seen from China
seen from Bulgaria
seen from Malaysia
seen from Denmark
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from Taiwan
seen from Brazil
seen from China
seen from Japan
seen from Ireland
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from India
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Denmark
I love women's wrestling
Looks like a winner to me.
Mickie James 💞
Rumours in the dark
Randy Orton x reader
Angst and Fluff | 3k words x | MasterList | Part 2 |
She heard the rumours. She heard the diva. She heard enough. Now Randy Orton has to fight for the one woman he never meant to lose...
A/N: This is my first request for WWE! I hope I did you proud!
If you want to request then please do - no judgement here loves 😽
if you want to see the request then press Here <3!
The roar of the crowd was still buzzing as you and Mickie James pushed through the black curtain. Sweat clung to your smooth skin, your chest rising and falling as the last notes of your entrance theme faded behind you.
Mickie threw an arm around your shoulder, grinning and breathless, "Girl, we killed that."
You chuckled, shaking out your legs, "We did. I thought she was going to take my head off with that clothesline."
Mickie snorted. “Please. You ducked it like you had eyes in the back of your head.”
The pair of you walked down the hallway, passing road agents, production crew and a few wrestlers who nodded at you in approval of your win. The backstage air was warm and thick with buzzes of the AC above you.
Mickie nudged you with her elbow, "So... you gonna go find Randy after this?" she said raising her eyebrows.
You rolled your eyes playfully, but your stomach tightened anyways, "I don't know... Things have been weird lately.."
Mickie's smile faded a little looking at her, "You mean the rumours?"
You swallowed as a little, "Yeah," escaped you.
You and Mickie turned the corner towards the locker room and stopped dead in your tracks. A woman's voice drifted ahead of you. It was light and flirty. It seemed too familiar.
"...you told me you liked me," she said giggling, "and I like you too.."
Mickie's head snapped towards you as your heart dropped into your stomach. You didn't move, you didn't breathe.
"Oh hell no," Mickie whispered holding onto your arm showing you support. You took one step forward - just enough to see around the corner. There he was. Randy Orton.
He was leaning towards Kelly Kelly as his arms were crossed, still in his gear, sweat drying on his chest. Her hand brushed his arm but Randy didn't push her away.
Your throat tightened
Mickie’s jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me?”
You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t look away.
The diva giggled again. “That night was so special to me,”
Randy shifted - not guilty, not flustered… just unreadable and that made it worse.
“Y/N… we can walk away. You don’t need to see this.”
However, you couldn't. Your feet were stuck to the floor as if you were a fly caught in honey. This moment highlighted to you that the rumours didn't feel like rumours anymore. They felt real. They felt loud. They felt like they were happening right in front of you.
Then Randy's eyes lifted. He saw you. His entire expression changed. There was confusion at first, but then struck with realisation, and panic flickered across his face.
He started to say your name, but you were already stepping back. Already pulling your hand from Mickie's and already turning away. You didn't hear the rest. You just walked, fast and silent, as your heart was pounding so hard it hurt.
His voice echoed down the hallway, but you didn't listen, didn't wait, because if you stopped, then you'd break.
You didn’t make it far.
Your boots echoed down the hallway, breath tight in your chest, vision blurring at the edges. Mickie hurried behind you, calling your name, but it all sounded distant, as if you were underwater.
Then you heard it.
Randy’s voice. Low. Sharp. Urgent.
You didn’t stop.
Not until his hand wrapped gently but firmly around your arm, “Hey,” he said, breath uneven. “Look at me.”
Slowly, you turned, because if you moved too fast, you might break. You pulled your arm away from his grasp. Randy's face was flushed from running after you, his chest falling and rising, trying to catch his breath. His eyes were full of panic but also confusion. "What did you hear?"
You laughed a short, humourless sound. “Enough.”
“Baby-”
“She said that night was special,” Your voice cracked as tears verged to fall. “What else is there to hear?”
Randy’s jaw tightened. “It’s not what you think.”
You stepped back, pulling your arm from his grip. “Then what is it, Randy? Because from where I was standing, it looked pretty damn clear.”
He dragged a hand over his face, frustrated. “She’s lying. She’s trying to start something.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Because she’s jealous,” he snapped. “Because she hates that I’m with you.”
Your stomach twisted. “So she just… made it up?”
“Yes.”
You wanted to believe that so bad. God, you wanted to
You stared at him, searching his face - the twitch in his jaw, the tension in his shoulders, the way he couldn’t quite meet your eyes. This didn't feel real. How could your night end like this?
“Randy,” you whispered, “I don’t know if I believe you.”
That hit him harder than anything else. His eyes snapped to yours, hurt flashing across his face. “You really think I’d do that to you?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore.”
Your heart was pounding with pain as you took a shaky, uneven and painful breath, as you quietly said, "I can't do this."
Randy froze. “Do what?”
“This.” You gestured between you. “Us. The rumours. The whispers. The looks. I’m tired, Randy. I’m tired of defending you. I’m tired of wondering if people know something I don’t.”
His expression cracked - just a little, but enough. “Don’t,” he said, voice low. “Don’t do this.”
“I have to.”
“No, you don’t.” He stepped closer, eyes pleading. “Talk to me. Yell at me. Hit me. I don’t care. Just don’t walk away.”
Your throat tightened. “I can’t stay with someone I can’t trust.”
Randy’s breath hitched - barely, but you heard it. “Y/N…” His voice broke. The 6'5 man stood before you, the same person who would defeat anyone in the ring, felt and looked weak as he silently broke down.
You shook your head as tears escaped your eyes, "I'm sorry." And then you walked and didn't look back. The door swung shut behind you, muffling the noise of the hallway.
Randy stood there, staring at the empty space where you’d been, chest rising and falling like he’d just gone twelve rounds in the ring. Mickie stepped forward, arms crossed, eyes sharp. “You better fix this.”
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.
Because Randy Orton - the Legend Killer, the Apex Predator, the coldest man in the locker room - felt something he wasn’t used to feeling.
Weakness.
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing once, twice, three times. His jaw clenched so hard the muscle twitched. “Damn it,” he muttered, slamming his fist against the wall. Crew members flinched. Someone whispered. Someone else backed away.
Randy didn’t notice. He was already spiralling. He replayed the moment in his head - Kelly Kelly's voice, your face, the way you pulled your arm away like his touch burned.
He hated it. Hated himself. Hated that he didn’t chase you harder. Hated that he didn’t stop the diva sooner. Hated that he let you walk away.
He grabbed the nearest chair and shoved it aside, metal clattering against the floor.
“Randy!” a producer barked. “Calm down!”
He didn’t hear him. All he heard was your voice. “I can’t stay with someone I can’t trust.”
He pressed his palms to his eyes, breathing hard. He’d lost matches. He’d lost titles. He’d lost friends.
But losing you?
That was the first thing that actually scared him.
You avoided him for days. Not dramatically but quietly. You changed your routes to the arena. You left catering early. You timed your workouts when he wasn't around.
But Randy noticed. He noticed everything.
Every time you walked away, his jaw tightened. Every time you didn’t look at him, his eyes followed you anyway. Every time someone else talked to you, he hovered in the background like a storm cloud.
He tried to be subtle first.
A water bottle left at your locker. A folded towel on your bench. A quiet, “Good match,” when he passed you.
However, you ignored all of it.
Then he tried to be less subtle.
“Y/N, can we talk?” “No.” “Just five minutes.” “I'm busy” “Please.” “Randy, stop.”
He didn’t.
He waited outside the women’s locker room. He lingered near the Gorilla. He stood backstage after your matches, arms crossed, eyes soft in a way that didn’t match his reputation.
He was trying, and it was killing him that it wasn’t enough.
Mickie was glued to your side.
She dragged you to catering. She made you sit with her during call time. She cracked jokes until you laughed again. One afternoon, she tossed a protein bar at you. “You need to eat.”
You caught it, barely. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” she said, sitting beside you. “You’re heartbroken.”
You swallowed hard. “I just feel stupid.”
“You’re not stupid,” Mickie said firmly. “You trusted someone you cared about. That’s not stupid. That’s human.”
You looked down at your hands. “I don’t know if I can forgive him.”
“You don’t have to decide today,” she said gently. “Just breathe. Heal. Let him sweat a little.”
You snorted. “He’s sweating.”
“Oh, I know,” Mickie said, smirking. “He looks like a kicked puppy every time he sees you.”
You didn’t want to smile, but you did.
Then on a cloudy day, you were sat in catering with Mickie and Cody rhodes, laughing about something stupid he said. It was unusually loud that aftertoon as trayes clattered, people laughing, the hum of conversation bounced off the concrete walls. The smell of coffee hung in the air. Rhodes bumped your shoulder playfully, and you nudged him back.
Nothing flirty. Nothing inappropriate. It was harmless, light and easy. But the air shifted.
Randy saw it.
He froze in the doorway, eyes narrowing, jaw clenching so hard the muscle twitched. His hands balled into fists at his sides and his shoulders squared like he was bracing for impact.
Cody noticed first.
“Uh… you might wanna look behind you.”
You turned — and Randy was already walking over.
Not storming. Not yelling.
Just… intense.
Randy reached the table and stopped right beside you, towering, his presence swallowing the space. His eyes flicked to Cody once, sharp, assessing “Cody,” Randy said, voice low. “You’re in my seat.”
Cody blinked. “I didn’t know you had assigned seating.”
Randy didn’t smile. “Move.”
Cody raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Damn.”
He stood and walked away, shooting you a look like good luck with that.
Randy dropped into the empty chair beside you, close enough that your knees brushed under the table. Close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his skin. Close enough that your breath caught
You shifted away.
He noticed.
His eyes flicked down to the space you created, then back up to your face. Something dark flashed across his expression.
“Y/N,” he said quietly, “I don’t like seeing you with him.”
You scoffed. “We were talking.”
“I don’t care,” he said, voice rough. “I don’t want anyone else that close to you.”
Your heart thudded once hard, but you forced your face to stay neutral. “You don’t get to be jealous,” you said, keeping your voice steady.
Randy leaned in slightly, his breath brushing your cheek, his eyes locked on yours with a heat that made your stomach twist. “I know,” he murmured. “But I am.”
The room felt smaller. Warmer. Charged.
Randy didn’t look away from you. Not once.
The areana was almost silent after the show, the kind of quiet that only comes around when thousands of people have finally eptied out leaving a faint echo of what used to be noise. The overhead lights were dimmed, casting long shadows across the empty seats. The ring that every wrestler calls their first love sat in the middle of the floor like a forgotten monument, ropes slack, canvas scuffed from the night's matches.
You found him there.
Randy Orton. Sitting on the ring apron, elbows on his knees, head bowed like the weight of the world was sitting on his shoulders.
He didn’t hear you at first. Didn’t look up. Didn’t move. Just breathed slowly, heavy and uneven, like every inhale hurt.
You stepped closer, your boots echoing softly against the concrete. “Randy.” His head lifted.
And the look in his eyes nearly knocked the air out of your lungs. Gone was the cold, controlled Apex Predator. Gone was the smug confidence. Gone was the man who could stare down anyone without blinking.
What sat in front of you was someone raw. Someone tired. Someone hurting.
“Hey,” he said quietly, voice rough around the edges.
You walked toward the ring, stopping just a few feet away. The air between you felt thick, charged, heavy with everything unsaid.
“We need to talk,” you said.
He nodded once, like he’d been waiting for those words. “I know.”
You climbed onto the apron and sat beside him, leaving a small but noticeable space between your bodies. Close enough to feel his warmth. Far enough to remind him things weren’t fixed. The silence stretched -not awkward, but heavy. Like both of you were afraid to breathe wrong.
Finally, you spoke. “I need the truth. All of it.”
Randy didn’t hesitate. “She lied,” he said, voice low but steady. “Nothing happened. She came onto me after I helped her put something away. I shut it down. She didn’t like that I chose you.”
You studied his face, the tension in his jaw, the faint crease between his brows, the way his eyes didn’t waver from yours. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you asked.
He exhaled, shoulders slumping. “Because I didn’t think you’d believe me.”
Your chest tightened. “Randy—”
“And because…” He paused, swallowing hard. “I’ve messed up before. I know my reputation. I know what people say. I know what you’ve heard.”
His voice cracked - just slightly, but enough. “I didn’t want you thinking I was that guy again."
You looked down at your hands, fingers twisting in your lap. “I was hurt. And embarrassed. And angry. I didn’t know what to believe.”
“I know,” he whispered. “And that’s on me.”
He turned toward you fully, knees brushing yours. His eyes were glassy, reflecting the dim arena lights. “I didn’t cheat on you,” he said. “I didn’t even think about it. I only want you. I’ve only ever wanted you.”
Your breath caught. He kept going, the words spilling out like he’d been holding them back for weeks. “I know I hurt you. I know I didn’t protect you from the rumours. I know I should’ve shut her down louder, sooner, harder. I know I should’ve told you everything.” He dragged a hand across his face, frustrated with himself. “I should’ve been better. For you.”
Your throat tightened painfully. “Randy…”
He shook his head, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m in love with you.”
The words hit you like a physical force - warm, heavy, terrifying, beautiful. He looked down, like he was afraid to see your reaction. “You don’t have to say it back. I just… needed you to know. I’m begging you… Please don’t walk away from me.”
Your heart cracked open. Slowly, you reached out and took his large hand in your small one. His head snapped up, eyes wide, breath catching.
“I’m still hurt,” you said softly. “And I’m still angry. But I never stopped loving you.”
His breath stuttered a quiet, shaky inhale that gave him away completely.
You squeezed his hand. “I’m willing to try again. If you are.”
He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. He leaned in slowly, carefully, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he moved too fast.
His forehead rested against yours, warm and steady, like he was anchoring himself to you. The arena around you was silent, the kind of silence that feels alive, humming faintly in the rafters. The faint buzz of the lights overhead mixed with the distant clatter of a production cart somewhere backstage, but none of it reached you fully.
All you could hear was him. His slow and uneven breathing. It was like he was trying to calm a storm inside his chest. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing the soft curve of your cheek. His palm was warm, warmer than you expected, calloused from years of matches, but gentle in a way that didn’t match the man the world saw. You leaned into his touch without thinking.
Randy’s breath hitched a tiny, sharp inhale that told you more than words ever could. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered again, voice low, rough, trembling at the edges. You didn’t. Your silence was permission. He moved first slowly and deliberately, like he was afraid the moment would shatter if he rushed it. His nose brushed yours, a soft, fleeting touch that sent a ripple of heat down your spine. Then his lips met yours.
The kiss wasn’t hungry or rushed; it was slow, almost hesitant, like he was memorising the shape of your mouth, the way you breathed against him, the way your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.
You felt the tension leave his body in a wave, his shoulders dropping, his chest loosening, his hand sliding from your jaw to the back of your neck, fingers threading gently into your hair.
He kissed you deeper then, like he’d been holding this in for weeks and finally let himself feel it. Your heart thudded against your ribs. His thumb stroked the side of your neck, slow and steady, grounding you both.
The faint scent of his cologne, warm, smoky, familiar, wrapped around you, mixing with the lingering smell of the ring canvas and the cool metal of the barricades. His skin was still warm from his match, heat radiating through his shirt where your hands clutched it.
When he finally pulled back, it was only by an inch, his lips brushing yours one last time, soft and lingering, like he wasn’t ready to let go. His forehead pressed to yours again, breath warm against your mouth. “I’m not losing you again,” he murmured, voice low and certain.
You exhaled, your fingers still tangled in his shirt. “You’re not.”
His eyes closed for a moment, a quiet, relieved exhale leaving his chest before he pulled you into him, holding you like he’d finally found something he thought he’d lost forever.
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING BABIES SHOW THIS LOVE <3 Part 2 🎀 🎀Join my Taglist 💗🎀
Mickie James gifset
should I do more.. you can request !
"Hey even Mickie's kinda impressed" - Taz
WWE Divas Magazine 2006
Part One
