#pfl x reader

“Uh no English” he stumbled through. Eyes darting around the yard behind you like he was expecting someone else.

“That’s no problem I’m looking for Magomed I’m y/n.” His shoulders dropped in relief hearing you speak Russian. Meanwhile you were praying it sounded right. This was your first conversation in the language with anyone other than Alexei.

“He’s not expecting any women.” Before the bearded man could shut the door, you flattened your palm against it with a smack keeping it ajar. His head tilted like he was trying to read your intentions.

“I’m his translator the ufc hired me.” Which seemed to be the magic words as his body language changed

His mouth made a o shape, almost looking embarrassed as he let you through.

The house wasn’t a total mess but you could tell a bunch of men were staying here. The man Boris you learned lead you outside into the back yard where a group of men were playing some form of basketball in the pool.

Boris shouted announcing your arrival making the mens heads swivel in your direction.

'Oh my god' you're suddenly regretting not even googling Magomeds name on the flight over, that would've saved you from the embarrassment of drooling over him as you watch him step out of the pool like some Baywatch actor. It was easy to tell he was the guy with how the rest of them moved around him.

The team were not at all as intimidating as they looked and of course they saved the best for last.

Magomeds eyes ran over you feigning disinterest but you caught a flash of amusement in his eyes. running a hand over his beard as he spoke.

"You don't look like my last translator." He stated the obvious, making you shrug your shoulders.

"I'm funnier too.” That earned a low laugh from everyone as he nodded in possible acceptance.

Much like the day before your second day started early at the fighters hotel with some media, you learned quickly as the day went on it was the same question just worded differently it was draining.

You slumped against the backseat of whatever car the team had today trying to make yourself as small as possible to avoid being squished against the door and Sukhrab, the coach.

Magomed unlike you stretches out in the passenger seat with a sigh, tilting his head enough to catch your eye.

“You eat dinner with us.” He phrased it like a question but you knew a man like him didn’t make many requests. It was an order.

You were surprised to see the house looked cleaner when you ducked under Magomeds arm through the door the massive Russian following closely behind.

The air smelled like a five star restaurant as the private chef made their magic, the island was covered with steak, chicken and vegetables. You almost forgot about the weight cut.

Magomed walked past you and tapped his fingers on the back of a chair you took the hint and sat down, slightly shocked when he landed in the seat next to you.

Sure he was always polite but never got this close to you always keeping a respectful distance, you glanced around at everyone else already in their seats as the chef passed out everyone’s plates it wasn’t till the conversations lulled that you noticed them all starring in your direction.

“We’re waiting for you to eat first.” You shivered at the low timber he whispered in your ear. Oh. Taking a small bite hoping to get all the eyes off you, instantly the conversation picks up again and everyone goes back to what they were doing. Until Magomed leaned in again speaking in your ear.

“So how did you learn Russian?” You swallowed something about him made his attention feel like you just touched a live wire it made you feel equally nervous and excited.

“Your original translator Alexei, was my neighbor growing up, he didn’t speak English when his family first moved here so we learned off each other really, Boris was the first conversation I had outside of him.” You explained, while Magomed tried to not let the slight twinge of jealousy show that he wasn’t the one who opened the door yesterday.

He’s sure he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since then actually even during media when everyone asked him questions his eyes didn’t leave you. Noticing how you look up and to the left when you’re trying to remember what was said. Or how your head tilts when you’re teasing someone. Or the sparkle you get in your eye when he drops his tone, which he's not even sure you notice that one about yourself, but he did.

He already had his manager drafting an official email to the ufc demanding you always be assigned to him or he wouldn’t fight. It might have been chance you were picked at random but he decided you were his now.

In fact he already had a plan.

Who in their right mind would be banging on your door right now. With a groan you pulled yourself out of bed ready to bite whoever woke you up head off.

But the second you opened the door you were lifted in the air with a yelp and carried back inside.

“Why aren’t you wearing clothes you didn’t even look to see who it was!” It took your sleepy brain a second to catch up who was talking to you even longer to realize you were eye to eye with Magomed and not having to crick your neck. You kicked your dangling feet to confirm what you thought, he had you in air jail.

“Better question is why are you banging on my door at.” You turned your head to read his watch. “At 5:30 in the morning!”

“We’re running.” Finally setting you down in favor of looking down at you with his hands on his hips, sighing like an exasperated parent.

“Since when?” Blinking up at him you racked your brain for when you agreed to this.

“I decided you would join us last night.”

You scoffed, the last thing you want to do is run if you were being honest you only went to bed like three hours ago to busy watching edits of the man in front of you on TikTok for hours.

He clapped his hands as if to hurry you along when you didn’t move.

“Can I join you tomorrow please….”

“No get dressed.” With another groan you mopped upstairs feeling like you could easily collapse back in bed at the sight of it, you threw open the closet doors when an idea hit you.

Striding right past the one gym outfit you had instead you slid on the shortest silk shorts and matching deep blue top, if he thought your T shirt that went to your knees was bad he wasn’t letting you leave like this.

Striding back down the stairs a fresh pep in your step you stood behind Magomed waiting for him to turn around.

“I’m ready!”

“No.”

“This is all I have!”

“That’s even worse than before.” He mumbled to himself rubbing his palms into is eyes like he couldn’t believe this is what he was dealing with, suddenly he straightened and stripped off his hoodie and slid it over your head in one fluid motion. Smirking to himself like he solved it.

“It’s 100 degrees out I can’t run in a hoodie.” You could feel your hair standing in all directions at his actions. Struggling to get your arms through the sleeves.

“Fine, tomorrow you join team..and we buy you real clothes.” He pointed a finger at you driving the statement home and opened your front door.

"Lock the door behind me." He softly demanded, tone completely different from two seconds ago and shut the door behind himself.

You only had a second to sigh to yourself before the door was ripped back open again making you jump back ten feet with a scream.

Magomed popped his head back in, a cocky smirk plastered on his face seeing you literally clutching your pearls staring wide eyed at him.

He nodded his head as if saying 'see' he shut the door softly this time and looked in through the window next to the door, pointing at the lock until you moved and flipped it shut did he finally leave. Releasing a breath you pressed your back against the door mumbling to yourself.

"Crazy Russians."

After getting a few extra hours you were more awake and ready to play tug of war with two languages all day, you walked through the doors of the fighters hotel seeing ufc personal take over the lobby, and of course you didn't see your massive Russian anywhere,

woah when did you start calling him yours? Shaking those thoughts out of your head you stopped the nearest person asking if they knew where you were supposed to go, they didn't but they pointed you towards some other group of men.

Making your way towards the group you waved to gain their attention trying English first, "Hi im Y/n do any of you know where I can find Magomed Ankalaev?" The tallest of the four smiled politely and shook your hand introducing himself as Jiri, offering to take you where you need to go.

"Do you work for the UFC?" Jiri asked, leading you down the maze of hallways pointing out important rooms on your way. His accent such a stark difference than what you've been hearing the past week.

"No, well yes. Maybe I'm not sure." Jiri's shoulders shook with his deep laugh,

"I think that was every answer possible." He tease holding the door open for you.

Your giggle accidentally drew Magomeds attention from in front of the camera. Snarl immediately twisting his face. The camera man was none the wiser of the rising danger in the room the longer Jiri spoke to you. "There we go look mean" followed by rapid clicks.

"Im his translator"

"you're Alexeis friend?" Jiri interrupts, looking like he pieced a puzzle together.

"Yeah, how'd you know?" You couldn’t help but smile at the shock.

Before he could answer your name was shouted your heads turned seeing Magomed pointing at the photographer. "What he saying?"

"Turn to the right." You spoke earning a glare at the short response. But begrudgingly doing as told still keeping you in view.

"I should probably go back to work." You explained looking back to Jiri who shook his head.

"I think he's fine im enjoying talking to you." Honestly it was nice speaking English again and not having to second guess it so you stayed huddled in the corner oblivious of the fire burning in Magomeds chest.

It wasn't ten minutes of talking that a shadow loomed over you and Jiris' eyes left yours to something behind you. Big hands covered your upper arm the next second warming you to the bone.

"Ankalaev."

Magomed didn't respond just looked at him with that flat look, his gaze softening as he tiled down to see your face.

"Can you come over here" before I kill him. he kept to himself. Jiri shot you a wink after saying goodbye leaving you and Magomed alone.

Who was much closer than you thought when you turned and nearly ran into his chest. His..shiny...strong…shirtless chest..less than an Inch away. Uh oh.

"What'd he want?"

You literally couldn’t form a thought the lighting in the room made the contours of his muscles look even more defined like you would cut your finger if you reached out.

“I uh he we just talked.” Your eyes dragged back up to his face where he was still expecting an answer.

“Drama is the next room over, you ready?” Boris luckily for you, walked up cutting the tension handing Magomed his shirt. Not breaking eye contact he slid it on fabric almost brushing your nose at the proximity.

“After you.” Magomed reached past your arm and opened the door. Gripping it at the top to hold it ajar, letting you slip under his arm.

You both walk silently down the hallway breath catching every time your hands brush together.

Magomed left your side to sit next to Nina, only after making sure you were settled next to the camera.

As Nina called action you were focused flawlessly translating everything she said and the same for the Russian.

"Seriously?" He rolled his eyes as you translated her question of what fruit he'd be. You decided to just nod and keep his irritation between you.

"Watermelon." You replied to Nina as she flipped through her book the question went on and on you kind of zoned out just mindlessly switching languages. Until one made the room temperature drop and rise at the same time.

"Ive always wondered because we've all seen that video of Khabib and DC fighting over who's gloves are who's how do you keep up with your stuff and not get them mixed up?" She innocently asked seems like an easy question but to Magomed who's only been picturing you leaning into Jiri and laughing, it had a double meaning.

"I mark what's mine." He's been looking at you the entire time, actually since you met him but its never had that heat behind it before.

"Uh he writes his name on it." Close enough right.

"Thats not what I said." He points out, oh now he knows English huh.

"It's how it's translated in English!" You barked, he immediately leaned forward resting his forearms on his knees.

The intense look on his face shifted suddenly as he shrugged and relaxed back into the chair.

"Thats fine, you're the only one that was meant to hear it." Now you were blushing, you cough looking at an expectant Nina hearing a lot of conversation for a short answer.

"Can you cut that out." He smirked seeing you flustered, that was more like it. You looked better blushing for him than laughing at the Czech.

The room filled with steam as you stepped out of the bathroom towel drying your hair, this is the first time today you were free of Magomeds stares,

after all the media and photos you took cover at you house while the guys went to do whatever it is they do before dinner, where you'd normally meet them after but pizza was calling your name so you rain checked. Which with a quick glance from the floor to ceiling windows in your bedroom includes the pool again.

Nope redirecting your eyes from the water you take in the pink and yellow hews of the setting sun which shines beautifully off of Magomeds back,

'no, no stop that'

You yelped and dropped to the floor as you locked eyes. You sighed and dropped your forehead to the floor as you heard your phone ding. Army crawling across the floor to avoid farther embarrassment, and of course its the man himself.

Magomed: While you're looking you should look on your front step.

You: I was watching the sunset.

Magomed: from the floor?

You: that was yoga..

Magomed: be good and look out front.

You peaked your head up just to see him standing hip deep in the pool phone in hand pointing to the front yard. You listened mumbling to yourself the entire way until you opened the door.

"Oh" different size clothing bags covered the porch some you immediately recognized like the tiffany blue, and Dior, orange Hermes thrown in.

You bend down seeing a note hanging from one of the handles.

"Some real clothes - M"

"Thank you!" You shouted already grabbing as many bags as you can carry at a time. Ding,

Magomed: You're welcome.

Now bouncing up the stairs tossing the bags on the bed immediately ripping into them. You hate he spent this type of money on you and won't touch the reason why he did with a ten foot pole, but you did love shopping.

You were mostly through all the bags new gym wear already folded. Jewelry laid out, The designer shirts made from the softest fabric you've ever felt hanging up. there was one bag that didn't look like the rest.

You sat down sinking into the plush comforter and pulled the black duffel towards you. Zipping it open you see the familiar ufc and venum logos of the fighters kit, sweat pants, jackets and shirts even a pair of gloves, all with Ankalaev written in gold on the back. You grab your phone snapping a picture.

You: I think you mixed up one of your bags.

Magomed: I didn't. Wear it tomorrow we're going to the gym. Goodnight Y/N.

Yeah you forgot about the gym deciding to take his advice you call it a night, cleaning up the rest of the bags and setting your clothes for tomorrow on the back of a nearby chair. The gold lettering of the shirt reflecting from the streetlights outside as you laid down making a single sentence from earlier pop in your head.

'I mark what's mine.'

The next day you were up bright and early being driven to the PI, seeing you were still half asleep Boris took pity on you and lead you to the cafe leaving you with a coffee and directions to their reserved space. Magomed practically floated up the stairs, been smiley all morning seeing his name across your back.

An hour later you were half way through the coffee and now felt alive and ready to join the guys.

"Excuse me, are you a fighter?" You halted In your step shaking your head at the receptionist.

"Oh no I'm"

"You have to be accompanied by a fighter beyond this point." The lady looks half way to calling security before you could start to explain a heavy arm draped over your shoulders followed by a deep familiar accent.

"She's with me." You looked up to Jiri shooting you a wink and directing you up the stairs without a spared glance to reception.

"Thank you." Jiri waved off your thanks. "Don't worry about it those girls always start drama I'm sure that interaction will be on twitter before the days over"

You both barely hit the second floor before the room paused everyone looking in your direction or more closely the point of contact between you and the Czech,

it didn't tale long at all for everyone to catch on to Magomeds possessiveness over you. So they looked back and forth like a tennis match.

You and Jiri to a stiff and staring Magomed.

Even you caught on this time and decided to deescalate the situation, shrugging off his arm, waving goodbye as you speed walked over to magomeds side. Who almost looked pleased at your decision and continued to train.

“Guess no one taught him to read” you heard him mumbling and asked what he said unable to make it out.

“Nothing.”

Alexei promised you a vacation. Getting up at 5am and being on the same diet as MR. weight cut over, the pizza night excluded, wasn’t your idea of tanning poolside with doughnuts.

But here you are in a sauna squished between a bunch of Russians sweating out every toxin in your body or at least that’s what Magomed said every time you whined.

“It’s not that bad just wait for the weigh ins thats when it gets crazy, fighters everywhere.” Magomed groaned at Boris’s reminder. Making you huff out a small laugh.

“That doesn't sound that bad everyone seems nice, at least compared to media" You point out. Remembering your headache every night after. Magomed looked down at you. Even sitting he still towered over you.

“Thought you didn’t know fighters?” He asked tilting his head watching your response.

“I mean Jiri seems nice enough.” You were so busy trying not to pass out from the heat you didn’t realize everyone else slowly leave the sauna till only you and Magomed remained.

A large hand gently grabs your jaw and pulls it to look him in the eyes stopped your musings. His thumb glided over a bead of sweat on your cheekbone.

“You're wearing my name, hm?” So stunned from the sudden chain of events you just nodded his hand moving along with it. Now you were about to pass out for another reason. The hand slid down to your throat, not squeezing just a reminder of who was in charge now.

"You stay by me yes? No more Czech. Understand." Again at a loss for words you nod.

“Good” he moved to stand holding out a towel for you, squeezing your shoulder once it was wrapped around you,

After that day Magomed was a magnet. Lingering touches, forehead kisses that lasted a little too long to be innocent when you said goodnight.

Plans together after the fight, Even a email from Dana White himself offering a permanent position.

Fine print of course saying your saddled up with a certain Russian who was currently sitting across from you, a look of victory matching the belt hanging over his shoulder.

"What did you say?" He asked after you read the contract to him leaning back into the wall every step closer you took. You sighed smiling at him resting your hand over the best settling yourself in his lap, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. "You going to be mine?" He added.

“Well I signed the contract if that’s what you mean.” You replied unable so stifle a smile when he moved the belt to your shoulders, the weight of it surprising you.

Magomed was too busy permanently cementing the image of you in his lap. Wearing his name on your back with his belt laying against your chest.

His silence meaning that wasn’t exactly the question he was referring to. So he asked again this time in heavily accented English but the sentiment wasn’t lost, he was trying to make it easier for you.

Running your nails through his short hair the lingering sweat not even catching your attention with the way he tilted his head into you and gazes at you. Like he would burn the world for you if you asked.

That type of devotion would have scared you coming from anyone else but you’ve known him long enough now to see that’s just the type of man he is. All or nothing.

“Thought I already was.”

Your movements must’ve woken him up you watched the emotions flash in his eyes first calm then shock. his muscles tensed before he launched himself out of bed much like you did.

“What are you doing here!” You yelled simultaneously, if you weren’t freaking out you would’ve notice the sun bouncing off his tanned skin making him almost glow.

It’s my room!” You both yelled again, before looking around to prove it. Finding nothing of either of yours in the space.

You both went your separate ways to prove whos the room was, you were momentarily distracted by hearing your phone dinging repeatedly.

Adam: what’s this I hear about you and Usman getting the honeymoon suit at 4am this morning?!

Adam: Are you together?

You choke reading the text why on earth would you do that. You’re about to call for Usman when he walks in the room your eyes immediately locking in on his left hand. Your own flew to cover your gaping mouth. The cold metal touching your lip only confirms your fear.

The movement catches his attention now it’s his turn to zoom in on your ring.

“You’re married!” The floor felt like it shook in his outburst in turn making your defense go up. “Yeah to you! How’d you get married if you’re already married!”

He froze at your words releasing a big sigh “No one can know about this.” He spoke, like his word was law and you were about to scream it from the rooftops.

“Hate to kill your vibe but I’m afraid people already know.” His eyes popped open asking what you meant. You explained Adams text, if people know you booked the suite chance are people will put two and two together.

“We faked our marriages for this exact reason I can’t have a wife!” His yells cut short as the hotels room door swung open and stood Khabib Nurmagomedov.

Usman went pale looking at his cousin.

“Usman what’s going on?” Khabib asked looking between you. You wish you had some bratty reply but you’re honestly star struck.

“Uh..” Usman stuttered out shooting a glance at you before he started speaking to Khabib in Russian. You went from the maid to a crazy fan to a mma rep, all in five minutes. You laughed at the ridiculous story he was spinning.

“We got married last night and don’t know how.” You spoke in perfect Russian. Making both men turn to you in shock.

“Yeah baby I could understand you.” You winked at Usman who huffed.

“I don’t need a wife we will go our separate ways.” Usman reverted back to English.

“No you won’t.” It was Khabib who spoke next. “You know how we value wives Usman you’ll respect that and her.”

He then turned to you clasping his hands together “welcome to the family if he gives you problems you come to me i straighten it.” Then faced Usman “take her to your room bring her things there and meet us at gym.”

In front of his cousin he nodded like a good boy but the second that door shut he clinched his jaw.

“I don’t want a wife we play in front of Khabib but alone we don’t speak understand.” Demanding once again you see.

Doing this his way you wordlessly waved to the door motioning him to go first, making him roll his eyes and lead the way to his room only two floors down obviously they game him a nicer room than you.

The entire way down he was mumbling to himself about how he let this happen and other self shaming sentences you would’ve felt bad is he wasn’t so snappy with you.

You weren’t surprised seeing a full kitchen and floor to ceiling windows showcasing the Las Vegas strip when you stepped into his room. What you were surprised about was the paper on the counter.

“Can you tell me what you remember from yesterday?” You asked hearing Usman knock around from the other room but not answering you.

“Oh hi Khabib Usmans being mean.” Not a second later did the younger Nurmagomedov come running into the room panicked. Glaring at your innocent face.

“Respect your wife Usman.” You remind deepening your voice to mimic Khabib.

“Leave gym I come back to room I go eat with Umar then I don’t remember.”

“Where did you eat?” You felt like you knew based on the menu you’re tapping your finger against smile growing at every aggravated sound he lets out.

“Sky high or something why does that matter.”

“What’d you order?”

“I thought we agreed no talking!”

Fine he wanted to stick to that. You loudly tapped your nails against the menu until it angered him enough to humor you and pointed to what he ordered.

“Can you read English boo bear?” You asked watching your words skip like a record scratch in his head.

“Yes.” He barked sounding slightly offended.

“Oh yeah what’s that say?” He steps closer reading the words you’re pointing at.

“Cannabuzz.” He sounded out looking proud of himself for proving you wrong.

“You know what that is?” You nodded raising your brows playfully.

Usman shrugged his shoulders saying a type of honey he thought. Making you laugh loudly at him.

“Oh honey that’s weed.”

“Like a flower?”

“Like a drug! you got high that’s why you don’t remember anything.” Well that explains that part. the cocky look fell off his face as he connected the dots and fell back on the chair behind him digging his palms in his eyes.

Now taking pity on him, you grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and sat on the coffee table in front of him. Tapping his knee with the bottle to get his attention.

“See you should listen to your wife I’m smart sometimes.” You joked to lighten the air which seemed to work as he huffed a laugh, taking the water you tried not to notice is throat bobbing as he swallowed. Why were the jerks always hot.

“So why don’t you remember?” Fair question for him to ask but he doesn’t need to know you were still shaking from the plane ride it always worsens your claustrophobia, and vodka helps. so you shrugged your shoulders saying you must’ve hit your head or something.

You thought he would take the excuse and blow it off you didn’t think he’d jump out of his chair gently pulling you with him.

“You hit head you need to go to doctor, when this happen?” He asked running from one side of the room to the other or trying to more like hopping while he tries to put on a shoe and walk at the same time.

“You sound pretty concerned for someone who hated my existence ten minutes ago.” The air soured and you watched the muscles in his back tense as he straightened up.

“Fine don’t get checked whatever.” He said tone sharp as he walked through the bedroom door slamming it shut behind him.

With a sigh you took your leave going about your days as normal, keeping as wide as a berth from the Russians as you could until you inevitably ran into each other. The second you stepped into the conference room the PFL has turned into a media mad house Adam quickly found you.

“You married Usman Nurmagomedov and didn’t tell me!” You shushed him before he drew even more attention than he has.

“We’re trying to keep it a secret.” You whispered. Looking around trying to act normal. Adam laughed “maybe hide the ring then.” You shoved your hand in your pocket wrestling it off your finger, you hadn’t even realized you still had it.

“Good looking out.” You coughed. “Y’all are seriously acting like nothing happened?” You nodded your head rereading the same line of you duties that day for the forth time.

“Someone should tell him then?” You followed Adams eyeline to see Usman across the room glaring daggers in your direction as he gets fitted for gloves.

“No that’s pretty normal for him actually.” You explained grabbing what you need for your next interview. Bidding Adam goodbye. Before going to find the other half of the main event none other than the Irishman Paul Hughes.

“Y/n!” Paul shouts, pulling you into a hug you had gotten close after their first fight and kept in touch since.

“Pauly! It’s so good to see you.” For the first time today you didn’t feel that same stress of playing a charade for the past week.

“How are you? you look great?” He asked his accent never fails to make you giggle making him sound like he’s singing his words.

“Oh now you’re playing interviewer?” You laughed shoving his arm playfully. Paul plays along grabbing the mic in your hand speaking into it.

“Hello everyone I’m Paul here with my favorite girl of the whole PFL, the one and only Y/n Y/L/N!”

You couldn’t help but blush at the praise wrapping it up to start the interview. You start off with the normal fight questions some personal as such his favorite food after a fight.

“I have a question for you now well more a request.” Paul said shifting in his chair to face you his knees brushing against your thigh. You nod for him to continue.

“Can you say something to me in Russian and I’ll try and guess it?” Seems harmless enough. You lean in whispering about the weather in his ear low enough the camera won’t pick it up.

Paul lights up which should’ve been your first warning. He held his hand out to shake yours winking to the camera.

“Great I’ll pick you up at 6.” Not a second after he said it did the president of the PFL come running over.

“Interview is done, stop recording it’s over Y/n you’re done for the day.” He rushed out, waving his hands rapidly.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, startled by the sudden interruption, you didn’t even know he knew your name. “Yeah Ric what’s wrong?” Paul jumped in.

Ric didn’t answer, just held a hand out to help you up and over all the wires but yanked it away when you went to grab it making you stumble at the sudden movement thankfully, Paul moves quickly and caught you with and arm around your waist.

“Don’t touch her!” Ric let out what could only be described as a screech. His hands going to cover his face that was going red with his rapid breathing.

“Please go your separate ways.” He says in a calmer tone looking like he’s counting to ten in his head. In your confusion you and Paul just nod sharing a glance and do as you were told.

“I’ll see you later.” Paul waves making Ric scream again “No!” And chase after him.

Going to start the next interview you discover Ric meant it when he said you were done for the day with a huff you stepped into the elevator pressing the button for your room.

An arm slammed between the shutting doors making you jump, and look up to see none other than Usman standing there. Walking into the elevator like he owned it. You faced the door ignoring him from where he leaned against the wall staring at your profile.

“Why you interview Hughes?” He asked making you laugh.

“Nice to see you too honey.”

“Nice to see you wife why- why do you call me that? Honey.” He spoke the word like it was stuck on his tongue while it wasn’t the question he chased you down to ask but you sneered it at him every chance you could and it ate at him.

“Cannabuzz.” You snickered at the memory how silly and naïve he was at the same time. Usmans nose flared with his harsh exhale only you would find the situation amusing. He shook his head clear and got back to his original reason of breaking the no contact rule he set.

“Why did you interview Hughes?” His tone took a sharp edge as he asked again. Which you chose to ignore. He didn’t like that.

Usman lunged slamming his hand against the emergency stop. The elevator jurked to a stop almost making you fall.

“What are you thinking!” You yelled trying to push past him to start the elevator again but he was like a unmovable wall.

“Usman.” You breathed out trying to stay calm there was no way for him to know your fear of this exact situation. Elevators were little traps if anyone asked you.

“Why did you interview him?”

“It’s my JOB Usman!” He had the nerve to look irritated, hand on his hips and all as he looked at you like a disappointed parent.

“Why you not interview me?” He wondered while you started to pace back and forth feeling more claustrophobic as the seconds passed. Usman did scrunch his brows but that was the only outward observation he made.

“You said you didn’t want to talk you’ve avoided me all week now you want to talk!” Yanking off your media badge lanyard as if that would help you breathe.

Usman didn’t say anything, as if him being there should be answer enough.

Is it hot in here? it’s hot in here you decided. your shirt was already sticking to your back and you swear you could hear the elevator slowly skidding down just to crush you at the bottom.

“You’re not wearing your ring?” Was his next absurd question making you blow up.

“You hate me why do care what I do? I don’t see yours on your finger either! Now start the fucking elevator!” Screaming didn’t help your breathing it made it worse you were close to hyperventilating now gripping the little handlebars for dear life.

“I’m your husband don’t yell at me!”

“Usman” you start cold as ice. “Start the elevator or I’m going to punch you in face and ruin your title defense. What would Khabib think of you having to pull out a week before because your wife broke your nose?”

Relief washed over you like a waterfall as you felt the elevator move again you were out those doors the second they opened correct floor be dammed you’d take the stairs.

Falling to your knees you gripped the small table the hotel had opposite the elevators till your fingers were numb.

you cursed feeling that pinch behind your eyes.

“Are you okay?” He has the nerve to ask.

“No I’m not okay, none of this is okay!” You cried curling in tighter on yourself. Feeling him crouch next to you.

“I didn’t know you were scared.

“Maybe if you took five seconds to talk to me instead of blaming me for something you played a part in as well you would’ve known!” Now anger has taken over that fear as you faced the nearly six foot man. Pushing yourself up, thankfully you were on the right floor you hightailed it to your room leaving him alone.

The next day you were still shaken but work was to be done. Taking the stairs this time. You had already emailed your boss about needing a new badge there was no way you were going back in there to retrieve your old one.

Searching for your name took longer than usual but when you did you weren’t happy. “You’ve got to be joking.”

Staring right back at you, freshly printed

Y/n Nurmagomedov. This has to be a joke which is exactly what you told your boss when she pointed it out.

“No Usman came to me personally actually I guess congratulations are in order.” She explained. “He also went to Ric the other day too.” Now that got your attention.

“When you were doing the interview with Paul, Usman told Ric if he didn’t stop it he was going to pull out of the fight.” That explains that. How dare he. After thanking her you were on a new mission.

You stormed through the hotel, luckily it wasn’t hard to find a large group of Russians, Usman at the center. Fearlessly walking to their table your eyes set on him. He shyly smiles seeing you approaching.

Ignoring everyone else, you only spoke two words.

“Get up.”

You walked out hearing his chair push out behind you. Leading him to one of the many abandoned rooms.

The second you heard the door shut behind him you spun around.

“What is this.” Holding up your badge so close to his face he had to lean back to read it. His eye actually sparked when he saw it. A fact that made you grit your teeth.

“Oh yeah I thought about what you said the other day-“ you cut him off “when you trapped me in the ELEVATOR!”

“I didn’t mean to scare you I’m sorry.” The smile dropped from his face as he looked down actually sounding remorseful.

“But you were right I can’t expect you to respect me like husband if I don’t treat you like wife so that’s that..” he explained pointing to your lanyard. He didn’t bother mentioning the near fist fight he got into in the same elevator when the Irishman stepped into it.

“What?” Your eyes widened at the change of tune. What was he talking about.

“I thought you hated me?”

Usman signed taking a small step closer watching to see if you retreated before standing taller.

“I never hated you I hated what I thought you’d represent.” At your clueless glance he continued.

“I thought wife would slow me down if I fought with you I can’t fight in cage knowing you angry things like that. But that wasn’t fair to you.”

His words made you pause obviously you aren’t on good terms but that wasn’t an insult like you were expecting. God he’s so hot and cold.

“Can you forgive me?” Oh now he has puppy eyes, a man that can choke someone out as fast as he can should never look as innocent and sweet as he does now.

“I don’t know.” He swallowed at your words nodding understandably. Hands shoved in his pockets but you still noticed the ring on his finger.

He followed your gaze and pulled out his hand. “This was part of that too.”

“You can put yours on if you want.” He nodded to your hand. Trying to sound nonchalant but Pauls words racked in his brain.

After you left him in the hallway he slinked back into the elevator feeling worse than he ever has after training just by seeing the tears pool up in your eyes.

His shoulders dropped leaning back against the wall of the now empty elevator. That still held the faint scent of your perfume the same scent that he had been chasing all over the hotel this past week.

Usman was so deep in thought he didn’t notice anyone else joined him in the elevator till they spoke. Irish accent giving it away without having to look.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Paul sang smug smile on his face seeing Usman so deflated. The taller man rolled his eyes and ignored him that’s what Khabib would tell him to do.

“You know, I know you told Ric to separate Y/n and I.” Usmans fingers twitch hearing your name leave his lips. He did not like that.

“I don’t blame you, I mean chemistry like ours is hard to compete with. It’s okay to feel jealous.” Paul continued taunting him.

“But pfew who wouldn’t want to be interviewed by her I could listen to her talk for hours. I have actually.” He winked, with every word Paul spoke Usman could feel his muscles tense like a spring just waiting to jump.

“I even heard a little rumor you guys got hitched. Don’t worry I don’t believe it.” The blonde waved his hands as if their marriage was nothing. Which thanks to Usman it wasn’t but he still didn’t like the disrespect.

“I mean she’s not even wearing a ring so it must not be true.”

Don’t fall for it he’s baiting you. Usman thought to himself squeezing the railing tighter.

“In fact, after I beat you on Friday I bet I could have her wearing my ring by Saturday.”

You should eat his heart, is what Khabib would tell him. And he likes that idea a lot right now.

He had just gotten his hands around Pauls throat when the doors opened and his family rushed in to separate the two fighters. But not before Usman was close enough to growl a warning in his opponents face.

“Don’t speak about my wife.”

Usman blinked his eyes back into focus seeing you standing no more than two feet away. A strange feeling of possession washed over him imagining that ring back on your finger. Even better let him put it back on for you.

But you hesitated playing with your fingers and biting your lip. And not once was Usman more jealous than in that moment.

Before he could try to convince you again your phone started blaring making you jump farther away. Usman held in a rumble at that.

“Um I have to go.” You tried to rush passed but he gently pulled you back. Asking where you had to run off too.

“I’m covering Paul at his gym today.” You explained Usman showed great restraint at not throwing you over his shoulder and locking you both back in that honeymoon suite.

“Him again?” He asked, trying to keep his expression neutral.

“Yeah, Adam covers you and I cover Paul that’s how it’s always been.” You shrugged. Usman nodded asking why again.

“I don’t know, I don’t pick but from what I recall team Khabib doesn’t like women around.” Ah so that was the problem. He can fix that.

Still keeping his hold on you his fingers moved to brush the inside of your wrist. He tried not to get distracted by the goosebumps climbing your arm at the motion. He had a job to do.

He tucked his phone away after a few seconds of tapping on the screen. stepping back to your space hunching his shoulders to be closer to eye level with you.

“You should get that.” His words confused you until a second later your phone went off again, except this time it was a text from your boss.

Your scanned the text, jaw dropping. “What did you do?”

“You had problem I fixed it now you cover me.” Usman smiles and innocently shrugged. You harshly pulled away, making his brows pitch together.

“Oh my god you did it again!” You exclaimed. Usman tilted his head as if he had no idea what you meant.

“Yesterday the interview that was you wasn’t it?” You asked a question but your tone suggests you already knew, so he didn’t know if he should answer or not.

“It was wow okay. I know that my job seems small to you MR big shot champion, but it’s everything to me I worked so hard to get here and you can’t keep tugging on strings threatening to leave if you don’t get what you want! You’re messing up my life!”

Well this changed quickly, Usman couldn’t even get a word out before you stomped past him and out the door leaving him alone once again.

You didn’t see each other again until it was time for the interview, Usman was already sitting in front of the camera gazing at you like a puppy, just waiting for you to look at him.

You were dreading every second, wishing you could just be in your room with a pint of ice cream watching some rerun you’ve seen a million times. Later you said to yourself, later you can do that now you have to talk to your husband.

Taking a deep breath you started in his direction Usman noticed immediately and became nervous adjusting himself in his seat straightening his shirt repeatedly. But then you paused. Oh you’re a genius.

Changing your path you walked straight to your brand new cousin in law. Whatever he was, you could walk up to him without the embarrassment of getting brushed off. If anything Khabib looked pleased at your presence.

Not that everyone else knew that. the members in the room that weren’t aware held their breath. No one approached Khabib, he walked around like a god and you were about to land an interview with him.

“Y/n nice to see you.” You’re sure you heard a gasp somewhere when he pulled you into a side hug giving you all his attention.

“Hi I’m supposed to be interviewing Usman but I actually have a few questions for you if you wouldn’t mind joining?” You smiled almost rocking on your heels but not above begging if you had to.

“Of course.” He smiled, eyes flicking to the lanyard and nodding as if he’d been waiting for it to happen. He lead you back towards Usman who looked more confused than nervous now.

Someone added a chair to Usmans left which Khabib took, leaving the chair to his right open. Bummer you were hoping Khabib would be in the middle.

As you were getting ready to start you saw Usmans shoe slowly creeping to just brush against yours. Absolutely not, quickly jabbing your heel into his toes fast enough no one else notices but still got a reaction out of him.

“Hi everyone I’m Y/n and I’m here with the one and only Khabib Nurmagomedov who’s with us today with his Cousin Usman who’s getting ready to defend his title for the second time against rival Paul Hughes.” Usman didn’t like hearing that name leave your lips any better.

You turned to Khabib not sparing the man in the middle a glance.

“Khabib how do you go about training a fighter for someone they already faced? Is the training the same or does it take on a new light since they have already experienced it first hand?”

“That fight was harder than I think anyone expected we trained harder this camp and worked on what I think he needed to fix so it doesn’t go to the judges again.” Khabib answered, all your coworkers were huddled around the camera to watch no one ever got Khabib in front of a camera simply by asking and yet here you were.

“Khabib you’ve been around dozens of title fights ranging from your own in the UFC Islam Makhachevs and PFLs very own Movlid Khaybulaev.” You shot a wink at the camera at the PFL plug

“Does this fight feel different or are they all the same?”

You moved to microphone towards Khabib for him to reply but Usman gently guided your hand to him.

“Do you have question for me?”

“No.” You pushed your hand back to the older fighter who smiled at your interaction with his cousin and answered the question.

“All fighters and fights are different how I coach one doesn’t work with the other so each one is different but all equally important to the team.” You nodded this was actually going very well, your boss would definitely give you a gold star for this one.

“I had fun week.” Usman spoke as you pulled your hand back, practically forcing you to acknowledge him. Judging by the look on his face the knew it too.

You sighed, putting the practiced smile back on.

“Did you? Tell me about it.”

Usman was all too happy to hold your hand around the mic and hold it up to his lips to speak.

“Obviously this close to fight we still train but I got to go out and experience Vegas which was very fun.”

You nodded planning your next question to Khabib again set on ignoring Usman.

“I also got married.” Oh he didn’t. The gasps of the room confirmed it. He did.

“Did you? none of us could tell.” You spoke through gritted teeth hoping the daggers you were throwing him would make him stop talking. It didn’t. He was all to happy to direct your hand with the microphone back towards him.

“I did, she’s amazing I messed up a little but I’m hoping she forgives me and understands I didn’t know what I was doing in the beginning.” He’s smart you’ll give him that, forcing you to hear him out when you can’t escape.

You hummed finishing up the conversation and calling cut. Before you could fully stand to leave Usman grabbed your wrist again.

“I have to start the weight cut tonight but I hope you’ll come by, we can talk or not talk if you want. Maybe you enjoy watching me struggle.” He joked with a hopeful smile.

While yes, watching him struggle would be fun, but you’d prefer to watch him pull a push door. You’ve seen weight cuts they are brutal. “I don’t know.” Was your reply and he let you go.

You paced your room for hours it was bordering 2am now and all you could think about was Usman, and how rough it must be. He wasn’t a small man at all, honestly you had no idea how he went down to 155 it definitely wasn’t easy.

Seeing the annoyingly stunning bouquet of flowers that were waiting for you outside your hotel room door earlier today is what did it.

Cursing you grabbed your bag and made your way up to his room. In the time it took someone to answer the door after you knocked you almost chickened out but then it was too late.

“He was hoping you would come.”Umar smiled on the other side of the door pulling it open wider for you to step through.

You wordlessly smiled, nerves set to 100 as you crossed the threshold. Honestly the room reeked of sweat but that pushes to the back of your head as you saw Usman wrapped in towels surrounded by his team.

“You came.” He sounded out of breath which wasn’t surprising all eyes were suddenly on you as you nodded.

Usman tried to sit up which was almost painful to watch so you rushed over, your hand pressing him back down by his shoulder.

“You probably shouldn’t do that.” You said moving to sit back against the wall next to him.

“I did get a little dizzy.” He laughed. He has a cute laugh. You never noticed it before or maybe this was just the first time you heard it.

“You got my flowers?” He whispered.

“You said we didn’t have to talk.” His lips closed around whatever he was going to say and he nodded laying back on the towels and closed his eyes. Letting your soothing presence comfort him.

It was maybe thirty minutes before anyone spoke. Khabib declared it was time to put him back in the bath. You moved out of the way as two of the guys whose name you didn’t know pulled him up and wrapped his arms around their necks walking him into the steaming bathroom.

He flinched sinking into the hot water you lingered behind until he looked for you.

“Come back.” He weakly waved you back over the men made room for you to squeeze by. You sat back down leaning against the bathtub Usmans fingers barely brushing your arm. You felt his sigh as well as heard it.

“Can you sing?”

You turned you head looking over your shoulder at him. He looked so different than earlier today it almost hurt to look at so you turned away again. The water sloshed as he moved so his hand fully rested against you.

“Might help me relax.”

You sighed thinking it over but for some reason unable to say no. Oddly enough the only song that came to mind was his cousins walk out song, Dagestan.

The words softly escaped your lips floating around the bathroom soaking into Usmans bones like a balm calming him from the inside out as you continued.

Your voice caught the attention of the fighters in the other room Khabib picked up the familiar song first. Drawing him along with the rest of them to the doorway like a siren song.

When you sang the last note he didn’t say anything so you peaked back over your shoulder seeing his head lulled and his eyes closed.

“You still with us?” His lips twitched at your question. “I don’t know, pretty sure I just heard the voice of an angel.”

You snorted at his words calling out to the group that he was starting to hallucinate.

The weight ins came and went Usman definitely looking more like himself as he bounced around the cage talking to Khabib before the fight started.

“Control yourself okay, his only chance is if you let him in your head.” Usman nodded his head but didn’t take his eyes of the Irish man crouched in his corner.

“It won’t go to the cards this time.” He declared full of confidence having no doubt this wasn’t going to last long. Not when flashes of you and Paul together float behind his eyes.

Unable to help himself he scanned the crowd looking for you. A small twinge of pride flickered in his chest not seeing you on the blue side. He glanced over his shoulder seeing you squeezed in between Umar and Islam.

The cocky smirk felt nice as he faced Paul again raising an eyebrow as to say. See that, she’s on my side supporting me, not you.

Next thing you know the bell rings. Hughes comes out light on his feet snapping out a long jabs and low kicks to test range. Usman recognizing the combo immediately feints high, ducks under, and chains a body lock into a trip.

Hughes lands on the mat with a thud. From half guard Usman works elbows and short punches, grinding down on the Irishman.

Paul throwing whatever he can, manages to land a clean hit to the Russians eye. snapping Usmans head back for a moment but shrugs it off feeling his blood start to drip down onto the mat.

The sight of it makes you tighten your grip on Umars arm you’ve seen blood before but something about knowing it’s Usmans makes you feel sick.

Paul to make space tries a flurry of elbows while fighting the hands cemented to his waist. managing to scramble away as the bell rings. He survives the round, but Usman is hunting.

Something Khabib recognizes

Running into the cage Khabib tries to get his cousin to sit but Usman shook his head choosing rather to stare down the other corner, taking small sips of water Javier offered.

“You did good keep him on the ground and watch those elbows.” Usman nodded clenching his jaw as the cut man applied pressure to the cut.

Khabib snapped his fingers in front of Usmans face gaining his attention.

“That needs to stop. Get the other day out of your head.” He ordered and for once Usman didn’t listen.

“He disrespected my wife.” Was the only explanation he gave. Khabib sighed sharing a look with Javier.

“Just, don’t do what I did after the Conor fight.” Were his parting words as the bell signaled the break was over.

Both men were breathing heavier now as they faced off. Usman shot for a deep double leg within the first few moments of the second round. Driving Hughes back to the fence. Failing to shake him off Paul tries a different tactic.

“Got you good huh that blood getting in your eye yet?” Paul starts on that same spot with short hits opening the wound again

Usman clings to Hughes hips, quickly dragging him belly down on the mat immediately taking his back. There’s a reason they call him the rear naked choke king.

The crowd roars as Usman peels his hands away. With precision only he had, sliding his arm deep under the Irishmans chin. Hughes resists rolling to his side trying to push him off but Usman tightens the squeeze locking it in. Speaking right into Pauls ear.

“She’ll kiss it better.” He didn’t need to elaborate they both knew who he was referring to.

He pretended not to see the ref waving his arms signaling he’s calling the fight. It took hands forcefully separating them for Usman to let go, letting Paul roll limply away. His team already rushing in to wake him up.

Usman got to his feet in time to keep his balance when Khabib wrapped him in a hug. Another win in the books he’s still the champ and he still has a chance with you. That last part was debatable but his eyes were drawn to you like a magnet. You were still squished between his brothers but this time you were all wearing matching smiles, yells getting lost in the cheers of the arena but he would swear he could hear you clear as day.

Through the in cage interviews and celebrations his eyes didn’t leave you for a second, the whole time he just saw what your lives could be together how strong you could make him he’d like to say he brought out a different side of you too but time will tell. The fact you weren’t running to Hughes side was a good sign. No, you stayed with his, your family, with him, where you belonged.

Which is where you were when it shifted the entire team were sitting around a table you had just gotten up to do something when Chanco roused.

“Since we’re already celebrating, now’s a good time to show you this.” Slapping the marriage certificate down in front of Usman who if you asked three weeks ago that the sight of it would only make his wide smile broader he would’ve laughed in your face. But now.

“You find it!” Usman cheered he couldn’t wait to show this to you. Maybe you could get it framed and hang it somewhere, it feels like something so important should be framed. Right next to the picture of you in the cage with him smiling up at him with his belt would look perfect in his head.

“Housekeeper found it but look.” Usman follows his finger to where his name is printed right above yours. And furrows his brows in confusion looking between his friend and the text.

“They spelt your name wrong. So you’re not married!” He cheered which makes sense, only Khabib has seen him head over heels for you, as far as the others knew he hated being married.

“Oh, that’s good.” The words felt like a stab to the gut as they left his lips.

The others were too busy celebrating on Usmans behalf to notice you standing a few feet away only hearing his words not seeing the devastation written on his face.

Khabib stood first noticing the tears in your eyes, Usman turned now, seeing you walking backwards towards the door.

“No, wait!” He yelped, almost falling out of his chair to chase you, ignoring his leg screaming at him from the kicks he took during the fight. That didn’t matter right now only you did.

He finally caught you in the hallway his grip on your shoulder pulling you to a stop but you didn’t face him, you couldn’t.

“I didn’t know.” Usman cursed in his head, was that really only thing he could come up with. Apparently you thought the same with the tearful chuckle you replied with.

“Yeah, neither did i but hey we knew how this was going to end anyway.” You did? Because he sure didn’t.

You finally turned after a his fingers brushed your shoulder blade softly coaxing you, his heart broke again seeing your glossy eyes. You miss read his sadness for confusion and laughed again throwing up your arms.

“You didn’t think we’d live happily ever after did you?” Yes. That’s exactly what he thought

“I know the last week has been fine but you said it yourself we play nice in front of Khabib and after this fight it’s done. It was always going to end.”

If his heart could’ve dropped more it would’ve seeing you sliding the ring off your finger again. Every plea and demand he wanted to bark at you just to make you stop got stuck in his throat.

He just froze watching you angrily wipe the tears that fell and walk away. He didn’t breath again till Khabibs hand landed on his shoulder, looking at the same empty hallway. Khabib bent down to retrieve the ring, rolling it in his hands.

“All your brothers fight for different reasons. Be it for the belt, fame, family whatever it is, they all picked. Now you pick.” Handing off the ring to Usman before leaving him with his thoughts.

Your eyes were still rimmed red from crying all night, you know it was stupid but a small part of you did hope you’d both work out. You blame the hallmark movies for making you a hopeless romantic.

What you told Usman was true, you knew deep down it was going to end but you thought you’d have time to process it, i mean divorces aren’t quick maybe by the end you would’ve actually hated him instead of just falling for him when the rug was pulled out from under your feet.

With a huff you closed your suitcase and looked around the room making sure you didn’t leave anything. Other than your kind of ex husband behind.

With one final glance and a promise to yourself to move on you swung open the door.

“Oh my god!” Clutching your chest almost running Usman over who was..tying his shoes in your doorway?

He froze looking up at you like you interrupted him mid thought before collecting himself.

“I don’t know how to do this but i binge watched enough movies to get the idea.”

Your brows furrowed at his words. Until his hand lifted holding your discarded ring up. Oh he wasn’t tying his shoes he was on one knee.

“Y/n i know how i acted in the beginning and what i said but you need to know that was the biggest lie I’ve ever lived.” He swallowed, releasing a shaky breath before continuing.

“This past couple weeks with you were the best I could’ve imagined even with the bad parts because you were there too. I don’t want to give that up and I really miss you calling me honey, even if you were just making fun of me , I don’t care because you were making fun of me.” He rushed out that last bit like he couldn’t keep it in any longer. You didn’t even realize you hadn’t called that mocking little pet name since the elevator, but he did.

“Khabib told me i have to decide what I fight for and i want to fight for you.” He spoke pushing the ring farther in your direction which meant almost as much as his words did since you knew this wasn’t normal customs to him.

“Will you marry me….again?” He half shrugged not sure on the phrasing he should use, this same scenario wasn’t in any films he watched.

“Yes!”

Okay this one is definitely my favorite if you guys liked it let me know! I live for reading comments! And if anyone wants to fangirl over these men with me my DMs are always open❤️

and it was perfect timing Arman was already in the kitchen making snacks while you were in charge of picking the show, hearing him finishing up you quickly whipped out your phone. Luckily it wasn’t uncommon for you to film more intimate moments between you too to add behind the scenes of his vlogs so he won’t be suspicious.

You started recording just as he passed the threshold. “Hey everyone my current boyfriend and I are having a night in tonight I can’t decide between outer banks or finding a new movie.”

On the screen you saw Arman pause behind you, the bowls in his hands hovering above the table as he froze. Your words rattled around his brain. Watching you in the corner of his eye.

He mouthed ‘current boyfriend’ to himself before he turned to you.

“You mad?” He asked before you could reply his eyes lit up and he nodded before jogging up stairs without explanation.

“I have no idea where he went I haven’t seen anyone just leave on the TikTok’s I watched oh he’s coming back.” You whispered to the camera Arman walked back around the couch your favorite hoodie of his in his hands. he slowly set it in your lap like a peace offering. Eyes wide resembling a puppy.

“Aw guys he brought me a hoodie what a great guy find you a man that treats you like my current boyfriend does..”

Arman immediately grabbed a hold of your ankles and yanked, forcing you on your back as he lunged hovering over you.

“What is this current boyfriend huh?” He hummed nose to nose now. You giggle hands flat on his chest in a weak attempt to keep his weight off.

“I mean you are right?” His eyes narrowed lowering his weight on you.

“I’m your boyfriend if anything else it’s future husband.” He spoke over your yelps turned laughs as you try to push him off.

“Okay okay okay!” You breathed as he let up a little waiting to hear your apology. His eyebrow raised in waiting.

“My future current husband.” You yelled again as he laid his full weight down pressed you into the couch laughing at your struggles.

“155 my ass!” He heard you shout against his neck he pulled back in mock offensive “Are you calling me fat!”

“Just currently.” You huffed still dramatically struggling against him.

“If you correct yourself I’ll let you up and we can have our date night like we planned.” He offered looking down at you gauging your response. “Fine!”

Giving you an inch to breathe Arman watches expectedly. “You’re not fat.” He rolled his eyes at your joke moving to poke your waist knowing how ticklish you were there.

“I can do this all night.” Wiggling his fingers to prove it.

“Okay alright! you’re not my current boyfriend you’re just my boyfriend whom I love oh so very much.” You sang managing to squeeze a hand free to run through his hair, acting extra sweet now.

“And…”

And…you have no idea what else he wants. “Uh you have the best abs I’ve seen in real life?” You tried.

“Who elses abs have you seen?” He asked before shaking off his momentary possessiveness. “And you’re not going to do it again.” At his hint you nodded

“No I won’t do it again and I won’t even post the video.” Pecking his lips to seal the promise he finally lets you up but not far pulling you along to land on his chest as he leans back on the couch.

Holding out the forgotten remote he mumbles to himself something about you playing to much and being lucky he loves you. Which yeah fair. pressing play you cuddled farther into his side already imagining his response when he realizes you never promised not to send the footage to his vlog editor.