'm sorry. Want me to go to the store to buy them for you?" She offered. "Yes, please, I'll just wait here..."

About hundred years later; location: Still in the WC-

"f*cking sh*t..." you cursed under your breath as you waited in the toilet for God knows how long. What was taking her so long? Finally you heard Delphine come back, with Lorraine. You cracked the door open enough for Delphine to pass the pad through.

"I've got the list. Percival is dead." Lorraine said, her voice carrying through the hallway as she spoke with Delphine.

"And I can provide you with the photos and tapes that prove Percival was Satchel." Delphine responded. You rolled your eyes, knowing damn well who the true Satchel was.

"I would have never guessed it was Percival," you commented as you stepped out of the toilet. "Can we leave Berlin now?"

Lorraine considered your question before nodding. "Yes, it's time to get out of here. We have what we need, and it's best to make our move."

A week later; location: MI6 headquarters - interrogation room

"Percival was Satchel." Lorraine said. You observed the tense atmosphere in the interrogation room as Gray pressed Lorraine about the whereabouts of The List. "Where's the list? Where's the list Lorraine?" Gray asked. Lorraine remained defiant, responding with a simple "I don't know."

Faulkner, stood up, stopping the recorder, entering the interrogation room. "We're choosing to bury this one, Lorraine," Faulkner declared firmly. "Your mission never took place. This conversation... never happened. We're putting you on leave. We'll start the next decade well rested... And as for Y/N, she informed us, she'll get a new internship elsewhere."

Three days later; location: Paris - plane

"No way- you killed Bremovych and his henchmen, and you managed for MI6 not to get The List?" you asked, looking out of the porthole, down at Paris and back at Lorraine. You couldn't help but reflect on the events that had unfolded. "Yes I did. You weren't that bad either." Lorraine spoke in her American accent. "She must've gotten that after you, boss." The blonde turned to your dad.

"Breaking the wire that Percival planted in my coat and saving Spyglass and Delphine." She smiled.

"Huh? I know about Spyglass but-" You tilted your head in confusion. "Percival was infront of Delphine's building, trying to get in throught the window, but he saw she wasn't inside. Percival had been on the hunt for Delphine, waiting for an opportunity to strike, knowing she was collecting proof that he was a traitor. He was waiting outside when I found him. Delphine arrived right after I killed him, told me they were out of 'lady products' in the store so she had to drive with her motorbike to a different one." Lorraine explained.

Delphine's unexpected detour to another store for supplies had unknowingly spared her from a potentially dangerous encounter. It was a reminder of how unpredictable and interconnected events could be, and how small actions could have significant consequences.

"That's rad... I still hate womanhood, though." You crossed your arms, frowning.

Lorraine chuckled softly at your comment. "Well, womanhood can be challenging at times, but it also comes with its own strengths and advantages," she said, her voice filled with a hint of wisdom. "You've already shown great courage and resourcefulness, Y/N. Don't let the challenges of womanhood discourage you. Embrace who you are and use it to your advantage." She spoke. "Like you." You added.

Notes: Need yourr passionnn, need yourrr loveee

#lorraine broughton #lorraine broughton x reader #atomic blonde #atomic blonde fanfiction #lorraine broughton fanfiction #lorraine broughton x delphine lasalle

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tragicallywicked · 9 months

Text

shadows of deception

by tragicallywicked

Summary:

In the unforgiving world of espionage, Lorraine Broughton finds herself entangled in a web of emotional conflict. As a dedicated MI6 agent, she grapples with the demands of her duty, striving to maintain her cover and fulfill her mission in Cold War Berlin. Yet, her heart yearns for the warmth she has found in the arms of Delphine Lasalle, a French operative. In the delicate balance between loyalty and desire, Lorraine is torn between protecting Delphine and safeguarding the secrets that could jeopardize their relationship.

Notes:

Here's a drabble of them, because apparently they can't ever leave my brain. Hope you enjoy!

The Berlin nights were cold, and the city itself seemed to hold secrets in every shadow. Lorraine Broughton, an MI6 agent, navigated the streets with a practiced grace, her eyes scanning for any sign of danger. She knew the risks when she had a mission to complete, but tonight had nothing to do with the mission.

Amongst the tension and relentless intrigue that defined their lives, Lorraine Broughton sought solace in the tender embrace of Delphine Lasalle, a French operative whose very presence radiated a warmth that could melt the frostiest of hearts (Lorraine's included). In the shelter of their connection, a profound sense of solace took root, as if their souls had found a refuge from the storm. It was a flame that burned with an intensity that defied the frigid surroundings, a magnetic force drawing them closer with each passing moment.

Lorraine never found herself to be an addict of anything. She enjoyed her Stoli on ice quite regularly, but her line work asked for something strong to numb the pain (both mental and physical). But she had no other vices. Yet, Delphine was proving to defy that understanding Lorraine had about herself. Four nights in a row on a mission was against any and all rules Lorraine (or any special agent) had about involvements during missions—even when they were purely about the mission (which wasn't the case in point anymore).

To make matters worst, tonight was the fifth night.

She couldn't resist when Delphine telephoned her at the hotel. They arranged to meet a club nearby, loud and crowded like the first time, where they sipped on vodka and leaned on each other's ears to be heard. Lorraine's lips always teasing Delphine's earlobe, and Delphine's breath taunting the hairs on Lorraine's neck. Their connection crackled with electricity, an intricate dance of passion and vulnerability that wove an enchanting tapestry around them. In Delphine's eyes, Lorraine glimpsed a depth of understanding that transcended words. They spoke a language reserved only for them, a symphony of unspoken desires and unyielding devotion.

Within the haven of their shared moments, Lorraine and Delphine discovered an escape from the harsh reality that enveloped them. Even as they crawled in each other's arms at yet another club bathroom. With Delphine pressing Lorraine against the wall this time, even though it was the blonde's fingers tugged inside the french's clothes to drive her wild. In each other's arms, they sought respite from the treacherous world of espionage, where trust was a scarce commodity and danger lurked at every corner. There, amidst the chaos and uncertainty, they found a sanctuary—an oasis of silent promises and breathy moans that nurtured their broken spirits and replenished their strength.

Dephine wasn't as broken and lived as Lorraine. Broughton had been in this line of business since always whilst Delphine had been fished out from the world into this tumultuous chaos. Lorraine felt for her. She had no time for it, yet she wanted to valiantly protect Delphine's spirits, to guard her joyful soul from the war and danger that surrounded them. It was dangerous to do it, to open herself up to the point she cared. Even if the words of worry were never spoken, it was there in the way Lorraine would look at her after sex, or how she would kiss her just a little bit harder and hold her a little bit stronger when Delphine would utter out something foolish that could definitely get her killed.

In the intimate moments they shared, the walls that shielded them from the outside world crumbled, revealing the raw vulnerability that lay beneath her hardened exteriors. Delphine's whispered confessions about her admiration toward Lorraine (her wit, her strength, her delicious body—Delphine loved it all like the French did most things, passionately), and their stolen kisses bore witness to the depths of their connection, a bond forged amidst the crucible of secrecy and danger.

Within the cocoon of their love, whether that was Lorraine's hotel room or Delphine's flat (wherever suited them best on each day), time seemed to stand still. Their hearts beat in unison, a rhythmic melody that echoed in sync with the desires that swelled within them. The outside world faded into insignificance as their bodies entwined, each touch an affirmation of the flames that burned within their souls.

In the embrace of Delphine's arms, Lorraine found something she hadn't had in so long—an anchor that grounded her amidst the tempest of her mission. The warmth that emanated from Delphine's touch thawed the icy tendrils of fear and uncertainty that gripped her heart. It was a precious respite from the relentless pursuit of truth and the unyielding demands of her profession. Together, Lorraine and Delphine navigated the intricate dance of love and secrecy, cherishing the stolen moments they could claim as their own. In those stolen fragments of time, they found solace, a flickering light that illuminated the darkest corners of their lives.

But duty, like a merciless sentinel, stood in the way of their happiness. Lorraine was torn between Delphine and her commitment to the mission. Her superiors demanded unwavering loyalty, an unyielding devotion to the cause. It gnawed at her, twisting her heart in conflicting directions.

Nights turned into days, and Lorraine found herself wrestling with her emotions. Every stolen moment with Delphine felt like a lifeline, a fragile thread keeping her grounded. Yet, the weight of her mission pressed upon her shoulders, threatening to snap that connection and plunge her into darkness. As the mission grew more perilous, doubts began to seep into Lorraine's mind. Whispers of betrayal echoed through the corridors of her thoughts. She couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that someone close to her had ulterior motives, a hidden agenda that threatened everything she held dear. Delphine, with her doe-like eyes and gentle touch, became both the source of Lorraine's strength and the root of her turmoil. The connection they shared was a dance on a knife's edge, the delicate balance between trust and deception. Lorraine questioned if she could truly confide in Delphine or if their connection was merely a web of lies.

In a dimly lit room, Lorraine stood face to face with Delphine, their eyes locked in a silent battle of lust and suspicion. The air crackled with tension, the room heavy with unspoken words. Each word they would share held the power to change everything. Driven by a desire to protect not only Delphine but also the mission, Lorraine chose to believe was in fact the character she had studied—fresh and naive in this spy business. In a way, she was letting her emotions mingle with duty, but every time Delphine's fingers intertwined in her hair and their mouths slid together it felt like destinies colliding, like two stars in a cosmic dance, and Lorraine could tell the whole world to just fuck up and explode. She didn't care about nothing else but Delphine's pulse against her lips when she went down on her for the billionth time that week.

When the mission came to an end, Lorraine knew she had done what was necessary, but at a great cost. The bittersweet taste of victory clung to her mouth, mingling with the ache in her heart, but it was Delphine's taste that lingered on her soul—the constant reminder of yet another sacrifice. She had lost something irreplaceable, a connection that could never be mended. In the cold London night, Lorraine walked away, leaving behind the warmth and passion she had found in Delphine's arms. The echoes of their love lingered, an indelible mark on her soul. She knew that even in the shadowy world of spies, where loyalties shifted like sand, their connection would forever remain a flicker of light in her memory.

It was in Montana, when she returned to the states, that Lorraine saw Delphine again. Sitting on a fence by a blue house with white window. Lorraine had grown up there, she recalled that much from her childhood. But how had Delphine tracked down the safehouse in the states? She would have to give Emmett an earful, he was her handler and the only one aware of that asset that was Lorraine's even though it stood under an alias for the sole purpose of not being found. Delphine was too new to have tracked the place down on her own in less than a week. How had she managed to lure the white mare that stood beside her, head petted by the long fingers she had? She was Lorraine's favorite horse and quite the untamable animal (much like Lorraine herself in a sense. How in hell did she look so damn pretty in jeans and boots and the Montana sky? There was no answer to that one.

She asked her none of those questions, instead slipping into the space between her legs and watching her as she lowered to kiss her. (Delphine was never the taller one between them, but switch was throughly appreciated.) There was not a need for answers, the only thing Lorraine craved was Delphine.

When she performed CPR on Delphine back in Berlin, she thought she would be upset at her for not staying. Lorraine had made sure Delphine was alive and breathing, she had kissed her temples and then she had slipped away with the envelope on the counter addressed to herself. She didn't stay and Delphine was a poet, an artistic soul. Lorraine assumed she would not wish to see her any longer. Precisely why she had left Europe without tracking her down. There was no need for further heartbreak. The mission was complete and Delphine was safe. But she was there now and all Lorraine could think of was taking her inside the house and burying her head on the pillow while she laid naked and tangled on clean sheets and Delphine's limbs.

Which was exactly what they did.

#atomic blonde #lorraine broughton #delphine lasalle #sofia boutella #charlize theron #delphine la salle #lorraine x delphine #fanfiction #fanfic #mine #Canon Compliant #But also not #Post-Canon Fix-It #fix it fic

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