Disclaimer: I do not own, or lay claim to, any of the WWE Superstars/Divas etc referenced in this work. I own Iseult and any other additional original characters that appear throughout this story.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who read Chapter 1 and ESPECIALLY those who left reviews, they were lovely! I decided to try out Randy's POV for parts of this chapter, and think that (as a fanfic newbie) using 'Iseult/Randy POV' is probably the simplest and best way to indicate when I switch character perspectives.

If anyone was wondering, the title of this story is a line from 'All I Want' by Kodaline, it's such a beautiful song. The title also refers to Iseult's body hang-ups from an incident in her past, and how they continue to affect her. Randy obviously has an effect on her body, which will be explored too (heh heh).

Please review!

If Iseult had felt the competitive atmosphere backstage, it was nothing compared to the surge of noise and emotion that greeted her in the front of house. The energy was contagious, and she felt herself getting swept into full on fan-girl mode. She had to exercise a superhuman amount of self-control to refrain from buying a CM Punk t-shirt. Determined to at least maintain the appearance of professionalism, she vowed to order one online later that night.

It was easy to become engrossed in the spectacle of Monday Night RAW. For years she had watched it from a distance, but being there in person was an entirely new and surreal experience. It was odd to see the wrestlers in the flesh, when she had always viewed them as icons. She loved the pantomime of it all, booing whenever a heel appeared and taking part in a mass "Yes! Yes! Yes!" chant when Daniel Bryan stood up on the ropes.

Before she knew it, it was time for the main event – Randy Orton versus John Cena. Iseult was instantly impressed by their presence. Both men had that indefinable star power that was easier to identify through instinct, rather than words. Their physicality was top-notch, and she found herself watching with baited breath as they moved the action outside of the ring.

John Cena, veins bulging in his neck, raised all two hundred and forty five pounds of Randy Orton into the air, and threw him forward. Uncharacteristically, he overshot and watched in horror as Randy cleared the audience barrier, and landed with a sickening thump on top of a fan.

Ow. Ow. Ow. What the fuck…?

Iseult's eyes were closed. She was only aware of a sharp pain at the back of her skull, and a heavy weight on her chest.

What had happened? One minute, she had been enthralled by the display that Randy and John were putting on, and the next moment she found herself lying on her back with a God awful pain in her head.

Her eyelids slowly fluttered open, but instantly slammed shut when the bright lights surrounding the ring assaulted her senses. Determined to figure out what had happened, she forced them open again, and discovered the source of the weight on her chest.

Randy POV:

Randy placed his hands on either side of the girl's body and pushed himself up, relieving the pressure of his weight on her. His trademark smirk had been replaced by a look of genuine concern as he studied the blonde sprawled on the floor. A cut had appeared on her hairline, and ruby red blood had started to seep from it.

He felt like a complete asshole. The woman beneath him was the same one he had spotted backstage earlier. How did he always manage to miss the hot fans at meet and greets? She had probably come to see that bastard CM Punk. Randy just didn't understand what women saw in that loudmouth.

Shaking his head, he brought his mind back to the pressing matter at hand – her wellbeing. She seemed to be coming around slowly, a dazed look emanating from the bluest eyes he had ever seen. They were piercing, and fanned by the longest lashes. She looked like a perfect doll.

Keenly aware of the audience and television cameras, he quickly leaned down to her, putting his lips close to her ear so as to not be overheard.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. The medical staff will be with you in just a second. You're going to be fine."

His face twisted into a snarl as he stood up, leaped over the barrier and lunged at Cena. The fans, confused as to whether it was a work or not, were quickly brought back into the match and turned their attention away from Iseult.

Iseult POV:

Slowly acclimatising to her surroundings, Iseult stayed perfectly still as the ringside doctor checked her over. She still felt woozy, but the ache in her head had begun to subside a bit.

"I'm Doctor Sampson. Can you tell me your name, Miss?" the physician asked, while shining a light in her eyes and examining her pupils.

"Iseult," she murmured, feeling overwhelmed by the noise and heat.

The doctor frowned down at her, pursing his lips.

"That can't be right. Miss, can you please tell me your name? I need to know that your memory hasn't been affected by the collision."

"Iseult," she insisted with all the strength that she could muster. "I'm not concussed, I just have a weird name. I'm fine. Honestly. Just embarrassed beyond belief. Can you please let me up?"

Dr. Sampson smiled in spite of himself.

"Alright then, you can get up – slowly. Although we're going to have to take a look at you backstage."

"Fine. Anything you want. I'm sure that cellphone footage of this little incident has already made it to YouTube, and I don't want to give the world much more to talk about tonight."

She sat up, her hand finding blood on her hairline.

Yuck.

Randy POV:

Randy finally got to deliver the RKO and strike his pose as the crowd went ballistic. His eyes followed the beautiful fan as Sampson and his team helped her up and walked her toward the training room. He felt horrible for hurting her, and made a mental note to seek her out as soon as he could. Not to mention kick Cena's ass for his amateur mistake that was the cause of this whole mess. He could only imagine what Paul Levesque would have to say about this.

Iseult sat atop one of the rig storage crates that dotted the backstage area, sipping water from a plastic cup. She had insisted that she be examined here, rather than in the training room where others could bear witness to her continued humiliation.

Dr. Sampson carefully sanitised her head wound (head wound, how dramatic!) before stitching it up with the utmost gentleness. She only flinched once.

Swallowing the pain relief that was offered to her, she sighed as she felt it kick in and overwhelm the throbbing ache in her head.

"Did they get that on tape?"

"Oh, don't worry darling," Sampson smiled, as he put away his tools. "You will be the talk of Twitter tonight. There's no way that anyone missed the Viper being thrown on top of you at full tilt. It looked like such a convincing work at first, I was impressed by your acting chops."

"You mean my falling over like a complete idiot and lying comatose with my mouth hanging open chops," she muttered, burying her face in her hands. "I'll be sure to put it on my show reel. Of course this would happen to me at my very first RAW. It's so embarrassing."

A little groan escaped her, causing the doctor to laugh at his latest patient.

"Do you know where the men's locker room is? Because I need to stay as far away as possible from it."

"That won't be a problem. Surprisingly, management and Superstars aren't too keen on fans showing up unannounced," he replied, enjoying her reaction now that he had assured himself that she would be fine.

Iseult's mouth dropped open into a little O of surprise.

"You think I'm a fan? Jesus, I really am an amateur. Well, I mean, I am a fan. But I'm also a new signing to NXT. I've been there about three months, only managed to make it to RAW for the first time tonight. Remind me not to venture back without a crash helmet the next time."

"Welcome to the family, then," he smiled, offering his hand. "I'm Michael, by the way. I have to go do my rounds and check on the walking wounded from the show, but I'll be back to check up on you later."

"Stay right here and rest, I don't want you injuring yourself further by pushing to get up and about too quickly. If you need anything, tell a member of the team and they'll page me."

"Sure, and thanks for everything," she said, as he disappeared with a little wave.

Iseult suddenly found herself alone in the cavernous corridor, giving her time to blush furiously and mentally beat herself up. What a way to announce her arrival to the WWE Universe! She had always intended to arrive with a bang – just not literally a bang to the head. And by Randy Orton, of all people!

He must think she was a silly, fragile girl with terrible reflexes. A pro should have seen that one coming and dodged. The ten year old boy beside her had even managed that much.

With a defeated sigh, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and flipped open Twitter. As she expected, her unofficial debut had not gone unnoticed.

Some of the hashtags associated with the mishap included:

#FacePlant

#ProofCenaCantWrestle

#Lucky

#ConcussionChick

and

#HotGirl.

Maybe it wasn't all so bad – they thought she was hot! Ha.

Thankfully, a concussion hadn't materialised - just a headache, a little blood and eternal embarrassment.

The lucky tag was pretty appropriate though – millions of women (and some men) would no doubt be envious of her having had Randy Orton right on top of her for several seconds. That part really hadn't been too difficult to endure. He was even more gorgeous up close, all of that tanned muscle primed and ready for action…wrestling action, of course.

The look of concern that he had offered her only made his startling eyes even more attractive. Damn.

That memory would have to be stored away for posterity as one of the better moments of her life, even if Randy now thought that she was an idiot.

The sound of heavy footfall nearby brought her back to reality. Glancing up, she had to avoid cringing outwardly as she saw John Cena and Randy himself approaching her. Pulling at her hair nervously, she fumbled as she put her phone back in her pocket, and shifted uncomfortably on the crate.

'Honey, I'm so, so sorry," Cena blurted out as he stopped right in front of her. His eyes took in her stitches, and he reached out to give her hand a small squeeze. "That was never meant to happen, it was completely my fault. How are you feeling?"

Iseult smiled at his anxious expression, flattered that the two of them had bothered to come find her, even if it was only serving to enhance her mortification.

"I'm okay. Dr. Sampson has taken great care of me. It's just a pity that there's no cure for embarrassment."

"We're the ones who are embarrassed," Randy's deep voice chimed in as he looked down at her. "We're professionals, that stuff is never supposed to happen. I'm really sorry that I hurt you."

Iseult was about to insist that neither of them had anything to apologise for, but he continued, "To make the recovery process a little easier, we've brought you a few things."

He pulled two shirts out of a bag, a bright purple CeNation top, and a darker shirt featuring a Viper. She accepted them with a growing sense of shame, all too aware of the fact that they did not recognise her as a colleague, but as some overzealous fan-girl. Which she technically was…but, still.

"We also signed these, and would love to get a picture with you if you're up to it." Her little stack of memorabilia piled up as he placed the shirts, a programme and some DVDs on her lap.

"Um…yeah, of course," she pushed out, not knowing whether she should laugh or try to sink into the cracks in the floor.

Carefully placing the gifts aside, Iseult slipped off the crate and found herself trapped snugly between the two Superstars as an assistant snapped some shots. She could only imagine what she looked like, with stitches in her head and her cheeks flaming from the awkward series of events. Someday she would look back and laugh about all of this…she just wasn't quite there yet.

"We'd love to chat with you longer, but we have a flight to catch ASAP," John said apologetically, as he gently pulled her into a hug. "I wish we could have met under different circumstances, but all the same, it was great to meet you…" He trailed off, realising that he didn't even know her name.

"Iseult," she supplied helpfully. "It was nice to meet you, too."

"Hopefully we'll see you at another show soon, Iseult," Randy drawled.

She had to suppress a shiver of pleasure that ran down her spine at the sound of his voice saying her name.

"Oh, it might be sooner than you think…" she muttered as they strode away.

Randy POV:

Randy glanced back at the girl as they retreated, irritated that he couldn't spend more time with her. She had been such a trooper about the whole thing, when she had every right to be pissed off.

Management had insisted that they talk to her, throw a few goodies her way, and pray that she didn't intend to take legal action.

Fuck that.

He had only been concerned about her head, and had changed quickly before finding her sitting by herself in the hallway.

Damn, she was hot. His chest still burned from where her generous breasts had rubbed against him as he lay on top of her. He couldn't help but notice that some of his baby oil had smeared across her cleavage during the little incident, leaving the tempting swells that peeked out of her tank top shiny and ripe for his touch.

It was just a shame that he would never see her again.