𝙴𝙸𝙻𝙸𝙳𝙷 𝙾.

eilidh huani o'dea

⟨ natasha liu bordizzo . cis woman. she/her. twenty-eight. ⟩  We just saw eilidh o'dea entering the rabbit hole. I heard through the grapevine that they are a professional footballer with arsenal w.f.c. Although they are a civilian, they can sometimes be insecure, fickle, or even uncontrollable but I’ve also heard some people say that they were charismatic, energetic and quite passionate. — mhairi. they/she. twenty-two. gmt.

CHARACTER PARALLELS: effy stonem (skins), cassie howard (euphoria), jules vaughn (euphoria), jamie tartt (ted lasso), carmen rutledge (the big sleep), max wolfe (gossip girl 2021), harry bingham (the society), lydia bennet (pride and prejudice), jester lavorre (critical role), scanlan shorthalt (critical role)

He’d never seen her like this before. Unhappy, sure; you didn’t drink together as often as they did without having the odd night of weepy drinking or bad trips. But never unhappy like… this. Eilidh was more like a shell or a shadow of her usual self, and also unlike their usual downer nights together, it wasn’t something that seemed like it could be fixed by another round.

“Sure,” Rune said gently instead, waiting another beat before finally crossing to join her on the bed. He was at least well enough used to late-night talks with Achara that he didn’t shy away from the concept, but Eilidh wasn’t Achara. He wasn’t entirely sure how to approach this. The best way with his sister usually meant making himself available and letting her come to him, so. Rune figured he could start there.

When he sits their sides are barely touching, in sharp contrast to the way they usually find themselves all but draped over each others’ laps after a particularly long night out. Rune nudges her with his shoulder, gently but not tentatively, and murmurs in the quiet of his apartment, “If you want to talk about it… I’m here, love. And if you don’t want to talk about it, I’m still here.”

“Thank you” It’s the only thing she offers to break the silence for a while. Till the silence and the distance between them all starts to get too much. Too crushing. Too overwhelming. Too full of despair that she just has to break it, shuffling over a little in the slight distance between them, her head falling to rest on his shoulder.

She wasn’t sure how long they’d sat there in silence before words finally found her but once they did, they didn’t stop, all sorts of pointless details tumbling out. “A went out for coffee after training today, with some of the girls, coffee turned into a couple of drinks but then none of them were wanting to stay out, so A was away back up the road myself. Thinking like touch up my makeup and hit the town again” The easy facts of course came easy, mindless prattling on about her day and her plans. How often had Rune heard renditions of this in various states of inebriation. But now she was getting onto the tricker stuff, the painful stuff, and she could feel her voice starting to stick in her throat, the steady trickle of words starting to dry up.

“I couldn’t. I’m a Tottenham fan I’m afraid, pal,”  which really wasn’t the point of her intervention, but who was he to deny her the true Reyes experience? “Anyhow, has no one told you it’s not polite to interrupt…” He turned to pester again his target for tonight, but the woman had taken advantage of this distraction to get the fuck out of his sight. Great.

“Is that something they told you at Arsenal? Seems like you’ve been going to a lot of places where you shouldn’t be,” and just like that, the conversation was no longer about him. He hated talking about himself. He wasn’t interesting, and no one would ever make a story about him, that was, until they found out he had been behind the murder of a lot of people.

“An’ A’ve worn other shirts ‘fore A wore Arsenals, you can have your pick of ma old boots if you’re really that fussy” It wasn’t like Eilidh could really claim any sort of moral high ground when it came to football rivalries, certainly not as someone born and raised with the Old Firm. But oh boy, she was going to act like she could. “An’ have A ever struck you as someone who’s ever been overly concerned with manners?”

This wasn’t the best idea. And if she knew enough to know that? Then it was a really bad idea. But it was an idea nonetheless, and it was one she liked a hell of a lot more than the alternatives right now.

She’d done so good at ignoring his calls, all his texts, all of it. Straight to voicemail. Leaving him on read if she even gave him that much. Andrew wanted to talk, or apologise or something and she wanted none of it. She wanted to talk to someone who knew exactly what had happened that night — no. She needed to ignore him. So a night out it was.

For someone as fond of a night on the town as Eilidh was, she’d been a rare sight in London’s nightlife these past few months. Turning over a new leaf, some could call it. Hiding away where she felt safe was the truth. But tonight was different. Tonight she’d gotten that urge to actually respond to Andrew and had reacted by heading out, and now? Several drinks in? The urge had hit again. And she’d given in.

It wasn’t a conversation. No the second he picked up (or had it gone to voicemail? She really wasn’t paying much attention) there was an absolute outpouring from Eilidh. A torrent of two months of built up emotion coming out as a wave of sheer tearful rage.

“How fucking careless can you be? A could have fucking died, he could’ve done something to ma knee or ma ankle — ma career could’ve been over and all cause what? You cannae pay whit you fuckin’ owe someone? Fucksake” It’s a near continuous stream of words, practically yelled down the phone at him. She can feel eyes on her and yet can’t bring herself to care about it. Yelling round and round in circles. Finally speaking her mind to him. Finally getting the feelings out.

where: eilidh's flat when: the early hours of thursday, february 16th tldr: eilidh is alone after the altercation in her flat and has many thoughts, ultimately deciding she needs to find somewhere new to stay and cut contact with andrés tws: mentions of violence, threats & a hostage situation word count: 1022 words

“And I would hate for you to consider yourself a bother,” Rafael replies. “If this meeting is successful, Eilidh, and we are to continue working together, I will make myself available to you whenever you have need of me. I am a busy man, it’s true, but I will find time for you, and you will be provided with the means to contact me directly.” It isn’t something he offers lightly - Rafael has a huge amount on his plate already, and he’s at the point in his career where he rarely takes on new clients himself, but his instincts are telling him that a connection with Eilidh O’Dea will serve its purpose some day. He doesn’t mind playing the long game - he’s a very patient man.

Once Eilidh’s cigarette is lit, Rafael lights his own, allowing her a moment to gather her thoughts. “Would you like to tell me about your previous experiences? You don’t have to, of course, but any conversation between us would be confidential, and it would perhaps give me a better idea of how best to proceed.” He suspects he already knows how to proceed, but part of that is letting Eilidh feel as though they are equals, as if she has some control. Whether or not that is actually true is… negligible.

“The fact is, if the circumstances of your arrest had happened to a footballer on the men’s side, they would’ve been passed off as little more than a youthful indiscretion,” Rafael says, “And with regards to the photographs, I would be lying if I told you I didn’t think they were cause for concern.” The British public is at once prudish and perverse, a contradictory beast that loathes the very same thing it craves. How many of them had moralised over Eilidh’s pictures, only to view them in secret? Countless, he’s sure. “It is clear to me, though, that these are concerns you don’t share?”

She doesn’t say anything to his first remark, just nods her head, sure internally at least that he didn’t really mean that but with just enough manners to not openly contradict him. And when the actual offer comes through she’s more than a little taken aback. “Oh, well that’s awfully nice of you” Maybe even overkill? She wasn’t that prone to bad headlines, was she? No… she was. “A hope A won’t have to take you up on that too often but, the whole trying to turn over a new leaf thing and all” Time would only tell how well that went.

It takes a moment for Eilidh to collect her thoughts, to actually give breath to what really had just been a nagging feeling tickling away at the back of her mind, a burning feeling on her cheeks whenever the others had spoken to her about her image troubles. Someone taking her seriously about this all? About anything? It was a new feeling. A nice one. “They painted me as the problem at little too much for my liking, when the arrest? That was just wrong place wrong time” If she’d actually done something wrong surely charges would’ve been pressed? “They wanted me to apologise? But whit’s there to apologise for? An’ no one would’ve bought it if A’d pulled that”

“Eilidh, then,” Rafael agrees with a respectful incline of his head, not hesitating for a moment over the pronunciation of her given name. He’d done his research, of course, having no desire to look foolish or underprepared in front of a prospective client (or, indeed, anyone at all). “You really ought to thank my assistant - she’s rather adept at finding time where I was previously certain there was none,” he says, his voice carrying the faintest note of amusement. “And you can call me Rafael, if that would make you more comfortable.”

Retrieving his cigarette case from where it rests on the desk, Rafael opens it and offers the contents to Eilidh, waiting for her to take one before doing the same himself. The crystal ashtray between them already contains the butts of the two Malboro Reds he’d smoked before her arrival, though the room doesn’t carry their scent. “Now, I understand you went to the people at Atlas before you made contact with my agents downstairs? Since you are now here, I assume they were unable to provide an acceptable solution to your… undesirable predicament?”

.

She flashed a little smile of thanks his way as he swapped over to just using her first name, she wasn’t sure what it was but there was just something about formalities that set her on edge. Probably a feeling like she was about to get a row or something. “I’d hate to think yous all went to such a bother for wee old me” It wasn’t that urgent, right? She hadn’t meant to make it sound that way either. It could’ve waited for a bit as long as it got seen to in the end. “If that’s awrite with you” Respectfulness was an odd look on her but she was trying.

See? Easy peasy.

When she nodded her head, giving Boone the confirmation he needed, he released his grip from around her lips. The glock didn’t move. People had a tendency to get real agreeable when you pull out a gun, then suddenly real rowdy when you put said gun away. Boone had done this, orchestrated a hostage situation, a time or two, he knew how these things went. He didn’t trust her, not yet he didn’t. She’d have to earn that from him.

Still standing behind her, Boone reached his free hand around her frame. Respectfully so, there’s only one thing he wanted from her. He shoved his hand in the left pocket of her hoodie. Nothing. He tried the right one. Bingo. He grabbed her phone out of her pocket, then maneuvered himself in front of her, gun still drawn, but it was aimed at the floor, rather than on her. He waved his findings in his hands. Looky what I got.

“This is what you’re gonna do, Eilidh.” Cut to a first name basis. Except, he knew her name but she’d never know his. “You’re gonna unlock your phone. Open your texts. You’re gonna send a message to your little friend, Andres Marjano, okay? You’re gonna say whatever you need to get him to come down here. Right now.” Those blue eyes of his could be so intense sometimes. Especially now, as they looked into hers. “I don’t give a fuck how, say whatever you need to. Tell him you’re finally gonna do that thing in bed he’s been begging for, for all I give a shit. But what you’re not gonna do, Eilidh.”  He was beginning to like the way her name sounded on his tongue. “You’re not gonna make him panic. But you will get him here within the hour.” Boone took one step closer. “You try anything cute….” Silence. “You’re smart enough to know what will happen. So don’t try it.”

Boone shoved the phone in her hand.  He would watch her send the text. After it was sent, he’d take the phone back for safekeeping.

“When you’re done,” Boone continued, as he began to turn his frame towards her living room. More so, her couch. “You’re gonna take a seat and wait with me for your boyfriend to arrive. We can get to know each other a little bit.” Something of a playful smirk rose on his lips. “Maybe we oughta talk about your real shitty choice in men.”

Another idea popped into Boone’s head. He was full of them tonight.

“You got any whiskey around here, somewhere?”

Even with the hand gone, Eilidh was still too scared to make a peep. Breath racing but quiet, hell, she even fought to make sure it was. So careful not to give him any reason to hurt her. Not when the gun still pressed against her back stopped her from thinking of anything but what he could do with it. Hurt her, end her life, end her career. The thoughts only got worse. She wasn’t going to make any sound unless he invited it, wasn’t going to do anything that would make this end badly, even if she hadn’t the slightest clue why he was here.

Even as he rooted around in her pockets and eventually pulled out her phone, nothing clicked. She could barely get her head around what was happening. Let alone put her thoughts together to try and assemble a why. The gun no longer pressed against her brought some relief, but with eyes wide the entire time she saw it, her fear was obvious.

And she’s ready for his instructions. Ready to carry them out to the letter if she could, though her jaw does go a little slack, eyes wider still as he lays out just what he wants from her. Andrés? How did anyone even know about the pair of them, even with the friends she’s dropped hint’s with she’d mentioned his name only to a very select few. And to think she’d actually be able to do this? Months of texts hadn’t gotten her anywhere, what was going to be different now? Oh god she was going to let the guy with the gun down and she was going to get hurt and it was all going to be because she couldn’t get the guy she was trying to get to text her back to actually do it. Life was a cruel fucking joke.

“I don’t know if I can” She eventually managed after he had shoved the phone into her hands. Voice tiny and terrified and tears already in her eyes. Hands trembling as she unlocked her phone and tapped into her texts. “I won’t panic him! I won't, I promise! I just—” The tears were truly falling here, even as she kept trying to type out a message to pull off the impossible. “He hasn’t answered any of my texts in months, I even sent photos — and they were great fucking photos — and nothing” But she was still trying here, a desperate act really, a text that would never work. Written and sent off now.

“He’s no my boyfriend” She hits back, almost instinctively, as they hand the phone back over having now sent the text and move to dry their eyes. That seemed the safest way to do it even though he hadn’t like asked for it or anything. An easy way to show she was cooperating. To not get hurt. She didn’t want to get hurt. Already following his directions and heading for the couch, taking a seat and making sure her hands were directly visible the entire time, no sudden moves either. That was how these things worked, right? “He’s just some guy I shagged every so often, he was well good at what I needed him to be. That’s all that mattered”

“Mmm, it was the ideal game to try that too.” Because Andrés would have thrown vipers with his eyes at whoever tried to do that while they were losing, on a tie or only winning by one goal. Sure enough, if his boy scored with a Fifa goal, he’d celebrate, but he preferred his team players saved those for their Instagram. “The way I see it, you might be running for goal of the year, at least goal of the month with that one.” The sort you’d see in “best goals” compilations on skysports and youtube. “Let’s not discuss the upsetting matters,” he smiled at her with too much fondness than he wanted. He could do much better than that and he knew it.

“The prize money,” he shrugged. It was pragmatism speaking here but going as far as possible was almost as good as winning the grand prize. Even making it to the Champions League earned you a fat juicy bonus. Andrés lowkey hoped to solve (some of) his problems with his 1st of the League bonus, not that it made any difference in how he did his job. If he could end first of the British League, that would certainly help him out, but at the end of the day, his loyalty laid with his team. Not every players had that sort of relationship with their club, but he’d spent too many years playing for Arsenal for it to be any other way. “I don’t want to jinx it, but I’m satisfied with the results,” especially after these past two years. Those had been a lot tougher on him, but they’d gone through the storm as a team and they now stood at the top of the league.

He scoffed, running his hand in his hair. “Right. I could never have been a detective, alright.” She still even had dirt on her knees and elbows. “Ah-ha. I had things to pick up with the …” His voice trailed off. It wasn’t all that thrilling. “I’ll probably stick around for a little while. We’re training in a couple of hours anyway. Gives me time to work on the strategy.”

"Aye well, six-nil up at that point and two of them were mine, was an ideal game on a lot a fronts. But when the balls comin' at ye? All A was thinkin' was how to get to the back a' the net. Gymnastics or no, A done that" And that's what she was good at. Seeing those risky plays and having enough skill to take them and succeed. But that was the danger of her position, she was only good if she was very good. And nothing but a liability when she so much as wobbled. She'd almost taken a very big tumble last year, one she wasn't quite over the aftermath of even after the repercussions of it crept away. "Naw like A don't think it was that good or nothin', just some lucky timin' and the skill to see it through" And she caught herself almost matching his smile, a little nod of thanks as he moved the topic on. In a way, he was kinder to her than she ever was to herself. "That's last year's mess and aw' that, best leave it there"

Popularity, media attention, attendance, pay and prize money. The men's and the women's game in football differed so much still that even after having had a front row seat for all the slight improvements that had come from the past few years, Eilidh couldn't help the little snort of a laugh that came in response to Andrés' comment. "Yous get a decent amount but, can't say that for the rest of us" She didn't do it for the money though, never had. If asked she'd claim love of the game and that was true, in part, but a lot of it was also the lack of other options. She loved what she did, and she was damn good at it too, but it was also the only thing she’d ever done in her life (besides a job at the local corner shop in her teens) and it hadn’t exactly left her with many transferable skills. “A’ll keep hush then too, don’t want the blame comin’ my way if things go tits up” And she didn’t want to say anything positive either, sure that would certainly jinx things.