Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“So, how did the sitter work out?”

“Uh, not very good.” Rumi was struggling, her cellphone pinned between her shoulder and her cheek while she had an armful of inconsolable child holding onto her clothes for dear life. Mi-Jin was clutching onto her as if the word would end if she let go for a single second.

“Oh, no. I can hear her crying.” Bobby’s voice was full of sympathy on the other line and Rumi could perfectly imagine his heartbroken expression. The only person who came close to loving Mi-Jin as much as she did was Bobby. He had been the first one to hold her after Rumi, doing things that far surpassed his obligations as her assistant. Rumi considered him family, even if he was still on her payroll. “What happened?”

“Oh, the usual.” Rumi was trying to calm Mi-Jin down, alternating between bouncing, rocking, and pressing kisses against her daughter’s flushed, teary face. None of it was working and Rumi’s poor joints were suffering because of it. Mi-Jin was getting way too big to be carried around all of the time and though Rumi would never admit it, her days of physical excellence were becoming distant memories. “I managed to slip out and it took MiMi all of five minutes to realize I was gone and start screaming bloody murder.”

A deep, sympathetic sigh came out of her phone’s tiny speakers, barely audible over Mi-Jin’s crying. “I’m really sorry Rumi. I thought this one would work out. The agency said she’s worked with kids in family situations like yours before.”

Rumi had seen that flag on the nanny’s information. It stood out like a neon flare

“Works with grieving children to offer support to surviving parent”

She knew it wouldn’t work. Mi-Jin wasn’t the one grieving, really. Mi-Jin never met her father. She had only ever seen his tombstone, more bored than anything whenever Rumi took them to visit his grave. Rumi tried to tell Mi-Jin all about Jinu whenever she could muster up the courage, but a child could only be so invested in a parent that died before they were born. It would probably be easier when Mi-Jin was older and could understand more, but Rumi wasn’t inclined to make her daughter grieve when she could just enjoy being a kid instead.

“I know. I thought it would work out, too.” Rumi lied, moving to sit on the couch with Mi-Jin in her lap instead. It was mostly to give her knees and hips mercy. “Maybe I should delay my return to the office and keep working from home, you know?”

“You have been saying that for two years now. I don’t want to speak out of place, but you need to put yourself out there and start living again, Rumi.” Out of place? She almost broke Bobby’s hand when she gave birth to Mi-Jin. He was the only person who was with her in the delivery room. Jinu had no living extended family, both of Rumi’s parents were long dead, and Celine and Rumi hadn’t spoken since the announcement of their elopement. If anyone was in the right place to say that to her, it was Bobby. “Even if it's just to have an afternoon to yourself. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m a single mom, not a helpless prisoner.” Rumi tried to joke, absolutely falling flat from the exhaustion weighing on her voice. Mi-Jin was beginning to calm now that her eomma had sat down, less likely to disappear again.

“I’m going to figure something else out, trust me.” Bobby continued, ever-determined. Rumi could only sag and let out a sigh, not looking forward to going through this painful trial and error (mostly error) again. “There has to be someone, somewhere who will work for Mi-Jin.”

“So far it's just Eomma.”

“You know what I mean. I’ll talk to you later, okay? You have that meeting in three days. I’ll find someone before then.”

“Sounds good.” Rumi said, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Mi-Jin mimicked her, her lips still quivering as she followed her Eomma’s super special calm down exercises. “I’ll talk to you later.”

The call ended and Rumi tossed her phone to the side, wrapping Mi-Jin firmly into her arms and cuddling her. Her daughter still had her jet black hair in two pigtails, a little loose and messy from the earlier meltdown. The adorable yellow dress Rumi dressed her in was now stained across the front from when Mi-Jin flipped her plate of nuggets and ketchup during her hysterics. It was probably staining Rumi’s clothes, too, but she was too tired to care.

“Are you gonna leave me again?” Mi-Jin’s voice was tiny and weak, her tears wetting the collar of Rumi’s blouse where her face was tucked close. Rumi squeezed her close, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“No, sweetie. I was never leaving you and I will never, ever leave you.”

“But you were gone. ” Mi-Jin said, breath hitching again.

“I was just going out to run some errands. I was going to come back - I will always come back.”

Rumi knew Mi-Jin was nowhere near convinced, but the little girl had worn herself out crying enough to not continue the debate. It would be a longer conversation for later, when Rumi wasn’t dead on her feet and Mi-Jin wasn’t on the knife’s edge of breaking down again.

“Are you tired, sweetie?” Rumi asked softly, rubbing soothing circles across Mi-Jin’s back. Mi-Jin nodded, but made no move to lessen her grip on Rumi’s blouse. “Okay. Eomma will take you upstairs for a nap, okay? I won’t go anywhere.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. I’ll stay with you while you fall asleep and be right there when you wake up.”

“... Okay.”

With a heave, Rumi stood from the couch, carrying Mi-Jin up to her room and bumping open the door with her hip. The room was painstakingly decorated, most of them selected by Bobby, to be a bedroom fit for a little princess. The walls were painted a soothing purple, glow in the dark stars scattered around and absorbing the light from the fairy lights running across the ceiling. Everything was frilly and lacy, from the curtains, to the bedsheets, all the way to the honest to god canopy on the toddler sized bed and every piece of clothing in Mi-Jin’s closet.

Rumi wished she could take credit for it, but could never bring herself to lift a single finger when it came to designing her daughter’s nursery. That was something she was supposed to be doing with Jinu. Picking out paint colors and themes was something Rumi imagined doing with him by her side, both of them teeming with excitement about what their baby would be like and counting down the days to her due date.

But Jinu never even knew she was pregnant. Rumi didn’t either, not until he was already gone.

Don’t be mistaken. Rumi loved her daughter with every bit of her heart. Sometimes she couldn’t help but ache about the whole situation, though. She was never properly given time to grieve Jinu, not when she had to focus on healing, having a baby, and then raising it without him. Rumi wanted her husband, but Mi-Jin needed her mother more. Rumi didn’t know if it was for better or worse that Mi-Jin was Jinu’s carbon copy, looking like her father’s face had been copied and pasted onto hers. Sometimes it filled Rumi’s heart with warmth, seeing a part of him live on. Other times, it was a punch to the gut, a hole in her heart that never healed.

Even then, sitting in Mi-Jin’s room and watching her fall asleep clutching a blue tiger plush to her chest, Rumi was riding a rollercoaster of emotions too tangled for her to figure out. A few therapists had tried, but she always felt like all of her energy needed to be put towards taking care of Mi-Jin and that she could figure out herself later.

Sitting in the rocking chair in the corner of Mi-Jin’s room, the one she used to sit in during all of the late night feedings, Rumi kept her promise, not going anywhere as Mi-Jin napped. Her phone quietly buzzed in her pocket and she fished it out, half expecting another email from Bobby and being pleasantly surprised.

Honestly, other than Bobby, Mira was the one person Rumi could keep close nowadays and the only one Rumi would ever think about sharing her troubles with. Sure, Mira was constantly telling her that she should learn to accept much more help and to be far more open, but what little she was willing to let Mira in to see was massive to her.

Mira had become such a rock for her, even if they had only met in person enough times to exchange contact info. At first, Rumi was closed off, glued to the wall at some charity gala when Mira approached her. She was ready to politely duck away and avoid any socialization before Mira stated outright that her parents were forcing her to talk to Rumi because they wanted “connections” and that she was coming to talk to Rumi to genuinely get to know her as some weird fuck you to her parents. Rumi was too confused to be guarded, deciding that sharing a conversation with this spitfire of a woman might not be too bad. In the end, they couldn’t talk for long. Not when Rumi had a nine month old infant at home.

They traded contact info, taking a solid year before they were texting and chatting daily. Another year passed before they realized they felt a little more towards each other than just best friends, but Rumi was far too broken to let that go any further. Mira took it in stride and said that it didn’t matter what their relationship was or what feelings they had for each other. What Rumi was comfortable with is what she would give.

As Mi-Jin got older and theoretically less dependent, Mira had begun urging Rumi to start a new chapter, to find an identity other than Rumi, the widow or Rumi, the retired popstar with a tragic ending. Rumi wished it was that easy, that she could be stronger for Mi-Jin and that she could let herself feel more and be more with Mira, but every glance at the faded scars covering her entire body sent her back to square one.

Rumi smiled to herself, easily sending back a heart of her own. She loved Mira, but it was … complicated. Maybe one day she would figure it out, but that day hasn’t come. It was just especially impossible to figure out when she had a daughter that was practically made of velcro.

Honestly, Mi-Jin’s severe separation anxiety wasn’t one-sided either. When she was with Jinu, Rumi finally felt like she had a family, that she could have a family and in one sudden blaze, that dream was gone. Every time Mi-Jin wasn’t nearby, anxiety stabbed into Rumi’s chest, beyond what could be considered normal for a helicopter mom. Her daughter was her last piece of Jinu and the only blood-related family she had ever had in her entire life . She had to dedicate every second of every day to proving that she was allowed to have this, that she could be the mom she never had and the one Celine failed to step in as.

In some morbid act of grace, Mi-Jin was also the only reason her and Celine were on somewhat speaking terms. While rigid and unapproachable, Celine wasn’t heartless. That or she just saw Mi-Jin as another remnant of the precious Ryu Mi-yeong, one that hadn’t “betrayed” her yet. Rumi tentatively allowed them to have a weird grandparent-esque relationship but knew if she ever saw Celine try to railroad Mi-Jin into singing or dancing lessons, that she would have to pull the plug.

Celine probably already had that idea, being the first to offer to babysit Mi-Jin. Rumi shot that down pretty quickly, saying she was too scared to be alone in the early stages of her healing. It was pretty much true, after all.

That left Rumi in her own little world, her phone being the one peek of the outside world that consisted of Celine, Bobby, and Mira, while her and little Mi-Jin figured out life together. Unfortunately every time they managed to master one thing, the ever changing world of child-rearing threw something else at them. She couldn’t keep Mi-Jin to herself for much longer. There was less than a year left before Mi-Jin would have to start school and Rumi had no doubts that Celine had vetted hundreds of private tutors while Bobby compiled a detailed list of every private school in South Korea.

When she mentioned schooling to Mira in the past, she got a reply back that said “fuck it idk get her a forklift operator certification” and Rumi laughed for a solid five minutes as the stress of everything temporarily left her body.  Mira had been raised in private schools, in boarding schools, and with private tutors and definitely had opinions about it, ones she didn’t hesitate to share.

Nothing felt like the correct way to go. Motherhood was truly a dream.

As long as Mi-Jin is happy Rumi thought to herself, watching her precious daughter sleep in her cutesy purple bed.

The rest of the night went without much fanfare, though it was probably because Rumi didn’t leave Mi-Jin’s sight until it was time to go to bed for real. After two bedtime stories, five good night kisses, and one good inspection to make sure there were no monsters under the bed (which Mi-Jin actually wanted for some reason and was always bummed when Rumi said there were none), Rumi felt like a husk of herself. Or really, more of a husk than she felt like before. With Mi-Jin asleep, she was just … alone.

Mi-Jin always slept through the night. There was nothing else for her to do. Mira was busy with other events, though none on her parents’ behest. She only did what she wanted now and Rumi had no expectation or desire to monopolize all of her attention. Rumi already felt bad enough feeling like she was stringing Mira along, despite Mira assuring her hundreds of times that was not the case.

Quietly shuffling to her office, she sat and flipped on the baby monitor on her desk, setting it to the side so she could keep an eye on it while she worked on her computer. There were a dozen emails she needed to reply to, especially since her anticipated return to the office did not go to plan again . Rumi knew for a fact that if she wasn’t the kind-of-adopted-daughter of the CEO or if she didn’t have a decent amount of shares of Sunshine Records, she would be fucked job-wise.

Her official title was Lead Creative Director, sitting at a computer looking at countless concept boards and drafts of whatever merch designs, promotional material, or product components for whichever popstars Sunshine Records have under contract. They didn’t need her to be physically at the office, but it sure would have made some things a little smoother if she were.

Or so Celine claims.

Luckily the emails weren’t that hard to deal with, Rumi finishing them up quickly and closing anything and everything work related off of her desktop. She sat back in her chair, chewing a bit on her bottom lip as her eyes flicked back and forth from the baby monitor to the clock on her computer screen. Carefully setting the baby monitor face down, Rumi swallowed down her shame and opened a frequently used website of hers. The screen turned from her bland desktop wallpaper to a candy pink monstrosity of a site with the name in damning cursive letters at the top of the page.

Lovely Cams on Demand

Okay so single mom or not, Rumi had needs.

The only person she could imagine being intimate with was someone who had so much more to do with their life than be weighed down by a widow with a five year old and Rumi wasn’t about to go prowling hookup apps. That’s early 20’s shit and in her early 20’s she is definitely not.

Not to mention there was no chance in hell she was letting anyone see her undressed. Not when pale, shiny scars lashed all across her skin. They looked much better than when they were fresh, having gone from blistering, blackened red to what they were now, but it was still an eyesore in Rumi’s opinion. She barely even let Mira see them, only showing glimpses in pictures when she wasn’t wearing makeup to cover the ones on her face or gloves for the ones on her hands.

Rumi’s imagination could get her there just fine, but she wanted a little more. Porn worked for a bit, but it still felt isolating. It was with great embarrassment that she clicked on a link to a camgirl site, flicking through the profiles at random until one livestream caught her eye.

SunneeZee, 22

Zee streamed twice a week, Fridays and Tuesdays at 9pm, without fail. The clock on Rumi’s computer read 9:05, which meant she hadn’t missed anything yet. It was easy to find Zee’s profile, considering Rumi wasn’t subscribed to anyone else.

The collection of thumbnails of random cam models disappeared, her screen filled with the familiar sight of Zee kneeling on her seaform green bedsheets, her hair in its signature space buns and wearing a two piece lingerie set in a shade of blue that complimented her pale skin beautifully.

“Hello everyone! I see everyone beginning to pour in and it's looking like it's gonna be a good night.” Zee addressed the camera, speaking to the chatroom of over three hundred people flitting across the side of the stream. There were already pinging noises from donations, albeit nothing big just yet. Rumi was already inching her mouse towards the big, bright “DONATE” button.

“I put a poll up earlier today for what you guys might want to see and I got some rather surprising results,” Zee continued, twirling one of the strands of hair that framed her round, smiling face. “I know you guys loooove me being a perfect little toy to play around with, but apparently you have been craving something more dominant.”

Oh.

Oh no.

“-So today we’re gonna do some dirty talk where I talk you guys through exactly what I want from you. I’m going to be referring to my precious little fans who love getting fucked, rather than doing the fucking. Sound good?”

A flurry of chimes from donations came in, the chat either expressing their approval or lamenting their preferences not being the focus of the night. Rumi sure as shit knew which one she was, already reaching down to unbutton her slacks and shove them down and off. Her other hand clicked the donation button, not hesitating to send a frankly absurd amount for only being nine minutes into the stream.

“There you are, PurpleTiger226. Always good to have you here. Don’t start spending too much yet! We haven’t even gotten to the good parts!” said Zee, Rumi torn between wanting to shrivel up and die or imploding from horny. The username she ended up choosing was so, so stupid and had she known she would end up being known by name because of how much money she dropped on Zee’s streams, she might have chosen something better. She just couldn’t help herself, not when Zee’s beautiful face lit up every time the payments went through.

“Don’t worry guys, I haven’t forgotten about you. I just like to make sure my regulars and biggest donors feel appreciated. We all know PurpleTiger is a super nice lady, after all. It’s support like hers that keeps me coming back every stream, after all.”

God. Rumi wanted to crawl in a hole and die.

She doesn’t remember how she gave away that she was a woman, but she knows it was probably during some horny stream of conscience back and forth with Zee via chatroom and donations. The fact that Zee not only remembered her username and that she was a woman was mortifying.

There was another collection of pings, some of the incoming requests causing Zee to let out that adorable laugh of hers.

“Okay, okay. I’ll give you guys something before we start.” Rumi watched with bated breath as Zee reached behind herself, finding the clasp of her bra and unlatching it. Ever so slowly, she slipped the lacy garment off, revealing the most beautiful pair of breasts Rumi had ever seen topped with perfectly pert and round nipples. Approval and donations flooded the chat, Rumi practically operating on autopilot as she sent another donation of her own.

Beginning to feel constricted, Rumi started unbuttoning her stuffy, long sleeved blouse and shoved it off, leaving herself sitting in her underwear locked inside her office watching a topless camgirl with rapt attention. There was something about Zee that made Rumi forget about the anxiety of any of her scarred body being exposed, even if it was just to herself.

“Alright, now I want you to sit back and get yourself comfortable.” Zee’s voice turned soft, leaning towards the camera as she ran her fingers down her neck, between her breasts, and towards her abdomen. “Imagine it's me, touching you, teasing you, just like that.”

Rumi swallowed hard, following the instructions and nodding as if Zee could actually see her. She imagined Zee was right with her, touching her with those soft looking hands and treating her like the most wonderful thing in the world.

“Look at you baby. You’re already trembling. You needed this bad, didn’t you?”

Yes, yes I did.

“Play with those pretty tits of yours. Let me see them. Do you want me to kiss them? Suck on them?”

More than anything. It’d feel amazing. Rumi thought, clumsily unclasping her bra and throwing it carelessly to the side. She pinched at her own hardened nipples, holding back a pathetic whimper.

“You’re doing so good, baby. Are you wet for me? Show me. I wanna see how wet my pretty girl is.”

Rumi nodded again, dipping her hand downward and under her panties. She was soaked.

“Oh, wow. Is that all for me?”

All for you.

“Go ahead and give your clit a few circles. Gently. Remember that it's my fingers. I want to be sweet to you, baby.”

Just the gentle touch had Rumi’s breath hitching, so easy to key up from her years long dry spell. The last time she had sex was before the accident. Before Mi-Jin.

“God, baby. You’re so perfect. A little faster? I want you nice and wet for my fingers. Do you want two this time or three? Will they slide right in?”

Rumi let her hand travel lower, pressing the tips of her index and middle finger inside. Zee was doing the exact motions on stream, showing her audience exactly what she wanted to do to them. Her face was beginning to flush, her breath quickening as she played with herself.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby. You take me so well.” Zee whined, her hand thrusting underneath her panties. She shifted around, pushing the underwear down and revealing her slick folds. Rumi’s mouth suddenly felt very dry. “Let’s get those out of the way, yeah? I can fuck you better like this, like you deserve.”

Rumi hastily shoved her underwear off, now completely naked in her desk chair. She sunk her fingers in further, quietly moaning as she matched Zee’s pace. Her entire body moved on its own at Zee’s instruction, as if she was the one right there touching Rumi’s body.

Zee’s fingers inside of her, curling just right. Zee whispering so sweetly in her ear, calling her a good girl. Zee speeding up her wrist, pinching and pulling Rumi’s nipples with her free hand. Zee telling her to keep going, to let her hear the moans. Zee’s hand getting soaked, drenched in Rumi’s slick as the thrusts got harder, hit the right spots, more and more and more

Rumi came with a cry on her own fingers, quietly crying out Zee’s name. Zee was riding the waves of her own orgasm, writhing so sweetly for the camera. Rumi couldn’t tell if it was because of how good the mic was or how wet Zee was, but she could hear the slick noises of Zee’s fingers during the last few thrusts.

Letting out a sated, adorable little sigh, Zee withdrew her fingers, shamelessly licking them clean to the glee of all of her viewers. With one last long pull of her tongue from her palm to the tip of her middle finger, Zee smiled wide at the camera. It almost felt like she was looking right at Rumi.

“How was that, pretty girl?”

Unable to answer Zee directly, Rumi hit the donate button once again.

Chapter Text

Mira tucked her phone away, taking one last look around as the flight attendants began their preparations for landing. The captain’s voice on the intercom told them they were about twenty minutes from landing in Seoul, Mira already feeling the relief in her bones after almost 13 hours in the air. While she managed to get herself a nice, private suite style seat that allowed her to sleep comfortably, you could only have so much comfort stuck in a metal tube for half of an entire day.

Luckily she had no plans of travelling for a little while after she finally touched down in Korea. Over the past year, she had been bouncing across the world, finally making headway on her collection of galleries in Europe. The openings went on without a hitch, the bulk of the work now passed on to staff she trusted with her life.

With each passing day, Mira needed her trust fund less and less. She had already thrown her shares of her family’s business back at them, not wanting to be under their thumb for one more second. Turning 25 was a beautiful thing because that meant her trust fund was finally hers and she didn’t have to go through hundreds of hoops to access it. Her parents were probably hoping she’d get married before then to access the trust, but Mira had been ignoring the countless prospective husbands they had been throwing her way for years.

Now she was 27, about to be 28, making her own path and living on her terms. She would never act as if she did it on her own. It would have been impossible without her family’s money. Everything else was her, though.

Her family had no chance of trying to take credit for any of her achievements, mostly because they didn’t want to. Mira should have been married, supporting her husband in furthering her family’s connections and affairs. The daughter they wanted wasn’t supposed to be running around the world, dressing in couture and stealing the spotlight at fashion shows and gallery openings.

While the grind was its own kind of fun, she was excited to stay in Seoul for a while. She was only ever back in Korea a few days out of every month before she was off to another part of the world. Now she wanted to stay put, not be dealing with constant jet lag, and most importantly, to be closer to Rumi.

Distance made it way too convenient for Rumi to wave off Mira’s support, always saying that she couldn’t possibly drag Mira down with her boring life. Mira knew her and Rumi were complicated, but she was more than happy to deal with some boring if it meant her and Rumi could be closer. Maybe she could even try her hand at watching after Mi-Jin if it meant Rumi would be able to take care of herself for once.

Rumi agreed to meet like she usually did whenever Mira was in Seoul, but this time, it wasn’t going to just be a quick “hi” and “bye”. They were going to finally, finally be a part of each other’s lives, whatever that meant for them.

MIra kind of regretted scheduling a meeting before she could see Rumi, though. She had one last meeting with an artist, though this time it was for herself and not one of her galleries. During her last stop in Seoul, she stumbled upon a hidden talent in the indie scene, a vibrant, loud, unapologetic style that spoke to her soul . For the longest time, Mira had wanted to commission something to commemorate her success, her return to Seoul, and the start of the rest of her life.

She had wanted to visit Rumi first, but the artist said she was busy on Tuesday nights. Not wanting to risk anyone snatching this artist out from under her, Mira agreed to meet for dinner on her first day back and pushed off seeing Rumi and Mi-Jin to the day after.

Just a little longer, Mira thought, feeling the plane begin to descend. She felt the comforting weight of her phone in her pocket, the precious connection she had to Rumi. Just a little longer and then we’ll all figure out where life takes us.

***

A distant clatter sounded through the apartment, Zoey immediately shooting up to her feet and dashing to the source.

For once, just once, she would like to be able to work in peace. Her mind was already going haywire over the fancy-schmancy dinner meeting she had the next day. For the past hour, she had been trying to distract herself with Stardew Valley, doodling, van life vlogs, and even a shitty attempt at meditation. Anything to help her with the nerves wreaking havoc on her brain.

Unfortunately, she had a very dumb, very clumsy cat who seemed deadset on adding to the anxiety.

“Derpy! Where are you?” she called out, bursting out of her room and looking around. It didn’t seem like the sound was coming from the kitchen or living room and she was extra careful about keeping the bathroom door closed, so that meant he could only be in one other place.

Crossing the hallway, Zoey peeked into what was supposed to be a second bedroom for some theoretical roommate, but was now her bedroom for “work” purposes.

Of course she couldn’t actually stream from her real bedroom! It was a disaster half the time and the walls were plastered with photos of family and friends and random doodles torn out of her notebooks. That was Zoey’s space. This bedroom was SunneeZee’s space.

It was painstakingly decorated and lighted, making sure every angle Zoey was in was a flattering one. That was no easy task considering she was seen from a lot of angles when she was live. Directly opposite of her carefully curated “work bed” was her streaming setup, complete with a computer and desk flanked by tripods, studio lights, and an organized set of drawers for her work “outfits” and “tools”.

At the base of her desk, next to an incriminating pile of glass shards, was a flat faced, perpetually shocked looking cat, staring up at Zoey like nothing was wrong whatsoever.

“Dang it …” Zoey sighed, kneeling down to shoo Derpy away from the mess. She must have left an empty mug on the desk from when she was up late editing clips for her socials. It was one of her favorites, a little arts and crafts project that was gifted to her by one of the kids she babysat on the regular a few years back. Carefully gathering the pieces, she wondered if she could piece it back together later. “Just another chore to add to my plate.” she muttered.

She knew trying to live on her own would be hectic, but she thought that would be from working the same job every day to scrape by. She could have never imagined she’d end up doing so well for herself without needing to kill herself on some 9-5 soul sucking day job.

The first job she started was babysitting. Turns out a lot of Korean parents went feral at the idea of a sitter who was fluent in English that could possibly help their kids learn. In the beginning, it was inconsistent work that left her eating ramyeon out of necessity instead of preference in a cramped, basement level studio apartment. As she got more raving reviews, families would recommend her to other families and before she knew it, as one kid outgrew needing her services, another family would be lined up eager to hire her.

The second job was a struggle. Zoey loved being an artist with every fiber of her being, but that almost never paid the bills. It took years of grinding, drawing until her hands blistered and painting with every drop she could squeeze out of the tubes to get her work out there. She still didn’t have as much of a client base when it came to art, but she had been getting good traction more recently. Hence the dinner meeting.

Her third job is what gave her the life she had now. Comfortable, not wondering if she could afford anything other than instant noodles and eggs. She never had to worry about a surprise vet bill breaking her bank or if she could make rent, even being able to move out of her shitty basement studio into a decent two-bedroom apartment in a nice part of the city. It wasn’t the upper echelons of society, but it was good. Zoey could have never imagined being a camgirl would turn out this well for her.

She especially couldn’t have predicted just how much fans were willing to support her. There were a handful that could spend hundreds each stream, but Zoey got lucky in snagging one that paid thousands. She had no fucking clue who PurpleTiger226 was, but if she ever met her, she would immediately fall to her knees and profusely thank her for helping her get to where she is now.

There wasn’t even anything special about the last stream. It had just been guided masturbation. No toys, no fancy outfits, not even roleplaying, really. That didn’t stop PurpleTiger226 from sending a total of three grand. Zoey wished she had money like that to drop random whims.

Maybe she would, if this dinner meeting worked out. The patron she was meeting had snapped up a few of her pieces for well above asking price over the past month and apparently wanted a proper commission. Given how much they were willing to spend on random paintings, Zoey could only imagine what they had budgeted for a custom piece.

Sweeping up the shards of the mug and setting them aside to fiddle with later, Zoey stopped in front of the vanity in her streaming room that she used for getting ready. She tried to ignore her silly turtle pajamas and fluffy headband holding her bangs back, sizing herself up.

“You got this, Zoey.” she said to her reflection, adopting a serious expression. “You’re gonna be a real, successful artist. You,” she pointed at herself, trying to sound as stern as possible, “Are a boss ass bitch. You are Zoey Lee, super awesome artist and SunneeZee, sexy as fuck cam model.”

There was a weird, raspy meow at her feet. She visibly sagged.

“And the owner of a not smart cat who breaks things and drinks out of the toilet.” she said with a sigh. Bending down, she scooped Derpy up and left her stream room, closing the door behind her. Returning to her bedroom, she sat down at her desk and computer (the one not for producing horny content) and opened up her email, stroking Derpy as he sat on her lap.

One of her most recent babysitting clients gave her the heads up that they had passed her contact info onto a friend of a coworker’s friend or something and that she might hear something within the next day or two. While she really didn’t need to babysit anymore to make ends meet, Zoey did have fun with it. Coming from a big family with lots of siblings may have played a part in that and she genuinely loved taking care of the kids and teaching them new and fun things. There had to be at least fifty kids in Seoul who referred to her as “Auntie Zo”.

At the very top of her inbox, Zoey spotted what looked to be the email in question. She clicked on it, squinting at the sender and rereading the name a few times to be sure she wasn’t mistaken.

“A Sunshine Records email? Like … the label from the Sunshine Sisters?” she muttered to herself, scrolling down to read.

Dear Zoey Lee,

Hello! My name is Bobby Cho and I am contacting you on behalf of my employer. We have been trying to find a qualified sitter/nanny for her five year old daughter for a while and have had no luck in finding a good match. Your name came up as highly recommended by an associate and I am reaching out to see if you might be interested.

While my associate vouched for your discretion with more prominent families, I feel the need to stress that my employer treasures her privacy more than anything, as goes for her daughter. We would like to use your services once as a trial run to see if you would be a good fit for her daughter and if all goes well, we can negotiate a more formal agreement.

My employers name is Ryu Rumi and we are hoping you can take care of her daughter this Wednesday from 9am to 2pm while Ms. Ryu attends an in office meeting.

Please reach out to me so we can discuss more details. My number is XX-XXXX-XXX

Bobby Cho

Personal Assistant, Sunshine Records

Zoey read the email again, then for a third time, wondering if she lost the ability to properly read Korean all of the sudden. She had to be reading the name wrong. Ryu Rumi? The former queen of pop and daughter of the late Ryu Mi-yeong? Zoey had listened to countless songs of Rumi’s during her middle and high school years, something that came as no surprise since she grew up listening to the Sunshine Sisters constantly.

The details of Rumi’s retirement had been hazy, though tabloids had countless takes on the situation. Zoey remembered Rumi stepping back from the spotlight, her sudden elopement to another K-pop star causing a massive uproar. The next thing people knew, there was some sort of accident in which Rumi survived and her husband didn’t, and that about a year later, Rumi was spotted in public, dressed in baggy clothing with sunglasses and a thick scarf and an infant on her hip.

Doing the math, the first grainy photo that was plastered across every tabloid had popped up around five years ago, meaning that this email was probably legit and no, Zoey did not misread that a former pop superstar wanted to hire her as a sitter.

Between this and the big dinner meeting, Zoey was at a loss for how she ended up in a situation like this. It just seemed so unreal, like she was in a bubble that would pop any second. Nervously biting at her lower lip, she mulled over the possibilities.

While she wanted to fangirl over the Ryu Rumi hiring her, she knew she needed to rein her excitement in. Rumi wasn’t a popstar. She was a mother who, from what little was publicly known, went through hell and now had a child she needed to protect. This wasn’t some chance to meet her idol, this was for a child who needed someone to care for her.

Squaring her shoulders and taking a deep breath, Zoey fished her phone out of her pocket and dialed Bobby’s number.

Chapter Text

Zoey was trying valiantly not to appear awkward, squirming nervously in the far too fancy seat in the far too fancy private room in a restaurant she would have never set foot in had it not been for this meeting. She wasn’t dressed out of place. Her camming income made sure of that. The Zoey from two years ago would have balked at the price tag of the dress she was wearing. It wasn’t even designer, but it was still a lot.

Getting ready overall took way too long. She was surprised she didn’t scrub her skin right off with how many times she redid her makeup. At first she started doing a bold and sparkly eyeshadow, before realizing it might be too much. Then she did something natural and dewy and thought it made her look like an awkward teenager. In the end, she went with something in the middle, just a little subtle shimmer to make her eyes and cheekbones pop. She had also put on lipstick but it was probably long gone from her nervously chewing on her lip.

The wait staff had shown her to the private room, handing her a menu and a wine list she was too scared to look at. Instead she just sipped at her water, trying to forget how dumb she probably looked when the server asked if she wanted “sparkling or stilled” and she had no fucking clue what that mean.

Zoey has now learned the hard way that sparkling water is absolute ass.

Theoretically she could admit her stupidity and order “stilled” aka regular fucking water because she highly doubted this restaurant had Mountain Dew or Fanta but the thought of hailing the server made her want to throw up a little bit.

“You must be Zoey Lee.”

Zoey must have been more in her head than she thought because she practically leaped out of her seat with a halting screech. She nearly snapped her spine with how quickly she dropped into a bow, hoping the startling just looked like she was really enthusiastic about introducing herself politely.

“Yes! I’m Zoey Lee.” she said. She straightened up, keeping her anxiety on a short leash. “It’s nice to meet … you …” she trailed off as she finally saw her illusive commissioner, feeling like her gayness was punching her repeatedly in the brain.

When she imagined the commissioner, she knew it was a woman or at least, that’s what her name implied. Given the venue of the meeting and the amount of money this person was willing to spend, Zoey expected someone older. Maybe an ajumma with a pleasant smile in a modest Chanel pantsuit or a cutthroat looking business woman with perfectly coiffed hair a face built entirely of sharp angles.

What she didn’t expect was a fucking supermodel.

“Nice to meet you, too. Shall we sit?” the woman - Mira - gestured towards the table set with crystal glasses and polished silver, somehow making a simple hand gesture ooze cool confidence. Zoey attempted to say yes and sit like a normal human being who knew how to function around pretty women, but only managed an awkward squeak and a clumsy shuffle back to her chair. She sat herself down hard enough for her teeth to grind together.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” Mira said, shrugging off her leather jacket and draping it over the back of her chair in one smooth, effortless motion. She sat down much more elegantly than Zoey did, crossing one looooong leg over the other. “I usually show up to events at least a half hour late.”

“Oh, uh. Yeah. I mean no.” Zoey said, trying to look at Mira and not gawk. “No, I wasn’t waiting long. I wouldn’t have minded if you were late either! I’m just glad you wanted to meet.” She cleared her throat, pausing to take a sip of the (frankly dogshit) sparkling water she had mistakenly ordered. “So, are you like … a collector?”

“Kind of.” Mira flipped her hair over one shoulder and Zoey swore the entire room suddenly smelled like roses. “I’m really just a nepo baby with a hobby.”

“Oh, I thought you were a supermodel or something.” Mira arched one elegant eyebrow, giving Zoey a bit of a cheeky smile.

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Oh! Well,” Zoey stuttered, feeling her face heat up. “You seem, uh, very aesthetically pleasing! Very symmetrical and pretty!”

Zoey wanted to curl up and die. All she had to do was be composed, discuss prices, and convince some random rich person that she was worth paying for a custom painting. What she was actually doing was having a full blown gay meltdown in a restaurant that catered to people so painfully out of her tax bracket. Mira seemed to take it in stride, giving a husky laugh that did things to Zoey’s lower half.

“I’m glad you think so, considering I’m looking to get a portrait done.” Mira said, not even looking as a server entered with a bottle of wine and two glasses. The wine was a dark, rich red that Zoey knew probably cost a few months rent. Mira took her glass, taking a sip and making a pleased noise. Zoey tried to do the same but quickly learned one new thing about herself.

She hated red wine.

She honest to god sputtered, heading rearing back as if she had been punched. Her free hand shot to the glass of sparkling water, chugging half of it to wash the taste out of her mouth as quickly as possible. As much as she wanted to be polite, that shit was gross.

“I see you’re not a fan.”

That’s it. I’m done. I’m fucking cooked. Zoey thought, shakily putting the glasses on the table and feeling the back of her neck burn from the embarrassment. I’m never going to be a real artist ever.

“I am so, so sorry!” Zoey bowed her head, trying to hide her neon red face. “I don’t mean to be rude!”

Mira leaned in close, tilting her head to get a better look at Zoey. “You wanna know a secret?”

“... Yes?” Zoey peeked up just a bit, not knowing what to expect. Her current prediction was outraged ranting, promises to blackball her from the entire industry, or some curse on her entire family line.

“I hate it, too.”

Zoey’s head shot back up, her face portraying every bit of confusion absolutely demolishing her brain.

“Yeah, no. It tastes like ass.” Mira continued, setting her glass down and wrinkling her nose at it. Zoey cocked her head, brows pinched together.

“Then why did you order it?”

“To impress you.” Mira stated bluntly. Zoey was somehow even more confused. It must have been obvious enough for Mira to feel the need to elaborate. “Look, I really like your stuff. I’m trying to make sure you don’t get snapped up by someone else before I can shoot my shot. That's why I made this meeting so quickly after I got back to Seoul.”

“Wow. Uh. Okay.” Zoey was dumbfounded. She had an actual goddess in front of her admitting that she was the one being wooed. It just seemed so backwards and incorrect that she was at a total loss of what to say. Her mouth just kept opening and closing, trying to find the words. A little crack appeared in Mira’s facade, a bit of a bashful look on her face as she shifted in her seat.

It made this meeting seem a little more human, less like the upper class business meeting Zoey had been psyching herself up over. She looked down at the table, at the crystal glasses, gold leafed fine china, and an overzealous amount of spoons and forks. The entire thing was just … stuffy.

Most unknown artists would kill for a meeting like this. It meant that they made it, that someone high up thought they were worth something. It wasn’t her, though. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the glass of sparkling water away.

“How about we go somewhere else?” Zoey eventually said, twisting one of her rings on her finger. “I don’t really like … stuff like this.”

Mira perked up, head tilted in interest. “Do you have anywhere in mind?”

Zoey nodded. “I think there’s a ramyeon stand a few blocks down? It’s a little more … lowkey than all of this.” she gestured to the gold plated everything around them. Mira blinked in surprise and after a moment, all the tension melted away.

“Thank fuck. I love ramyeon.” Mira stood, grabbing her jacket. A smile spread across Zoey’s face, eagerly hopping up to follow after Mira’s long strides. “I’m getting mine spicy as fuck. You?”

“As much beef as they are willing to give me.”

“Fuck yeah.”

***

Rumi was trying desperately not to pace too much, flitting about the house making sure everything was neat and perfect. She had to keep herself under control because if she was too anxious, Mi-Jin would start getting too anxious. Right now Rumi had her daughter in a sweet spot of rested and distracted, sitting at the coffee table doodling with crayons while Bluey played in the background.

Every tick of the wall clock felt like a slamming hammer on her ear drums, to the point where she sneakily took it off the wall and popped the batteries out, pocketing them to put back later. She had no idea how she got this nervous every time Mira came to visit. Every time, there was always a voice in the back of her head hissing in her ear about how Mira would eventually get tired of her baggage, tired of waiting around for her to figure her shit out, that this would be the visit where a sleeve rode out too much and Mira would be disgusted by the scars that twisted across her entire body.

Suddenly, Rumi’s phone buzzed in her pocket, chiming with the notification that alerted her to the front gates. She opened up the video feed, seeing Mira looking devastatingly confident in the grainy security camera feed, perched atop a motorcycle with her helmet tucked under one arm. Trying to keep her hands from shaking, Rumi pressed the button to speak through the gate’s intercom.

“Why are you buzzing in? You could have just entered the gate code.”

“I didn’t know if you might have changed it.” Mira said with a shrug, her voice tinny through Rumi’s phone speaker. “Still 226, right?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, cool. I’ll see you in a sec.”

Closing the video feed, Rumi slipped her phone back in her pocket and tried to wipe her sweaty palms on her jeans. She looked over at Mi-Jin, who was very intently trying to draw her beloved blue tiger plushy. “Hey, Mimi?”

Mi-Jin perked up, setting her blue crayon to the side with great care. “Yeah?”

“Auntie Mira is almost here.” Mi-Jin immediately jumped to her feet, eyes full of excitement. She began bouncing in place, her pigtails bobbing.

“Really? When? Is she gonna eat dinner with us? When is she gonna be here?” Her daughter’s enthusiasm stamped down the anxiety, a small smile growing on Rumi’s face. Even if life seemed too much and the days dragged on dark and dreary, seeing Mi-Jin happy would never not make Rumi feel like her heart was about to burst.

A knock sounded on the front door, Rumi’s smile growing wider. “I think that’s her. Want to let her in?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Mi-Jin bolted towards the front door, her little kid hands scrambling to unlock the deadbolt and drag the door open to reveal Mira, idly checking her nails with her helmet still tucked under her arm. Mi-Jin lit up, jumping up and down. “Big Mimi!”

Attention drawn downwards, Mira saw Mi-Jin and had a huge smile on her face. She crouched down, setting her helmet on the porch to scoop up Mi-Jin and hold her tight. “Little Mimi! I missed you so much!” With a heave, Mira lifted Mi-Jin onto her hip and stood, haphazardly kicking her helmet over the threshold so Rumi could shut the door behind them. Mira walked towards the living room, plopping onto the couch with Mi-Jin in her lap.

“Hey! What the heck, little Mimi,” Mira said, looking down at her with mock offense. “I distinctly remember telling you that you weren’t allowed to grow anymore when I last visited!”

Mi-Jin gave a huff, crossing her arms and turning her nose up. “You can’t stop me! Soon, I’ll be Big Mimi.”

“Is that right?” Mi-Jin nodded fervently. Mira let out a laugh, giving her nose an affectionate squeeze that caused her to giggle. “Well, you got a long ways to go, cutie.”

Eyes full of affection, Rumi watched as Mi-Jin began talking Mira’s ear off, telling her about anything and everything she could think of. Mira listened with undivided attention, nodding along and adding exaggerated commentary.

When Rumi met Mira, she would have never clocked her as someone who had any interest in being around kids. The first time Mira met Mi-Jin had been a bit awkward, mostly because Mi-Jin had been barely two years old and an absolute terror, loud and messy and all things Mira had never grown up around. Now, whenever Rumi brought up Mira liking kids, she would answer, “I like your kid.” and leave it at that.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Rumi ducked into the kitchen, taking out the lasagna she had been struggling to make for hours . Since she and Mi-Jin never really went out to eat due to the risk of having a photo sneakily taken of them, Rumi tried to make Mi-Jin all kinds of food. Thus far, Mexican food was her least favorite and Thai food was in the number one spot. Pleased to see her dinner wasn’t a charred mess, grabbed plates down from the cupboards, calling out towards the living room.

“Mimi, why don’t you and Auntie Mira go ahead and wash up for dinner?” Mi-Jin’s chattering came to a halt, replying back with an “okay, Eomma!”. Rumi heard two pairs of feet putter away towards the downstairs bathroom and the chatting continued again.

Setting the table for three, Rumi caught a glimpse of something on an end table. She approached it like she would a scared animal, picking up the small picture frame and feeling her heart ache. Staring back at her was Jinu, frozen in time as he laughed at some random thing out of frame, snow dusting his hair. They had taken a trip to London as a rushed Honeymoon, both of them unused to how frigid it got during the winter.

Swallowing a lump in her throat, Rumi opened the end table drawer, slipping in the picture frame gently face down. She shut the drawer, hearing Mi-Jin and Mira coming out of the bathroom with smiles on their faces. Stamping down the pain, Rumi smiled back.

***

Mi-Jin had been so animated and excited from the second that Mira walked in the door that it was no surprise she began nodding off around 7pm. She fought to stay away, to continue talking and playing with her Auntie Mira, but couldn’t hold out forever. Deciding that going without a bath for one night wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, Rumi carried her up to bed and managed to get her in her pajamas, kissing her goodnight before slipping back downstairs. Mira was already lounging on the couch, nursing the glass of wine Rumi had handed her near the tail end of dinner.

“She’s out like a light.” Rumi said, sitting down next to Mira, close enough for their knees to knock together. Mira set her glass down, twisting to face Rumi.

“You doing alright?” Rumi tried to give a smile that didn’t look like a grimace and nodded.

“Just tired. Not the sleepy kind. Mental tired.” Mira gave her a sympathetic look, opening her arms out and nodding. Rumi didn’t hesitate to cuddle in, tucking her face in Mira’s neck and letting out a heavy sigh.

“New sitter tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You think this one is gonna work out?”

“Honestly, I don’t know anymore.” Rumi muttered, letting her eyes slip closed and the scent of Mira’s rosy conditioner wash over her. “Bobby apparently took a huge leap of faith on this next one. He swears up and down that this could be the one. Again.”

“You’ll find someone.” Mira said, pressing a kiss to the top of Rumi’s head and stroking her back as she held her close. “Watch. This one is the one. I just know it.”

“Really?” Rumi laughed. “You seem so certain. Wanna bet?” Rumi sat up, one leg tucked under her and the other on the ground, nudging Mira’s foot. “If I win, you have to buy Mi-Jin that enormous version of her tiger plushy she’s been hounding me about.”

“You sure you want to do this?” Mira said, eyes narrowed and a sly grin spreading across her face. Rumi nodded with her own smarmy grin. “Fine. If I win, you have to use your brand spanking new sitter to watch Mi-Jin while I take you out on a date.” she jabbed her finger against Rumi’s chest, grinning wider as Rumi’s smile faltered. “A real date.”

Rumi’s heart stuttered in her chest, feeling her face begin to warm. Her hand absentmindedly came up to touch her cheek, where she knew a stripe of scarring cut across it, carefully covered with makeup. While makeup couldn’t hide the texture, it at least made the scars less obvious. Mira sensed her apprehension, eyes softening.

“I just want to be with you, Rumi. In any way you’ll have me.” Mira said, pulling Rumi’s hand away from her face and lacing their fingers together. “I want you to be happy. Mi-Jin, too. Especially Mi-Jin, because I know she makes you the happiest.”

“I know, I know,” Rumi’s shoulders sagged, staring down at their intertwined hands. “I want to, too. I’m just …” she trailed off, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m damaged goods, Mira. You have your whole life ahead of you and the entire world at your disposal.”

“I’ve been seeing that world for ages. You are what I want to see.” Mira lifted their hands up, pressing a kiss to the back of Rumi’s. “You know I love you. Every piece, every jagged edge.”

Rumi gave a little snort, shaking her head. “There are a lot of those.”

“And they look beautiful on you.”

Breath hitching, Rumi felt her eyes begin to burn. That lump in her throat was back and she fought to swallow it down again. Eventually, she let out a shaky sigh and nodded.

“... Okay. If the sitter works out, I’ll go on a date with you.” Mira beamed, drawing Rumi into a tight hug that pulled another laugh from her. “ If! It could still turn out horribly.”

“Still. I’ll take what chances I can get.” Mira murmured against Rumi’s temple, pressing a warm kiss where she could see the texture of a scar curl downwards. “I love you so much, Rumi.”

“I love you, too.”

They stayed tangled up in each other, all the words that needed to be spoken having been heard. Mira continued pressing kisses to Rumi’s face, travelling down from her temple, to her cheek, and her jaw. Rumi let out a pleased sigh, tilting her head to let Mira kiss the skin right about the high neck of her sweater.

It wasn’t unusual for them to get a little affectionate during Mira’s visits. They’d definitely kissed a few times, but that was about it. They never had sex, not when Rumi curled in on herself whenever Mira’s hand got too close to a hem. Mira was always respectful about it, softly apologizing and moving her hands away at the first sign of a tensing muscle.

Something akin to hope blossomed in Rumi’s chest, heart fluttering like a lovesick teenager. For once, the voices in the back of her mind weren’t growling about her insecurities, her regrets. Something gentler sounding was instead chanting and singing about Mira, about the potential date, about how much she ached for the new sitter to work out so she could make Mira happy.

Rumi drew Mira away from her neck, tilting her head to press their lips together. It was feather soft, always tentative as if Mira didn’t meet her with enthusiasm every time. She could feel Mira wrap her arms around her waist, drawing her in, making her feel safe and warm. The air had a new energy crackling through it, one that had Rumi kissing deeper, pressing her weight on Mira until Mira had to lay back against the arm of the couch. When Rumi moved to swing her leg over Mira’s lap, Mira pulled back, looking up at her.

“Rumi, baby. Are you sure?” she asked, eyes so achingly adoring and lipstick smudged. Rumi could taste the wax on her lips.

Nodding, Rumi guided Mira’s hands to her waist, safely away from the hem of her baggy sweater. “Yeah. I’m sure. Just kissing, though. Okay?”

“More than okay with me.” Mira tangled her hand in Rumi’s hair, unravelling the braid and bringing their lips together again. They resumed a slow dance of kissing, tasting each other’s tongues and whining softly between breaths. Rumi had no idea how much time was passing, not when the clock was still missing its batteries and Mira felt like home.

The only thing that finally broke them apart was the chiming of Rumi’s phone, causing them to stare at the device with offended looks. Mira, being the one with the larger wingspan, reached over to grab it without moving Rumi from her lap.

“What’s it say?” Rumi asked, worried it might be from Bobby or Celine. Mira peeked at the screen, one eyebrow lifting.

“It’s an alarm.” She answered, confusion tinging her voice. “It just says ‘SunneeZee 15 minutes’” She looked away from the screen, up at Rumi. “What in the world is SunneeZee?”

Suddenly, Rumi’s face was ablaze, cold sweat prickling at the back of her neck. She snatched the phone, silencing the alarm. “It’s, uh,” she stammered, trying desperately to come up with any plausible explanation. “I just - it’s, y’know. A show I really like.”

Not really a lie. But definitely not the entire truth.

“Oh, what channel is it on? We can watch it together.” Mira said, already reaching for the tv remote. Panicking, Rumi batted her hand away, leaving Mira absolutely bewildered. “Seriously, what’s wrong? It can’t possibly be that bad to have you freaking out like this.”

Again, Rumi’s mind scrambled to come up with something. She honestly felt like crying from mortification and the idea of lying to Mira made her feel like bile was rising in her throat. Shuffling back and off of Mira’s lap, she buried her face in her hands, resigning herself to her fate.

“It’s super embarrassing. You’re not allowed to laugh.” She said, muffled and trembling. Mira sat up, face awash with concern.

“Baby, you can tell me anything. I won’t judge you.” Mira paused, thinking for a moment. “Unless its, like, eating puppies or something. Then we’re definitely going to need to have a longer conversation.”

“No, no. Nothing like that.” Taking a deep breath, Rumi closed her eyes, shoulders drawn up to her ears. “... it’s an adult livestream.”

Mira’s brows furrowed, head cocking. “Adult? What does that even mean?”

“SunneeZee, she’s a, uh,” Rumi made a vague gesture with her hands. “She’s this person who … uh, does adult things on camera.”

The silence was deafening .

“... Rumi.”

Rumi glanced up at Mira from between her fingers. “Yes?”

“Are you trying to tell me you follow a camgirl?”

“... Yes.”

“To the point in which you have an alarm on your phone for her streams.”

“Yes.”

Mira was silent again, an unreadable expression on her face. The anticipation was killing Rumi. She eventually dropped her hands with a whine.

“Can you just say something so I don’t explode?”

“Can’t.” Mira said, voice sounding tense. “I am trying desperately not to laugh.”

“ Mira!” Rumi shrieked, grabbing a throw pillow and chucking it at her. Mira’s composure broke and she doubled, laughing with her whole chest while she dodged Rumi’s swatting hands. “Stop laughing. I have needs!”

“You could’ve called me anytime, babygirl.” Rumi felt like steam was about to come out of her ears, running out of soft things to throw at her. Mira eventually caught Rumi’s hands, halting the assault and looking at her with a warm smile. “Rumi. Honey. Darling. Love of my life.” Rumi felt herself flushing even more “I don’t care that you watch horny livestreams. I’m just glad you’re getting some sort of release. God knows you need it.”

“Hey!”

“Baby, you could’ve told me you were having orgies and one night stands and I wouldn’t care.” Mira let go of Rumi’s hands, instead reaching out to cup Rumi’s burning cheeks. “I told you, however you’ll have me, you have me. Even if you somehow found your precious SunneeZee and like, married her or something, I’d still want to be with you.”

“I’m not running off to marry some camgirl, Mira.” Rumi deadpanned, crossing her arms. “In what world would I possibly meet this woman? I highly doubt ‘SunneeZee’ is her actual name.”

“Still, I wouldn’t mind.” Mira leaned forward and gave Rumi a kiss that she begrudgingly accepted. A mischievous grin stretched across Mira’s lips. “Wanna watch it together?”

“Absolutely not!”

“At least send me the link.”

“Mira, no. ”

Chapter Text

“The new sitter should be here any minute now. Are you almost ready?” Bobby asked, keeping his voice low so Mi-Jin wouldn’t hear from where she was eating her breakfast at the kitchen table. Rumi was scrutinizing her reflection in a hallway mirror, painstakingly dabbing more concealer around her facial scars. She had gotten dressed and made up for a day at the office, even though she fully expected to have to rush back within twenty minutes to comfort a hysterical Mi-Jin.

“If I’m ready isn’t the problem.” Rumi muttered, closing her compact and slipping it into her purse. Bobby shot her a withering look, knowing full well this was a huge step for Rumi as much as it was for Mi-Jin. “You said she wasn’t from an agency?”

“Yeah, well, we tried those.” Bobby was tapping away at his phone, constantly checking his emails and texts for anything Rumi might need. He really was the best assistant she could have gotten. “I honestly don’t think there are any left in all of Korea for us to try. So yeah. Leap of faith.”

“Leap of faith.” Rumi repeated with a sigh. Her phone buzzed from its spot on the coffee table, the notification that someone was at the front gate. “Go ahead and let her in. I’m going to talk with Mi-Jin really quickly.” Bobby made an affirmative noise, fiddling with Rumi’s phone as she strolled over to the kitchen table. Sitting down next to Mi-Jin, she pulled her attention from her half-eaten eggs.

“Hey, Mimi. Can eomma talk to you for a second?” Mi-Jin made an affirmative nose, looking up from her plate. Her large, brown eyes took in Rumi’s clothes and makeup, her shoulders sagging.

“You’re leaving? Again?” she asked, voice small. Rumi tried not to pay attention to her heart shattering into a million pieces. She reached out to smooth down Mi-Jin’s hair, still tousled with sleep and not yet in her signature pigtails.

“Just for a little bit. I’m going to work with Auntie Celine.” Rumi said with a nod. Mi-Jin’s lip was already quivering. Rumi scooted her chair closer, gathering Mi-Jin in her arms. “Mi-Jin. Honey. I will come back. I will always come back.” Mi-Jin looked unconvinced, her eyes beginning to water. Holding her tight, Rumi pressed kisses atop her head. “How about this? We meet the sitter first and if she seems nice and you are good while I’m gone, I’ll bring you back some cheesecake.”

Going eerily still, Mi-Jin was clearly interested. “... Can it be American cheesecake?”

Rumi let out a laugh. “Yes, honey. It can be American cheesecake.”

“... Okay.”

One hurdle passed, Rumi let the tension fall from her shoulders a bit. While the promise had Mi-Jin calm for now, there was no guarantee she wouldn’t lose it as soon as Rumi stepped out of the door. Bribery only worked so well.

There was a knock on the door, Bobby slipping both his and Rumi’s phone in his pockets as he approached. “This should be her.”

Nodding, Rumi stood, holding her hand out for Mi-Jin. “C’mon Mimi. Let’s go meet Miss Zoey.”

Face skeptical, Mi-Jin took her hand and followed. Rumi kept strong and composed, wanting to set an example for her daughter despite how riddled with nerves she was. Bobby looked back and Rumi gave a nod, taking a deep breath as he turned the doorknob and swung open the front door.

“Hi, you must be Zoey Lee!” Bobby welcomed cheerfully, taking a step back to let their new arrival in.

“Yep! That’s me!” Excited eyes and a cheery voice greeted Rumi, her entire world imploding, shattering, and bursting into flames at the same time. Her hand went limp, dropping Mi-Jin’s much to her daughter’s offense.

“Eomma? What’s wrong?” Mi-Jin questioned, reaching up to grab at Rumi’s pant leg and give her a hard nudge. Rumi didn’t even look down, feeling all of the blood drain from her face as her eyes were firmly locked onto the woman smiling at her.

“Hi! I’m Zoey. It’s so nice to meet you, Miss Ryu.” A small, delicate hand was held out in front of Rumi, waiting to be shook. Rumi’s eyes dropped from the woman’s face – SunneeZee’s face, down to her hand, and back up. The silence was beginning to stretch on a little too long, smiles turning awkward and Bobby shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

She should have said hello. Acted normal. Maybe told Zoey her services were no longer needed and told Bobby better luck next time. Anything, anything but do a full 180, dashing back to the downstairs bathroom and slamming the door shut. She heard Bobby and Mi-Jin’s startled cries behind her as she slammed the door and dropped to her knees in front of the toilet, dry heaving as mortification made her feel like she was about to throw up. Nothing came up, but it must have sounded awful, given how Bobby was right outside the door in an instant.

“Rumi, are you okay? Do I need to call a doctor?” His voice was overrun with concern, though he was making an attempt to be quiet in order to make less of a fuss.

“No, just–I just need a second.” she gasped out, trying desperately to control her breathing. Her mind was being assaulted with the sight of Zoey standing innocently in her doorway and rapidly flipped between salacious memories of countless streams and thousands of dollars donated. Just twelve hours before, she watched intently as SunneeZee spent a good amount of time carefully stretching herself out so she could ride a dildo that looked thicker than her wrist. Rumi paid rapt attention the entire time, clicking the donate button whenever she wasn’t rubbing furiously between her own thighs.

How in the fuck was this actually possible? Out of all the people in Korea, all of the people in the entire fucking world, how is it that the new sitter found was the woman that plagued Rumi’s mind and had her in an aroused chokehold twice every week?

Knees shaking, Rumi stood up, using the sink to haul herself up. She was met with her own reflection, the makeup she applied doing a good job as hiding whatever paleness or redness stained her skin in her panic. There was another knock, Bobby gently calling her name again. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she opened the door and let Bobby slip inside. He shut it softly behind him, face full of concern.

“Rumi? Is everything okay? You look like you’re about to be sick.”

Shaking her head, Rumi wiped her sweaty palms against her dress pants. “Maybe I’m just too nervous to do this today. Not after the last one went so badly.”

Her voice must have been shaking badly enough for Bobby to abandon any attempts to convince her otherwise, eyes full of unsure sympathy. “...Okay. I’ll just … tell Zoey nevermind, then? We should still pay her for the day, though.”

“Yeah, that would be fair to her.” Rumi said, trying to not think about the sheer amount of money she’s already given to Zoey in the past. Whatever rate Bobby had promised Zoey was likely chump change to what Rumi threw at her whenever her clothes came off. Giving a pitying look and a nod, Bobby held a steadying on Rumi’s back, guiding her out of the bathroom and back into the living room. Rumi was fully prepared to give a 90 degree bow and ten thousand apologies to Zoey, getting her out as quickly as possible so she could crawl into the corner in shame.

What she wasn’t prepared for was Mi-Jin chatting excitedly, sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table and flipping through her dozens of crayon drawings while Zoey listened intently.

“And who is this one?” Zoey asked, pointing to one of the pages. Mi-Jin shoved the other drawings aside, slapping that one in particular dead center on the table.

“This is Sussie! He is the tiger’s best friend even though he keeps stealing the tiger's hat!” she explained, in that obvious way children did when they were talking about something outlandish. Zoey gave an interested hum, picking up one of the many blue tiger drawings.

“And what’s the tiger’s name?”

“Oh, um.” Mi-Jin paused, squinting at the drawing. “I don’t know yet. He’s my bestest friend ever so naming him is super hard.” She perked up, hopping to her feet. “Oh! Let me grab him!”

As fast as her little legs could carry her, Mi-Jin raced upstairs, past Rumi without giving her a single glance. Rumi should have told her not to run up the stairs, but she was too flabbergasted at how invested Mi-Jin was with Zoey in mere minutes.

Zoey, noticing Rumi’s shocked expression, gave a sheepish laugh. “She noticed I had a paint stain on my pants and I told her I like to paint and draw. Before I knew it, she was pulling out all of her drawings.” Standing to her feet, she approached Rumi again. Sure enough, there was a bright yellow paint stain on the thigh of her jeans. Rumi had seen her naked so many times that seeing SunneeZee wearing jeans felt wrong.

“I hope you’re feeling okay. I’m Zoey Lee. Bobby said you needed someone to watch Mi-Jin?” Zoey introduced herself again, holding out her hand. Almost robotically, Rumi grabbed and shook it, trying not to combust at how soft Zoey’s hand was. She had spent countless nights thinking about how soft all of SunneeZee looked, and now SunneeZee was in front of her to babysit her daughter of all fucking things.

“Rumi Ryu.” Rumi introduced herself, as if it wasn’t probably obvious. When the handshake was done, she hugged her arms around herself, trying to appear like a normal functioning adult and interact with Zoey as if she wasn’t extremely familiar with what Zoey’s tits looked like. “You can just call me Rumi, though.”

“Miss Rumi?” Feeling her face burn, Rumi shook her head.

“Just Rumi.”

“Sounds good!” Zoey said with a smile. She was so bubbly that Rumi swore she felt the fizzles in her chest. “Bobby gave me a detailed list of everything I need to know, but I was wondering if you had anything to add?”

“Uh, no.” Rumi shook her head, ignoring the dizzying feeling. At least she didn’t feel like throwing up anymore. “Bobby probably remembers more than I do. Everything he’s told you should be fine.”

Brows furrowed, Bobby looked between the two, clearly confused. “Soooo, we’re going in today?”

Before Rumi could answer, Mi-Jin was clambering down the stairs, her tiger plush tucked under one arm and calling out excitedly. “Miss Zoey! Miss Zoey! Here he is!” She held the plush up proudly, catching Zoey’s attention. Zoey was immediately crouching down and giving Mi-Jin her full attention.

“Wow! He looks so pretty. May I?” Zoey asked, holding her hands out towards the plush. After a moment of consideration, Mi-Jin lowered the tiger into Zoey’s grasp. Rumi felt like she was about to be knocked clean off of her feet, actually staggering back a step.

Nobody was allowed to touch the tiger plushie. Mi-Jin barely ever let her touch it and now it was being handed off with ease to someone Mi-Jin just met.

“His face is super cute! It’s all flat and funny like my kitty back home. His name is Derpy.” Zoey said, appraising the plushie. She handed it back to Mi-Jin with the utmost care, having her hand taken in Mi-Jin’s and being dragged back towards the coffee table covered in drawings. Zoey shot an apologetic smile back at Rumi and Rumi had to pretend that it didn’t do devastating things to her heart.

“... Are we going in today?” Bobby asked again, voice tentative. Lips drawn thin, Rumi nodded, causing Bobby’s face to light up.

“I’ll pull the car around. See you out front!” Bobby practically skipped out of the door, twirling the car keys around his finger. Letting out a slow exhale, Rumi approached Zoey and Mi-Jin, bending down to plant a kiss atop Mi-Jin’s head.

“You gonna be good while I got to work, sweetie?”

Mi-Jin just said an absent “uh huh”, paying Rumi no mind as she dumped out her crayons across the table. Rumi tried not to feel a little offended.

“Okay, then. I’ll be back later. Tell uh, Miss Zoey if you need anything, okay?” Another absent noise of affirmation. Awkwardly, shuffling away, Rumi grabbed her purse, looking back at least half a dozen times to see if Mi-Jin was okay. Zoey must have noticed, nudging Mi-Jin.

“Say goodbye to Eomma, Mi-JIn!” Zoey said and Rumi had to actively try not to grimace. Mi-Jin looked up from her collection of crayons, calling out a quick “bye bye, Eomma!”

Feet feeling heavy, Rumi stepped out of the house, the sound of the door shutting behind her seemingly reverberating through her bones. She forced one foot in front of the other, towards the car Bobby was ready and waiting in. Trying to keep her cool, she kept chanting in her head.

I do not have a mommy kink. I do not have a mommy kink. I, for the love of god, do not have a mommy kink.

***

Zoey ended up finishing with watching Mi-Jin rather quickly, given that Rumi had returned at 2pm on the dot. The way Rumi came into the door and immediately b-lined towards Mi-Jin made it clear that she was more relieved than Mi-Jin was. It was kind of adorable, seeing this woman who had the world at her feet and an untouchable reputation go all soft and gooey for her adorable daughter. Zoey wasn’t ashamed to admit to herself that she had a little crush watching Rumi shower her daughter in hugs and kisses.

Back in the popstar days, Rumi was everyone’s type, ruling the top of popularity polls year after year. She had a body built like grace incarnate and moved across the stage with power and confidence. Zoey remembered just how bad Rumi had been for her little gay heart when she was in high school. She was flawless skin, flawless hair, lean body, and a stunning face with a voice that brought the heavens to its knees.

Somehow the Rumi Zoey saw before her was even better .

Her body was a little different, given the changes age and motherhood had likely bestowed on her. She showed barely any skin, just everything above her high collar and her hands. Her hair was long, but much shorter than her performing days, the end of her braid only dangling between her shoulderblades. This Rumi was softer and warmer, and one term easily came to mind for Zoey.

MILF.

If Zoey was doing the math correctly, Rumi would be 32? 33? Either way she looked good . She absolutely aged like fine wine in Zoey’s expert opinion. She would happily replace her old Rumi posters with ones of the Rumi she sees now.

Control yourself, Zoey thought to herself, watching Mi-Jin talk Rumi’s ear off about every little thing they did that day. She stood up, knees protesting from how long she had been sitting on the ground with Mi-Jin. They were at the tail end of a game of CandyLand when Rumi came home. You are a normal person who can babysit a former popstar’s daughter without being thirsty as hell.

“So, did everything go okay?” Zoey asked. Rumi whipped around a little spooked, as if she had forgotten that Zoey was there.

“Uh, y–yeah.” She answered, avoiding her eyes for some reason. Zoey cocked her head, trying to read Rumi’s expressions. Squinting, she noticed something a little off about the texture of Rumi’s skin and how the light hit unevenly across parts of her cheeks and temples. Rumi continued, jolting her out of her thoughts. “You didn’t call. Everything was okay with Mi-Jin?”

“Oh. No, everything was fine. I asked if she wanted to call you at lunch but she just wanted to watch an episode of Caillou.” Zoey answered. This must have been extremely out of character for Mi-Jin, given how Rumi was totally slack jawed.

“Oh. Wow.”

Mi-Jin started squirming in Rumi’s hold, a little frustrated frown on her face. “Are you going to go work with Auntie Celine again?”

“Well, I think Auntie Celine wanted me to work with her on Friday.” Rumi said, nervousness tinging her voice. Mi-Jin gasped, though not in the negative way Rumi might have expected.

“Can Miss Zoey come and play on Friday, too?!” she was jumping up and down, tugging on Rumi’s clothes with bright, wide eyes. Rumi began stammering, at a loss for how to react.

“I mean, maybe? Can she? Uh,” she turned to Zoey. “Can you?”

Trying to keep her smile at bay, Zoey twisted the rings on her fingers. “What times?”

“The same.”

Crouching down to Mi-Jin’s level, Zoey flicked one of her pigtails playfully. “Then it looks like I can.” Mi-Jin let out an overjoyed squeal, running circles around her and Rumi. Zoey stood back up, addressing Rumi. “I’ll talk with Bobby, yeah?”

Zoey could see Rumi’s throat bob, her lips drawing tight for some reason.

“Sounds g–good.” she stammered, nodding jerkily. “We’ll be seeing you Friday, then.”

A little voice in the back of Zoey’s head was already excited. On Friday during the day, she’d get to have fun with Mi-Jin. At night, she would switch over to her other job.

Maybe the little glimpses of what a beautiful woman she worked for would make that a little fun, too.

Chapter Text

With the roar of her motorcycle’s engine cutting off, Mira came to park in front of the modest apartment building. She was dressed casually, in plain designer jeans with her well-loved riding jacket. A duffle bag was slung across her torso, stuffed full of clothes. Stepping up to the front of the building, she took off her helmet and pulled out her phone, opening her texts.

Tucking her phone away, Mira shifted from foot to foot as she waited. Her eyes wandered to the surrounding neighborhood, appraising it. It wasn’t luxury. She had seen plenty of that to know it immediately. But it was nice. She could tell you had to be at least a little well off in order to live in an area like this. Zoey must’ve had a decent client base and it made Mira feel justified in rushing to book her services.

The front entrance to the building swung open, Zoey emerging flush faced and smiling. “Sorry! My cat and I got into an argument and he was winning.” She stepped to the side, holding the door open for Mira. “Wanna go ahead and come inside?”

“Sure.” Mira followed after Zoey, her riding boots squeaking against the shiny, clean floors of the lobby. A quick trip up the elevator and down the hall and Zoey was welcoming Mira into her apartment, the walls covered in vibrant paintings and posters from various bands and singers, American and Korean. It was colorful, chaotic, with dashes of cuteness here and there. It definitely suited Zoey.

Plopping the duffle bag onto the couch, Mira unzipped it and pulled out three bundled up garment bags. “So I brought a few options. I wasn’t sure what you’d want to paint more.” Zoey gave an excited nod, gesturing for Mira to show her. Opening the bags, she pulled out three different dresses of varying styles. One was a long golden gown with a plunging neckline, the second was short and black, and the third option was a more classy scarlet dress with long sleeves. Zoey eyed them critically, stepping forward to pinch the fabric of the gold one between her fingers.

“Oh, does this one have a thigh slit?” she asked, seeing the split from the hem.

“Yeah. Like, up to the hip.”

“That one, then.” She said, giving a resolute nod. “It’ll show off those long leggies of yours. Very sexy.”

Mira let out a laugh, putting the other two dresses away. “Leggies?”

“Yes. Leggies. I said what I said.” Zoey crossed her arms, trying to look authoritative in a positively adorable way. Mira gave another laugh and Zoey pointed down the hallway. “Bathroom is that way for you to change. We’ll be shooting in my studio in the room right next to it.”

“Studio? Fancy.” Mira ducked into said bathroom. She made quick work of changing into the dress and slapping on some matching jewelry. A few swipes of blood red lipstick and Mira looked fit for a gala.

When Zoey mentioned a studio, Mira expected to step into a room with various canvases and maybe an easel or two set up and waiting to be worked on. Stepping inside, she didn’t see a single indicator that Zoey ever used this room for painting or anything art related. There was a bed with nothing but plain white sheets and a surprising amount of lighting equipment, an entire PC setup across from the bed.

“You can just sit on the bed to pose. Whatever you feel like.” Zoey instructed, fiddling with one of two sets of drawers shoved up against the wall. With Mira’s height, she could catch a glimpse of what else was in the drawer Zoey was digging through. It was full of equipment like tripods, video cameras, and even some microphones? Mira just internally shrugged, moving to sit atop the clean sheets.

“Nice setup.” Mira commented, leaning back on her hands and crossing one leg over the other. Zoey let out a sheepish laugh, shutting the drawer with a camera in hand. She began flicking the various lighting apparatuses on, fully in the zone.

“It sure is useful.” she said, a tinge cryptic. Mira cocked her head. Kicking a few of the lights around and occasionally peeking through the camera’s viewfinder, Zoey found what she thought was a satisfactory composition. “Are you used to posing?”

“Not really, no.” Mira answered, falling into some basic poses. She’d never worked as a model, but she at least knew her angles. “Most of the pictures that end up taken of me are candids from events.”

“I should look them up. You certainly are photogenic. I bet you look fire in all of them.” Zoey was hopping around, the camera already snapping a dozen photos by now. Mira moved as Zoey did, adjusting the tilt of her head, shifting her hips, extending her leg. Zoey made a pleased hum with each movement, a flurry of snaps following.

“What can I say? I’m in my napalm era.” Mira said with a light laugh. “That’s why I’m getting this portrait – to celebrate.”

“You mentioned you usually don’t stay in Seoul for very long.”

“Not until now. I was busy running around Europe and Asia, going to shows and galas here and there.”

“Did you ever make any stops in the US?”

“No.”

Zoey made a little pout. “Awh. That’s no fun.”

“You’re from there, yeah?” Zoey nodded. “How’d you end up here?”

An awkward laugh, a slight lull in the rapid shutter sounds. “Consequences of being a child of divorce.” she answered, “I would have much preferred to stay in the US, but I’ve managed well enough.”

“Clearly.” Mira nodded towards the complex studio setup. “Besides, family stuff is always a little annoying.”

“Your family is dumb, treating you like an outcast.” Zoey lowered the camera, gesturing towards all of Mira, lounging on the bed like a lioness at rest. “You’re super cool and gorgeous. Your parents must be boring and stuffy as hell.”

Mira nodded in agreement. “Oh, definitely. I’m apparently gorgeous enough to be mistaken as a supermodel.”

Shooting a heatless glare at Mira, Zoey stuck her tongue out. “Shut up! You know you’re hot. Don’t tease me!”

“But you’re so adorable. How can I not?” Mira shot back. Flirtatious words, but the playful aura was kept intact. This was a portrait meant to be sexy and powerful, not shy and polite. Besides, seeing Rumi had romance plaguing Mira’s brain. Rumi hadn’t said much about how the new babysitter was working out just yet other than that Mi-Jin managed to go an entire day without having a meltdown.

“Let me see how Friday goes.” Rumi had said in their phone call the night before. When Mira took a beat too long to reply, she continued, voice filled with nerves. “I need to be sure. I won’t be able to relax and enjoy spending time with you if I’m not sure.”

Mira had let it go. Rumi was already taking huge steps even just agreeing to the possibility of a single date. Mira wasn’t keen on pushing Mi-Jin too fast either, given that she was the biggest factor.

Sometimes Rumi was like an easily frightened animal, her flight instinct kicking in whenever she got too flustered or nervous. It’s why Mira dropped the SunneeZee thing so quickly, even swearing to not look the camgirl up to spare Rumi the embarrassment of someone knowing too much about her guilty pleasures. The last thing Mira said about it was a cheeky, “You have me now, after all.” before giving Rumi a meltingly sweet kiss.

“Hey, can you send me some of those pictures?” Mira asked suddenly. Zoey had stopped taking photos, staring at the tiny screen and looking over the ones she had already. She looked up, curious.

“Why? They’re not exactly professional.”

“I just have someone I want to send them to. A little teaser, if you will.” It took Zoey a moment, but a wolfish grin spread across her face.

“I will if you provide deets.”

Ah, yes. Mira was so glad she found Zoey. Her personality was a huge plus to an already great deal. Mira got art that she loved right here in Seoul and she got to have a fun time doing it. She’d never laughed so much in meetings with artists like she did when she and Zoey ditched the fancy restaurant to go to a tucked away ramyeon stand. Already she was thinking of Zoey more as a potential friend rather than scouted talent.

She was still absolutely gonna pay Zoey a shitton of money, though. She couldn’t risk someone swooping in with a better offer.

“She’s a longtime friend, but sort of a little more.” Mira explained, already having Zoey’s rapt attention. “She’s been sort of … walled off for a long time, but things are looking up. She promised to go on an actual date with me once her kid is a little better with their sitter.”

“A kid? She has a kid?” Zoey paused, squinting as she thought for a moment. Suddenly, she gasped. “Oh my god, is she a MILF?”

The question had Mira throwing her head back in a full belly laugh. She could feel her cheeks hurt from smiling. Through her laughs (and a few admitted snorts), Mira nodded with great enthusiasm. “Oh, absolutely. She dresses really modestly, but I can see how motherhood has blessed those curves.”

“One of my newest clients is a total MILF.” Zoey said, setting off her camera to the side. Mira made a curious noise, figuring she was talking about another buyer or commissioner. “She’s super pretty and I think I fell in love when I saw her get all soft and gooey with her daughter.”

“Damn. I guess the MILF population in Seoul is pretty high. Lucky us.” Zoey made an affirmative noise, flicking off the studio lights one by one.

“Lucky us.” she repeated, with a blinding smile Mira could already feel herself becoming fond of.

***

The workday was only halfway done for a great deal of people in the office, except for Rumi. The fact that she was in the office at all was a blessing. All day, she had been on edge waiting for a frantic call from Zoey, to find out the first day’s success was just a fluke, but it never came. Instead she just sat in her office and … worked.

Celine had ducked in earlier, as if she couldn’t believe Rumi was there herself. Even in her 30s, Rumi squirmed under Celine’s critical gaze, something she had nearly forgotten after years of shutting herself away with Mi-Jin. Rumi hadn’t really interacted with Celine without Mi-Jin as a buffer … ever, really.

Being in her office felt wrong, like she had travelled back in time. When she had come in a few days prior, even more so. She figured Celine might have told some assistant to get her office ready on her behalf, given how it was pristinely decorated and cleaned. Rumi would have loved to be grateful, but most of the decorations consisted of relics of her past. Instead of seeing large posters of her best glamour shots and album covers and feeling pride, Rumi spent time carefully taking them off of the walls and tucking them away in a corner facing inwards. Of course Celine noticed, but thankfully didn’t say anything about it.

And now, she could finally escape the bare walls and dizzying amount of chatter outside her door and go home to her daughter. The idea filled her with joy, a bright spot in her dreary little existence, but also deep, mortifying dread. Going home to Mi-Jin also meant going home to try and keep her composure in front of Zoey, even if it was for less than ten minutes.

It was Friday, too. One of SuneeZee’s two nights a week that she streamed without fail. The entire day, Rumi’s mind was ripping itself apart, trying to figure out how to go about literally any of this. She couldn’t fire Zoey from being Mi-Jin’s sitter, especially since day number two went swimmingly. There was no way she could continue watching her streams with a clear conscience either, but would not having PurpleTiger226’s constant support put Zoey in a tough spot? And god forbid if Zoey ever, ever found out.

The current solution to alleviate just a little bit of her spiraling was to allow Bobby to offer Zoey a frankly appalling rate. It wouldn’t be the same as the stacks of cash she had been dropping twice a week, but hopefully Zoey was responsible enough with her money that it wouldn’t matter. Bobby said the contract was drafted and ready to be sent to Zoey the second Rumi said so.

Keeping her head low, Rumi left the office, dodging the glances from whoever she passed. Everybody knew who she was, so attention was a given. Depending on how much they knew her made the glances vary. If they knew very little, they saw her as a living legend that stepped back into solitude. If they knew the truth, they saw her as a living ghost, nothing more than an example of how glory can turn to tragedy.

She wasn’t sure which one she preferred. Both had a different kind of hurt.

The one comfort she had was the one person she knew would never look at her like either of those things. Her precious Mi-Jin. No matter how much her scars ached and her heart felt like a gaping wound, she walked into her front door and saw her daughter smile at her like nothing bad had ever happened.

“Hello, my precious Mimi.” Rumi cooed, crouching down to sweep Mi-Jin into a hug. When she pulled back, she noticed a little smudge of white powder on her daughter’s cheek. She rubbed at it with her thumb, recognizing it as flour. “Why do you have flour on you, sweetie?”

“We made cookies.” Zoey’s voice startled Rumi, a response that was apparently going to be the norm. She stood back up, one hand resting atop Mi-Jin’s hair. “I only let her eat one, though.”

“The kitchen had stuff for cookies?” Rumi asked, brows furrowed. She usually had a good mental inventory of what she had stocked in her pantry and fridge and recalled that butter and eggs were definitely on the list of things she needed to restock on.

“Nope! I brought the stuff on my own.” Zoey nodded towards the kitchen, where Rumi could see a reusable shopping bag covered in cartoon turtles next to a plate of chocolate chip cookies.

“My favorite animal? Definitely turtles.” SunneeZee said, answering random questions from the chatroom. The stream had just started, Zee lounging on her bed in a silk robe while she waited for viewers to pile in.

Rumi took a deep breath through her nose, forcing her lips to smile. “Oh, you didn’t have to do that. Make sure you tell Bobby how much all those ingredients cost so he can add it to your reimbursement.” Zoey nodded, returning Rumi’s strained smile with one bright and genuine.

“Eomma, when is Miss Zoey going to come over next?” Mi-Jin spoke up, grabbing Rumi’s pant leg and tugging. The question rang through her head like a death knell, causing her to clench her fist and realize how sweaty her palms were just from standing near Zoey.

“Uh, yes. Well. Mimi?” Mi-Jin made a little noise of interest. “I need to talk to Miss Zoey for a little bit, so do you mind sitting and watching TV in the living room?”

“Oh. Okay.” Releasing Rumi’s pant leg, Mi-Jin scurried over to the couch and crawled onto it, her attention immediately being monopolized by Bluey. Rumi swore there had to be some kind of black magic in that show. It was the sole reason she had the most issues limiting Mi-Jin’s screen time.

Turning back to Zoey, Rumi tried to sound reassuring. “It’s nothing bad. Just hashing out some details. We can sit at the kitchen table.” she gestured for Zoey to go ahead, following close behind. Zoey casually grabbed two cookies from the counter, offering one to Rumi while taking a bite of the other. With a quiet thanks, she took it with great care to avoid any sort of skin contact.

She’d already felt how soft Zoey’s hand was once, when she shook it during her introduction. Her heart couldn’t handle a second time.

“So,” Rumi sat at the table, Zoey doing the same right across from her. “I think Mi-Jin seems to have taken a liking to you which hasn’t happened … ever.”

“Really? She’s such a sweetheart.”

“Trust me. You are the only sitter she’s ever acted like this with.” Rumi said with a chuckle, momentarily forgetting the awkwardness of it all. Clearing her throat, she steeled herself to rip off the bandage and tried not to feel like she was walking to her own execution. “I would like to officially offer to hire you on as Mi-Jin’s sitter. Long term, that is.”

Zoey perked up, expression bright and excited with the smallest bit of cookie crumbs at the corner of her smile. “That would be amazing!”

Warding off the anxiety, Rumi continued. “We’d also like you to keep yourself available as much as possible to watch Mi-Jin, so we’d be willing to pay a retainer when you aren’t actively watching Mi-Jin. That way you don’t take any financial burden if you were to turn down other work.”

“Huh. Okay.” Zoey leaned back in her chair, popping the last bit of cookie in her mouth. “How much would that be?”

“I’ve given Bobby the numbers and blanket permission to negotiate with you. He’ll have a contract written out and you can look it over. You can also borrow the services of one of our attorneys to help explain it, since there will be NDAs involved.

Zoey nodded, brushing the crumbs on her hands onto her jeans. “Bobby will email me then, yeah?”

“Yes. Do you have any other questions?” Zoey shook her head.

“Nope! All sounds good!” Standing up from her seat, she called over to Mi-Jin. “Alright, Mimi! I’ve gotta head out. Hugs?”

“Hugs!” Mi-Jin hopped off of the couch, Bluey forgotten and bounded over to Zoey. She practically leaped into Zoey’s embrace, face scrunching up from how hard she was trying to squeeze her arms. Rumi watched the interaction, a fond smile emerging despite the anxiety tearing apart her stomach.

Wow, she thought, seeing her precious daughter fully enamored with one of the most unfortunate coincidences of her life, I am so unbelievably fucked.