I’ve been trying to tease apart why I’ve gone so terminally feral for this show in particular, and I think a big part of it is because it captures the feeling of falling in love so accurately that I feel like I’M falling in love. Butterflies in my stomach, nauseous when I think about it, can’t STOP thinking about it love.
As much as we all love a classic rom-com/love story flick, they have wreaked havoc on our expectations of romance. The purpose of those films or shows are to play out our most grandiose fantasies of love and relationships, a level of drama we could never actually attain, as a form of escapism. There are no manic pixie dream girls whose sole personality is a brand of quirky that fits your interests and saves you from your disillusionment in life. In reality, pursuing someone so intensely without ever giving up or taking no for an answer until they finally win their love interest over has become a trope so pervasive that its bled into the insidious romantic imagination of Nice GuysTM world wide. In the real world, you probably will never have that spinny camera kiss in the pouring rain after you’ve beaten the odds and live happily ever after, and you might feel like nothing you can experience will ever live up to that feeling. Not to mention they’re all heteronormative as fuck.
In OFMD the friends to lovers journey is tentative and slow. There’s no moment where one of them takes their glasses off and they suddenly see the other in a whole new light. There’s no one sided whining and pining, where there’s no real interest in friendship and they only stick around hoping to someday get in the other’s pants. They deeply care and fret about not ruining their friendship, about not making the other uncomfortable or pressured. Most of my personal long term relationships started out as friendships, and it was a delicate drawn out testing of the waters before it naturally evolved. And this is particularly common in queer relationships where the lines between platonic and romantic love are often blurred because there are no models of courtship to look to for guidance.
I’ve seen people talk about how their kiss was too awkward, but that’s how real first kisses are. Confessing your feelings is mortifying and nerve wracking, and hearing it makes you blush and stammer. You miss their lips and knock your heads, you don’t know where to put your hands. You’re nervous. It’s not perfect but it’s sweet.
And hats off to Taika for absolutely nailing true heartbreak. It feels like your world is ending and your life has come crashing down like they show in the movies but it also makes you feel small and soft and scared. It’s the squeak in your voice when someone asks you how you are and you can feel yourself trying not to cry but you can’t stop it. It’s feeling so emotionally exhausted that you can’t even bring your self to be angry, you’d just rather curl up into a ball and die. It’s thinking you’re moving on until something small reminds you of them and you ugly cry until snot is running down your face and you can’t catch your breath. It’s hiding under your covers and writing shit poetry in your notes app.
OFMD isn’t “I wish I could experience this love story.” OFMD is “I have experienced this love story.” Falling in love can be the most huge, overwhelming, transcendental part of the human experience. It doesn’t need exaggeration. It’s the little things, it’s like Mary says. It’s them understanding your idiosyncrasies and finding them charming. It’s exposing each other to new things and new ideas. It’s laughing a lot. It’s passing the time well.
It’s mundane and it’s amazing. It’s easy, it’s like breathing. This show has made me fall in love with the idea of falling in love all over again.
love a boy with good manners. its only polite to say ‘please’ & 'thank you’ if youre wanting me to cum down your throat. how else am i supposed to know you want it? that youre grateful?
She began to stir, as she heard a holo from Jackie coming through.
One eyebrow raised and only able to open her right eye she answered tentatively
’Hey Chica! you got home ok!?’
’I uh…seem to be in one piece’ She patted herself with her hands checking she still had everything where it should be.
‘but my mouth tastes like the floor of the coyote.’
'Gotta delta chica"
She could hear Misty’s voice telling Jackie to go to sleep, and Jackie insisting he had to reheat a chimichanga as he hung up.
She sat up, pulling her arms from her shirt and throwing it to the floor, only there was a wall in the way. With a confused look she opened her eyes and realised that although she had made it home last night, it was not HER home she had made it to. She was alone in bed, with a glass of water sat next to her phone and her jacket folded neatly on a chair.
'fuck’Her eyes darted around to find something familiar, but nothing was triggering her memory. The bedroom door was open, and in the darkness she could make out someone sleeping on a couch in the next room. As her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, she could half make out the shape of the figure, and caught a glimpse of one heavily tattooed arm. The shoulders were broad and toned, and he was wearing a white singlet. A single boxing trophy sat on a shelf above the couch, and she realised she was at Viks.
There were some memories from the night before intruding on her thoughts. Drinking at the Coyote with Jackie…falling down the stairs…she didn’t remember talking to Vik, but had a strange memory of trying to get into the clinic.
Walking to the open door, each step her surroundings became clearer, and so did Vik. The neon lights from outside the shutters gave his skin a pinkish glow. His large frame hardly fit on the depth of the sofa, and he didn’t look especially comfortable, lying in a semi fetal position with his arms folded. Suddenly she became aware of the smell of sandalwood and smiled.
'hey….Vik’ she spoke softly as she approached wearing her singlet and her beer stained pants from a few hours previous, unsure if she wanted to wake him or not. He rolled onto his back with a heavy breath and let out a quiet sleepy moan as he stretched out his arms, returning them to be folded across his chest. She leaned over him and whispered again,
'Vik…’
His five o clock shadow was a little more like a short beard in this light, and without his glasses she could see the scar across the bridge of his nose. His shirt was tight to his body, and she found it a little odd that he was still in his work pants.
She poked his shoulder, wrapping her other arm around herself.
'i’m cold. i want a cuddle’ she jokingly sulked at the sleeping man in front of her, hoping he would wake.
His arms unfolded slowly, one hand reaching to scratch the nape of his neck, one stretching out beyond the edge of the couch.
'c'mere kid’ his eyes still closed, but his voice was as warm as ever.
She crawled over one half of his chest toward the back of the couch and lay her head on his shoulder. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around her, fingers sat comfortably on her hips. In turn her hand and cheek rested on him, raising and falling with his breath.
'Do you want another blanket for the bed?’ He looked down at her and rubbed his hands over her skin back and forth, feeling the chill disappear.
'No. You’re perfect warm’ she shimmied her body into his and felt a kiss on the top of her head.
Wrapped up with each other, the sounds of Night City seemed silent. Only their breaths and calming humms of comfort hung in the air. He felt her move, and pulled his arms away so she could reposition herself. She only moved enough to press more of her body against his, her head lifted and their eyes locked.
'Did you come all the way to the clinic to pick me up?’
'I couldn’t leave you in the stairwell could I?’ He traced his fingers down the side of her cheek and followed her jawline. A brow raised as he smirked
'Even if you shot my door’
'Thankyou Dr Vektor’
She leaned to him and pressed her lips against his in a show of gratitude. As she slowly pulled herself away, he lifted a hand to the back of her neck and chased her mouth with his own, catching her lips between his. Vik, surprised at his own lack of self control flushed bright red and felt his skin burn up.
'Maybe I’m just getting old, but I don’t think thats appropriate behaviour for a Dr’ He spoke into his chest, feeling the tightness of guilt surrounding his stomach, and tightness of the growth below his belt.
'Well, i see no stethoscope?’ She pretended to search for it around the top of his shoulders.
'Also no recorder, or glove…seems it’s just me n Vik here’ His gulp was audible as she stretched a knee over his hip, enclosing him between her legs. She sat up and watched his eyes following the curves of her body with his hands rested on each of her thighs. She could feel his body responding to her touch, but was cautious of crossing a line. She had been crazy over him since the first time he shook her hand. Stood in the clinic that day, the man towered over her small frame, and so gently entered into her personal space. His hand was firm and strong, and as he smiled at her, she felt a fluttering in the pit of her stomach. Vik was her ripperdoc, and he was damned good. She knew she would rather stay friends than mess anything up, but she didnt realise he felt the same way.
’Is this…i mean, are you sure?’ He ran his hands slowly up her legs, silently begging for her to give him permission. Her head nodded in quick movements as she bit her lip and placed her tiny hands over his, drawing him up under her singlet. He could see his hands through the sheer of her top, and watched them carefully gliding over her skin as she held his wrists lightly. He cupped the underside of both breasts running his thumbs across her nipples with a slight pinch. Without realising it his hips pushed into her, causing her to moan through a deep breath as she felt his growth push against her, exasserbating the waves of electricity already flowing through her body.
She felt his knees lift behind her as he pulled his chest to meet hers, whilst lifting her top over her head and down her arms, her breasts bounced softly with every movement. He kissed at her hungrily, and the feeling of being wanted, being needed took over her senses. As thier lips explored one anothers, she rocked her hips back and forth, easing her own need somewhat with the friction. Her hands grasped at the lip of his pants, using them to pull herself down on him.
As his hands wondered across her naked skin, she felt herself shuddering. Before she realised she way agressively pulling his top away from him, as he fumbled at her zipper, desperately seeking her warmth.
