( syn. ) juhoon knows how to keep a secret. his only exception? how down bad he is for his favourite niche pop star 🤨🤨
( tags ) smau ⋆ fanboy&&idol ! juhoon x girlset’s 5th mem. ! reader ⋆ featuring members of CORTIS && GIRLSET ⋆ crack ⋆ fluff ⋆ includes swearing
#🫖: it’s so easy to write martin as embarrassingly in love we must get juhoon onto this agenda too 😛 also girlset has like 3 songs so i had to help them out a bit 💀💀
ᯓ cortis x fem!reader
ᯓ synopsis: texts with your boyfriend who might be a teensy tiny bit jealous
ᯓ warnings: just a cute lil smau! keonho and martin are kinda mean (not to you!) LMAO
ᯓ authors note: my first smau 😳 idk why the formatting is like this i'm so sorry 😓
➪ summary : after you get mad at keonho for telling an embarrasing story about you, he grovels for his life.
➪ other notes : guys i almost had a heat stroke today it was awful, but the blr doesn't wait for good weather. also this is something very cute and short, my attempt for more fluff !
cw - cursing, martin almost fumbles, martin mentions death like 3 times, martin gets threatened, martin gets turned on???, only a tad suggestive in his tho, seonghyeon execution joke, crack
part one
—-
a/n - it’s here! this is the by far the highest demand 😭 hope it lives up to its anticipation !!
Synopsis ➛ texts between y/n and her moot whom she has a fat friend crush on but is too shy to interact with him 🤧
a/n ╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ niche! Y/n x niche! Martin, could be platonic? Depends on how you view it! Y/n lwk tweaking, silly and made at 3 am, this goes nowhere, INSPIRED BY REAL LIFE EVENTS (plz plz plz plz hmu fine shyt PLZ!!!!) (not so nonchalant)(if this goes wrong, I lost a bet yall)
#🐈 : shamelessly admitting that I have a huge friend crush on da big blr so if you think this is about you YES IT IS HMU!!!😁
馬丁 .ᐟ KIND PEOPLE 𓏊 in which you take care of a very drunk and goofy martin after a night out in Paris…
❛ 馬丁 𝑥 idol!reader ❜ 𓈒𓈒 based on a request by my lovely @whimsyteaparty !!!
⚠︎ fluff, crack, drunk martin, underage drinking ( in some countries), clumsy martin ( just overall cute ) james & juhoon cameo, shower, cursing.
𓏸 3,500 words ╱ 𝓶. list
There was no denying Martin was drunk.
Stupidly drunk even.
You turned around, eyes searching for him, you swore he’d been next to you seconds ago, but you found his tall figure leaning against a wall, gesturing to the one in front of him, and… talking, like the thing had suddenly come to life.
"Yo... why you being so quiet?” he mumbled, his voice a slurred mess of english and korean, and sometimes a little spanish for god knows what reason.
He swayed precariously to the left, all long limbs and loose coordination, as though gravity had become a mere suggestion. You watched him from a short distance away, standing awkwardly in the quiet corner of a narrow Parisian side street while the two of you waited for an Uber home. James had gone back to find Juhoon, promising he would be gone for no more than five minutes- a promise that had somehow stretched into twenty.
Then again, neither Juhoon nor Martin had been in any condition to make things easy.
It was their first real night drinking, and neither of them had shown the slightest restraint. Whatever self-control they had arrived with had long since dissolved at the bottom of countless glasses. Martin, in particular, had been impossible to miss. After only a few drinks, a rosy flush had settled across his cheeks, softening his features and giving him the endearing appearance of an overgrown puppy. His laughter had grown louder, his grin wider, and the sparkle in his eyes brighter with every round.
You could still picture him leaning across the bar, balancing most of his weight on his elbows as he flashed the bartender a ridiculously pleased smile.
“One more alcohol, please,” he’d asked.
The bartender had stared at him. You had stared at him. And Martin, fully aware of how absurd he sounded, had simply broken into an even bigger grin, looking far too proud of himself. By that point, embarrassment had become a foreign concept to him, left behind somewhere between his third and fourth drink.
Now in the street, Martin caught sight of you and his entire face lit up, a goofy, lopsided grin spreading across his lips.
"y/n!" he chirped, stumbling toward you.
The walk toward you was less of a walk and more of a total mess. He stumbled over his own feet twice, corrected himself with exaggerated determination, then promptly abandoned any attempt at maintaining personal space the second he reached you. His body tipped forward until he was practically draped over you, forehead finding your shoulder as though it had been programmed to seek it out.
“Everything is spinning so f-fast…” he complained dramatically, words slurring together. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. “Help a gay out-gay-no.” His brows furrowed in concentration. “Guy. Help a guy out.”
You bit down on your lower lip to keep from laughing. With Martin leaning on you like a particularly oversized golden retriever, you grabbed a fistful of his dress shirt to keep him upright.
“Whatever you say, dude,” you said, fighting a smile. “Just stay here. Don’t wander off.”
A dramatic gasp escaped him and his hand flew to his chest as if you’d personally stabbed him.
“Dude?” he repeated, sounding genuinely wounded. “After everything we’ve been through?”
“You know…” he began, lowering his voice into what he probably thought was a conspiratorial whisper. “how the walls have eyes here.”
The scent of expensive cologne lingered around him, buried beneath the unmistakable traces of far too many cocktails. Every thought that entered his head seemed to leave his mouth immediately afterward, completely bypassing whatever filter he normally possessed.
One second he was warning you about surveillance walls and the next he was staring suspiciously at a parked scooter.
Then, just as abruptly, he went quiet. Martin pulled back slightly, enough to look at you properly, the shift almost comical. His expression became intensely serious, as though he’d suddenly remembered something of life-altering importance. His grip tightened slightly around your sleeve, and his eyes -glassy from alcohol but still impossibly expressive- searched your face with unwavering focus.
He leaned closer, nose almost brushing yours and for a moment he simply stared, dumbfounded.
His brows knit together faintly. “There you are,” he murmured, relief slipping into his voice. “I was looking for you.”
“I’m right here though, you’re so jolly tonight.” You tucked the hair that stuck on his forehead back.
Martin bumped his nose against yours with a gentle boop, the sound leaving his lips as if he couldn’t help narrating his own actions. His glassy eyes blinked slowly as he tried to focus on your face, swaying slightly even while leaning on you.
“You’re so…” He trailed off, searching for the word like it had personally betrayed him by hiding somewhere in his drunk brain. “So… stupid pretty. Like, bro, how is that even fair?”
You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Stupid pretty?”
“Yeah. Stupid pretty,” he repeated, more confident this time. He pulled back just enough to gesture wildly with one long arm, nearly smacking himself in the face. “Like… you walk around looking like that and expect me to function? Actually criminal. I should call the police, the Eiffel Tower. Somebody.”
His forehead dropped back to your shoulder as he let out a dramatic sigh, warm breath tickling your neck. He made absolutely no sense but it was endearing in a way, like you were listening to his thoughts in real time.
“Every time I look at you my brain does that thing… you know when the screen freezes? That. Except instead of buffering it’s just heart emojis exploding everywhere. Boom. Boom. Boom.” He poked your shoulder with each ‘boom’ for emphasis. “You’re like… unfairly beautiful. Your eyes? c- criminal. Your smile? And don’t even get me started on your laugh. I heard it once tonight and almost proposed on the spot.”
You tried (and failed) to hold back a laugh. “You already proposed thirteen times, you drunk idiot.”
“Exactly.” Martin lifted his head again, eyes wide with intoxicated sincerity. “And I’d do it again right now. In this dirty Paris street. With the scooter watching us. I’d get on one knee -well, I’d try- but someone stole my - my legs… so you might have to hold me up while I do it—”
He was mid-rant, cupping your face with both big hands like you were something precious and delicate, when a familiar voice cut through the night.
“Yeah yeah, we get it. You guys are disgustingly in love. Now wrap it up and let’s go before Martin proposes to the damn scooter next.”
James stood at the end of the alley with a very sleepy, very drunk Juhoon tucked under his arm. Juhoon gave a lazy wave, his eyelids drooping.
Martin gasped, stumbling slightly. “James fuck you bro.”
“You were having a whole ass TED Talk,” James deadpanned. “Uber’s here. Let’s move.”
But Martin seemed to notice Juhoon perched on his hyung’s shoulder and squinted, “And who the hell is that? Is that a - … coat?”
Juhoon let out a small giggle, eyes still closed like he couldn’t fathom opening them for just a second. “This dude…. i swear, so fucking msjndj…”
The end of the sentence died between his lips, completely swallowed by a hopelessly slurred attempt at saying ‘mischievous’, or maybe ‘mean’, a word far too complicated for his alcohol-soaked brain to handle.
The four of you somehow piled into the Uber. Martin immediately claimed the middle back seat, dragging you in after him so you were squished against his side. Juhoon took the other window seat, already half-asleep and mumbling something about “too many lights.”
The second the car started moving, they came to life.
Martin kept trying to serenade you - needless to say it was bad - while playing with your fingers, he had his head on your shoulder, hitting all the notes - except for the right ones.
“You’re my favorite person in the whole… Paris… universe,” he slurred, pressing sloppy kisses to your knuckles between every other word.
From the other side, Juhoon suddenly perked up. “Wait… are we still in Paris?“
James, sitting in the front passenger seat, rubbed his temples. “Since we haven’t moved since we flew here three days ago, Juhoon. Keep up.”
There were so many things happening at once, you couldn’t keep up, not knowing where to look at. You buried your face in Martin’s shoulder, laughing so hard your stomach hurt, he wrapped both arms around you, pulling you halfway onto his lap despite the seatbelt situation, nuzzling into your hair.
“Laugh again,” he mumbled happily. “Best sound in the world. I’m gonna marry that sound one day.”
James sighed from the front, half-exasperated, half-fond. “You two are unbearable. Martin, stop trying to propose again, we’re five minutes from the hotel.”
Martin grinned against your temple, voice dropping into a sleepy, lovesick whisper only you could hear.
“Stupid pretty girl… I love you so much it’s embarrassing. Don’t tell the scooter.”
“Oh my fucking gosh, i can’t deal with this.” you giggled, covering your face with your hands in amusement. “The french definitely spiked his drink.”
•••
The Uber finally pulled up to the hotel, and James practically herded a half-conscious Juhoon out of the car like a tired single dad dealing with two toddlers.
“I’ve got this one,” James said, throwing a knowing look over his shoulder as he supported Juhoon. “You sure you can handle Martin?”
“Yeah, I got him,” you laughed, waving them off. “Go save Juhoon from face-planting in the hallway.”
James gave you a salute and disappeared into the elevator with a very sleepy Juhoon mumbling something about giraffes or coke?
Martin, still clinging to you like a very tall, very warm koala, grinned down at you with glassy, heart-shaped eyes.
“Finally alone,” he whispered dramatically, then immediately ruined the moment by tripping over his own foot on the perfectly flat lobby floor. You barely managed to keep him upright as you guided him to your shared room.
“You’re so stupid, just hang onto me you idiot.” you chuckled fondly, patting his back.
The second the hotel door clicked shut behind you, Martin let out a happy sigh and tried to spin you around - which went about as well as expected. He lost his balance, knocking into the small side table by the entrance. The half-full soda bottle you’d left there earlier tipped over and spilled straight down the front of his dress shirt.
“Shit-” he blinked down at the giant wet patch blooming across his chest. “I’m… leaking. Wait, no. The- the bottle leaked. Not me. Probably.”
You rolled your eyes, looking at him like he was just a big mess, “Oh my gosh Martin, are you serious right now?” it came out as more of a laugh than anything else. “You’re … ew… sticky and disgusting now.”
Martin opened his mouth and then closed it again, like he genuinely didn’t know what to say. “Ew?”
Your expression softened, you moved to take off his jacket, throwing it on the carpeted floor before leading him to the bathroom, “you’re not ew. Your clothes are.”
Inside the bathroom, chaos officially began, not that the past hour hadn’t been chaos…
He tried to step over the small threshold and immediately stubbed his toe on the doorframe. “OW— fucking fuck-shit” he hissed, hopping on one foot and nearly knocking over the towel rack. You lunged to steady him, which only made him grab onto you for balance, sending both of you stumbling sideways into the sink counter.
“Martin!”
“Sorry, sorry- my legs… they dead,” he apologized, his long arms were wrapped around your shoulders now, chin resting on your head again.
You finally got the shower running and turned back to him. “Clothes off, big guy.”
Martin tried to unbutton his shirt with all the coordination of a newborn, he got exactly two buttons done before giving up and trying to yank the whole thing over his head. The wet fabric got stuck around his shoulders and face, trapping him.
“Help—” came his muffled, panicked voice from inside the fabric prison.
Anyone on the outside would’ve thought he was being attacked by a wild animal the way he was scared. But you were laughing so hard you could barely breathe as you helped peel the soaked shirt off him. The second it was free, he shook his head like a wet dog, hair flopping everywhere, and beamed at you proudly.
“Done,” he declared, then immediately tried to step out of his pants without unbuttoning them first. He got one leg free and immediately lost balance, pinwheeling his arms. “Bro— what the fuck is hap- happening.”
You caught him around the waist again, both of you staggering backward until his back hit the glass shower door with a loud thud. The door rattled dangerously.
“Oh my god, you’re going to break the entire bathroom,” you wheezed, still laughing.
Martin looked down at you with glassy, lovesick eyes and a dopey smile. “You’re so pretty.”
“Shutup, idiot.” you kissed his chin, shaking your head disapprovingly. “Just focus on getting rid of these clothes and stop flirting.”
You finally got his pants off (and nearly lost your own balance when he tried to “help” by lifting his leg). The moment he stepped into the shower, his foot slipped on the wet tile and he yelped, grabbing onto the shower handle for dear life. Water sprayed everywhere as he flailed.
“Martin! What the-”
You kicked off your own shoes and stepped in with him fully clothed, figuring it was safer than letting him crack his skull open. Martin’s eyes lit up like you’d just given him the best gift ever.
“Yes! Shower date!” He immediately pulled you under the spray with him, soaking you both. Water cascaded down your bodies as he hugged you tightly, swaying unsteadily.
“Martin, i got clothes on you moron-,” you gasped, soaked. “Oh my-”
“And you’re stupid pretty,” he shot back, ignoring you and not making a move to let you go, voice slurred but full of awe. He kept trying to kiss your face while you attempted to wash him -landing sloppy kisses on your forehead, cheek, and ear while you scrubbed his chest. “Like… illegally pretty. I should report you to the Paris police. ‘Help, my girlfriend is too beautiful, I keep falling over.’”
He suddenly spun you around (very poorly), and you both nearly slipped again. You had to brace your hands on his chest while he wrapped his long arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.
“Marry me in the shower,” he mumbled happily against your wet hair. “We’ll have the best wedding story. ‘Yeah, he proposed while naked and almost dying.’ Romantic asfuck.”
You turned back around and started washing his hair, fingers massaging his scalp. Martin practically melted, eyes fluttering closed as he hummed contentedly.
“Feels so good… your hands are magic. Angel hands. I love you so stupid much.” His voice got softer. “Like… if love was a drink, I’d be drunker than this or something.”
But Martin had never been good at staying still - especially not drunk. The second you squeezed shampoo into your palm, he tried to spin around dramatically and nearly slipped again. You had to press your whole body against his chest to steady him, both of you laughing as water poured over your heads.
“Okay, okay, hold still this time,” you said, reaching up.
Martin obediently lowered his head so you could reach his hair, but even then he kept swaying gently, humming some off-key version of one of Cortis’s ballads like a hyperactive kid. You lathered the shampoo between your hands and started working it into his scalp. The moment your fingers touched his hair, Martin let out the most pathetic, contented groan you’d ever heard.
You smiled, massaging his scalp in slow circles, letting your nails gently scratch in that way you knew he loved. Suds ran down his neck and broad shoulders as the warm water cascaded over both of you, Martin’s long arms wrapped loosely around your waist, holding you close so he could stay upright.
“You’re so tall,” you complained playfully, stretching up on your tiptoes. “I need a stool just to wash your hair properly.”
Martin cracked one eye open, still swaying. “I can fix that.” Without warning, he bent his knees and tried to lift you up, but his coordination was shot. He wobbled dangerously, and you both stumbled sideways, uour back hit the cool tile wall with a wet slap while Martin braced one hand beside your head to keep from crushing you.
“Shit- sorry.”he laughed, forehead dropping to rest against yours. “My legs are drunk.”
You couldn’t stop giggling as you pulled him back under the spray and resumed washing his hair, now with his face tucked into the crook of your neck. Your fingers kept working through his wet strands, massaging firmly from his roots to the ends; Martin practically melted, letting out happy little sighs and mumbled nonsense every few seconds.
“Feels so fucking good…” he slurred against your skin. “You’re too nice to me. I don’t deserve angel fingers. Stupid pretty girl with magic hands… I’m gonna tell the others you’re a witch. A hot witch. My hot witch.”
“What the fuck are you even talking about ?” you choked on your laughter, pausing. “Just stay put and stop saying bullshit.”
Thenhe tried to kiss you mid-rinse and ended up getting a mouthful of soapy water. He sputtered dramatically, coughing and laughing at the same time while you tried (and failed) to keep a straight face.
“You’re a mess,” you teased, cupping his face to help rinse the last of the suds.
“I’m good looking,” he corrected proudly, then immediately tried to nuzzle into your hand like a giant cat. “Can you do the scratchy thing again? Please? I’ll propose again. I’ll propose ten times.”
“I swear if you don’t stop talking about proposing…” you snorted, “you’re 18 Tin.”
But you laughed and obliged, digging your fingers back into his hair for another round of scalp massage, cause the thought of him drunkenly proposing for the nth time was endearing. Martin’s eyes slipped shut again as he hummed happily, his tall frame leaning heavily into you.
“I love you,” he mumbled sleepily, voice thick with sincerity. “Like… stupid love you. Don’t leave me, okay? I’ll be the best husband. I’ll carry you everywhere so you don’t have to reach my hair.”
You pressed a soft kiss to his wet chest, still gently working the conditioner through his strands. “I’m not going anywhere, you big idiot.”
By the time you turned off the water and grabbed the big fluffy hotel towels, Martin was still swaying gently under the dripping shower head, eyes half-closed, looking ridiculously content and sleepy.
“Come on, baby. Let’s get you dried off and into bed,” you said, wrapping a towel around his waist.
Martin blinked slowly, then gave you the dopiest grin. “Bed? With you? Best idea you’ve had all night.”
Drying him off was another adventure. He kept trying to “help” by rubbing the towel on his own head, which only made his hair stick up in every direction like a porcupine. When you tried to dry his back, he suddenly turned around and hugged you instead, trapping your arms and the towel between your bodies.
“You’re all wet too,” he mumbled, nuzzling into your damp hair. “We should just stay naked and cuddle. Eco-friendly. Saves towels and… turtles?”
“Nice try,” you laughed, finally managing to wrap a fresh towel around his shoulders. “Bedtime, giant.“
You took his hand and led him out of the bathroom, Martin’s long legs kept forgetting how to work in a straight line. He tripped over the same bath mat again on the way out, letting out a dramatic “Motherfu-!” before you caught him around the waist.
You guided him across the room, one arm securely around his bare torso. Halfway to the bed he suddenly stopped, looked down at you with wide glassy eyes, and cupped your face with both hands.
“Wait. Important question,” he said very seriously, still dripping slightly. “If i fall on the bed, will you fall with me? Because i only want to fall if you’re falling too.”
You bit your lip to keep from laughing. “Yes, Martin. I’ll fall with you.”
“Good.” He nodded solemnly, then let you tug him the last few steps.
The moment you reached the edge of the king-sized bed, Martin dramatically flopped backward like a fallen tree. The momentum pulled you with him, and you landed on top of his chest with a surprised squeak. He let out a happy “Oof!” and immediately wrapped his long arms and legs around you like a koala, towel barely hanging on.
“Success,” he whispered proudly, pressing sloppy kisses to your forehead, cheeks, and nose. “Trapped you. You’re mine now. No escaping the big Martin.”
You giggled, brushing his messy damp hair out of his face. Martin stared up at you with pure adoration, his cheeks still flushed from the alcohol and the hot shower.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, voice soft and slurred. “Like… stupidly beautiful. I can’t believe you’re mine. I must’ve done something really good in a past life. Or maybe I saved a whole village. Yeah. Definitely saved a village.”
He rolled you both so you were tucked against his side, his large hand gently rubbing your back under your damp shirt. Even half-asleep, he was still talking.
“Tomorrow… when I’m not spinning… I’m gonna tell you how much I love you properly. With flowers.”
You smiled, bumping his chest with your nose. “No you’re not. We have a heavy schedule tomorrow dumbass.”
“I will- find.. time”. he mumbled.
Martin pressed one last soft kiss to the top of your head, his breathing already slowing as exhaustion finally caught up with him.
“Love you, stupid pretty girl…” he mumbled one last time, already drifting off. “Don’t tell the scooter.”
You smiled, snuggling closer into his chest, listening to his heartbeat as the lights of Paris twinkled faintly through the window.
ℬambi :: hihihi this was heavily inspired by @ teacuplps nd her smau wit juhoon ! reader is in newjeans for this smau yes i am pushing the nwjns nd cortis agenda idc… anyways this is highkey ass but idc ❤️ anyways stream redred hello like soty brah
SYNOPSIS — in which Martin tries his hardest to win over the reader…except she hates men.
pairing martin x reader
warnings minor cursing,reader is pretty much a misandrist,men are referred to as “subhuman”🌚, Martin being sassy
notes ! Remember this is just a crack smau!So no lecturing me on misandry lmao. Also I hope you guys get the slushy noobz reference in there✌🏽.feel free to send requests on what you want to see next!!<3
