IN WHICH you put your bf through physiological warfare by asking him if you're allowed to order fries instead of a salad
pairings: boyfriend!cortis x reader
warnings: fluff, crack, mild cursing, ???
notes: it's been a minute, but here I am again 🥶
▸ ZHAO JAMES
the waiter walks up and james barely glances at the menu.
“i’ll get the burger. medium. no onions. fries. and a coke.”
he hands the menu back like he’s done this a hundred times, then looks at you instead.
“what’re you feeling?”
you pretend to think about it. “chicken alfredo. extra sauce. lemonade.”
“good,” he says. “you always pick the good stuff.”
the waiter nods, about to walk away, and that’s when you add it.
“oh wait. can i get fries instead of a salad this time?”
the waiter pauses.
james slowly turns his head toward you.
“this time?” he repeats.
you keep your face serious. “yeah. last time you said maybe i should get a salad.”
the waiter is trying so hard not to look awkward.
james just stares at you. “i said that?”
you shrug, soft voice. “you said lighter option.”
he sits up straighter immediately. “i absolutely did not.”
the waiter looks between you like he just walked into something messy.
james gestures toward you. “she can get fries. she can get three orders of fries. i don’t care.”
“so fries?” the waiter asks carefully.
“yes,” you say sweetly.
the waiter leaves and james leans forward.
“what the hell are you doing,” he says under his breath, but he’s already fighting a smile.
you grin. “it’s a tiktok trend.”
he squints at you. “…you’re pranking me?”
you nod.
he drops back into his seat and laughs quietly, shaking his head. “you’re actually ridiculous.”
“you looked stressed,” you say. “i needed entertainment.”
he reaches across the table and taps your hand. “for the record, i would never tell you what to eat.”
“mmhmm,” you tease.
“i’m serious,” he says, softer now. “eat whatever you want. always.”
your stomach flips a little because he means it.
when the fries come out, he slides the plate toward you first.
“all you.”
you smile.
he waits exactly two seconds before grabbing one.
“boyfriend tax,” he says, completely unapologetic.
“james.”
“what? i supported your freedom.”
you laugh and he leans back in his chair, watching you with that small smile he only really does when he’s relaxed.
“next time you try to set me up in public,” he says, “at least let me rehearse.”
“so you’d play along?”
“obviously. i would’ve made it dramatic.”
he steals another fry.
“that one was interest,” he adds.
and you’re still smiling when the food comes out.
▸ KIM JUHOON
juhoon picks the restaurant because he said it “felt calm.”
he’s the type to check reviews first.
when the waiter comes over, he sits up a little straighter.
“can i get the salmon. and water’s fine,” he says.
simple. easy.
then he glances at you. “you?”
you don’t even hesitate. “the burger. and lemonade.”
he nods like that makes sense.
the waiter starts to walk off and that’s when you drop it.
“oh wait. am I allowed to get fries instead of a salad this time?”
juhoon looks up immediately.
“this time?” he repeats.
you keep your face completely straight. “yeah. last time you said i should probably go lighter.”
the waiter’s smile tightens.
juhoon’s expression doesn’t harden. it just… falls into confusion.
“i did?” he asks quietly.
you shrug. “you said it’d be better.”
he looks genuinely unsettled, not angry. just trying to piece it together.
“i don’t remember saying that,” he says, mostly to himself.
the waiter clears his throat. “so fries?”
juhoon nods quickly. “yeah. fries.”
the waiter leaves.
juhoon turns back to you, brows slightly furrowed.
“did i actually say that?” he asks.
you almost break but you hold it in. “you don’t remember?”
he leans back, thinking hard. “i mean… i don’t think i would? that sounds weird.”
there’s a beat where he’s clearly replaying every conversation you’ve had in the last week.
and then you start laughing.
he blinks. “what.”
“it’s a trend,” you admit. “you’re supposed to see how your boyfriend reacts.”
there’s a pause.
then his face shifts from confusion to realization.
“oh,” he says softly.
he lets out a breath and rubs the back of his neck. “i was actually trying to figure out when i said that.”
“were you worried?” you tease.
he looks at you, serious for a second.
“yeah. a little.”
that makes you stop smiling.
“i just don’t ever want to make you feel like you have to order something different because of me,” he says, voice low but steady. “that would suck.”
your chest tightens in that warm way.
“juhoon,” you mumble, half guilty now.
he shakes his head and smiles lightly. “you’re evil for that.”
“it was funny.”
“it was psychological warfare.”
the fries come out before the rest of the food. you reach for one.
he watches you for a second, then reaches too.
you raise a brow.
he shrugs. “i’m not taking them because you ‘shouldn’t’ have them,” he says, quoting you with air fingers. “i’m taking them because they look good.”
you laugh.
he takes one, then nudges the plate fully toward you.
“order whatever you want,” he says, softer now. “i like you, not your side dishes.”
you roll your eyes at how cheesy that is, but you’re smiling anyway.
“next time you test me,” he adds, “at least warn me so i don’t spiral trying to audit my memory.”
“you spiraled?”
“internally,” he admits.
and when your actual food comes, he doesn’t comment on it at all.
he just listens to you talk, stealing exactly one more fry without saying a word.
▸ MARTIN EDWARDS
martin doesn’t sit properly in restaurant chairs.
he’s half slouched, one leg stretched out, stealing sips of your water even though he has his own.
the waiter comes over and martin doesn’t miss a beat.
“lemme get the double cheeseburger. extra pickles. fries. and uh… whatever she’s drinking.”
you kick his shoe under the table. “get your own.”
he grins. “fine. coke.”
the waiter turns to you.
“i’ll get the chicken wrap,” you say. “and a lemonade.”
the waiter nods.
and that’s when you do it.
you glance at martin like you’re checking something.
“…am i allowed to get fries with that?”
the waiter freezes.
martin blinks at you.
“allowed?” he repeats.
you keep your face serious. “yeah. instead of the salad.”
the waiter’s eyes slowly move to martin.
martin sits up straighter. “what do you mean allowed.”
you shrug a little. “like. is that okay?”
there’s a long second where he just stares at you, trying to figure out if you’ve lost your mind.
“why would it not be okay,” he says.
you tilt your head. “you don’t think i should get the salad?”
the waiter is absolutely invested now.
martin looks at him, then back at you. “no. i think you should get whatever you want. why are you asking me like i’m your dad.”
you almost laugh but you keep pushing.
“so fries are fine?”
he squints. “are you filming me.”
“no.”
“are your friends nearby.”
you bite your lip.
he points at you. “this is a setup.”
the waiter coughs into his hand to hide a smile.
“just put fries,” martin tells him. “and if anyone thinks i’m out here policing her side dishes, that’s crazy.”
the waiter nods quickly and walks away.
martin leans across the table immediately.
“what was that.”
you finally break and start laughing. “it’s a trend.”
“what trend.”
“you ask your boyfriend if you’re allowed to order fries and see what he says.”
he stares at you.
then he leans back, shaking his head.
“you’re evil.”
“you passed.”
“obviously i passed,” he says. “i’m not insane.”
the fries come out first because of course they do.
martin grabs one without asking.
you raise an eyebrow.
he shrugs. “i support your decision.”
“that doesn’t mean you get one.”
“it absolutely does.”
he takes a bite, then points at the plate.
“order fries. order cake. order the entire menu. i do not care. but don’t ever ask me if you’re allowed like i run a side dish dictatorship.”
you laugh so hard the waiter looks over.
martin just smirks, reaching for another fry.
“next time you try to publicly test me,” he says, “at least give me a cooler line.”
▸ EOM SEONGHYEON
the waiter walks up and seonghyeon glances at the menu like he’s deciding whether to even bother.
“i’ll have the grilled chicken. side of rice. water.”
he looks at you, half-smile tugging at his lips. “you?”
“the pasta. lemonade,” you say.
he nods. “good.”
the waiter starts writing, and that’s when you lean in, voice casual:
“oh… actually… can i get fries instead of a salad this time?”
seonghyeon freezes. the pen is still in the waiter’s hand. his eyes snap to you.
“…fries?” he repeats, slow, like he’s trying to parse the sentence.
“yeah,” you say, tilting your head innocently. “instead of a salad. thought i’d switch it up.”
seonghyeon blinks. then leans back, confused, hands spread a little. “wait… what? why are you asking me permission?”
you nod, straight face. “yep. just checking.”
he frowns slightly. “but… i didn’t… i wouldn’t… i never said you had to… i mean…” he trails off, clearly flustered.
“so… fries are okay?” you push.
he opens his mouth, then closes it. “of course they are?”
the waiter’s awkwardly hovering, scribbling the order slowly.
“i just… i never control what you eat,” seonghyeon mutters, more to himself than anyone else. “i would never… i don’t… why would you—”
you try not to laugh. “it’s a tiktok trend,” you admit finally. “you’re supposed to freak out like you’re controlling my food.”
seonghyeon freezes mid-breath, staring at you. “controlling… your … food?”
“yep,” you grin. “look at you. panicking. exactly what they wanted.”
he leans back in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck, still blinking. “i… i don’t control your food. i literally… i just… whats wrong with your for you page?..”
you laugh quietly. “nothing, it was funny.”
he exhales, still confused, but the tension melts into a small grin. “okay. fries. you can get fries. i just… don’t make this a habit.”
the waiter nods, finally walking off. seonghyeon sits there, still processing, glancing at you like you hacked his brain.
“next time,” he mutters, “i’m going to need a script if you’re going to try this again.”
you grin. “yea whatever”
and for the rest of dinner, every bite of fries he steals is done with the purest innocent confusion, like he still doesn’t understand how he became the “food police.”
▸ AHN KEONHO
the waiter comes over and keonho scans the menu like he doesn’t really care.
“i’ll have the burger. extra cheese. fries. and a coke,” he says, sliding the menu back toward you.
“i’ll get the chicken alfredo… lemonade,” you say, then tilt your head with a small grin. “oh, actually… can i get fries instead of a salad this time?”
keonho freezes, eyes narrowing. “…what the fuck are you talking about?”
“what?” you say, pretending to be innocent.
“why are you asking if you’re allowed to get fries?” he leans forward, voice teasing but with a hint of mock exasperation. “you should eat everything like you usually do. why are we having this conversation?”
you laugh a little, trying to play it cool. “i just… wanted to check.”
he snorts. “check what? that i’m secretly the dictator of your side dishes?”
“maybe,” you tease.
keonho rolls his eyes, shaking his head with a grin. “you’re ridiculous. seriously. just order the fries. obviously you can get fries. why are we turning this into a thing?”
you grin. “i mean… it’s kind of fun to see you freak out a little.”
he leans back, smirking. “freak out? i’m not freaking out. i’m… amused at how you think i’d tell you what to eat. you’re ridiculous.”
the waiter scribbles down your fries order, and keonho leans over the table, voice low and playful. “you should just eat what you want and stop pretending like i’m controlling you. it’s stupid.”
“so… fries are fine?” you ask, still grinning.
“fries are fine,” he says, shaking his head. “obviously. eat everything. like you always do. don’t make me explain this again.”
you laugh, finally taking a fry. he grabs one too, smirking.
“see?” he says. “perfectly normal. no dictator involved.”
you grin, leaning back. “you make it sound so serious.”
he shrugs, still smirking. “i’m serious. eat your damn fries.”
