mrofontaine
OLIVIER FONTAINE.
38 Years Old, Bodyguard,
French Organisation.
London, United Kingdom. Penned by Valek.
1390 posts
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In all honesty, Olivier had known it was coming.
There were repercussions for the actions of the French Organization members.
And it wasn't a fucking slap on the wrist, or a warning: not this time.
Olivier's friendship, and world for certain shattered the moment Étienne's fist collided with his jaw. Pain exploded across his face, shooting tiny daggers where he'd landed the blow. Stumbling, trying to get a foothold, there was no chance for reprieve. All he saw in the forefront of his mind was her face, the day he'd spoken such vile words about her scars. The pain flashed in its place, and he'd been the person on the other end of the blade that day.
Whatever they were doing...what if it mirrored that.
Fear, true, undiluted, consuming, took over him.
He didn't even see a point in trying to fight against this, he deserved it. And Étienne's reaction was exactly what he'd expected when he realized Lisette had been taken on his watch. Just as if it'd been Val, it would be Yves at his door. Although, he wasn't sure if Étienne might kill him for it...Yves would have. Without thought. Olivier wondered, just for a moment, if that was the only reason he was still breathing: because Ét had considered him a friend.
Which was evident he no longer was.
It wasn't over, far from it. The impact of Ét's hand stole his breath, leaving him gasping for air as Étienne's furious grip closed around his throat like an iron vice. Olivier found himself squarely blamed for her plight. And he accepted it. Without argument, without excuse.
Étienne's fury bearing down upon him made coherent thought impossible.
What was he meant to say? That he hadn't? They all knew where he'd been. He wasn't exactly known for making the best decisions, and seldom he actually listened to someone's advice. The squeezing had him spluttering for breath, trying to reign in that fear that was creeping up. Was this it? Was he done? Had he fucked up so bad that they saw him as a liability: had he fucked his job with Yves enough that they'd...kill him.
His daughter, his mother, his brother, Lisette...Isla. All came to mind.
Olivier knew the depth of his betrayal. Knew it in his very fucking soul.
"You were supposed to look after her."
Those words echoed, eyes lined with silver as he stared back at a man he'd once deemed one of his closest friends. He lost everyone by fault of his own, he was aware. But this...he knew was unforgivable.
Even when the grip loosened, he remained. Unmoving.
With a hoarse whisper, Olivier met Étienne's gaze, "I swear, Ét, I'll let you."
Where: Olivier's Appartment
When: Early morning, after the awards afterparty
@mrofontaine
In the dimly lit alleyways of London, Étienne moved stealthily like a caged beast, his veins coursing with a storm of fury. From the moment he found out about Lisette, with clenched his fists, he knew this rage was different, raw, untamed. It wasn't just the betrayal by Olivier that ignited the inferno within him; it was a culmination of every slight, every injustice Lisette would have to encounter in the grasp of the savage Russians.
His heart pounded like a war drum, each beat fueling the flames that consumed his soul. The memories of Frédo's guiding hand, the one who had shown him a path among the shadows, now felt like distant echoes drowned out by the need for vengeance. Étienne had always prided himself on his restraint, on his ability to channel his anger into calculated moves on the chessboard. But now, it was as if the floodgates had burst open, releasing a storm of wrath that threatened to engulf everything in its path.
Every step he took towards Olivier's apartment, sent tremors through his body, a testament to the turmoil raging within him. The air crackled with his volatile energy; his usually composed demeanor was replaced by a primal brutality, his eyes blazing with an intensity that bordered on madness.
Étienne knew that he was stumbling on the edge of oblivion, that the abyss of his rage threatened to consume him whole. But in that moment, as he stood knocking on his friend's (a term so loose in his mind in that moment) door, he welcomed the descent into darkness. For among the wreckage of his shattered restraint, lay the promise of retribution.
As the door to Olivier's apartment opened, a chilling silence hung in the air like a cloud. Without a word spoken, Étienne's fist exploded from the shadows, connecting with Olivier's jaw with a sickening thud. The force of the blow sent shockwaves rippling through the room, shattering any semblance of calm that remained.
He didn't give the man a chance to react as Étienne's vice-like grip seized him by the throat, his fingers digging into skin like steel. With a merciless shove, Étienne hurled Olivier backward, his back colliding with the unforgiving embrace of the wall, the relentless pressure bearing down on him.
"You were supposed to look after her." He finally said through his gritted teeth. "Not fuck around with a low-life Rutherford." His voice, low and gravelly, carried a chilling undertone of menace. "You take what's mine, so you look after them." He'd never forgive for what happened to Lisette, the mother of his child, the mother of his adopted children. As Étienne's fingers tightened their grip around Olivier's throat, each digit like an iron vice closing in, crushing the very breath from his lungs.
In that moment, Étienne loomed over him like a vengeful specter. It was a primal fury, untamed and unyielding, a force of nature unleashed upon the world with no remorse or restraint. There was little restraint left in him not to murder the man in front of him, little reasoning to forgive, yet his grip loosened slightly, albeit not fully.
"A promise to you, Olivier Fontaine. Anything that gets done to her, will be done to you." Étienne, a man of his word, always honored his promises with unwavering resolve, each vow etched in stone and bound by blood.
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Olivier stood by the door, his presence could've barely been noticeable until he spoke. He'd been that way since the awards. There, always ready to go but a lack of sleep had gotten the better of him now. While Olivier and Théo had a strained relationship, they could put their differences aside for this. Running a hand down his face, he took a step forward, giving a nod of his head.
"The Russians are quiet," Confirmation, a sigh breaking from between lips. "doesn't mean they're not right here under our noses." But they'd swept everywhere they could. He knew that, but the guilt was right there. Always. Even his sleep was consumed by a haunting closet where he'd been with Isla and what had been having with Lisette in those moments.
In truth, he knew if he'd simply slipped off to the bathroom, they wouldn't have reacted the way they had. It's because he'd been with Isla, known for being around the Russians. And he'd gone anyway... "I have an idea but...I'm not sure it's a good one yet." blowing out his cheeks, hands delving into his pockets.
status: closed > @mrofontaine
Though the friendship between the two had never really been mended, if there was one thing they could come together on, it was Lisette and her safety. Understandably, Theo knew that the lives they lived always ran the risk of coming to a cataclysmic halt; it was still always a shock when something tore through the ranks of the french the way it constantly seemed to. "Any news on your end?" He asked, his voice clipped as he settled hands upon the desk that overlooked the city - the greater view from the office of his law firm still looked somehow duller than usual. All grey concrete and skies. "I've had nothing from the blues," the men and women holding badges of legal authority while simultaneously sitting happily upon his payroll. "No Russian movement despite this bullshit.
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Extraction 2 (2023) dir. Sam Hargrave
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Olivier's heart lurched at the sound of Maria's voice. It'd been that way since Lisette went missing. His phone, was never off, never more than a few centimeters away from his hand. Purple smudges underlined his eyes, sleep evading him no matter what he tried. The half-smoked joint lay in the ashtray before him. It was the only time he'd taken off since it'd happened. And even then, he hadn't fully stopped.
Lost in his own thoughts, grappling with guilt. The events had left him powerless and by his own hand. He'd dealt the cards here, and this was his punishment. He was never careless when it came to his job, but...fuck. Running a hand through his hair, he realized he hadn't responded to her. To haunted by the echoes of the realization that Lisette hadn't hidden: she'd been taken.
Approaching the door, Olivier hesitated for a second, hand hovering over the handle -- could he deal with people right now? He wasn't sure if he was ready to face anyone, but if there was someone he knew would be kinder than most, it was Maria. He couldn't avoid her forever.
With one more steadying breath, he pulled it open slowly.
"Maria," Olivier murmured, "You alright?"
Where: @mrofontaine"s flat
When: April 5, 2024
It had been a week after everything happened and with all the information that had come in, with who was taken, she could only understand what Olivier was going through.
Though part of her wondered where he was when it all happened.
She grabbed some Greek food before making her way over. All the French were hurting and it was a time for them to bind together.
A soft knock is rapped against the door. "Olivier, it's Maria." She calls out.
#maria-azenha#maria & olivier#post event#aftermath#location: olivier's apartment#area: south kensington
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"Yes, because she isn't a fucking Russian, Isla." It snapped out of him before he could control that influx of fury that came at the topic at hand. Isla was important to him, and yeah, it was kinda shitty that he was saying that to the woman he'd had very strong feelings for.
But just because it wasn't convenient, didn't mean he should stop it. She was Rutherford aligned, he was French.
"Watch my tongue, or what Isla? Are you gonna cut it out? Sounds very...Russian of you, don't you think?" Maybe she was made for someone like Maksim Kurylenko. They'd all done some questionable things in the name of their jobs, for that, he understood. But to willingly put herself in his presence? Alone? And think they were anything alike.
She had a fucking death wish.
"It seems to be always me that's in the wrong, Isla. And I'm kinda sick of it?"
"Oh, so my date is free reign but yours is entirely off limits?" The blonde scoffed with relative content that this was where they drew the line. Cretin. It made the corner of her mouth curl into something of a snarl. The upend curvature of a serpent spitting venom as the word Olivier chose for Maks boiled her blood.
"Watch your tongue," not quite a threat, but definitely within the realms as she plucks her glass up and brings it to her lips, "This isn't the place and if you want to talk about all the things I did wrong, and you did so fucking perfectly, take a raincheck."
#islahvnt#isla & olivier#pre plot drop#earlier in the evening#location: berkeley estate#event ; awards 24#after party ; 24
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Olivier: Fine.
Olivier: Not really. I just got a video.
Olivier: Did you get it?
Olivier: I'm not sure if i'll be home tonight now, so stay w family or someone safe, Emine.
Text | @mrofontaine
Emine: You have been gone a lot.
Emine: Everything okay?
Emine: I'm going to stay with Ma tonight, she's having a rough night.
#emine yalaz#emine & olivier#texting: emine#event ; awards 24#after party ; 24#post plot drop#location: berkeley estate
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Olivier's heart leaped and bounded into the cavity of his chest, trying to discern Isla's features for a reaction. Something, anything, that told him she was in the same fucking place he was. He shouldn't have been looking for her. He knew that. It was foolish, reckless even, considering everything that had happened: from Thomas to the revelation of their sides, and this...distrust.
Yet here he fucking was, unable to tear those ocean-blue orbs away, her laughter tinged with something he couldn't quite place.
Olivier didn't stop leading her away from the crowd. Just a few more steps and they'd have privacy, and he'd have...her. In whatever capacity she allowed. For just a moment, that was all he asked for. Then they could go back to hating each other, pretending they didn't care. When they both knew they did. This never-ending cycle of bullshit. What was he doing?
Why couldn't he just let her go and move on with his night?
And still, something inside him refused to listen to reason. He needed to talk to her.
"I don't want to fight, Isla," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I need to talk to you. Please." His grip on her arm loosened, his hand falling away as he drew his head back, and searched her eyes for a sign. Something. "...I miss you." it was out before he could stop the words.
Easier now, that the concoction of all things illegal had somewhat mottled within her bloodstream, Isla finally felt somewhat her normal self. Surrounded by a bunch of french cocksuckers and a palpable amount of testosterone. A powder keg, and the blonde would inhale it until it surmounted her current high. It sung in her veins, brought a smile to her lips that was impossible to wipe clean and above all, she didn't have to think about how much of a royal fuck up the last two weeks had been.
The tug at her arm prevalent above all, Isla had been ticking over the concept of reacting as she usually might have, but by the time he'd spoken, such a thought was long gone. "What?" she muttered, tucked beneath a quiet giggle that didn't belong in the space between them.
Head not nearly as fuzzy as she might have liked in the moment, hues flickered to those nearby, quick to note that nobody was really around - nor paying attention, "What? What do you want?" It's ripped out in a whisper as she moves closer, the pair shifting further and further out of sight, "I really don't want to fight again, Oli."
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"No"
Olivier took a moment to stare at Ophélié, really took a good look at the woman who'd been his friend for a while now, who'd once been his lover, and while they'd maintained that friendship -- she felt more distant. Like while she was there, a wall had been put up that he wasn't sure how to navigate.
It was sad that she didn't know of the joy that came with total infatuation, but he was thankful that she didn't know the downsides. The pain sometimes felt like it was enough to drown a man on dry land.
So he left it alone, not prying, not pushing. If she preferred it that way, who the fuck was he to judge? Olivier was pretty laid back, outside of his relationship status, and string of failed relationships. He was looking at one of them right now. Never a label, but there'd been...something.
When Ophélie began talking, however, it was like cold water had been splashed on his skin, waking him the fuck up. There was so much he hadn't seen, and that was completely on him. Eyes dipped, out of shame, maybe, a heavy sigh parted from between his lips. How could he get it wrong so many times?
"I didn't...I'm sorry." finally meeting her eyes, lips thinning. "I'm sorry I was so distant, and I mean, there's a thousand excuses? But they won't make that better. There is something that I have to say, though..."
"You never even gave me a chance to choose you." Olivier's smile remained sad, never quite touching his eyes at the snapped remark. "You didn't speak to me about how you were feeling. A lot was going on around that time, and a lotta' changes I was...trying to, I don't know, figure out." But he hadn't been paying enough attention to her. A fatal flaw of his. "I shouldn't have..." a heavy sigh. "Gen and I, that happened after. Not before. Not during." Olivier didn't want her to think that had anything to do with what happened between them.
As much as she wanted to shout, to knock some sense into him so he would strop dragging himself down, she didn't. This time she listened, sympathy setting in as she heard him talk.
"You never loved someone so much you would've cut your arm off?" He asked. Truth be told she wasn't even sure if it was a question that needed answers, but she answered anyway. Apart of her needed him to understand why she may have came across in the moment.
"No" she replied simply, her eyes looking away as she did.
The one thing she didn't expect nor was she prepared for was his final question, why she walked away. Overtime she knew eventually it would come, and of course she would always be caught of gaurd.
She remained silent for a moment, offering nothing more than a shrug. Knowing this wouldn't be a good enough way of answering, she began to speak.
Perhaps the saying was right drunken mind speaks sober thoughts.
"I-". She stuttered, she hated this. It made her feel open to emotions, a side she wasn't great at showing.
"You've gotta to know why Oli."
She really hoped that he'd be able to put two and two together and figure it out, but of course he couldn't. What she thought was happening during that time wasn't - she had just assumed.
She knew she had no choice now but to explain. She ran her hand through her hair, finally taking a seat opposite him.
"I don't get how you didn't see it, come on Oli. You practically spent every night at mine or I did at yours. We may have well lived together at that point but..."
"But then you went quiet, you started just going home, barely called, barely text, always too busy. Then I saw Gen was back. She came back and you went quiet, distant. I wasn't going to fight to prove I was good enough. So I walked away." For now she had remained calm, finally telling him her side rather that avoiding it.
" I wasn't going to force someone to choose me." This time her voice was more tense, more snappy than before.
#ophélie & olivier#ophélie redgrave#event ; awards 24#after party ; 24#location: berkeley estate#pre plot drop
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Olivier: Alive. Drunk. Free drinks have been violated. :)
Olivier: I'm good, though. You?
Olivier: I saw Kerem earlier, lmk if you need anything.
Emine: you alive still?
Emine: don't want to lose my roommate.
#emine yalaz#texting: emine#pre plot drop#event ; awards 24#after party ; 24#location: berkeley estate
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'I don't think you an idiot'
Olivier sure felt like one, but he shifted his face into an easy smile. He'd promised her he'd cheer up, and he was doing the very best that he could. He was the resident fucking goof, but those awards still hung heavy over his head. The laughing stock that he made the French.
And his choice in women, well, what could he say?
Disaster.
"I think it's because I'll always be in love with Lis, even when I don't want to be." admitting it out loud hurt more than it should have. "You never loved someone so much you would've cut your arm off, however necessary, if it meant saving them? There wasn't anything I wouldn't have done for her. Those kinds of feelings, they don't come around every day." He paused, downing the remainder of her drink. "And Isla...she appeared out of nowhere when I was close to just saying...fuck it. You're good alone, brother. And she didn't see a French bodyguard, or a fuck up. She knew me, Olivier." No expectations, just...ease, and fluidity.
He shrugged. "I guess I still have that age-old thing called hope, but maybe it's causing me more pain than it's worth."
Ophélié's final words struck a chord, snapping something that had been on his tongue for a long time. Maybe it was the coke, or the fucking alcohol he'd relentlessly consumed but as his mouth opened, he couldn't stop the tumble of words that fell out. "Why did you let me go?"
He'd never asked before and had thought giving her space when she'd created distance between them might've solved the unknown rift. And while he was grateful their friendship had survived their brief union, there were still many questions about exactly why she'd put a stop to them. Maybe doing it here wasn't the right time, but with the way his mind was spinning out of control, he was pulling a classic self-sabotage: it was his fucking party trick at this point.
She wish she would understand how he felt, tell him she got it and that he wasn't alone. She just couldn't.
Ophélie had never been in a position like his before, truth be told she had never allowed a relationship to progress far enough for her feelings to develop in that way. Their relationship had been proof of that.
She sighed, comforting had never been her strong point.
"Listen, I don't think you an idiot. It just I don't get it. Like you said you and List both her each other, so why would you put yourself in that position again. Either of you. I like her, I do. She's kind, caring and she has a heart of gold. There other I don't really know, nor do I care to know considering where her loyalties lie. However, you're letting her get into your head and if that the kinda games she wants to play then she really isn't worth it."
She stopped for a moment, hoping he would absorb the words she spoke.
"I just don't get it, that's all. You have a huge heart and you open it up to those you think are deserving and that's great. Don't ever change that about you. The only thing is, you need to look at when it's time to let go."
#ophelie redgrave#ophélie redgrave#fee and olivier#event ; awards 24#after party ; 24#pre plot drop#location: berkeley estate
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FOR: @islahvnt
WHEN: PRE-PLOT DROP. MINUTES BEFORE VIDEO RELEASE.
WHERE: Outside a damn closet. Berkeley Estate.
He shouldn't have been looking for her.
Olivier had told himself only five minutes before he returned back to his date before he let her go altogether. He'd successfully dodged Thomas all night, even if their eyes had connected once across the room; familiar dread cooling his firey stomach.
Still, he found himself leaning against a wall, watching when he caught sight of her walking: he wasn't sure if Isla had seen him, hand snaking out to grab her upper arm.
"Over here," his head gesturing away from a crowd.
#islahvnt#isla & olivier#pre plot drop#mins prior#event ; awards 24#after party ; 24#location: berkeley estate
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Olivier once again laughed, rolling his eyes. "Using me for my drinks, now I know those nominations were for real." He grinned, at ease in a friend's company wasn't enough to fully relinquish the thoughts that plagued him: but it certainly made it easier. Tugging at the leather of his trousers, straightened his shirt, he spread his arms. "Look at us -- we both look fantastic." He was trying to brighten the mood, in the typical goofy Olivier way. When she mentioned Lisette, he instantly looked for her, scanning the room. "We always do." so when his eyes found Isla instead, his face fell. Quickly turning back to her. "Let's get us shots."
"People are always going to tear others down, it's how you present yourself that matters. Plus, you get free drinks all night and a private room. Some don't." Like herself, but she was fine with that. There was enough French around to keep her pleasantly flushed. "You're my hero because you are going to spot me a few drinks." The Vixen corrects him. "I must say, I think you and Lisette look nice together."
#maria azenha#maria & olivier#pre plot drop#event ; awards 24#after party ; 24#location: berkeley estate
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Olivier could see where he was coming from.
In all honesty, when the idea had first come about even he'd been hesitant. Not because she was affiliated with the Turkish gang that resided in Haringey, but because she was young. Olivier, being a new father, however, had found a more sentimental streak towards the younger women as time had passed on, and taking her under his wing had never been his intention. Alas, look where he was. Olivier tended to do that a lot, and while Étienne's words hit home, he huffed in agreement.
Hands shoved into pockets, he said "She's not staying long, and for what it's worth, she knows things about the Russians. They've been near for months. Think of the information they could give us. I've gotta' lot of heart to give, but I promise you, I'm not going in blind here." He did have a plan, one that he needed to run past Yves first.
The Frenchman nodded at the few people who passed by, before locking his eyes on Olivier. Now, it was Lambeth that Étienne looked after while Delphine was needed elsewhere, not Haringey. But the situation which happened, which Jean was taking care of, affected them all just the same. Now, the fact that one of their own, someone who was looking after the safety of one of his closest friends, was housing a Turk? And not just any, according to Étienne's intel, the woman was related to the man who had passed away. The other woman he did not care... However, he did not like the position his friend was putting himself into.
"I know you have a lot of heart to give... But have you thought all of this through?" His head pointed towards the two Turkish females. "Really thought it through."
#étienne & olivier#étienne canét#event ; awards 24#post plot drop#after party ; 24#location: berkeley estate
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"This place probably has fifty fucking broom closets," Olivier scoffed, finally a grin breaking across his face in her presence, unfortunately, it disappeared just as quickly as it arrived. "Seven minutes in heaven? I don't believe I've ever played that before." He fell into their usual routine, racking up, rolling a ten, and passing It between them as he fell back into the chair, a smile finding him easier, as he sighed: releasing that tension.
Until she asked the question about Isla, and he held in a sigh.
"Isla, she got inside my head--" His heart. "Before I ever knew she was a Rutherford. I was in deep, and when I found out...and not only that but that she was close with my brother?" He scoffed, rubbing at his nose in the telling sign of what they'd been up to. "And Lis..." his lips pursed. "You know how I felt about her, and we both got hurt last time. I was being cautious...I guess?" putting himself out in the open again, like that, it'd take time. They'd hurt each other so much, slow was best. And then there was Isla, who infected his mind and his fucking sleep.
"Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot, please, Fee." His voice begging.
She hated seeing him so down and gloomy, even more so when she had to speak words that could come across as 'harsh'. He just needed to hear it, for himself more than anyone.
"Fine" she stubbornly agreed, "I'll do a line, but i swear to god if you don't cheer up I'm locking you in the broom closet. I have no doubt a place like this has one."
"And no, we won't be playing seven minutes in heaven."
She was true to her word, and did as he requested. Wiping her nose with a tissue, she pushed the silver platter of line in his direction.
"Why are you so caught up on her anyway? And why come with Lisette? If you guys aren't together or back together. Whatever is it. Honestly dude, I'm loosing track."
#pre plot drop#event ; awards 24#after party ; 24#ophelie redgrave#ophélie & olivier#location: berkeley estate
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Olivier simply nodded, taking a glance around the room. "She is," he reassured once more before he offered a small smile. "Just try to enjoy yourself, okay? This is what these things are for, even If last year suggests otherwise." with that, he bid her farewell, a quick kiss to her cheek as he offered a wink: try Olivier fashion.
-- END.
Ayda leaned gingerly into his side, allowing the comfort to warm her for that brief moment. Her attention remains focused on the guests in front of them. Olivier had a point, she had to take care of herself, but the reality was, she wasn't ready to. There was no telling how broken she would be. "I will keep that in mind." She knew at some point she'd hit a brick wall.
"Right now, I need to know she's taken care of." It touched her knowing that she had Olivier though.
#end#ayda & olivier#ayda--demir#event ; awards 24#after party ; 24#closing off some before plot drop <3#pre plot drop#location: berkeley estate
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Looking up from the shot he'd been about to throw back, he offered the few people he'd accumulated an apology before slipping away. "Sure thing, Ét. You good brother?" Olivier asked, a light buzz setting in. Thankfully.
@mrofontaine
"Olivier, a word?"
#canetetienne#étienne & olivier#étienne canét#event ; awards 24#after party ; 24#location: berkeley estate
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"How could I ever be boring in your presence?" Olivier asked, beaming as he slid into the space beside her. "I'll get hers and mine, buddy." He was quick to interject, throwing her a look that asked why she was paying for her own drinks, anyway. Every time he saw Sofie, he left feeling a little lighter: she was a nice girl, honestly. And being in her proximity had always been a mood lifter.
Even if his wins hung over him like a reminder of everything he'd fucked up in the last three years: the constant reminder that he was in fact not fucking good enough. But that'd be discussed at another time, not here, not tonight.
"If you need a drink tonight, I'm sure I can sneak you a few."
"Your outfits have been stunning this year, Sof."
Location: London Awards Afterparty
@mobscene-starters
Sofie leaned back against the back of her seat. While the free drinks from winning would have been nice, she wasn't going to let losing get in the way of living this night up to its fullest. Her eyes focused on one drink on the table that was still mostly fully and let them drift up to the owner of said drink "Please tell me you're not planning to be boring the entire night."
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