this might be my favorite privatter panel, enjoy!

Iwaizumi held Oikawa like he was the only thing anchoring him to this world. His arms wrapped tightly around Oikawa’s waist, his face buried in the crook of his neck, breathing him in as if he could keep this moment forever. The faint strawberry scent lingered on Oikawa’s skin, mixing with the warm, electric presence that only he carried. Iwaizumi squeezed his eyes shut. God, he missed this. He missed him. Even though Oikawa was right here, safe in his arms, there was something fragile in the way he held him. As if the moment he let go, Oikawa would slip through his fingers like sand in the wind.

Oikawa, in turn, let himself melt into Iwaizumi’s embrace, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if he needed something to hold on to. Hajime. His Hajime. His first love, his greatest love. He had spent so much of his life running, escaping, losing pieces of himself along the way—but somehow, in the storm of everything, Iwaizumi had always been there. A constant. A home. Oikawa let out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead against Iwaizumi’s shoulder. I don’t deserve you, do I? The thought made his chest tighten, but he pushed it away, choosing instead to savor the feeling of Iwaizumi’s warmth against him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath his fingertips.

Iwaizumi pulled back just enough to look at Oikawa, his hands framing his face, thumbs brushing over the high points of his cheeks. His brown eyes softened, tracing every feature, as if memorizing him all over again. He’s so beautiful, Iwaizumi thought, swallowing down the lump in his throat. And he doesn’t even realize it. The world had tried to break Oikawa, to mold him into something he wasn’t, but standing here, looking at him like this, Iwaizumi saw him for who he truly was. The boy who once dreamed of reaching the stars, the man who burned just as brightly.

Oikawa smiled, small and knowing, as if he could read the words Iwaizumi couldn’t say. He lifted a hand to brush a strand of hair away from Iwaizumi’s face, fingers lingering against his temple before trailing down to rest against his jaw. “You love me too much,” he whispered, a quiet joke laced with something deeper.

Iwaizumi exhaled sharply, eyes flickering between Oikawa’s. “I don’t think I could ever love you enough,” he admitted, voice raw.

Oikawa felt his heart stutter. Fuck. He’s going to be the death of me. He leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss against the corner of Iwaizumi’s lips, slow and deliberate, like sealing a promise neither of them could put into words.

Iwaizumi chased after him, capturing Oikawa’s lips fully this time. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t desperate—just full of love, of quiet devotion, of every unspoken word they had ever held between them. Oikawa sighed into it, letting himself be held, be kissed, be loved. He never believed in fairytales, in happy endings, but standing here, in Iwaizumi’s arms, he thought—maybe this is enough. Maybe this is what love is meant to feel like.

Neither of them noticed how quiet the shop had become. How, despite being surrounded by their friends, it felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of them. As if, even for a fleeting moment, nothing else mattered.

Oikawa pulled away from the kiss, his chest heaving slightly, eyes closing as he let the warmth of the moment wash over him. He could feel Iwaizumi’s hands still resting on his waist, holding him close, but something inside him shifted. A familiar heaviness settled deep within his chest, weighing him down, tightening around his heart.

I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve him.

The thought slithered through Oikawa’s mind, uninvited but persistent. He had spent so long running, hiding from everything that tried to cage him in, that somewhere along the way, he’d forgotten how to just be. How to let himself be loved without questioning it, without feeling like he was bound to ruin it. But now, in Iwaizumi’s arms, everything felt so simple, so right—and yet, the more he let himself fall into that warmth, the more he felt the guilt creep in.

Why does he love me?

Oikawa’s eyes fluttered open, locking with Iwaizumi’s, and he had to fight the urge to pull away, to hide the storm swirling inside him. How could he stand here, in front of the person who had always protected him, when all he had done was drag him into a world of chaos, of danger? Iwaizumi deserved someone better. Someone who wasn’t so broken. Someone who could be a real partner, someone who wouldn’t drag him down with their baggage.

Oikawa bit his lip, his hand still resting on Iwaizumi’s chest. He doesn’t know the real me, Oikawa thought. He doesn’t know how ugly I can be, how much I’ve fucked up everything around me. It was too easy to believe, too easy to lie to himself, to pretend like maybe he wasn’t as messed up as he really was. But deep down, Oikawa knew. He knew that everything he had built, everything he had fought for, was just a mask. And Iwaizumi? He was the only one who had ever seen through it.

But Oikawa wasn’t sure he could carry the weight of that truth.

How can I tell him the things I’ve done? How can I let him know that the man he loves is the one who’s torn apart the very things he’s trying to protect?

His fingers curled into the fabric of Iwaizumi’s shirt, a silent plea for strength he didn’t feel he deserved. Every laugh, every smile, every kiss he shared with Iwaizumi was a reminder that he wasn’t being fair to him. That the love Iwaizumi gave him was something Oikawa wasn’t sure he could return without destroying everything.

He deserves better than me, Oikawa thought, his throat tightening with the weight of it. So why does he keep choosing me? Why does he keep loving me?

Iwaizumi held Oikawa tighter, feeling the weight of the moment settle between them, but it was different this time. The feeling wasn’t just warmth, it was real. It was raw. He could feel the pulse of his heart thundering in his chest, matching the soft beat of Oikawa’s. In this moment, nothing else mattered. Not the dangers, not the fights, not the lies that had surrounded them both for so long. Just Oikawa.

But even as he held him, even as he kissed him, a thought lingered in the back of Iwaizumi’s mind, pushing and pulling at his sense of self. Do I even deserve this?

He looked down at Oikawa, the soft flutter of his eyelashes, the way his lips quivered slightly against his own, and Iwaizumi couldn’t help but feel a wave of protectiveness so fierce it almost made him ache. Oikawa wasn’t perfect—hell, he knew Oikawa wasn’t. But what mattered, what always mattered, was how much he loved him.

He deserves everything I can give him.

Iwaizumi’s hands tightened around Oikawa’s waist, as if holding him could somehow shield him from everything that threatened to tear them apart. Because that’s what Iwaizumi wanted to do. He wanted to protect Oikawa, in every way possible. Even if it meant burning everything else to the ground—his past, his future, his own damn soul—he would do it for Oikawa.

The idea of losing him… The thought alone felt like his chest was being torn apart. Iwaizumi couldn’t even bear the idea of Oikawa being out of his life, of him slipping through his fingers.

I would burn the city down for you, Oikawa.

Iwaizumi’s thoughts were a roar inside his head, louder than any other doubt. He wasn’t someone who believed in fate, or in destiny, but when it came to Oikawa, he couldn’t deny it. This, what they had, it was meant to be. And he would fight for it with everything he had left in him. He would give up everything for Oikawa, because the thought of not having him? That was a kind of pain that he couldn’t even comprehend.

I don’t care what it takes, he thought, swallowing the lump in his throat. I will make you see, Oikawa. I will make you realize that I’m worth it. That I’ll always be worth it.

Iwaizumi ran a hand through Oikawa’s hair, pulling him closer, as if to reassure himself. No matter the pain, no matter the secrets, no matter what the world had thrown at them… he was going to make sure Oikawa never had to face it alone again.

I’ll burn this whole fucking city down for you.


The air in the shop was thick with the mixture of tension and comfort, a soft contrast to the storm of emotions swirling inside both of them. The smell of strawberry lingered in the air, like the last vestiges of a fading dream, a reminder of everything Oikawa was to Iwaizumi. But there was also something else, something harder, something that clung to the edges of their skin, making the atmosphere feel heavier. The scent of gasoline, the kind that only lingered after a long day of adrenaline, of racing, of fighting for survival—it was the smell of their world.

The strawberry was Oikawa, sweet and soft, the kind of scent that calmed even the fiercest of storms, and yet it had always been the gasoline that was more familiar to Iwaizumi. The tang of danger, of unpredictability, of the endless fight they both knew too well. It was in their blood, in every muscle, every decision they made, every risk they took.

But now, as Oikawa’s head rested against his chest, as the warmth of his body melted into his own, Iwaizumi realized how strange it was that these two scents, two symbols of everything they had been, could coexist in such harmony. The sweet and the volatile. The soft and the dangerous. They were both trapped in this strange, delicate balance.

He could feel the heat of Oikawa’s body against his, the warmth of his breath mingling with the scent of strawberries, and it made Iwaizumi’s heart ache in a way that was almost too much to bear. But underneath that, there was the unmistakable scent of gasoline, lingering between them like a promise they had made to each other. A promise to fight, to survive, to protect one another, no matter the cost.

It was funny, really. How something so volatile could coexist with something so fragile.

The smell of gasoline was a reminder that they both lived in a world where danger was always just around the corner. It was the scent of their history, of their choices, of the battles they had fought and the ones that were still waiting for them. The strawberry, on the other hand, was the sweetness of what they had in this moment. The love, the tenderness, the quiet moments that made everything worth it, even in the face of all the chaos.

It was the sharp contrast of these two scents that made their connection so unique, so irreplaceable. The world they lived in might have been built on gasoline and fire, but at the center of it all was Oikawa—the sweet, fragile, beautiful thing that grounded him.

And as Iwaizumi held Oikawa close, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against his chest, he realized something.

No matter how dangerous their world was, no matter how much it could burn them both alive, they would always have this: each other. The strawberry, the gasoline, the love, the pain, all wrapped up together. It was their story. And no one, nothing, could take that away.

As the soft hum of the shop settled around them, the comforting warmth of Oikawa’s body against Iwaizumi’s slowly faded into something more unsettling. The blend of strawberry and gasoline—sweet and volatile—had always felt like an impossible combination. They had fooled themselves into thinking they could balance the two, could exist in the tension between them, but the truth was, the two were never meant to go together.

Strawberries, with their soft, innocent scent, had always been a part of Oikawa. His laughter, his charm, his warmth, all of it exuded that sweetness, that lightness that made everyone around him feel alive. It was a fragrance that spoke of purity, of fleeting moments, of love that felt like sunshine on the skin. It was everything beautiful, everything they wanted to hold onto.

But gasoline—gasoline was another thing entirely. It was sharp, biting, full of danger. It carried with it the promise of destruction, of inevitable consequences. It clung to the air, lingering long after the engines had died down, the fires had burned out. It was the scent of a life built on risk, on chaos, on the razor-thin edge between survival and losing everything. Gasoline wasn’t sweet, it didn’t soothe, it didn’t nurture. It burned.

And so, as Oikawa’s breath slowed in his chest, as he nestled deeper into Iwaizumi’s arms, the gravity of what they had been so desperately trying to avoid began to settle in. They were too different, too incompatible, no matter how much they tried to convince themselves otherwise. They were two forces colliding, each trying to exist in the same space, both burning hotter than they ever should have.

The sweetness of strawberry was too fragile for the world they lived in. And the fire of gasoline would always threaten to consume it.

For the first time, as Iwaizumi held Oikawa close, the sweetness of the strawberry started to feel suffocating, like something too good for the life they were forced to lead. The gasoline began to rise, seeping through the cracks in their fragile peace, pulling them back into the chaos they had tried to escape. The thought twisted something in Iwaizumi’s chest—this perfect, beautiful moment they shared would never be enough to shield them from the world they’d made for themselves.

Strawberries and gasoline don’t mix. They can never coexist without one overpowering the other, without the sweetness being destroyed by the inevitable burn.

But for now, in that small moment, they would hold on to it. They would ignore the growing tension, the feeling that something was about to snap. Because this was all they had left.

And maybe, just maybe, it was enough for now. But deep down, they both knew: it was never going to last forever.

Yet, the truth of it all became clearer—strawberry rots. It doesn’t matter how fresh, how sweet, how perfect it once was. The moment it’s picked, it begins its slow decay. It loses its sweetness, its color, its life. What was once vibrant and full of promise becomes bruised, forgotten, and eventually, it withers away.