excuse me, um, i love you {8}
ian smith x influencer! reader
authors note: korie posting back to back!? i know this is cray cray divas. i literally worked on this in the car otw to and from the dentist so like fuck it why not post it. im milking that restaurant scene so bad divas im so sorry lmfao but please if you have any ideas lmk!!! liking and reblogging helps a ton!
warnings: cursing, very descriptive kiss ig?
The tension is unbearable, thick like the air before a storm. Ian sits there, perfectly composed, like he has all the time in the world. Like he knows exactly what’s going to happen next and is just waiting for you to catch up.
You grab your drink, taking a slow sip just to give yourself something to do. “You’re really not gonna say anything else?”
Ian shrugs. “Not if you already know the answers.”
Your fingers tighten around the glass. “You’re so fucking annoying.”
Ian smirks like he takes that as a compliment.
You exhale sharply, pushing away from the table. “You know what? Fuck it.” You slide out of the booth, grabbing your bag as you stand. “I don’t even know why I came.” Ian watches you, his expression unreadable. But he doesn’t stop you.
That only pisses you off more.
You turn on your heel and storm toward the exit, ignoring the way your chest feels tight, the way your skin burns under his gaze. You shouldn’t have come. You shouldn’t have let him drag you across the country just to sit there and act like he didn’t give a fuck.
The cold air hits you the second you step outside, sharp against your skin. You don’t stop walking. Not until you hear footsteps behind you.
You roll your eyes, picking up your pace. “Please leave me alone.”
He doesn’t. “Where the fuck are you even going?”
authors interjection: that line was killing me as i was writing omfg 😭 ok proceed lmfaoo
You keep walking. “I don't know, but i really dont wanna be here ”
A beat of silence, then....“You’re being dramatic.”
That makes you stop. You spin around, heart pounding. “I’m being dramatic?”
You let out a bitter laugh. “Right. Because me being mad that you flew me out here just to sit in silence is so unreasonable.”
Ian exhales through his nose, stepping closer. “You’re mad because I didn’t chase you the second you walked away.”
Your pulse kicks up, but you keep your expression hard. “I shouldn’t have had to walk away in the first place.”
He tilts his head slightly. “You done?”
You glare at him, your breath unsteady. “Bitch? No!”
also laughed really hard while writing this.
Ian just watches you, waiting.
You exhale sharply, shifting your weight. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to act like you don’t care after everything.”
His jaw tightens just slightly. “What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know, Ian,” you snap. “Maybe start with why the fuck I’m here?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Just studies you, like he’s debating how much to give you.
The words hit harder than you expect. Your stomach twists, your arms wrapping around yourself like you can physically keep them out. “You have a funny way of showing it.”
Ian exhales, stepping closer. “I didn’t know how else to get you here.”
He runs a hand through his hair, looking off to the side for a moment before meeting your gaze again. “I posted that picture on purpose.”
Ian tilts his head. “You wouldn’t have come if I just asked.”
You shake your head, trying to make sense of it. “So you. what? Tried to piss me off?”
His lips twitch, like he’s amused but knows better than to show it. “Worked, didn't it?”
i honestly wouldve crashed out wtf do you mean!?
Your jaw tightens as you glare at him, arms still crossed over your chest like that’ll somehow keep you steady. “You’re such a fucking asshole.”
Ian doesn’t flinch. If anything, the corner of his mouth twitches, like he’s enjoying this. “Never said I wasn’t.”
You exhale sharply, turning away before you fall under his gaze. “I can’t believe I got on a plane for this.”
Ian moves then, stepping into your space before you can walk off again. “Then don’t waste the trip.”
Your head snaps back toward him. “Excuse me?”
He’s close now. Not enough to touch, but enough that you feel the heat of him, enough that your body betrays you. “Come back with me.”
Ian tilts his head toward the street, toward where his car is waiting. “Come to mine.”
You let out a breathless laugh. “You think I want to be alone with you right now?”
His gaze flickers to your lips for a fraction of a second before he meets your eyes again. “Yeah.”
Your stomach flips, but you force yourself to roll your eyes. “You’re insufferable.”
Ian smirks like that’s the best thing he’s heard all night. “And yet, you’re still here.”
You hate that he’s right. Hate that even with how mad you are, you don’t actually want to leave.
Ian watches you for a moment, then sighs, his smirk fading just slightly. “Come on,” he says, voice quieter. “We don’t have to do this out here.”
The fight in you is still burning, but the cold is starting to creep in, and the way he’s looking at you—like he’s tired of pretending he doesn’t care—makes you waver.
Finally, you exhale, dropping your arms. “Fine.”
Ian’s brows lift slightly, like he didn’t actually expect you to agree. Then, with the ghost of a smirk, he steps back, gesturing toward the car.
The car ride is suffocatingly silent.
Ian drives with one hand on the wheel, his gaze fixed on the road like he doesn’t notice the way you’re angled toward the window, arms crossed, jaw tight. Like he doesn’t feel the tension pressing down on both of you, thick and unrelenting.
But of course, he notices.
“You’re really doing this?” His voice is low, calm in that infuriating way that makes you want to snap.
Ian exhales, shifting slightly in his seat. “You’re mad.”
He hums, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. “Alright.”
That’s it. No coaxing, no trying to pull a reaction out of you. Just alright.
You dig your nails into your palms, your irritation bubbling over. If he wants to act unbothered, fine. You can do the same.
The rest of the drive stretches out in silence, only the low hum of the car filling the space between you. When he finally pulls up to his building, he puts the car in park but doesn’t make a move to get out.
Instead, he turns his head slightly, looking at you through the dim interior. “You done?”
You grip the door handle but don’t move. “Done with what?”
Ian smirks, slow and knowing. “Ignoring me.”
You clench your jaw, pushing the door open without responding. If he thinks he can pull you back in with that smug I know you better than you think act, he’s dead wrong.
Ian doesn’t chase you. He follows, slow and steady, like he has all the time in the world.
The air is thick with tension by the time you step into Ian’s apartment—a sleek, minimal space with dim lighting and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city. You barely take it in, your anger still simmering under your skin.
Ian shuts the door behind you, tossing his keys onto the counter like he hasn’t just dragged you across the country for this. You don’t say a word.
He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “You’re really gonna give me the silent treatment?”
You ignore him, walking deeper into the apartment, your arms crossed so tight it almost hurts.
Ian watches you from where he stands, his head tilting slightly. “You know that’s not gonna work on me.”
Still, you don’t respond.
“I told you why you’re here.” His voice is calmer now, quieter.
You finally look at him, eyes sharp. Then, slowly, you shake your head.
Ian exhales through his nose, stepping toward you. You don’t back away, but you don’t break your silence either. His lips press together, jaw tightening as he closes the space between you.
He stops just in front of you, his voice low. “You’re really this mad at me?”
You lift your chin slightly, holding his gaze.
Ian’s eyes flicker over your face, like he’s searching for a crack in the wall you’ve built between you. His fingers twitch at his sides, like he wants to reach for you but knows better than to push right now.
The silence stretches. The weight of everything between you presses down, thick and heavy.
Then, without another word, Ian moves.
His hands find your waist, his grip firm but not forceful, and before you can think—before you can decide if you even want to resist—his lips crash against yours.
It’s not gentle. It’s desperate, a collision of frustration and everything unspoken. Your fingers tighten in his tee before you even realize you’ve grabbed him, pulling him closer like you’re trying to prove something.
Ian groans into your mouth, deep and low, his hands gripping you tighter, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he doesn’t hold you in place. His teeth graze your bottom lip, and your breath stutters, but you don’t pull away.
Instead, you kiss him harder, letting the weight of your anger, your confusion, your want spill into it.
Ian backs you up against the counter without breaking the kiss, his body pressed against yours, his fingers digging into your hips like he can’t get enough. One hand moves to cup your jaw, tilting your head up as he deepens the kiss, as if he needs you to feel exactly how much he meant it when he said he missed you.
Your silence is long gone now, lost between the way his mouth moves against yours and the way his hands refuse to let you go.
But just when the heat starts to take over, when you can feel yourself starting to give in,
Ian pulls back, breathing hard, forehead resting against yours.
“I’m not gonna rush you,” he murmurs, voice rough. “I swear.” His thumb brushes against your cheek, gentle despite the way his pulse is racing. “But just be here with me.”
