Work Text:
One-short; Welcome to My Underworld
RACHEL TOZIER had always assumed cancellation would come from something big. A scandal, perhaps. Or a joke so razor-sharp it would tear straight through the fabric of society.
Instead, all it took was an out-of-context video, a poorly interpreted laugh, and suddenly the most talkative comedian in the United States had become the internet’s public enemy number one. Of course, Rachel Tozier would never crack a joke implying Taylor Swift was more overused than a subway turnstile; not with that kind of rabid fandom. But a short AI-edited clip made it look exactly like that, and just like that, the digital apocalypse began.
Shows were canceled. Sponsors vanished. The only constant sound came from notifications screaming: “That bitch Rachel Tozier is finished.” “Hypocritical feminist.” “Pick-me girl desperate for male approval.”
It was suffocating.
Fear crept in at the thought of stepping outside and getting clocked by some fan eager to deliver vigilante justice.
Everything seemed lost—until her agent, Beverly Marsh, a redhead fueled by more caffeine and nicotine than actual blood, burst in with a plan.
“You’re going to date Edith Kaspbrak! The perfect phoenix-from-the-ashes rebirth!”
Rachel blinked.
“Who?”
“Edith Kaspbrak. The breakout actress from “Girl Meets the World’. A Disney star! Sweet, polite, universally adored. That public image is so spotless it could double as a Brita filter”.
A laugh slipped out, but Bev didn’t join in.
“Hold on. You’re serious?”
“I have never been more serious in my life. I know commitment makes you itch, but relax! It’s just a six-month contract. Joint posts, event appearances, carefully ‘leaked’ photos… and most importantly” Beverly flipped through the paperwork and tapped a clause. “No real involvement”.
An eyebrow arched.
“So… no ‘falling in love with my fake girlfriend’ situation?”
“Exactly”.
“Right, because falling for a yogurt-commercial actress is a real occupational hazard”.
“Hey, this is serious! And there was only one commercial, and she was a kid”.
A laugh escaped again, this time shared.
“I don’t know…” Rachel muttered.
“It’s either that, or staying in hiding for two years, hoping everyone has a collective amnesia about your detestable behavior, just like BoJack Horseman. Now seriously, who doesn’t love a powerful, happy sapphic couple?”
“Fine!” Hands went up in surrender. “Where do I sign?”
The first public outing was a disaster worthy of a bad stand-up routine.
Edith arrived flawless — a red sheath dress, a professional, calculated smile. Chanel-style hair, meticulously curled, framed her face; large gold earrings caught the light, and there was a youthful sparkle in her eyes. Rachel, on the other hand, looked like she’d slept inside her coat.
“You’re late!” Edith remarked, never dropping the smile.
“I was trying to decide whether this was a nightmare or a Jimmy Fallon prank”.
Edith took a deep breath.
“Look, Tozier, I just want this to work. You need to clean up your image, and I need a scoop, this kind of thing will do wonders for my next project. So could you take something seriously for once in your life?”
“You’ve been talking to Beverly a lot, haven’t you?”
“Please…”
“Oh, great. True love”.
The hired photographer motioned for them to step closer. Edith, with the ease of someone born to be admired, took Rachel’s hand.
A small jolt followed — literal or figurative, hard to tell — and Rachel turned toward the cameras.
“Smile, Tozier!”
“I am smiling” she said, forcing her cheeks.
Edith rolled her eyes.
After two more clicks, the shot came out perfect.
As the weeks went by, public engagement exploded. Fans pushed #Reddie across social media, shared cute edits, and packed lives with thousands of viewers. Soon, timelines filled with comments like “Rachel and Edith are the couple of the year,” along with memes labeled “the bad girl and the clean girl”. As a result, both started spending more time together.
Over time, acceptance followed. Edith learned that Rach would never stop talking — especially when nervous — and was constantly caught off guard by whatever came out of the brunette’s mouth next. Rach, in turn, grew used to Edith’s germophobia and obsession with cleanliness, or simply Eds, as she liked to tease. The habit was intentional; Edith hated the meaningless nicknames.
“Don’t call me Eds! I hate when you do that”.
“Then…” Rach pouted. “How about Eddie Spaghetti?”
“Don’t call me that, it sounds ridiculous” she protested, fighting a smile.
“Okay, Eds”.
Edith huffed and crossed her arms.
“Has anyone ever told you how cheeky you are?”
“Believe me” Rach laughed. “All the time”. Straightened her posture. “At least no one’s calling me a monster now. Just a lucky girlfriend”.
“You’re welcome, I guess”. Edith smiled, pulling out her phone and snapping a selfie. They were in a limousine; Rach played it up, lifting a bottle of white wine and sticking out her tongue.
She posted the photos and smiled — the same smile worn at events or in interviews when answering questions about “how funny Rachel is offstage.” All for the contract, of course.
But sometimes, the script failed.
Like later that night, when they got stuck on a hotel balcony during a gala. The music was too loud, champagne thick in the air, and the two of them stuck there; Rach smoking while Eddie leaned over the railing, impatient, waiting for some kind soul to unlock the door.
“You shouldn’t smoke” Edith remarked. “That causes cancer”.
“You shouldn’t be so pretty, but here we are”.
Eddie almost laughed. Almost.
“Do you always talk like that to everyone?”
“Only to the people who pay me to pretend they love me”.
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… light.
“Looks like we’re stuck in the room fate picked for us, princess” Rach said after finishing another cigarette, sprawling lazily across the bed. “I’m exhausted!”
Eddie shot her a sideways look and laughed before stepping closer.
“Are you going to watch me sleep? Like on our last trip to Houston?”
Eddie blushed all the way to her ears.
“Of course not! And I wasn’t… I was just monitoring your breathing…”
“Romantic and terrifying. Perfect!”
“I don’t think breaking into hotel rooms, even by accident, is part of our contract” Edith murmured, sitting down on the bed.
“Neither is wanting to kiss you” Rachel shot back, sitting as well.
The actress’s eyes widened.
“We can’t…”
Rachel sighed.
“I know. But I really want this. And I think you do too”.
Slowly, they moved closer, near enough to feel each other’s warm breath. Their lips met in a chaste kiss. They only pulled apart when a staff member appeared to unlock the door.
Then came the final interview. The contract would officially end the next day.
The host, Oprah Winfrey, asked:
“So, is your relationship real?”
Edith froze. Rachel looked at her, then at the camera.
A thousand jokes were ready. It could have ended with humor. But for the first time, she didn’t want to be funny.
“I think it started out fake” she admitted slowly. “But… you know when you rehearse something so much that, all of a sudden, you realize it’s become real?”
Eddie turned toward her, surprised. Rachel smiled faintly.
“It’s kind of like that”.
The host laughed.
“So you’re saying it used to be a lie, but now it’s love?”
“I’m saying you can’t control everything” Rachel replied. “Not even when it’s written into a contract”.
The audience applauded. Edith could only laugh, trying to hide her racing heart.
Hours later, they were alone in the studio parking lot, surrounded by the distant sound of cars and wind.
Kaspbrak held the folded contract in her hand.
“It’s over. We’re officially free”.
“Free to do what?” Tozier asked. “Pretend nothing ever happened?”
The actress gave a small smile.
“Free to decide what happens next”.
Rach studied her for a long moment.
“What if I say I want to keep pretending… just without a contract?”
Edith bit her lip, trying not to laugh.
“You’re impossible”.
“And irresistible”.
Edith leaned in and pressed her lips to hers in a long kiss.
