based on my musings if Mariana decided to go back to Miami after the attack.
After the attack Mariana leaves for Miami to start over.
Essentially, she never gets her big romance moment with Ethan. Can't get started. Didn't even really begin.
Because of this, she's sad, makes the hair chop and decides to make the most out of her decision. Her new beginning.
Starts to heal, goes to therapy, becomes acquainted once more with her roots.
Being around her family helps. Finds peace in their familiarity. It is a little odd being back in her childhood bedroom before she can find a place of her own.
But she makes the most out of it, out of her mother's cooking and listening to her dad's music. Spends a ridiculous amount of time around her nephew and older sister.
...and there are bad days too, at least for the first month or so - but she has her mom. And there's nothing like lying on mami's lap and crying and talking in hushed tones in the quiet of the dark living... room after a nightmare while her mother brushes through her hair with the same tenderness she's felt when she was a little girl.
Work is good. Work keeps her distracted. Work is sometimes...a lot.
And while she's there, she reacquaints herself with Álvaro and there is something... warm and welcoming and thrilling about his presence. About being around him again. About his dedication to make her live again and not just exist.
She throws herself into that feeling... and ignores the glimmer of memories of Boston, of ardour veiled by rehearsed serious tones, of chocolate labrador's kisses.
If she thinks of him, if she thinks of the kiss of his beard on her skin just like when the hot Miami sun prickles her face, her arms, her back...she won't survive the heartache, she won't survive the need for a new life...she has to survive.
There are late-night dances and trips on their wealthier friends' yachts and heated gazes that make her feel--
--she wants to feel again.
She wants... the way his lazy smile turns to knowing when he looks at her across the doctor's mess...because it's different. It's no deeply-creased-brow-and-impatient-frown...but it's...
Laughing. There is laughter once more. And it's hers and it's his and she didn't think years ago, the moment they parted ways in that busy library, that they'd be here in this moment...after many moments, in the sheets and the dark...and he'd have his own apartment. It's nice...
...But the view is no twinkling, glittery Boston from floor-to-ceiling windows. And she thinks that should be bad enough.
...then she remembers what Miami Nights are supposed to mean-- were supposed to mean.
Saltwater, and hibiscus-scented gardens, and lavish, shimmery gowns that make his dark gaze rake over her again and again and again--
His touch. If touch could convey disbelief, it would be in the way he brushes the skin at her sternum when no one's looking, all the way down to where the plunging dip of her bathing suit's neckline ends.
It's nice. It's welcomed. There's always room to want more of Álvaro ... it was always her favourite part about him.
And then it's her birthday and she needs no fuss, pleads for no nothing but her favourite things. Her mother's cooking and maybe a cake.
Yet... there is a black dress waiting for her on his bed. Long, sheath-fitted and diamonds that wink at her in the light of his room. Reminds her of dappled sunlight, sparkling on the waters of Key West.
It feels silly and extravagant, and it's no birthday like she's ever had. A flash of cameras and she's told it'll be all over the society pages by the morning and online before she can even cut the cake (five tiers, coloured her favourite shade of blue).
But she has no appetite...she breaks away from the revelry and glitz, and pulls out her phone....
Pulls out her phone and stares into the darkness, the light of her screen dancing on her face, white light bouncing off the diamonds resting cold on her chest.
She swipes a wet spot on the display, not noticing the way a tear had slipped through and landed on her phone.
--Calling.
In a panic she cancels the call, heart thrumming loudly in her ears as her breathing picks up. She's flushed warm with dread all over as the call log screen comes up with proof of her (accidental) outgoing call.
Shit.
It should come as no surprise, after celebrations are over and she's a year and two days older, as she's making her way home (well, her parents' home) to find him sitting on her patio.
It really should come as no surprise.
But it is. So much so she nearly drives onto the curb when she notices him. So much so her legs wobble a little as she steps out of her mother's car.
It's him. Definitely him. And this is not one of her less haunting dreams.
Because he's always so much better in person than those long, sweet dreams. The ones she hits snooze on her phone twice in a row until she loses it. Slips out of her grip. Loses sight of the last trace of where they left off.
The way he stands up at her arrival, his hands tucked into jeans' pockets, makes her mouth dry. That unforgettable look in his piercing gaze (and, yes, they still see right through her) makes her heart unrecognizably double-time.
Summary: Ethan and Mariana head south of Italy for a holiday getaway, and.. enjoy themselves…a lot.
Rating: very E.
Warning: Explicit sexual content throughout, it is scene after scene…and i talk about the sun too much. !!
Only 18+, dni if you are not, you will be blocked !!
Word Count: ~7k, shh..
Note: well it’s here— if it flops i’m nuking my blog and picking up like…idk… farming. enjoy the smut. Also, yeah, I did spend too many hours piecing together rooms and landscapes of villas online for the setting in my head.
[read it on Ao3 if the app keeps crashing]
–
Golden.
He’s golden underneath the unyielding Sicilian sun, summer skies stretching illimitably clear and blue.
She watches the muscles on the broad expanse of his back relax and contract. His arms and hands are strong — rising, falling, and slicing through the water as he propels himself forward again and again.
Every morning she counts his laps. Every morning since the first day they arrived.
It’s quickly become her favourite pastime: perching herself on a deck chair under the villa’s cool shade, forgotten magazine on her lap while her eyes rove greedily over Ethan.
I wanted Mariana's book to be short essays about interpersonal relationships with patients, and what clinicians could learn going about social care post-diagnosis.
I envisioned the book to be a bit lighter, using her headass ways/wit to relate her experiences to others. I hc it would be extremely popular among interns and medical students wanting to get into internal medicine. Almost like a positive (but written with a physician-oriented audience in mind) This Is Going To Hurt by Adam Kay.
Also, thought it would be fun to edit the book as a beloved, worn-out copy that's been passed from hand to hand among residents (because books be expensive). I love a Canva edit...
P.S.: Of course, I had to bring up the science fair prize she won referenced in the Calor de Hogar fic.
(this is so long sorry) But thank you, Bree, for creating such a wonderful event to get everyone involved and learn more about their MCs. I have so much to catch up on, but this event is by far my favorite part of logging back on!
Summary: Calor de hogar [ kalor ðe oɣ̞ar]: the warmth of home.
In which Ethan and Mariana head south for her cousin’s wedding…but before that, he has to meet her family.
Warnings: Intense homesickness and they gib kith.
Note: This is sort of a companion piece to a two-part series. Very self-indulgent. Translations are at the end of the story in a * glossary but you won’t really need ‘em.
Dedicated to anyone who’s ever felt homesick.
–
“Do you know how expensive your textbook is?”
It’s the first thing her father says to Ethan when they meet, hands clasped in a friendly yet firm handshake.
And although Ernesto Esquivel says it with a grin, so wide it creates deeper lines at the corners of his eyes, the unexpected question floors Ethan.
He opens and closes his mouth, completely at a loss for words while Mariana runs interference. She scolds her father before pleading Ylette Esquivel for assistance.
It doesn’t help that Ethan has been on the verge of breaking out into a cold sweat whenever he realised the date for their flight drew nearer. Mariana, on the other hand, practically vibrated with excitement from the moment they booked their tickets to the second the wheels touched down on the hot tarmac in Miami.
As promised, here’s a sneak peek into the first chapter of my What If series. I was planning to post it on Sunday, but Sunday may actually become the day when I finally publish Scar Tissue…oops.
Love Is a Laserquest
What if Ethan and Tiffany were both interns fighting for the spot in Naveen’s DT?
„You’re going to want me, Ramsey.”
It comes as a warning more than a threat, but he can’t miss the hint of a vindictive smile dancing in the corners of her mouth, proving she’s more than able to destroy him with just a simple movement of those lush lips.
„Not in some rom-com type of way. You’re going to want me. You’re going to beg for me the way a dog begs for a snack. You’re going to need me like a drink after the graveyard shift. And I’d rather lose the contest than let a privileged asshole like you anywhere near me.”
For a second he believes her. He almost gives in, staring into those hypnotizing emerald eyes, soaking in her charm and confidence blended into the most infuriating combination he’s ever encountered.
With a dismissive peek at his watch, Ethan takes a sip of his whiskey, letting his indifference paint Tiffany’s cheeks alarm-red with fury. He waits one, two, three more seconds, then turns to her again as if he’s just acknowledged her presence. „Are you done embarrassing yourself, Addams?”
„Yes, I’m done.” She scoffs, her eyes drilling through his skull. „It’s your turn now.”
OH MY GOD!! OH MY GOD!!!! I NEED IT BAD BAD BAD!!! This entire exchange is so hot, the dynamic here as two residents on the (near-same) playing field is.... HO HO HO an enemies to lovers that is scrumdiddlyumptious.
