Chapter Text
BamBam scrolled through his phone, eyes lazily drifting over updates from fans and messages from his friends. He wasn’t really paying attention until he opened AO3 out of habit, checking his subscriptions. His favorite author, "LemonClouds,” hadn’t updated in weeks. He frowned.
He had been following LemonClouds for months, maybe even a year now. Their writing was just his style—funny, a little unhinged, but always hit the emotions just right. Every time he saw an update, he’d click faster than he did for group chats. But now? Nothing.
He tapped on the profile again, just in case.
“Come on,” he muttered. “Not even a ‘hi, I’m alive’ update?”
It was unusual. He understood that fanfic writers had lives too, but he had gotten so used to the regular updates that the silence was unsettling. He scrolled down the author’s profile, searching for any kind of clue. That was when he saw it—an email.
LemonClouds had a fan account email listed.
BamBam hesitated. He wasn’t a stranger to reaching out to fans. He loved interacting with them. But this felt different. This wasn’t a typical fan—this was someone whose words had given him comfort, laughter, and even inspiration. What if something had happened?
Before he could talk himself out of it, he tapped on his mail app and began typing.
Subject: hi?
Hi,
I know this is random, but I’ve been following your writing for a while, and I noticed you haven’t updated in weeks. I just wanted to check in and see if everything is alright. If you’re taking a break, totally understandable, but I guess I just wanted to say I hope you’re doing okay!
Your stories always make my day, so just wanted to let you know you’re appreciated. No pressure to reply, just take care!
— BB
The moment he hit send, he regretted it.
“Oh my god.” He groaned, flopping onto his couch, phone clutched to his chest. What was he thinking? This was completely unhinged behavior.
What if they thought he was a weirdo? What if this was some middle-aged dude who didn’t even like GOT7, just wrote for fun? Or worse—what if it was a hardcore fan who would freak out and expose this whole interaction? He hovered over the delete button, but it was too late.
The email had been sent.
Hu Yetao was exhausted.
Training for Chuang Asia was no joke. Between rehearsals, evaluations, and barely getting time to breathe, he barely had time to eat, let alone write. He missed it, though. Writing Bambam-centered fics had been his little escape for years. The irony that he was now a trainee with absolutely no free time was not lost on him.
During his short break, he checked his phone, expecting nothing but a flood of unread messages from the other trainees. Instead, his eyes landed on something unusual—a new email from an unknown sender.
Yetao frowned but clicked on it anyway. As he read, his confusion deepened.
Somebody from his AO3? Checking in on him? That was… unexpected. And kind of nice.
He glanced around the practice room. The other trainees were too busy stretching or checking their own phones. Sighing, he quickly typed a response.
Subject: Re: hi?
Hey,
Thanks for checking in. I’m alright! I’m really glad you like my work. Life has just been super busy lately, so I haven’t had much time to write. Can’t really use my phone that much anymore, either.
Appreciate you reaching out, though. Hope you’re doing well too.
—LemonClouds
BamBam read the reply three times, feeling an odd sense of relief. Okay, so they were fine. That was good. But something about their message made him curious. What did they mean by “can’t really use my phone that much anymore”?
Before he could stop himself, he sent another email.
Subject: Re: hi?
Glad to hear that! Hope life isn’t being too rough on you. If you ever wanna rant, I’m all ears. Or, well, all eyes since this is email. Lol.
—BB
And just like that, it became a thing.
For the next few weeks, they exchanged emails. Nothing too deep at first—just light conversation about life, favorite songs, funny memes. BamBam never revealed who he was, and Yetao never questioned it. It was nice, having someone to talk to without all the expectations.
Yetao vented about the grueling hours of training, the stress of evaluations. BamBam talked about schedules and traveling, keeping it vague enough to not reveal his identity. They bonded over their love for music, their shared interest in storytelling.
Then, one night, BamBam got an email that made him freeze.
Subject: Chuang Asia
Hey,
Have you ever watched Chuang Asia?
I’m kinda… in it right now. Training’s been crazy, but it’s been a huge learning experience. I just hope I don’t make a fool of myself on stage.
—LemonClouds
BamBam’s stomach dropped.
He reread the email, then slowly looked up from his phone. Chuang Asia. He was a mentor there. He had been watching the trainees every day, evaluating them. And now, his favorite AO3 writer was among them?
“Holy shit.”
BamBam nearly dropped his phone. This was insane. Should he say something? Should he pretend he didn’t know?
He started suspecting everyone. Ninja, who always talked about fan culture. Thi-O, who once randomly mentioned liking creative writing. Dorn, who seemed oddly confident about the differences between different idol generations. Or Omar, who had a thing for boy groups of his generation. But then—Hu Yetao.
What if it was the pretty boy Hu Yetao? The same Hu Yetao that he had a slight—okay, a huge—crush on? But no, that would be too ridiculous. He couldn’t be a fanfic writer, could he?
That was a stretch. A massive stretch. Right?
BamBam groaned and flopped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling.
This was going to drive him insane.
Subject: What if you guess?
BB,
Since we’ve been texting for so long, how about we try to know more about each other… even better, what if YOU guess who I am?
I’ll make it easy—I’ll give hints, and you try to narrow it down.
First hint: I was in All Stars for the second stage performance.
Second hint: You already know I like GOT7.
Go ahead. Detective mode on.
—LemonClouds
BamBam almost choked on his water.
Guess?? GUESS??
He threw his phone onto the couch like it had personally offended him, pacing the room with a hand on his hip. There were six members in All Stars: Thi-o, Yetao, Zihao, Whylucas, and Yuchen.
But liking GOT7 didn’t narrow it down much—everyone in this competition had at least heard of GOT7, and plenty of them had mentioned being fans at some point.
Still, the idea that his favorite fanfic writer could be someone he sees in person every day was making his head spin.
Could it be Whylucas? That guy was funny. Maybe too funny. What if he had been using his own memes in his fics this entire time?
He grabbed his phone and quickly typed back.
Subject: How generous
Wow. Just because I watched the show you expect me to magically know which trainee you are? You’re being very generous with my brain capacity here.
Fine. Second hint helps a little. But that still leaves like… everyone.
Gimme another one.
—BB
The email sent, and BamBam flopped onto his bed dramatically.
He stared at the ceiling, mind racing.
Yetao was so good in that performance. The emotion in his voice, the way he owned that stage. BamBam hadn’t even meant to stare, but he found himself watching Yetao more than anyone else.
He groaned and covered his face with a pillow.
No. Nope. Nope.
He was not going to let himself believe that Yetao—the Yetao he lowkey had a crush on—was his favorite fanfic writer. The universe was not that ironic.
His phone dinged.
Subject: Alright another hint
I’m Chinese.
Also, give me hints about you too, BB. This is a two-way street.
—LemonClouds
BamBam’s heart skipped a beat.
Okay. Okay. This was progress. That meant…
Yetao. Zihao. Yuchen.
BamBam sat up, running a hand through his hair.
It was so close to being Yetao. But Zihao was also really good with words. He had seen Zihao’s lyrics before—what if he had just been channeling his storytelling into fanfic?
No. No, this was still a 50/50 situation.
BamBam tapped out his response.
Subject: Well, now we're getting somewhere
So that narrows it down to… Yetao, Zihao, or Yuchen.
Your turn: I’m Thai.
—BB
The second he sent it, panic set in.
What if he had just revealed too much?
Yetao was smart. If he was LemonClouds, he could definitely put two and two together.
He sat there, staring at his phone like it was a ticking time bomb.
When a reply came in, BamBam hesitated before opening it.
Subject: Your third hint
I rapped in our performance.
Also, I might not be able to reply much after this because… well, debut night is coming up, and I have to focus on preparations.
Please watch, BB. I hope you enjoy.
—LemonClouds
BamBam dropped his phone. It clattered onto the floor, and he just stared at it. His brain was short-circuiting.
Because that meant…
Only Yetao and Zihao.
And one of them was his favorite author.
His pretty boy trainee, Yetao, had a 50% chance of being LemonClouds.
BamBam ran both hands through his hair, groaning. "No. No way. This isn't happening."
But it could be.
And if Yetao was LemonClouds… then BamBam had spent months fangirling over his own crush’s writing.
The universe was actually out to get him.
It was already the debut night. And he had no real proof or idea whatsoever.
He was introducing the 21 trainees, giving a small quirky introduction for each one of them. But assoon it was Yetao’s turn, who stood on stage looking nervous but excited, BamBam decided, screw it.
He spoke loudly into the mic, smirked, and—before his brain could stop him—said, "Well, he did accept me as a prince, so… please cheer for my princess."
And then he winked.
Yetao’s entire face turned red.
The audience exploded. The other trainees lost their minds. BamBam could hear Thi-o and Zihao howling with laughter.
Yetao? He froze. His mouth opened—then closed—then opened again like a fish.
Oh, this was way too much fun. BamBam sat back, smug.
But then, as the music started and Yetao stepped onto the stage, BamBam found himself watching him again.
The way he moved—graceful, precise, captivating. The way his eyes burned with passion as he rapped, voice sharp and full of meaning.
As Yetao danced, lost in the rhythm of the performance, his loose overshirt slipped down his shoulder, exposing the sharp line of his collarbone.
BamBam wasn’t even watching on purpose. His eyes just naturally gravitated toward Yetao—it wasn’t his fault! The man had an insane presence.
But then he saw it. A red line. Just peeking out from beneath the fabric.
BamBam blinked. His breath hitched. His brain screamed at him to look away. But he couldn’t.
Because no way. No way.
LemonClouds had mentioned getting a tattoo there. A red line. Right along the collarbone. A tiny, personal detail from a random author’s note months ago.
BamBam froze. His mind spiraled into pure chaos.
His favorite fanfic writer. His mystery email buddy. The one who had written unhinged, ridiculously accurate GOT7 stories that made BamBam cry-laugh at 3 AM.
Was standing right there.
Performing.
Live.
On stage.
His crush. His princess.
BamBam’s entire existence short-circuited. The universe was not just messing with him. It was personally out to get him.
The rest of the night seemed to blur together for BamBam. He didn’t remember much of it—it all felt like a whirlwind. His mind was still reeling, caught in the fog of his realization that the fanfic writer he’d been emailing, the one who’d somehow woven his words so intimately into BamBam’s life, was standing on stage in front of him. The performance had gone by in a blink, and despite all the hype and the impressive talent on display, all BamBam could focus on was that damn red line on Yetao’s collarbone.
It wasn’t until the final results that things truly snapped into focus. Yetao—his mystery email buddy, his favorite writer, the pretty boy BamBam had a ridiculous, one-sided crush on—had secured the number one spot.
BamBam clearly remembered that part. How could he not? He was still shocked, even now, hours later.
He had congratulated all the trainees, now idols, with a heartfelt, “You made it—congratulations.” But that was it. The rest of the night? A blank slate. It was as though his mind had shut down, unable to process the overwhelming flood of emotions and confusion that had poured over him.
He had given his speech. He’d done his job. But he still couldn't shake the thought of Yetao—the fanfic writer, the mystery person behind those emails, the guy who had made BamBam laugh and cry all in the span of a few minutes through their casual chats.
Now, an hour later, he sat in the waiting area, staring at his phone. This was his chance. He opened his email, typed out a message, and hit send.
Subject: Congratulations
Congratulations, Heyutao.
— BB
He didn’t have to wait long. Yetao’s reply came instantly.
Subject: RE: Congratulations
Wait. HOW DID YOU GUESS WHO I WAS.
And tysm!!!
But no way. If you figured me out, I wanna guess too! But you didn’t give me enough hints!! Unfair!!!
— Yetao
BamBam smirked, shaking his head. He took a deep breath, then typed back just two words.
Subject: RE: Congratulations
Turn around.
-BB
The second he hit send, he watched Yetao’s back straighten in the waiting area. Yetao slowly turned his head, phone still in hand.
Their eyes met.
BamBam saw the exact moment realization hit. Yetao’s eyes widened, his mouth parted slightly in pure shock, and BamBam could practically see his brain malfunctioning in real time.
BamBam grinned and gave him a small wave.
Yetao, still frozen in place, gawked at him like a deer in headlights.
BamBam chuckled to himself.
Oh yeah. This was going to be fun.