Katya Zamolodchikova (And Others) × Reader | Imagine Collection

Поздние Ночи (Brian M./Katya × Reader - X-18)

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has sent in requests, I'm slowly working through them. Y'all's ideas are way better than mine 🥴

Contains: Soft Brian. Soft Brian. Soft Brian. Fluffy quickie. Light Mommy kink. Praise.

~

It wasn't very often that you arrived home late from work. But, when you did find yourself having to stay past quitting time it made you moody, stressed, and completely exhausted.

Today was one of those days, and you were feeling all three emotions, adding a dash of anger to it. It had been one of those ocassions where your boss had decided that she needed to ride your ass thanks to the fact that you were still entry-level at your job. You were the Andrea Sachs to her Miranda Priestly on the bad days. Thankfully, it wasn't like that all the time, because if it was, you damn sure wouldn't be at this job for much longer.

You tried your best to always leave office mishaps at the office. Usually, that was easy enough to do, especially when you came home to someone like Brian who didn't fail to lighten the mood in one way or another, but you just couldn't shake your discontentment over today. But, even so, it still was somewhat of a relief on your mental state when you finally did make it back to Brian's apartment.

You were pretty much dragging yourself up the stairs to his door when you did make it there. Your feet were killing you - that was the moment when you regretted wearing stilettos to the office - your spine felt like it had twisted itself into a pretzel shape, and your muscles had tensed to the point where even low effort movements made you ache.

But, who wouldn't feel like that after working a 13 hour shift? Coming home at 8PM, when you were supposed to get off at 5PM had a way o putting a damper on a good mood. Brian had already texted you quite a few times during that extra 3 hours, wanting to know if everything was okay. He had a tendency to let himself worry when you were late. Perhaps working at a marketing firm just wasn't in the cards for you for much longer. It was something to mull over, but you found yourself doing that on ocassion when you were frustrated with a hard day, so you weren't that concerned about it.

When you made it to Brian's door, you could already hear the blaring Russian pop music from the inside as you stuck your key in the door. Any other time, it would have brought a smile to your face, but tonight, all it did was exacerbate the growing headache that was pounding against your forehead.

You stepped inside, shutting the door behind you and dropped your bag to the floor. You automatically locked eyes with Brian, who was seated at his work table. It looked like he had been keeping himself busy by chugging Red Bulls and making some sort of outfit, or possibly a tablecloth; judging by the mess of cans, fabric, and sequins on the tabletop it could have been either.

"Barbara, you finally returned to the dungeon," he called to you over the music, leaning back in his chair and lifting one of his legs straight up into the air, posing. "Get on the racks, bitch!"

His antics would usually be very welcomed by you, and they still were, but to a lesser extent. You just didn't have much energy to keep up with that type of discourse right now, so you just returned a weak smile to him instead. All you wanted right now was to pop a few Advil and go soak yourself in the giant garden tub that didn't get used half as much as it should - that was definitely changing in about 10 minutes, though.

"Baby, can you turn that down or off, please?" You asked simply, pointing to the Bluetooth speaker on his work table.

Brian cocked an eyebrow at your bluntness, automatically knowing something was up when you didn't return his humor or cheerfulness back to him - very unlike you. He kept his eyes on you as you steadied yourself on the back of the couch with your hands. You slipped your heels off of your feet and let out a sigh that was a mixture of pain and relief as your expression wavered at the feeling of being freed from the pinching of the patent leather.