#when i tell you maria's townhouse is odd

[shadow-assassin-blix]

Nothin’ Holdin’ Me Back

Santiago “Pope” Garcia x Reader

The last of the Shawn Mendes song fics. Will be working on new set soon. Um. Let’s see. Warnings.... insecurities? I guess. 

Everything tag list: @mikeisthricedeceased​

Oscar Tag: @m-1234 

I wanna follow where she goes

I think about her and she knows it

Santi woke up to an incoming text. He smirked when he saw the name, ‘Daiquiri.’ He opened the text to see it was a message asking him to come over and that she was lonely.

He chuckled at her message. He had been seeing her for a few weeks. He had met her at a bar a while back. All she drank was frozen Daiquiris because that’s the only drink she liked. After several drinks, the both of them had stumbled back to his place. It might not have been the best experience for both of them, but the next several times certainly made up for it.

He got dressed, brushed his teeth, and after making sure he had his keys, wallet, and phone, he was gone. She lived only a couple blocks from him, so he simply walked over to her place. He had a skip in his step, as he went up the stairs to her townhouse. He knocked on the door, waiting with a smirk.

It took her a moment to answer, and she looked frazzled.

“Hi. I’m sorry. We’re… this… My home is throwing a hissy fit, and apparently wanted a pool,” She complained, glancing back toward her kitchen with a groan.

“I’m sorry. I wasted your time,” She apologized with a small sigh, looking down.

Santi sighed softly, lifting her chin back up. “Tell me what happened?”

I wanna let her take control

'Cause everytime that she gets close, yeah

Just like that, their usual get togethers became something more. Soon, he was over to help her fix random stuff. Or he saw these flowers and they reminded him of her.

She wasn’t going to complain. She enjoyed spending more time with him. He always knew how to brighten her day with small, simple gestures. She was beginning to love just seeing him randomly, and not just for sex.

Sometimes he would come over just to talk. He often has nightmares about the incident in Colombia and just wants someone who will listen without judgment. She liked that he would confide in her. It made her feel like he trusted her.

One night, it was about 3am when he called. She had gone to answer it, but he hung up before she could. She stared at her phone, after trying to call him back twice with no success. She laid gnawing on her lip in worry. She decided to just go to him.

She got up threw on some sweats and a cardigan, hopping into her car and driving over to his place. She stepped up to his house and knocked. Waiting. Soon enough he answered the door.

She looked him over, spying the sweat on his face, and how worn out he appeared.

She simply pushed past him, taking his hand into hers, once he closed the door again, and led him back to him his room. She laid down, pulling him with her, and making him lay down. He situated himself, lying on top of her, his head resting on her chest. He sighed once, before holding her to him tightly. She ran her fingers through his hair, lulling him back to sleep.

She says that she's never afraid

Just picture everybody naked

After that night, they hardly left each other’s side. Besides work, they would often have dinner with each other, or would just spend the day together on a weekend. There were some evenings where they would go and hang out with friends, but they always missed one another.

Santi was tempted to introduce her to the guys but wasn’t sure if he was ready for it. His team were his family, and he didn’t want to risk them hating each other for whatever reason. On a deeper level… was he ready for that? Was he ready for her to see him entirely? That level of commitment that he has never shown before?

It scared him a bit. He knew that he really liked her. Hell, he would even go as far say that he loved her. But did he really? He’s never known love before. He’s never been with a girl long enough to get to that point (or ever wanted to get that close).

One night, he came over and wanted to talk some things out. He forgot however, that she had her girlfriends over for a girl’s night in. So, when he knocked on the door, he wasn’t prepared for all the giggles and laughter he heard, as she opened the door.

“Santi? Hi. Why are you here baby?” She asked him with a smile, slight concern in her eyes.

“Oh. Sorry. I forgot tonight was girl’s night. I just wanted to talk about some stuff. It can… wait. I’ll let you get back to... everything,” He tried to backtrack, wincing slightly.

“Um. Before you go… would you… would you like to meet them? They seem to be under the impression that I made you up,” She mock whispered to him.

He chuckled at that, and said, “If it doesn’t bother you or them, sure. Why not?”

A few minutes later he met her three best friends who all made vague threats to castrate and murder him, if he ‘shattered their best friend’s heart.’

He figured if she was okay with him meeting her best friends, it was time for her to meet his.

She really doesn't like to wait

Not really into hesitation

A week later, she was strolling into a bar, looking for Santi and his friends. She spotted them, and quietly analyzed the group that was with him. There were 3 men, and a woman who had a small baby with her. All 3 men were tall, and well built. Two were blue eyed but one was blonde, the other brunette. The third was tan, with dark hair and eyes. He was currently making faces at the baby trying to get her to laugh.

She slowly made her way over to them, even though she felt like she was interrupting them.

Santi turned his head and spotted her, a smile breaking out on his face as he beckoned her over. She shyly walked up to him, kissing him on the cheek. He introduced to her everyone and pulled out her chair when she went to go sit next to him. He called her by her nickname Daiquiri which made her laugh a bit.

She was quiet for most of dinner, mainly because they made her nervous. She was afraid of saying something and them taking it poorly or something. She wanted them to like her; these were the most important people in his life.

Halfway through the guys got up to go play a round of pool, and she was left with Maria, Frankie’s girl, and their baby, Isobel.

“You can relax around them you know?” Maria softly tells her once they were away.

“I… I’m having a hard time doing so” She admitted, feeling slightly defeated.

“I understand. I was the same way when I first met them too. They have like a hive mind, and inside jokes that I still don’t understand. But they are all genuinely nice guys, so breathe. Loosen up,” Maria assured her, shaking her teasingly. “Here. Hold Isobel for a moment, I gotta go to the bathroom.”

Maria hands her the baby, as she stood up and the walked away. She stares at the baby concerned for a moment, gently adjusting her in her arms. She sighed softly, looking down at her. Isobel giggled at her, as she grabbed a lock of her hair.

“Oh? You like my hair? Please don’t tug on it, princess. I know. It’s very tempting, but ow,” She winced slightly as Isobel gave it a sharp tugged.

She gently untangled her hair from the teeny tiny fist with baby hulk strength. Once her hair was free, she simply just started talking to her. Isobel watched her with an odd look of awe as she spoke, and soon fell asleep in her arms. She didn’t know quite what to do, so she just stayed there, somewhat rocking her.

When Maria returned, she was pleasantly surprised to see that Isobel was asleep, and helped Daiquiri lay her gently into her baby carrier.

She looked up to see what the guys were doing and wished she hadn’t immediately. A pretty young girl, was standing next to Santi, heavily flirting with him, and he… from the looks of it… wasn’t ignoring her advances. In fact, he looked a lot like the night they first met: leaning to the side, a hand in his pocket, and a smirk on his face.

She bit her lip. She wasn’t quite sure what to do. They never really said they were exclusive. Never really spoke about what they were to one another. She looked down, not wanting to watch anymore. She just quietly pulled out some cash, to pay for her meal and tip, before quickly leaving. If she had been paying attention, she would have noticed that the girl who was over with Santi, had walked away from him, frowning.

Pulls me in enough to keep me guessing, whoa

And maybe I should stop and start confessing

Santi hadn’t realized what had happened. All he knew was after he and Frankie won their game, he looked over to where Daiquiri had been and sees she was no longer there.

Maria, however, was and she was frowning deeply at him. He made his way over to her, and asked, “Where did she go?”

“Probably home. Since you seemed to have a grand ol’ time with malibu barbie over there,” Maria informed him with slight disgust.

“Malib- what are you talking about? I told her she was too young for me, and that I had a girlfriend?” He defended.

“That’s not how it looked from here,” Maria tells him with a sigh.

“Shit. What do I do? I… I’m in love with this girl Maria,” He begged her, stressing, running a hand through his hair worriedly.

“Go. After. Her.” Maria explained slowly.

Santi nodded, quickly paying for his tab and rushing out. He was freaking out on the drive to her place. He didn’t know what to say or do to make this right. He just knew that what she saw wasn’t what it seemed.

He quickly parked in front of her house, and rushed up to the door, knocking.

He heard a slight shuffling, before the door opened slightly.

“What Santi?” She asked, her voice cracking, as she stood there, not even opening the door wide enough for him to see her.

“Can we… can we please talk? I swear. I wasn’t flirting with that girl. I was telling her I had a girl,” Santi desperately tried to plead.

She snorted lightly, not quite believing him.

“You don’t have to explain. It’s not like we…” Her voice faltered for a moment. “It’s not like we said we were exclusive. So. Technically you’re perfectly allowed to do whatever you want.”

“Baby… that’s not… that’s.. I..” He didn’t know what to say to that.

“Look. I’m tired. Um. I just want to go to bed right now. We can… talk later… or something,” She told him as she closed the door.

Confessing, yeah

'Cause if we lost our minds and we took it way too far

I know we'd be alright, I know we would be alright

A talk… that she kept avoiding. She wanted to talk to him, but then her mind would think up all the reasons why she shouldn’t bother.

‘You weren’t exclusive.’

‘This was just a friends with benefits thing.’

‘You didn’t mean anything to him.’

‘He’s known for not settling down with one chick.’

‘Why would he settle down with you?’

The last thought, in particular, was the main reason why she’s been avoiding him. She knew the moment she met him that he wasn’t the type for commitment. But for a while there, she let herself hope. She really thought that maybe he had changed.

So, she avoided his calls and texts. She avoided his knocks on her door at all hours. Some of her friends wanted to go and beat him up for hurting her. She told him to let it go, that she was the idiot who fell in love with him.

Her best friend, however, had a different thought. One night, she came over to talk.

“Okay. Imma say something. I want you to listen to me for a moment. If you truly meant nothing to him, why is he blowing up your phone left and right? Why is he trying to talk to you constantly to explain?” Amanda, her friend, questioned.

She didn’t know what to say to that.

“Go. Talk. To. Him. Let him explain fully what happened. If nothing did, then fucking move on. You are miserable, so go. To. Him,” Amanda stated firmly, pulling her to the door. “I’m locking you out of your own house, bye.”

Amanda shoved her out, and she heard the lock turn.

“I hate you!” She shouted at her through the door.

“Love you too. Go fix things with your man!” Amanda called back.

She made the awkward stroll over to Santi’s place, shivering because it was chilly out and she had no jacket.

When she stood in front of his door, she bit her lip, fidgeting with her hands.

She slowly reached up and knocked.

If you were by my side and we stumbled in the dark

I know we'd be alright, I know we would be alright

Santi… was not doing okay. He hadn’t realized it, but she had become his anchor. She grounded him when the days or nights got rough. It had only been a few days, but he was struggling. He was having a hard time sleeping.

His head jerked up when he heard the knocking. Thinking it was one of the guys, he sighed loudly, getting up from the couch and answering it.

He was surprised when he sees her there instead.

“Hi,” She whispered.

He looked her over, noticing her eyes were puffy from crying and she was slightly shivering.

“Did… did you walk over here? Honey. It’s 34 degrees out! Get inside,” He stated, pulling her in, rubbing her arms with his hands.

“Amanda. L-locked me out. T-told me to come t-talk to you finally,” She slightly stuttered out, as she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to warm up.

“Did Amanda think to check the current temperature before doing this? C’mon. C’mere.” He beckoned leading her to the couch where he threw one of the several blankets she brought over on various dates, around her shoulders.

He went into his kitchen and quickly made her a cup of hot chocolate, bringing it over to her gently. She took it from him, the warmth of the mug, immediately taking the chill from her hands. He sat next to her, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close.

It took some time, but soon enough her shivering had subsided.

“I wasn’t flirting with that chick. I swear. I almost lost that game of pool, because I kept watching you. Seeing you hold Isobel… drove me crazy. I never thought about that kind of stuff before…” He quietly explained to her.

“I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions, I should have… let you explain. I… I just… figured… you were bored of me or something…” She mumbled back, sniffling slightly.

“Nah. I… I’m crazy for you baby. I can’t imagine being with anyone else. I… I love you,” He whispered pressing a kiss to her head.

I know we'd be alright, we would be alright

Oh, I've been shaking

She felt her breath catch as he confessed that. She could feel her lip tremble and tears well up in her eyes. She wasn’t expecting that.

“You don’t have to say it back just yet. I just want you to know… you’re it for me. I don’t want anyone else. No one else can compare to you,” He said sweetly.

She bit her lip and nodding her head slightly. She slowly finished her drink and Santi set the empty cup into the sink, rinsing it out. She got up and walked over to him. She stood behind him, and slowly wrapped her arms around him, resting her face against his back.

She raised herself to her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the small scar at his neck. She felt him shiver slightly at the sensation. He slowly turned around to her, his arms going around her waist.

“Umm. Would… would you like to stay the night?” He asked her hesitantly.

She nodded her head. She bit her lip for a moment, before going back onto her tiptoes and pressing a kiss to his lips.

He kissed her back, his hands moving down to her thighs.

“Jump,” He muttered against her lips.

She does so, and he catches her, walking the two of them up to his bedroom.

I love it when you go crazy

You take all my inhibitions

It took some time, but the two of them got back to normal routine. They had a long conversation together, which ended in him officially stating that he was hers, and she was his.

Santi realized from that conversation that meeting all of the guys, was a little intimidating. So, he tried again, but one at a time. Frankie and her immediately hit it off, especially when Isobel recognized her and got very excited.

Will was a bit more cautious but soon they were having conversation about dominos and fidget spinners and weird traps. They are now planning a whole elaborate chain reaction of dominoes.

Benny was overactive and excitable, but she got used to it fairly quickly. He was a bit like a overgrown puppy in her words.

Soon enough, they were going out with the whole group. One night, they had gone out with the whole gang and were playing a game of darts. The guys for all their military know-how, were awful. She kept laughing at all of them when they would try to go for the bullseye and failed.

Santi dared her, “You try then.”

She took the darts from him and tossed all three into the bullseye with ease.

Santi stared at her in awe, “How?”

“A lady never reveals her secrets,” She teased moving away from him.

He chased after her, grabbing her and tickling her. Her laughter was high pitched and infectious.

When she finally got over her giggles, she said something that he wasn’t expecting.

“I love you,” She said breathless.

Santi couldn’t stop smiling all night. He wasn’t sure what the future held in store for him, but he knew one thing: he had the love of his life by his side.

Baby, there's nothing holdin' me back

You take me places that tear up my reputation

Manipulate my decisions

Baby, there's nothing holdin' me back (oh whoa)

[carmichealroyals]

WINTERVEN PALACE, WILLIAM’S BEDROOM, 7:34AM (Listen)

------------------------------------------------------------

They had put him on heavy sedatives for the plane journey from Krasnoyarsk’s southern border to his home -- the doctors had warned him that the journey would be long, and it would be better for him to rest as much as possible so that his body would heal as much as it was able to faster. He’d agreed because he had been left with no other choice -- he’d heard the reports of aircrafts carrying royalty being shot down as of late and had protested against air travel, but once it had been confirmed that it was the only way, William had been left with no choice. 

His sleep had been dreamless, save for faint flashes of the memories he tried so hard to push down. The battlefield, littered with dirt and debris and the occasional body, catching a glimpse of Ted, who was as close to him as any brother now, who was about to step into a wire he didn’t see, running to tackle him and save him, make sure Mary had a brother to welcome home, and the ringing in his ears of the explosion followed by pain, burning pain in his legs--

He wakes then, eyes blinking open to look at the all-too familiar ceiling of his chambers in the Winterven Palace. Not his townhouse in the university quarter. Home. It brings a strange sort of comfort, to sleep in this bed that has molded to the shape of his body and has not forgotten him. Focusing on those details are a way to slow his heart. Regain focus. 

That is, until, he looks down at the odd weight against his left hand, and sees that its Maria, asleep, using his hand as a pillow. How long had she been there? Judging from the sunlight coming in, it was early morning, so he must have gotten in last night... and she had stayed by his side to make sure he was all right. He thinks it best not to pull his hand away right away, but he does clear his throat. It is dry from disuse, a little rough around the edges. “Maria...”

It takes another try or two to get her to wake, but when she does seem to finally stir for good, William tries to sit up. That’s his first mistake. Pain shoots through his torso, makes it hard to breathe for a second. He seethes, trying to grit through the pain. “William? Don’t hurt yourself--”

“Bit late for that one, darling.” He chuckles as the pain subsides and finally gets a good look at her. Her hair is longer than the last time he saw her, just a little, but her gaze is still the same. Contemplative, curious, compassionate. Always making sure others were looked after over herself. “I told you I’d come back in one piece. I’m a man of my word, after all.” 

“I was so worried -- when we heard the report that you had been injured, we -- I thought--” Maria is lost for words. For months, since he was last home on leave (when even was that? Not since Winterfest at least, and even then that was just for a day before he had to go again), she had worried about his safety, especially with things getting more and more serious on all the fronts. When she had heard that he had been so hurt in defending her cousin, and that the Simovian Prince-Consort had died in the same battle, she had feared the worst. What if he wouldn’t come home again? What if those last, golden twenty-four hours were the last time she would ever get to see him? 

“What, that you were rid of me for good? Not that easily, I’m afraid. Us Carmicheals, we’re stubborn stock.” She can tell when he’s being performative, trying to play something off as not a big deal when it was, in fact, a very big deal. War hasn’t changed him at all -- at least, not in that regard. 

“I’ve noticed.” She says this with a small laugh at his smug smile, one that is more likely than not through a decent amount of pain. “How... how are you?”

William sighs. “I’ve been better. Being nearly blown up isn’t exactly how I’d seen myself getting discharged... but I’m home now. That’s what matters, yeah?” 

Without another word, Maria wraps her arms around William as tightly as she dares, not wanting to go another minute without his arms around her -- not when she had come so close to losing him. “I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again.” William hates how he hears her voice crack ever so slightly. 

“Maria...” He gently hugs her back, looping his fingers into her hair as he pulls her tighter. It hurts, of course, but then again everything does right now. Besides, this was the good kind of hurt, and remedies the aching he had felt in his chest ever since he’d left again after Winterfest and noticed the small, subtle ring on her finger. Now, the thought of that makes his heart twist in a different way. 

“You don’t have to stay, you know.” At his words, Maria freezes. She knows he doesn’t just mean staying with them, in the Winden Territories, so far from home. “When we had talked about marriage, it had been when I was... when I was whole. I don’t know when I’ll be able to walk again, if ever, after this. I’m not the man you agreed to marry, and you.... you, my darling, deserve nothing but perfection. That’s not me. Not anymore.” 

He lets her pull away slightly so she can look at him, confusion in her gaze. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying...” He takes a deep breath, hesitating for a moment. “I’m saying that if you want to walk away from this, from me... you can. I’m not going to tie you down to a cripple when there are plenty of better options out there--”

“William Vincent Charles Edmund, don’t you dare talk like that to me. We have been through hell and back and made it out on the other side together, and you’re telling me to walk away from it?”

“Well, I’m not telling you, I’m saying you have the option--”

“Why would you ever think such a thing, you foolish man? I would take you if you were in a wheelchair or had to use a cane for the rest of your life. I would take you if you had to lose one of your legs, and I would marry you right now if you were in worse shape. The only way I wouldn’t take you is if you came home in a coffin, and even then I would mourn you like a widow.”

“Maria....”

“The thought of us getting to be together is the only thing that got me through this, William. Knowing that you would come home, that this would end, and we would get our chance at a life together. I’m not afraid. I know who I’m marrying, and I plan to support you no matter what.”

“But our engagement--”

“The official announcement can wait until you’re better. Whenever you’re ready to announce it, we can. I don’t care how long we have to wait. As long as I get to be with you, it will be worth it.”

“Are... are you serious?”

She places a hand on his cheek, one that snakes into his loose hair. It’s grown out since he’s been gone, and with the lack of product, the natural curls are beginning to show. Maria looks this man, the man she loves no matter what, in the eye as she speaks. 

“I have never been more serious about something in my life.” 

@krasnoyarsk-nobility​

[slunatic]

I'm here with a sneak peek/early chapter of my next fanfic. The link above will take you to the early chapter on my Patreon. Consider becoming a patron for early chapters to my work (also some exclusive stuff). I'm dipping my toe into the Hamilton fandom. This story is the first part in a three part series. I hope you like it. The chapter will be posted on Ao3 and FFN on Tuesday.

Chapter 2: Dreamlike Candlelight. Angelica and Maria manage to fall into domestic bliss, but Angelica knows it’s just a fantasy. 

Chapter 3: Set That Aside. A letter arrives that pops the little domestic bubble around the ladies.

Chapter 4: By Your Side. Angelica confronts James Reynolds. She then takes Maria to see Alexander for legal help to get James Reynolds out of their lives. 

Chapter 5: Trusting (last chapter). Angelica and Maria attend a dinner party at the Hamilton house. Angelica comes out to Peggy and she meets Maria.

Preview of untitled sequel to Be Satisfied. This is just a rough draft chapter for the sequel, but feel free to check it out and leave me suggestions on what you would like to see in the sequel. Preview:

“May I help you?” Angelica asked in a very polite tone. It took all of her self-control to keep her face from betraying her. Her expression always telegraphed her thoughts. No reason to be upset. This could be perfectly innocent.

The young woman opened her mouth to speak, but said nothing. Her brow wrinkled as her eyes fell to the floor, like she had to think of something. “I’m sorry to bother you. My name is Maria Reynolds. I was hoping to speak with Alexander Hamilton.”

“He’s not here right now,” Angelica replied. Maria twisted her fingers, like she was full of nervous energy. Angelica took a breath to keep from craning an eyebrow or giving an intense stare. “Do you need legal help?” There might be a very rational explanation for the young woman’s presence if she ever managed to get it out.

Maria glanced away, her face pinched. “I’m not sure. A friend recommended I come see Mister Hamilton.”

And there went her eyebrow. “Well, why did that friend say so?” This still seems pretty sketchy. What’s going on?

Maria took a breath. “After I mentioned my husband abandoned me.”

Possibly a divorce then. All right, Alexander, you’re safe for now. “I’m sorry to hear that. Are you looking for separation advice?” Angelica had plenty of that, especially considering the last few months of her life.

The young woman’s face scrunched up and her eyes glistened. She would look cute if she was not so distressed. The red dress she had on was at odds with her behavior, though. It screamed seduction. Something did not add up here, which pulled Angelica in. Time to learn more.

“My name is Angelica Schuyler. Maybe I can help. I don’t practice divorce law.” Neither did Alexander, but that did not seem important right now. “But, maybe some advice. You can step inside if you want and tell me more of your predicament.” Now, there was an option to leave and save face or travel further down the rabbit hole.

Maria messed with her fingers a little more and braved a whole new world by stepping into the townhouse. Curiouser and curiouser. Maria looked around the foyer and beyond, awe written on her face as Angelica closed the door behind her.

“So, if this isn’t about a divorce, what is it about?” Angelica asked. It could not be about a divorce if Maria came in. Angelica let her know she did not practice divorce law and Alexander was not there.

Maria turned to Angelica and she could see the wheels spinning. Maybe she was making up a story or maybe she did not know where to begin. Angelica would listen to the story before she judged, but her instincts and warning bells were all going off.

“I’m sorry to bother you with this,” Maria said and Angelica half-expected her to run from the entry. Instead, she continued. “My friend said Alexander Hamilton was a man of honor and I didn’t mean to come to his home, but I didn’t know where else to go. I just didn’t know what else to do. I don’t have anything since my husband left. Not that he was a great guy in the first place. He’s always mistreated me. He’s even beaten me. He might be off with another woman and he took all of my money. I don’t have anything.”

Angelica could not see why this would bring her to Alexander’s door. She did not have to be top of her class to know this was a scheme. “I’m sorry to hear that. Are you sure you don’t want a divorce?” That was honestly the only decent explanation for the visit and Maria refused to grasp at the lifeline Angelica kept throwing her. Looked like she would rather dig the hole.

Maria shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t even know how I’m going to make rent without him. Or even how I’m going to eat in the next few days.”

Again, what does any of this have to do with being at Alexander’s house late at night? Angelica had to find out. “Well, I could give you some money.” That seemed to be the goal, but why did she pick Alexander for this? She claimed she did not know him, but was comfortable enough with possibly asking him for money? I might still have to curse him out, if not for having seductresses show up in the middle of the night than obviously for handing out money too freely where any person with working knowledge of his home could come and ask for some.

Her eyes sparkled. “Are you sure? I’ll pay you back!”

“I’m sure you will.” She highly doubted it, but that would probably put an end to whatever this was. “Let me go get it.” There had to be some cash lying around. She would pay Alexander and Eliza back. “Don’t move.”

Maria held her hands up. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Angelica stepped away in search of cash. It took no time. Eliza hid money in the same spots all the time, even when she was younger. She returned to Maria exactly where she left her. Angelica handed her roughly seven hundred dollars.

“Should I call you a car?” Angelica asked. Again, whatever helped end all of this sooner. She had to assume with money in hand Maria was ready to get out here and she could give Alexander a call to ask him about whatever this was.

Maria shook her head as she clutched the bills tightly in her fist. “No, I just live a block away.”

“Really?” And there went Angelica’s eyebrow, arched all the way up. That could explain her turning up at Alexander’s door at such an odd hour. She might have been watching Alexander and knew he had money. It was still strange and could be a lie. Well, now I want to know more, damn it. “Then let me walk you home.”

[bountyofbeads]

The Sisters Who First Tried to Take Down Jeffrey Epstein https://www.nytimes.com/2019/08/26/us/epstein-farmer-sisters-maxwell.html

"She said she met Donald Trump one day in Mr. Epstein’s office, recalling Mr. Trump eyeing her before Mr. Epstein informed him that “she’s not for you.” Farmer’s mother recalled her daughter detailing the interaction w Trump around the time it occurred."

The Sisters Who First Tried to Take Down Jeffrey Epstein

Nine years before any police investigation, Maria and Annie Farmer reported the troubling behavior of Jeffrey Epstein and his companion, Ghislaine Maxwell. No one would act.

By Mike Baker | Published August 26, 2019 Updated 9:00 a.m. ET | New York Times | Posted August 26, 2019 11:27 AM ET |

As more women have come forward in recent days to describe assaults at the hands of Jeffrey Epstein, Maria Farmer finds herself distraught, wondering what might have happened if someone had taken her seriously.

Twenty-four years ago, Ms. Farmer was an artist who had entered the unorthodox life Mr. Epstein lived behind the doors of his luxury estates. Mr. Epstein had offered to help her painting career, but it all came to an abrupt end one night in the summer of 1996, when she says Mr. Epstein and his companion, Ghislaine Maxwell, began violently groping her.

She learned later that her 16-year-old sister, Annie Farmer, had been subjected to a troubling topless massage at Mr. Epstein’s ranch in New Mexico.

Ms. Farmer contacted the New York Police Department, and said she then went to the Federal Bureau of Investigation, offering to share what she knew about Mr. Epstein and the parade of young women being brought to Mr. Epstein’s houses. Though the bureau has never acknowledged such a contact, Ms. Farmer said the F.B.I. must have had a record of it, because agents came back to her — years later — with questions. She also went to leaders in the New York art world that Mr. Epstein and Ms. Maxwell frequented, and the sisters tried to tell their story to a national magazine.

In each case, their reports went nowhere.

Finally, facing what she said were threats as a result of the sisters’ claims, Ms. Farmer abandoned her New York art career and stopped painting altogether.

“I did not want another young lady to go through what Annie went through,” Maria Farmer said in a recent interview. “I could handle what happened to me. I could not handle what happened to her.”

Mr. Epstein would continue to lure vulnerable girls into his predatory circle for another nine years before investigators began diving deep into his world. After being arrested on federal charges of sex trafficking of minors in New York and Florida, Mr. Epstein died earlier this month in what the authorities said was an apparent suicide.

[Listen to The Daily episode on the Farmer sisters and Jeffrey Epstein]

Other women have come forward in recent years with more serious claims of rape and child abuse against Mr. Epstein, but the Farmer sisters’ reports — made 23 years ago — are the earliest known allegations about Mr. Epstein’s troubling physical contact with girls and young women. In their detailed accounts, told here for the first time, they offer a glimpse of how Mr. Epstein managed to avoid significant scrutiny for years, even as concerns about his conduct began to pile up.

Ms. Farmer said that she feels guilty about having brought her sister into Mr. Epstein’s orbit. She mourns the victims who came after her, she said, her voice cracking each time she mentioned the name of one of them. She has spent years trying to live in seclusion.

The First Meeting

Ms. Farmer moved to New York in 1993, eager to pursue her passion for art, and enrolled at the New York Academy of Art.

She already had a specialty, exploring figures of nudes and adolescents, and had a chance to train under one of her idols, the painter and sculptor Eric Fischl. One of her paintings was done in a voyeuristic style, showing a man in the frame of a doorway looking at a woman on a sofa — a painting she said was inspired by Edgar Degas’ famous piece, “Interior,” which is sometimes known as “The Rape.”

At a gallery show for her graduation, Ms. Farmer said, the dean of the academy, Eileen Guggenheim, introduced her to Mr. Epstein and Ms. Maxwell, and told her to sell them the painting with the man in the doorway at a discount. (Ms. Guggenheim said she did not recall such an interaction.)

Afterward, Ms. Farmer said, Mr. Epstein called her to offer her a job acquiring art on his behalf, and later managing the entrance to a townhouse he was renovating.

There, at the age of 25, she was introduced to Mr. Epstein’s odd life, with girls and young women coming through for what she recalled Ms. Maxwell describing as modeling auditions for the lingerie retailer Victoria’s Secret. The house at times bustled in anticipation of potential visits from Bill Clinton, although she never actually saw him there.

She said she met Donald Trump one day in Mr. Epstein’s office, recalling Mr. Trump eyeing her before Mr. Epstein informed him that “she’s not for you.” Ms. Farmer’s mother, Janice Swain, recalled her daughter detailing the interaction with Mr. Trump around the time it occurred.

Both Mr. Clinton and Mr. Trump have acknowledged knowing Mr. Epstein, with Mr. Clinton denying knowledge of anything improper and Mr. Trump saying he was “not a fan” of Mr. Epstein.

Ms. Maxwell was charming and friendly, Ms. Farmer said, and as Mr. Epstein’s companion, she offered young women a level of assurance that they were safe in his presence. But she also seemed to play an important role in bringing young women in, Ms. Farmer said, recalling that Ms. Maxwell would leave the house saying, “I’ve got to go get girls for Jeffrey.”

Ms. Maxwell would refer to the girls she was looking for as “nubiles,” Ms. Farmer said. “They had a driver, and he would be driving along, and Ghislaine would say, ‘Get that girl,’” she said. “And they’d stop, and she’d run out and get the girl and talk to her.”

Lawyers for Ms. Maxwell and Mr. Epstein did not respond to requests for comment for this article.

The Younger Sister

One of the girls in whom the couple took an interest was Ms. Farmer’s younger sister, Annie.

Ms. Farmer had mentioned to them that her sister was looking to go to college. Mr. Epstein offered to help, and brought Annie, then 16 years old and living in Arizona, to visit New York.

Annie Farmer said she recalled Mr. Epstein as kind and casual, wearing sweatpants, pouring champagne and talking about her college plans. During the trip, they all went to see a movie. As the film progressed, Mr. Epstein began rubbing Annie’s hand, and then her lower leg, she said.

“It was one of those things that just gave me a weird feeling but wasn’t that weird + probably normal,” Ms. Farmer wrote in a diary entry dated Jan. 25, 1996. “The one thing that kind of weirded me out about it was he let go of my hand when he was talking to Maria.”

Mr. Epstein offered to send Annie Farmer on a trip to Thailand, and invited her to his New Mexico ranch for a weekend. Under the impression that the gathering would include a number of students chaperoned by Ms. Maxwell, Annie’s mother, Ms. Swain, said she allowed Annie to go. But when she arrived in New Mexico, Annie said, it was just her and Mr. Epstein and Ms. Maxwell.

There were more uncomfortable interactions that weekend, she said. She recalled Ms. Maxwell persuading her to give Mr. Epstein a foot massage and then giving pointers as she performed it. They went to another movie, where Mr. Epstein continued another round of his petting touches, she said.

Then, when she woke up in the house one morning, she recalled him coming into the room, saying he wanted to cuddle, and getting into bed next to her.

Ms. Farmer also recalled Ms. Maxwell repeatedly asking whether she wanted a massage. Eventually relenting, Ms. Farmer followed directions by taking off her clothes and bra and getting under a sheet on a massage table. Ms. Maxwell performed the massage, at one point having Ms. Farmer lie on her back as Ms. Maxwell pulled down the sheet to massage her chest.

“I don’t think there was any reason for her to be touching me that way,” Ms. Farmer said.

Mr. Epstein didn’t participate, but Ms. Farmer said she could sense that he was in the area and possibly watching.

The First Reports

At the time, Maria Farmer was unaware of the interactions her younger sister had in New Mexico. She went to Ohio around that time, utilizing Mr. Epstein’s large estate there to focus on her paintings.

Later in the summer, Mr. Epstein and Ms. Maxwell paid a visit. One night, she recalled getting an unusual request: Mr. Epstein needed his feet massaged.

The foot massage was brief and awkward, Ms. Farmer recalled, as Mr. Epstein groaned with what seemed like exaggerated pleasure, followed by a yelp of pain. Then he invited her to sit on the bed, where he was watching a PBS program about math.

Ms. Maxwell joined them on the bed, Ms. Farmer said, and the night took a sudden turn: Both Mr. Epstein and Ms. Maxwell began groping Ms. Farmer over her clothes, rubbing her body, commenting on her features, and twisting her nipples to the point of bruising. She said they did so in unison, mirroring each other’s movements. Fearing that she was about to be raped, Ms. Farmer eventually fled the room and barricaded herself in another part of the house.

She soon discovered that three nude photographs she had kept in a storage box were missing. The photos were of Annie and a third Farmer sister, who was 12, modeling for Maria’s figurative paintings.

Ms. Farmer said she began phoning people in a panic, looking for help. One of the people she reached was her art mentor, Mr. Fischl. In an interview, he recalled Ms. Farmer describing a physical encounter in the bedroom, fear for her sister and outrage about the missing photographs.

“I just kept telling Maria, ‘You’ve got to get out of there. You’ve got to get out of there,’” Mr. Fischl said.

Maria’s father, Frank Farmer, also recalled getting a call. He did not know the specifics of what transpired, but said his daughter was upset enough that he drove to the estate in Ohio from Kentucky to get her.

After speaking with Annie and learning that Annie had had her own troubles with Mr. Epstein and Ms. Maxwell, Maria Farmer said, she returned to New York. She recalled getting a phone call from Ms. Maxwell, saying she planned to burn all of Ms. Farmer’s art and that her career was over. Frightened, Ms. Farmer said she went to a local police precinct to report what had happened to her in Ohio, and about the art.

Officers at the New York Police Department precinct took a report on the purported threat and on the art theft allegation, a copy of which was obtained by The New York Times. But they referred her to other agencies, including the F.B.I., concerning the assault allegation, because Ohio was outside their jurisdiction, Ms. Farmer said.

Ms. Farmer said she telephoned the F.B.I. and spoke for about half an hour with the agent who answered the phone. The agent did not say what would happen with her report, she said. She asked if she should phone other law enforcement officials in individual states, like Ohio and New Mexico, and was told that was “up to you,” she said. She recalled contacting at least one other jurisdiction — she did not remember which — and making no progress.

An F.B.I. spokeswoman declined to comment on whether the agency had a report of such a call from Ms. Farmer in its files.

In recent days, the art collector Stuart Pivar said he recalled running into Ms. Farmer at a flea market around that time, and hearing her discuss serious concerns about Mr. Epstein that she said she had reported to law enforcement.

Ms. Farmer said she also raised her concerns about Mr. Epstein with leaders in the art community, including Ms. Guggenheim, the dean at the art school who had first put her in touch with Mr. Epstein. But she said Ms. Guggenheim did not seem to take the issue seriously. Ms. Guggenheim said in an interview that the details she was aware of at the time did not rise to a level that would require intervention.

The two Farmer sisters made another run at telling their story in 2003 to Vicky Ward, a reporter for Vanity Fair, which had commissioned a story about Mr. Epstein’s complicated finances that would also mention his proclivity for young girls. The article was published with no mention of the Farmers, and they felt they were left badly exposed.

Ms. Ward wrote on her personal blog in 2011 that the article went in a different direction because of “not knowing quite whom to believe.” The editor, Graydon Carter, said in an email that Ms. Ward’s sourcing on the Farmers’ account did not meet the magazine’s legal standards. But Ms. Ward indicated on Twitter recently that she believed Mr. Carter had succumbed to pressure from Mr. Epstein. John Connolly, a former contributing editor at Vanity Fair, said he recalled Mr. Carter talking about the efforts Mr. Epstein had made to influence the article.

When word got out that the sisters had given a detailed interview to the magazine, the angry phone calls to her resumed, Ms. Farmer said.

“Better be careful and watch your back,” she said Ms. Maxwell told her. “She said, ‘I know you go to the West Side Highway all the time. While you’re out there, just be really careful because there are a lot of ways to die there.’”

The Aftermath

Ms. Farmer said the threats led her to abandon her life in the New York art scene, where Mr. Epstein and Ms. Maxwell still held considerable sway. While Annie has moved forward with life, obtaining a Ph.D. and working as a psychotherapist, Ms. Farmer struggled to move past the year she spent with Mr. Epstein. She felt sickened by her own paintings, which she realized Mr. Epstein had apparently appreciated not for their artistic value, but for their depiction of nude forms of girls.

Unable to forget the comments Mr. Epstein and Ms. Maxwell had made about her breasts, Ms. Farmer said she underwent breast reduction surgery.

It wasn’t until 2006, when F.B.I. agents knocked on her door in North Carolina, that Ms. Farmer found renewed hope that Mr. Epstein would be held accountable. New allegations about Mr. Epstein had surfaced the previous year, when a report by a teenager in Florida spurred an extensive investigation that uncovered a wide range of young girls who had been recruited to visit Mr. Epstein’s lavish home in Palm Beach.

Heavily redacted records released by the F.B.I. appear to show handwritten notes from November 2006 interviews with Maria Farmer and Annie Farmer, outlining key details of their stories, including Maria’s visit to the New York police and her referral to the F.B.I.

But though the investigation progressed, a widely criticized plea deal eventually quashed any federal prosecution. To the sisters, the 2008 plea agreement, which allowed Mr. Epstein to plead guilty merely to much less serious state charges, was deeply demoralizing.

Ms. Farmer was starting to put some of it behind her when the latest news about Mr. Epstein began to emerge, and more victims began coming forward. She found herself crying when she saw those accounts, wondering what it would have taken to stop him when she first tried. Though the time for a lawsuit has long passed, she has been working with a lawyer, David Boies, to support other victims of Mr. Epstein.

“Every time I hear one of the girls tell their story, it devastates me,” Ms. Farmer said.

Ms. Farmer, who recently received a diagnosis of a brain tumor, said she still has some fear about coming forward to tell her own story, even after Mr. Epstein’s death. She recently moved to a new home in the South to improve her privacy.

In her new residence, she has laid out an art studio in front of windows that offer a peek-a-boo view of a nearby lake. She has started painting again, for the first time in years, and new pieces are stacked up against the walls.

One day, she said, she will try to bring artistic shape to her experience with Mr. Epstein. But for now, she has been focused on a series of paintings of families and children.

They are not like her earlier paintings, the ones Mr. Epstein liked. All the girls are clothed.