princess

A few days later, you ended up going back to the gym.

Not because you wanted to train.

Definitely not.

You had made that very clear to Khabib many times.

You were only there because your uncle had asked your mom to bring some things over, and somehow that turned into you being the one who had to deliver them.

You were starting to think your family had a secret plan where every excuse somehow ended with you going to the gym.

When you walked inside, everything was the same as always.

The sound of people training.

The coaches shouting instructions.

The sound of gloves hitting bags.

The smell of the mats and the old equipment.

You had gotten used to it by now.

At first, the gym always felt intense. Like everyone inside was so serious that you didn't want to interrupt anything.

But after coming a few times, it didn't feel as unfamiliar anymore.

You saw Khabib across the room, training like usual.

You weren't surprised.

You were starting to think he would still train even if the building was on fire.

He noticed you and gave you a quick nod before going back to what he was doing.

You rolled your eyes.

Typical Khabib.

You walked over to the side and sat down, waiting for your uncle.

You weren't really watching anyone in particular.

You were just there.

Then someone walked over.

"You're Khabib's cousin, right?"

You looked up.

A guy you recognized from the gym was standing there.

You had seen him before but never really talked to him.

"Yeah."

He smiled.

"I'm Ahmed."

You nodded.

"Y/N."

"I know."

You laughed slightly.

"Everyone knows everyone here."

"That's how it is."

He sat down nearby, not too close, just enough to start a conversation.

You didn't mind.

Ahmed was different from some of the other guys at the gym. He was more talkative, more relaxed. He joked around instead of being serious all the time.

"So you come here often?"

You looked around.

"Not really."

He smiled.

"I see you here enough."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Do you?"

"Yeah."

You laughed.

"You sound like you're keeping track."

"Maybe I am."

You immediately knew what he was doing.

The way he said it.

The little smile.

The confidence.

You weren't exactly clueless.

You just weren't used to people being so obvious.

"You're funny," you said.

"I try."

You shook your head.

"That sounds like something Islam would say."

You didn't even realize you mentioned him until after you said it.

Ahmed smiled.

"Islam?"

You shrugged.

"Nothing. Just saying."

He laughed.

"You know him?"

"Kind of. He's Khabib's friend."

Ahmed nodded.

"He's here all the time."

You looked around the gym.

You hadn't noticed him yet.

Not that you were looking.

You weren't.

You were just wondering.

A few minutes later, Islam walked in from the other side of the gym.

He immediately noticed you.

And then he noticed Ahmed sitting with you.

For some reason, he stopped for half a second.

It wasn't obvious.

At least, not to you.

But Khabib noticed.

Because Khabib always noticed everything.

Islam didn't know why it bothered him.

It wasn't like anything was happening.

Ahmed was just talking to you.

You were just laughing.

That was all.

But something about seeing someone else making you laugh annoyed him more than he expected.

He ignored the feeling.

Or tried to.

He walked over to start training, pretending he wasn't paying attention.

But every now and then, his eyes went in your direction.

Ahmed was still talking.

Still making you smile.

And Islam didn't like that.

He didn't even know why.

Maybe because Ahmed was too confident.

Maybe because he was clearly flirting with you.

Or maybe because Islam had never really thought about you as anything other than Khabib's cousin until now.

And suddenly, someone else was trying to get your attention.

Khabib walked past him and noticed where he was looking.

"You okay?"

Islam looked at him.

"Yeah."

Khabib looked toward Ahmed, then back at him.

A small smile appeared on his face.

"Okay."

Islam immediately knew.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You were thinking something."

Khabib laughed.

"I wasn't."

"You were."

"Relax."

Islam shook his head and went back to training.

Meanwhile, you had no idea what was happening.

You weren't thinking about Islam.

You weren't thinking about Ahmed either.

You were just having a normal conversation.

When your uncle finally finished what he was doing, you stood up to leave.

Ahmed smiled.

"See you next time."

You nodded.

"Bye."

As you walked out, you briefly looked back into the gym.

Islam was training.

Focused.

Serious.

Just like always.

You didn't notice the way he looked up when you left.

You didn't think about Islam much after that.

Not because you disliked him or anything. He was nice, and he seemed like a good person, but you met new people all the time. Your family was huge, and there were always cousins, friends, neighbours, and people your relatives knew showing up somewhere.

Someone being new didn't always mean they were going to become important.

Sometimes they were just someone you met once.

And that was fine.

Your days were still mostly the same.

School.

Helping your mom.

Spending time with your cousins.

And dealing with Khabib whenever he decided he wanted to annoy you.

Which was often.

"You need to stop being lazy," he told you one afternoon.

You looked at him.

"I am not lazy."

"You are sitting down."

"So?"

"You've been sitting down for an hour."

"I was thinking."

He laughed.

"About what?"

"None of your business."

"Probably nothing."

You rolled your eyes.

"You are so irritating."

"You love me though."

You hated that he always used your own words against you.

A few weeks later, your family had another gathering.

Nothing unusual.

Your family was always finding reasons to get together. Someone visiting, someone's birthday, someone cooking too much food and inviting everyone over. It didn't really matter what the reason was because somehow everyone ended up there anyway.

The house was full like always.

Your cousins were everywhere, younger kids were running around, and the adults were sitting together talking about things you didn't always understand.

You were in the kitchen helping your aunt when you heard someone mention that Khabib had arrived with some of the guys from the gym.

You didn't really pay attention.

People from the gym came around sometimes. It wasn't anything new.

You continued helping until you were asked to bring some plates into the other room.

You were walking back when you almost bumped into someone.

"Sorry."

You looked up.

It was Islam.

You recognized him from the gym, but for a second your brain didn't connect that he was the same person because you weren't expecting to see him there.

"Oh. Hi."

He gave a small smile.

"Hi."

There was a short silence.

Not awkward exactly.

Just two people who didn't really know what to say.

"You came with Khabib?" you asked.

He nodded.

"Yeah."

You nodded back.

That was basically the whole conversation.

And honestly, you were fine with that.

You weren't someone who could talk to everyone immediately. You were used to your family because you had known them your whole life, but with new people you were usually quieter.

Islam seemed the same.

He wasn't the type of person who filled every silence.

A lot of people found that uncomfortable.

You didn't.

Before either of you could say anything else, someone called your name from the kitchen.

You looked back.

"I have to go."

He nodded.

"Okay."

And that was it.

You walked away and went back to helping your family.

Later that evening, you saw him a few more times.

Once when he was talking with Khabib.

Another time when he was helping move something.

You didn't really speak much.

Just small greetings.

A few words here and there.

Nothing important.

But you noticed that he was different from how you first saw him at the gym.

At the gym, he seemed serious. Almost impossible to distract.

At the gathering, he was still quiet, but he seemed more relaxed.

More like everyone else.

When the night started coming to an end and people were leaving, you were outside for a moment, getting some fresh air.

Khabib came out a few minutes later.

"You look tired."

"I am tired."

"You didn't even do anything."

"I helped."

He laughed.

"Helping your family is not training."

"Good. Because I don't want to train."

He shook his head.

"You will never understand."

"And you will never stop saying that."

He smiled.

Then he looked back toward the house.

"Islam is coming to the gym tomorrow."

You shrugged.

"Okay?"

Khabib looked at you.

"Nothing. Just saying."

You narrowed your eyes.

"I don't like when you say things like that."

He laughed.

"You always think I'm trying to say something."

"Because you are."

He didn't answer.

Which somehow annoyed you more.

But you forgot about it pretty quickly.

Because that was how life was.

People came and went.

You met someone one day and sometimes you never saw them again.

At that point, Islam was just someone from the gym.

Someone your family knew.

Someone you had talked to for a few minutes.

Nothing more.

You woke up on a quiet Saturday morning at 6:00am , you already knew you were going to the gym before your mom even said anything.

You could tell by the way she walked into your room.

"Get ready."

You looked at her from under your blanket.

"Why?"

"Because you're going with me to your uncle's gym."

"I don't want to."

She looked at you.

"You said that last time."

"And I meant it."

She ignored you.

"You have ten minutes."

You sighed.

That was the thing about your family. Nobody really asked. They just told you what was happening, and somehow you always ended up doing it.

Not that you minded that much.

You actually liked going to your uncle's gym sometimes. You just wouldn't admit that because Khabib already spent enough time there. You didn't need him acting like he had another reason to tell you what to do.

By the time you arrived, the gym was already full.

It was always like that.

There was always someone training, someone talking, someone laughing, someone telling another person to work harder.

The place wasn't anything special. The walls were old, the equipment wasn't new, and the floor had probably seen thousands of people train on it.

But everyone respected it.

Because it wasn't about how the gym looked.

It was about the people inside it.

You walked in and immediately saw Khabib.

Obviously.

You honestly thought he lived there sometimes.

He was training with some of the other guys, moving around like he wasn't even tired. You didn't understand how he did it. He could spend hours training and still have enough energy to annoy you afterwards.

You watched him for a few seconds.

It was weird seeing how different he was in the gym.

Outside, he was just your cousin.

The annoying one who stole food from your plate and laughed when you got angry.

But here, everyone listened to him.

Everyone respected him.

He was serious.

Focused.

Different.

You still didn't understand it.

You never understood how someone could enjoy being tired all the time.

You walked around the gym, mostly just looking at what everyone was doing.

Some people were wrestling.

Some were lifting weights.

Some were practicing techniques over and over again.

Then you heard something that made you stop.

The sound of gloves hitting pads.

You turned around.

There was someone boxing.

You didn't recognize him at first.

He was standing with one of the coaches, throwing punches while the coach held the pads up. He wasn't doing anything dramatic. He wasn't trying to look cool.

He was just training.

Jab.

Cross.

Hook.

Again.

And again.

He looked completely focused.

The thing that surprised you was that he wasn't talking.

Most of the boys your age couldn't stay quiet for more than a few minutes, but he didn't seem interested in anything except what he was doing.

You didn't know why, but you kept watching.

Maybe because it was different.

Maybe because you were curious.

Or maybe because you had never seen someone take something so seriously before.

"You know you're staring, right?"

You immediately turned around.

"Khabib."

He smiled.

"You got scared."

"I did not."

"You jumped."

"I was just surprised."

"Same thing."

You rolled your eyes.

"Why are you always annoying?"

"Because it's funny."

You ignored him and looked back toward the boxing area.

Of course he noticed.

"So who is that?"

"Who?"

He raised his eyebrows.

"The guy you're pretending not to watch."

"I'm not watching him."

"You are."

"I was just looking."

"Sure."

You crossed your arms.

"You're making everything weird."

Khabib laughed.

"That's what you always say."

Before you could answer, he called out.

"Islam!"

The boy stopped training and turned around.

He took his gloves off and walked over.

Now that he was closer, you realized he was around your age. Maybe a little older. His hair was messy from training, and he looked tired, but not in a bad way.

More like someone who was used to it.

"Khabib."

He nodded at him before looking at you.

"This is my cousin."

You gave a small smile.

"I'm Y/N."

"I know."

You looked confused.

"You know?"

He nodded.

"Family gatherings."

That made sense.

Your family was huge. Everyone knew everyone somehow.

"Oh."

There was a small silence.

Normally you hated awkward moments, but this one wasn't really awkward.

Islam seemed quiet.

And honestly, you were too.

Khabib looked between both of you.

Then he laughed.

"What?"

You and Islam both asked at the same time.

That made him laugh more.

"You two are the same."

You frowned.

"What does that mean?"

"You both just stand there and don't talk."

"I talk."

Khabib looked at you.

"When?"

You opened your mouth.

Then stopped.

You hated when he was right.

Islam looked down, trying not to smile.

You noticed.

And for some reason, you smiled too.

You didn't know much about him.

You didn't know that day would become important.

You didn't know he would become someone you would remember.

At the time, he was just your cousin's friend from the gym.

Just another person your family knew.

At least, that's what you thought.

This is the start of my fanfic, I’m writing this on wattpad so each one I post on here will be a chapter I’ve uploaded on wattpad!

Growing up in Dagestan was different from what most people imagined. Family wasn't just important, it was everything. Everyone was close, everyone knew everyone's business, and somehow every person in your family was connected.

Your cousins weren't just cousins. They were your brothers and sisters.

You grew up with people always around you. There was always someone visiting your house, your aunt making food, your cousins running around, or someone telling you that you had grown since the last time they saw you.

Even if they saw you yesterday.

That's just how your family was.

Khabib was twenty-one, and you were seventeen. Since you were the closest in age, your moms always acted like you two were automatically best friends.

"Go with Khabib."

"Ask Khabib."

"Why are you sitting here? Go spend time with your cousin."

You heard it all the time.

Sometimes you wondered if they forgot that you actually had other friends.

But honestly, you didn't hate it.

Khabib was annoying, but he was also one of the people you trusted the most. He was the type of person who would tease you all day, but the second something was wrong, he was the first one there.

When you were younger, you used to follow him around everywhere. You wanted to do everything he did, even when he told you that you were bothering him.

"You know you're annoying, right?" he'd say.

"You love me though," you'd reply.

He would just shake his head and laugh.

As you got older, things changed a little. You stopped following him around as much, and he became more focused on training. Everyone could see how serious he was about it.

While most people your age were worrying about normal teenage things, Khabib was always working.

Training.

Running.

Wrestling.

Improving.

It was like he never allowed himself to be lazy.

Your family was always proud of him. They knew how much he sacrificed, even before other people knew who he was. They saw the hard work behind everything.

You respected him for that.

But you also didn't really understand it.

To you, fighting was just fighting.

You didn't understand why someone would wake up early to run when they could still be sleeping. You didn't understand why someone would choose to be tired and sore every day.

You would always tell him he was crazy.

And he would always tell you that you didn't understand.

Maybe he was right.

Your life was much simpler.

School.

Family.

Friends.

Helping your mom.

Spending time with your cousins.

The same streets you had walked down your whole life.

The same people you had known forever.

You never thought anything would really change.

You thought you already knew what your future would look like.

You thought your life would always be this way.

But you were seventeen.

And you were about to learn that sometimes the people who enter your life unexpectedly can change everything.

part 1

You were Khabibs younger cousin…you grew up together since families in Dagestan are very close, Khabib was 21 and you were 17 making you the closest in age so your mom and aunt automatically thinks you have everything in common and are best buddies.

It was a Saturday morning you were outside eating breakfast in your garden when your mom told you she was hosting a get together for a few close families and that you should ‘make yourself pretty’ you nodded , finished your breakfast and headed into the freezing shower. Once you got out your hair smelt like honey and you let it air dry while you put a long cream coloured dress on, then put some makeup on…only a bit, before heading downstairs to help mom prepare some food and to clean up the house.

You were sweeping the living rooms floor “mom, who’s coming today?” You asked. “Just some family and friends. Oh! Khabib and the boys are coming and khabibs bringing some of his friends over. It’s about time you make some friends” she replied half joking half serious.

Your eyes widened…

Khabibs ‘friends’ were huge wrestlers whom you had nothing in common with you were an awkward 17 year old who struggled to talk to her cousins let alone his friends.

“Cool.” You replied nonchalantly as if your heart didn’t just sink to your ass

Everyone started arriving..your aunts, uncles, little cousins, older cousins, grandma, grandpa. Then Khabib, his mom and papa walked in greeting your mom and you. You hugged your aunt , smiled at your uncle before you even looked at Khabib he mussed up your hair “look at you.. you get bigger every time i see you” he joked and before calling his friends in.

You quickly tried to fix your hair, flatten your dress and look cool hoping no one noticed that before Umar walked in first leading them in 4 guys walked in barely fitting through the doorframe.

They all greeted your mom and Umar introduced them all to you. “This is my little cousin “y/n, she’s shy.” He chuckled and you blushed but acted cool about it. “Y/n, this is Murad, Shamil, Musa and Islam”

They all smiled at you and you smiled back “hello” you muttered

“You have a beautiful home y/n, Umar and khabib undersold you.” Musa said confidently

“Heh..uh yeah” you mumbled half shocked he said that, half not understanding fully if that was appropriate or not. You looked at khabib and Umar for their approval…they looked pissed.

Your mom broke the awkward tension thankfully “why don’t we all go outside, y/n spent a long time baking pastries and making fresh juices.” She suggested.

Everyone found a spot outside. You stuck with my aunt, she recently had a baby and you wanted to spent time with your new little cousin. “May i hold her?” You asked. “Of course my dear” she replied eagerly handing you the baby.

You took your little cousin and bounced her for a while before your mom told you to go talk to our guests and not to be rude.

You awkwardly strode over there..they were on a table drinking soda joking and laughing. “Hello…can i- sit?” You asked

‘Fuck why did i say it like that?!’ you said in your head.

“It’s your table” Umar said making it awkward. You took out a chair and sat next to one of the boys..he was very quiet and kinda awkward.

“So cousin, hows school? You making any friends?” Khabib asks while the whole table is silent

“Oh..yes. You know Diana, she’s my friend. And school is good. How’s the gym?”

“Ah yes of course. Gym is good, You know this always good. Islam is also your age 17 he is doing very good in gym, he train very hard and he is fathers favourite student.” He says

Islam looks very embarrassed and blushed a little.

“Oh. Really? Abdulmanap has a favourite, you must really be good!” You smiled at Islam

“I think he like me because i am quiet. I do not rebel i am determined” he didn’t look at you he stared at the table and fidgeted with his hands while khabib and the boys were smirking at him trying to talk to you.

“I’m sure you’re amazing..i had no idea you were my age, I would’ve said you were 20.” You replied feeling sorry for him, he was so damned awkward.

The boys all exchanged looks and laughed and muttered something to one another “stay here isu, we just need to get something” Umar said as they all stood up and Islam and you looked at them as if they had each had three heads.

“Don’t stress Islam, we will be a minute” Murad mocked, Shamil laughed and smacked islams back playfully as they all departed.

Islam was bright red and i was pink in the face…we both knew what they were doing. A few moments of awkward silence passed and you broke it.

“They’re not coming back for a while..they love to torment me.” You grumbled

“I know this, they tease me too. They are older, they think I am child.” Islam said finally looking at me.

“Yes, i see. You look bigger than Umar and Musa, i bet you are stronger too” you smiled trying to warm him up

He broke eye contact and played with his sweaty fingers again “i am not strongest, i will never be strongest i can only improve. Every mistake is a lesson.” He replied steadily

“Your humble, that’s good. Khabib is humble too. I guess that’s why abdulmanap likes you so much” you said

“I learn from them, he is a very good man. Very good” Islam said, the corners of his mouth raising ever so slightly. “You, you are kind. You have no siblings?” He asked me softly

My gaze softened “i am only child. My mother cannot conceive anymore” you said as nonchalantly as possible.

“Oh. I- sorry. I did not know” Islam replied obliviously mouthing curses to himself

You smiled softly at him and moved my face closer so he would look “don’t- you don’t have to feel bad. Everything has a reason.” You said

He looked at you. Really looked at you. His eyes scanning your face , his lips parting ever so slightly, his gaze softening.

You stared back, you stared at his youthful face. How the sun defined his features and highlighted his small scratches and bruises from training, how his manly features slowly came in. And how his lips-

Fuck.

His eyes moved down to your chest. You held your breath watching how the heat rose up his neck, how his breathing and body language changed. Then you watched his face when he realised what he was doing. How he silently cursed himself, how his cheeks flushed and how he apologised with his hands before the words left his mouth.

We both looked at each others faces feeling the tension. You shifted in your seat your heart pounding, you could hear his mind racing and yourself too. The look in his eyes, so hesitant and nervous but also so eager and excited.

You both opened your mouths and went to speak at the same time. You both got slightly embarrassed so you smiled and giggled, Islam smiled back fully his teeth showing and he started laughing too.

His smile was contagious and his laugh made you laugh harder.

END OF PART ONE!

IF U WANT PART 2 LMK!!