#on wrestling (general meta from me & others)

#kismet has a kiki (opinions/personal essays)

#kismet fanfic (my fics)

#fanfic (other folks' fics)

#matches (links/references to full matches)

#in action (gifs/clips of specific spots/moments)

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#video games (rasslin'-related games)

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[this is not a complete list of every single common tag i use on this blog, but it's a good jumping-off point to lead you down some pleasant rabbit holes]

last updated: july 2026

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Shawn stared at his own moonlit reflection in Bret's mirrored glasses as he climbed in. "Well," Shawn said, "You're no Romeo."

"And you're no Winona," Bret retorted, referencing Girl, Interrupted from the year prior, "but you'll do." He clambered over the windowsill (thank God for first-floor rooms!) into his boyfriend's waiting arms.

Shawn buried his face in the crook of Bret's neck and hummed. "Never thought you'd skip visiting hours." He kissed the corded muscle where neck met shoulder and clutched Bret tighter when he shivered in response. "How'd you pull it off?"

"Never thought you'd screw me the un-fun way, but we're all full of surprises."

Shawn took the dig on the chin. They both knew this stint in brain jail rehab was his karma for Montreal. That they were still a couple was a miracle. That Bret even wanted to see him in this state — with overgrown stubble and lank lustre to his hair and all-over staleness from the poor excuses for showers allowed here — was an even bigger miracle. He listened as Bret told him about some strings the McMahons pulled by way of a friend of Hunter's who worked night security at the hospital. It was a one-and-done deal that expired "at Cinderella time".

Shawn pulled back and touched his forehead to Bret's. "Midnight, huh?" He nuzzled his nose. "It's a little after eleven, now."

Bret slowly backed him into the door. Shawn had no roommate, and no lock, so the weight of their bodies would be the only thing separating them from the night nurses' discovery.

Bret slid off his shades. He stared with his serious, serious eyes, and said they had more than enough time for what he wanted to do to Shawn.

Bret got him off a few times, strong and smooth with it like he was wont to be in the ring and everything. He kissed Shawn to keep him quiet. It worked well — the only sounds came from the meeting of lips and tongue over and over. From the slick drag of Bret's hand working its magic. Shawn tangled his fingers in his boyfriend's hair and thought about how much he wanted Bret inside. Or wanted inside of Bret. Either would be heaven had they a little more time. He kept the thought inside his head, for if it left his mouth he knew he'd be moaning about it loud enough for the night nurses to hear him on their rounds.

When he finished a third time, he did let himself say I love you. Barely more than a breath, really. Spoke the words right into Bret's mouth and Bret ate them up with a smile.

"Love you too," Bret said softly. "When you're not giving me beard burn, I love you more."

Shawn huffed a laugh. "They won't let me have razors yet."

"You said so in your letters." Bret pulled off one last stroke to make Shawn squirm, then quietly sucked the come off his fingers so they were clean enough to grab the straight razor hidden in the lining of his leather jacket.

He held it in front of Shawn's face.

Shawn stared so hard it felt like his eyes would pop out of his head.

"Fuck, baby," Shawn sighed, pawing at Bret's sides. Sneaking orgasms and contraband items? The Hitman was a goddamn treasure. "Wish I could do a little something for you."

Bret smiled. "Just hold real still for me. We're not trying to get any color, here."