wealthy businessmen

Mine (Jungkook x Reader)

Admin: Mimi

Prompt/Ask: Hello! Could I request a Jungkook smut where he gives you a very rough spanking becuase you obliviously made him jealous. Like it wasn’t on purpose, it was because you are way too innocent and didn’t realize you made him jealous. Please, if you are unconfortable, just let me know and I’ll change my request


Hai!! Could you do a smut with jungkook where he gets jealous of the other members being around/comfortable with you XD make em super possessive during the nasty, love😩💕

Fandom: BTS

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Warnings: spanking, language?, sex (obviously lmao)

Word Count: 3809

Authors Note: Woahh, so this is the first smut I’ve written holy moly (ravioli ravioli give me the formuoli lmao) so I hope this was good enough! I kinda made it CEO!Jungkook, because I drew inspiration from the gif (I could stare at it for days oml halp), and I also combined two asks I got for Jungkook since they were similar. I hope I did my bias justice and wrote a good smut for him lol. Enjoy, as always, and feedback is appreciated! If there are any errors please let me know! Happy reading ^^

Keep reading

Glamour and Danger

BTS Jin and Reader Mafia AU

hello guys! So this is based off of a dream i had recently and i couldn’t get it out of my head. i was thinking about making it into a series if you guys liked it. so let me know if you want to read more.

(As always the gif isn’t mine.)

Originally posted by jinesthetic

“Kim Seokjin, the international businessman, is going home today with an extra 2.5 million dollars in his pocket. Of course, to him 2.5 million is just pocket change to a man like him…” The news anchor on the television droned on and on as you stood in line at the small coffee shop. The line slowly moved forward as everyone around you seemed to be in the same zombie like state as they waited for their caffeine fix.

As you reached the counter, you couldn’t be anymore happier. You ordered you favorite drink and paid as you step aside to wait for it to be made.

“But could we discuss the legality of the deal made? I don’t see how a deal this big is legal.” You looked up the television screen hanging on the wall. There was two news anchors on the screen with a picture of a very handsome man in suit place in the middle. “The government should step in. Mr. Kim Seokjin walked away with an 2.5 million dollars for a deal that - experts are saying - should have only gotten him 500,000 thousands at most.”

“Well, Seokjin is obviously really smart. He played the seller very well. That’s not a crime,” the other anchored argued.

“White mocha latte for Y/N!”

You are snapped back into reality as you walked up to the bar to grab your drink. You gave your thanks to the barista. You glanced down at your phone to check the time,  noticing that your were five minutes behind schedule. You groaned inwardly as you rushed out of the door.

You worked as a secretary at a business office, meaning that you mostly took phone calls and filed paper. Your work was tedious and boring. It didn’t help that your bosses were grumpy old men. But the pay was good enough to afford a nice apartment, so you stuck with the boring 9 to 5.

“Hey there beautiful!”

You looked up to see a dimple smile causing you to smile right back. “Hi Namjoon,” You answered as you hurriedly placed the files in the cabinet. “Did you need my help with anything?” you asked as you walked up to him.

“I just came by to say hello to the prettiest girl in the office,” his hands into the pockets of his suit.

You cheeks warmed a bit, but you knew he meant nothing by his comment. “Well, I’m sure you have some work to do,” you responded as you bit the inside of your cheek. “We wouldn’t want you to get fired for flirting” you joked.

Namjoon chuckled as he patted your head. “Yeah, I should head into the office. Have you heard the rumors?” You shook your head. “The CEO has gotten an offer.”

“He’s selling the company?” you asked with a gasp. “Oh no. What does that mean about our jobs?: you pouted worriedly.

“Don’t worry Y/N. You are the most capable worker here. Without you, the whole company would fall apart.” Namjoon smirked at you. “They would never get rid of you. My job, however, might be in question.”

“Don’t say that!” you scolded. “Ah, I can’t survive the office without you by my side.”

Namjoon sighed. “Let’s hope for the best then. Hey, some of us are getting drinks after work. You should come along.” He glanced at his watch. “Oh, I’m almost late for the meeting. We’re meeting at that new dance club in downtown at 7. Be there, okay?” He gave you a wave before talking off towards his office.

You stumbled out of the cab at around 7:30. You handed the driver some cash before continuing to the door of the club. Namjoon had promised that your name would be on the list so that you didn’t have to wait in line, you only hoped that was true. The line was headed down the block.

As you reached the bouncer, he immediately held his hands out to stop you.

“Where do you think you are going, kitten?” He crossed his arms as he glared down at you. You shrunk against his gaze and managed to choke out that your name was on the list. “And what would your name be, kitten?”

“V. Stop intimidating the girl.” A voice came from behind you. You turned around to see an angelically handsome man behind you. He had a piercing glare in his eyes that made you want the ground to swallow you up, but you notice the glare wasn’t on you.

“Sorry boss,” V had immediately straighten out his posture and his arms were on the side.

The man looked down at you and his glare immediately soften. You breath caught in your voice as he grabs you hand and pulls it to his mouth for a kiss. His face looked vaguely familiar. “Sorry about that, Princess.” He said with a coy smirk. “Some people have to learn better manners.” He placed his hand on the lower side of you back as he led you inside the club.

V hands twitched to stop you, but immediately froze as he was subjected to the mysterious man’s glare once again.

The man guided you straight to the bar. “What would you like to drink, Princess?” he asked. The bartender immediately came to serve you.

“Um…” You hesitated slightly. The whole ordeal feeling a bit odd to you. “I’ll just have a coke.” You decided it was probably best to remain sober around the mysterious man.

He raised his eyebrow at you but made no comment as he ordered his own drink. The bartender brought the drink over to you and you nervously sipped at it. “Thank you um…”

“Oh, excuse me. Where are my manners?” He chuckled. “I’m Jin.”

“Thank you, Jin.” You reiterated. “I should probably find my friends though.” You looked around to make the point as you slid off the stool. “It was nice meeting you, Jin.”

“Sure thing, Princess. Save a dance for me later though,” he smirked at you once again.

“If you can find me in this crowd,” you joked with a chuckle.

His eyes darkened slightly as he stared down at you. “No worries, I’ll find you.”

You shook off the strange feeling of that encounter as you began searching for Namjoon. You finally spot him at the VIP section as he waves you over. You smile as you are greeted with hugs, noticing that they all started drinking already.

“I hope you didn’t have trouble getting in,” Namjoon commented as he pushed a shot towards you. He had a smirk on his face, challenging you.

“Not really, some dude name Jin got me in.”

Your answer caused him to stiffen. Your eyebrows raised at his reaction. He took the shot out of you hands and downed it himself.

“Whoa, what’s up with you?” you asked.

“Nothing’s up,” Namjoon lied through gritted teeth. “Just stay away from that Jin guy. He’s bad news.”

“Okay,” you agreed easily, which confused Namjoon. You shrugged. “He just sent out these vibes, you know. He looked kind of familiar though.” You sighed. “Anyways, how did you get us VIP anyways?” you asked, changing the topic.

“I have connections.” Namjoon answered vaguely. He chuckled it off as a joke. “Drink up. It’s all free.”

You lost sight of Namjoon about an hour ago. You walked around the club, trying to find him before you left home. As you searched, you ended up in a dark hallway. Namjoon’s voice could be heard from the back end, so you continued to walk forward.

“All I’m saying, Jin, is to leave her alone. She’s better than all of this.” Namjoon said. You paused in you step to listen in. Why was Namjoon speaking with Jin.

“Are you sure that it’s not because you don’t want competition?” Jin’s voice sneered back. He chuckled darkly. “I’ve seen how you been looking at her all evening.”

“She’s like a little sister to me. I just want to keep her safe.”

“I could give he the best protection in the world. Namjoon, you know my lifestyle.” Jin argued.

“You’ll also put a target on the back of her head,” Namjoon growled. “Seriously, any other girl but her.”

“Namjoon. You seem to forget who you are talking to,” Jin sighed. “You aren’t in any position to give me orders. In fact, I own you. So if I choose to pursue her, I will. You won’t say anything more about it.”

You hear Namjoon groan in pain, causing you to call out to him. “Namjoon?” You continued to walk down the hall, finding Namjoon leaning on the wall as he clutched his stomach. You gasped as you rushed forward to comfort him. “Oh my gosh. Are you okay?”

Namjoon groaned again as he waved off your worries. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

You narrowed your eyes as you looked over at Jin. He had V and another man standing beside him. “Did you do this?” you questioned Jin as you glared at him.

“Princess,” Jin began with a playful smile. “I never laid a hand on him,” he denied.

“I don’t believe you,” you spit out.

“But it’s the truth Princess,” he continued. “In fact, why don’t we have that dance you owe me?” he asked as he reached his arm out to grab your hand.

You yanked your body away from him. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“It’s just one dance, Princess.” He smiled at you innocently. “If you dance with me, no more harm will come to your friend here.”

“So you did hurt him?”

“No, Princess. But I can guarantee that whatever happen to him won’t happen again.” He held his hand out to you.

You hesitated as you stared at his hand. Slowly, you placed you hand in his. Jin smile widened as he led you back down the hall. “This way, Princess.”

“Who are you exactly?” you asked once you reached the dance floor. His hands were on your waist as you hands were wrapped around his neck.

“Someone who gets exactly what he wants,” he answered vaguely. His tone was solemn as he stared down at you. “And right now, I want you.”

“And what if I don’t want you?” You questioned back. You pulled your body away from as the song came to an end.

“Princess,” he sighed. He ran a hand through his head with slight frustration. “Then I’ll have a hell of a time trying to convince you otherwise.”

You practically ran out of the club after that.

“International wealthy businessmen Kim Seokjin is under investigation for his latest 2.5 million dollar deal. An insider source claims to have evidence that Kim Seokjin frequently uses extortion in his deals. If this is true, that means their is a possibility that none of the money he has made over the years is legal.”

You looked up at the television screen as you waited for the barista to make your drink. Your jaw dropped and your eyes widen. The screen had the same anchor from yesterday, but the picture besides her was Jin - the same Jin from the club the night before.

“This isn’t the first time an investigation has been started for Kim Seokjin. There has been numerous allegations over the years that Kim Seokjin has connections to the BTS mafia. None of the allegations has ever been proven, it is mostly speculation.”

“Y/N’s white mocha latte is at the bar!”

Your eyes snapped over to the barista standing by the bar. You walked over to grab you drink, surprised to see a small paper bag with a blueberry muffin inside. You eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Um, excuse me?” You called the barista over. “I didn’t order this.”

“A guy came and ordered it for you,” she explained. Before you could question her again, she was off to help another customer.

You picked up the paper bag, noticing the note scribbled on the side.

Have a nice day. Don’t miss me too much.


How Britain Armed the Confederacy,

After the the First Battle of Bull Run/ Manassas, British military observers did a survey of Confederate small arms. The survey found that 75% of Confederate military musket were smoothbores. Smoothebore muskets do not nearly have the range or accuracy of rifled muskets, which in America was considered a new technology. At the same time the Union Army was likely armed with many old smoothbores, most of which were left over from the Mexican American War or older.  However, after the first battles of the war, Northern industry went into full force and it was not long before the Union Army was almost completely equipped with rifled muskets, not to mention cannon, ships, and other arms or supplies.  The Confederacy, on it’s own, was woefully short of arms.  Most Confederate weapons early in the war were leftovers stored in armories.  With the South’s lack of industry, there was little native arms production and the Confederacy could not hope to compete with Union production.  A good example would be the Richmond Arsenal, the Confederacy’s largest arms production factory, which produced around 30,000 rifled muskets during the entire war. By comparison, the Union Springfield Armory was producing the same amount on a monthly basis, and the US Government subcontracted scores of other private firms which manufactured millions of rifles, carbines, and pistols. At the beginning of the war, the Confederate artillery had cannon which numbered in the hundreds, most of which were old an outdated, northern foundries began manufacturing cannon by the thousands.  

So this begs the question, why didn’t the Union simply steamroll the Confederacy, which was completely out-manned and outgunned? Confederate generals are noted as legendary tacticians, and Union generals in the early war have a reputation as morons, but tactics only go so far when your enemy is armed with a seemingly endless supply of weapons which are a generation ahead of yours in terms of technology, and your side barely has enough obsolete weapons to arms your own men. The answer was that the Confederates received arms from foreign powers, most notably Britain.  

During the war Britain was officially neutral, unofficially Britain was the number one backer of the Confederacy in terms of supplying armaments. While the British government was officially neutral, it turned a blind eye to private British firms who made a killing selling arms to the Confederacy. The most numerous export to the Confederacy was the British P-53 Enfield musket, a rifled musket that was the primary infantry arm of the British Army. These weapons were sometimes military surplus from the Crimean War, bought at a discount and sold cheap to Confederate agents.  Many were also newly manufactured and sold to wealthy British businessmen who exported them to America.  The muskets were shipped by British ships to Bermuda or British held colonies in the Caribbean, then transferred to Confederate agents to be smuggled into the states.  From there, they were either smuggled directly to the South by blockade runners which raced paced Union blockade ships, were shipped to Mexican ports where they would be smuggled across the Texas border, or shipped to Northern ports where they would secretly make their way through Union territory into the Confederacy.

The supply of Enfield muskets to the Confederacy was profound. Around 500,000 were imported by the Confederacy, and it became the most heavily used musket of the Confederate Army.  By mid war, British military advisers did another survey of Confederate small arms which showed that 75% were rifled muskets, due of course in no small part to Enfield musket imports. Muskets were not the only war materials supplied by Britain to the Confederacy. Other weapons included artillery, ammunition, ships, as well as uniforms, medical supplies, foodstuffs, and other important war materials. Supplying ships to the Confederate Navy was an especially big payoff, as these ships were used as commerce raiders which attacked Union merchant shipping. While Confederate merchant raiding barely put a dent in Union merchant shipping, it drove up insurance rates so high that most businesses preferred to use cheaper British shipping. At the time, US commercial shipping was at point that it was beginning to challenge Britain’s monopoly over the global shipping industry. However the Civil War ensured that British shipping would remain dominant until World War I.

It should be noted that Britain was not the only foreign backer of the Confederacy. France sold artillery, muskets, and ironclad warships to the South, albeit to a much lesser extent, while the Austrian Empire sold Lorenz muskets to both sides. It should also be noted that British sales and support for the Confederacy was not entirely politically motivated. While British arms dealers sold 500,000 Enfield muskets to the Confederacy, making it the most used weapon of the Confederate Army, British firms also sold 400,000 Enfield muskets to the Union, making it the second most used weapon in the Union Army. It was just good business. Overall, the British Empire manufactured 1.5 million P-53 Enfield muskets, with 900,000 being exported to America.  Weird that a classic British rifle would see more use by Yanks and Rebs, than by Brits.   

Fic: As a Door Closes

Here is the latest part of my Heartlines AU story. I hope you all enjoy it.

The rest of the chapters (and my other work) can be found here 

As always I’d love to know what you think.


Originally posted by jlbwedding

She opened the door and Jamie was speechless. Claire was always beautiful, more than beautiful, but looking at her right now he simply could not formulate thoughts into speech. She wore a tight fitted black sequinned gown with a high neck and capped sleeves. A slit ran up one side revealing an expanse of creamy leg and strappy silver sandals. But her head was the biggest shock. Normally Claire favoured natural looking makeup, muted tones in browns and greys, her hair either haphazardly restrained or a riot of curls which grazed her shoulders. But today she looked entirely different, her whiskey coloured eyes looked even more tigerish with an application of flicked up eyeliner and her lips were an enticing cranberry red. Her hair, normally such a riot, fell in sleek, smooth waves down to her breasts. She looked at him shyly. “What do you think?” She gave him a little swirl revealing a low back. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly and she laughed. “Oh good, you like it!” He watched her sashay down the path towards the waiting car, swallowing audibly.

The event was a combination of wealthy donors, local businessmen and hospital staff. As it happened, because of this Jamie knew at least as many people as Claire and he was kept more than busy shaking hands, answering queries about Lallybroch and talking shop. Claire moved round the room, chatting, smiling and generally trying to encourage the great and good in attendance to cough up some money to help refurb the ailing pediatrics wing. Prior to choosing General Surgery Claire had rotated through the department and had been sorely tempted by a career in that speciality. As it was she had gone another way, but she was often called upon by the department when a general surgeon was needed and she had campaigned passionately for the wing in its bid to upgrade its facilities. Jamie watched her work the room. Her smile was simply radiant. He was struck again by his sheer fortune that such a wonderful woman was his. His pride in her and her achievements was endless and to see her here, tonight, amongst her peers, he thought his heart would burst with it. He lost sight of her for a moment and he scanned the room, his height giving his an advantage. She popped up beside him holding two glasses of champagne. “I managed to charm these out the waiter. He didn’t want to give me any as they are having terrible trouble rounding everyone up to go into dinner” Her face was flushed slightly from the champagne and it gave her a glow that made her look even more lovely. She hooked an arm through his. “I forgot to ask. What happened to the kilt I was promised?” Instead of the aforementioned kilt, Jamie was wearing a bright blue three piece suit. Single breasted with a sharp white shirt and blue tie he looked magnificent amongst the sea of black tuxedos, his red hair and towering height making him stand out even further. “Well, the last time I wore a kilt to an event like this I spent half the night bein’ asked what I wore underneath it an’ the other half fending off women tryna find out for themselves. I figured I’d save myself the bother this time” he laughed. “Are ye disappointed?”

“Well, a little bit,” she answered tilting her head to one side to look at him. “But on the other hand you look sexy as hell in that suit, so I can’t complain too much can I?” She gave him a lewd wink which made them both laugh and he drew her to him and kissed her on her forehead.

“And you, Mo Nighean Donn,” He said, “I canna begin to say how wonderful you look. Ye’re always the most beautiful woman in the room, but tonight, well, I keep having to pinch myself to make sure I’m awake.” Her colour heightened a little more, but her response was cut off by the the boom of the ever jocular chief of surgery.

“Claire, Claire. I hardly recognised you without your scrubs and cap! Isn’t it fun trying to spot everyone in their civvies?”

He kissed her lightly on the cheek and she turned to introduce Jamie. He shook Jamie’s hand warmly.

“This is Dr Grant, our chief, this is Jamie, my…” she paused slightly as she cast around for the right title. They’d only know each other three weeks and whilst what they had was clearly serious, they’d not yet gotten round to defining it in any way. “…my partner” she settled for, looking at Jamie meaningfully.

“Partner,”  he thought “Aye, that’ll do for now, but one day…”

This thought was abruptly cut short, by Dr Grant turing behind him and pulling forward a couple about Jamie and Claire’s age. “This is my nephew, David.” He said smiling broadly, “He’s a property developer. And this is his fiancee, Geneva.”

Jamie felt the heat rise in his face and Claire coughed slightly as she took a too big gulp of champagne. Geneva’s chestnut hair was swept back from her face and she wore a flowing tulle gown with a slight princess skirt in a soft blush pink. She also wore a very large, if conventional, diamond which she had not been wearing the last time the three of them had come face to face. She looked ethereal and stunning. She also looked uncomfortable and embarrassed, clearly not enjoying this impromptu reunion any more than Claire and Jamie. David, a handsome man, with dark hair a soft brown eyes, also appeared somewhat discomfited by this meeting. He may or may not have been aware of the show down in Jamie’s living room, but it was obvious he knew who Jamie was. He moved slightly closer to Geneva, placing a hand around her waist. Claire recovered herself first.

“Oh how lovely. And what a beautiful ring. Have you set a date?” The corner of Geneva’s mouth lifted slightly as she answered. “Oh, not yet, but we’re hoping for next summer. We only got engaged last week, didn’t we darling?’ She turned to David. “Oh, yes, just last week” he replied. Dr Grant laughed loudly digging poor David in the side. “But how many times did ye have to ask the lass? What was it four times before she finally said yes to you?” David smiled blandly, Jamie developed an acute interest in the pattern on the carpet. Thankfully the waiting staff took that moment to get assertive and they were promptly rounded up and herded into the ballroom.

Fortunately, Dr Grant’s table was over near the front of the room, whilst Jamie and Claire, along with a host of other hospital staff were tucked away near the back.

“Keeping us hidden” said Geillis, archly, flipping red hair over her shoulder. “But still, least we’re much nearer the bar here” She waved a red nailed hand in the direction of a waiter beckoning him over. Next to her, her new boyfriend, Josh sat looking slightly bemused and very much under her spell. Jamie was thrilled to at last have a chance to meet all the friends that Claire had regaled him with stories of. Her friend Joe Abernathy, who had transferred here from Boston, the indomitable Mrs Fitz, who despite clearly having a first name, no one called anything else, including her husband a jocular highlander with a big laugh who had clearly not suffered the same concerns as Jamie as he wore a kilt in eye catching MacKenzie tartan. Timid little Mary who spoke quietly but after a few drinks it turned out had a fondness for rude jokes and a huge dirty laugh. These were the people who he knew were important to Claire. As someone with no blood ties, this was the closest she had to real family and he was acutely aware of what it meant that she had wanted him here, with her and them tonight. The night was a lot more fun than he had expected. He found that he had an easy rapport with Claire’s friends who made him welcome, and with the exception of Geillis, who Claire had warned him about, none of them felt the need to grill him too intently. They danced until Claire begged for mercy, her high heels finally getting the better of her. Moving off to the side he drew her close and kissed her deeply. “Shall we go home now, Mo Nighean Donn?” he murmured into her ear.

“Oh yes” she replied. “I might not be getting the chance to find out what a Scotsman wears under his kilt, but I’m still pretty interested in what might be going on under that suit” She tugged his earlobe gently with her teeth and he gave a shudder. “I’ll just pop to the bathroom and then we’ll leave”

He waited across the hall for Claire, fiddling with his phone. A blur of pink caught the corner of his eye as the statuesque figure of his ex wife strode purposefully into the bathroom in which Claire had just entered.

Claire had been in there for a while. So had Geneva. He’d seen David go by looking for her, but offered no information. He stared at the door willing it to open and for Claire to come out. He couldn’t hear any shouting. Or screaming. That was something he supposed. Surely if something terrible was happening he’d hear it. But still what were they both doing in there. The door opened and Geneva exited, catching Jamie’s eyes briefly. He tried to make out the expression behind them, but she was gone too quickly. Another minute later, the door opened again this time bringing Claire with it.

Jamie’s eyebrows were almost under his hairline. “And what was that about? Should I be worried? She’s no been telling you what a terrible man I am has she?”

Claire laughed at Jamie was surprised to feel his heart and stomach both unclench a little. She stood on tiptoes and kissed him lightly. “Let’s go home and I’ll tell you everything”

She sat facing him on the sofa in her living room. She’d kicked off her heels in the hall and her hair was starting to kink slightly.

“Well, I don’t think you need to be too concerned with Geneva from now on Jamie. We had a good chat and I think things are going to be ok on that front.”

“Oh yeah? How can you be so sure? We’ve been seperated for over 4 years and she turned up at my house because she’d heard I’d been kissing someone. She’s no exactly rational.”

“No really, Jamie. Just listen”

As Claire had stepped out of the cubicle she had walked straight into Geneva.  Dodging round her to wash her hands, she had become aware of the fact that Geneva was clearly there to speak with her. She waited for a beat.

“C..Claire?” Geneva began unsteadily, clearly searching for the words. “I just wanted to say… I’m sorry. For the other day. It was, it was… unacceptable.” Claire opened her mouth to respond but Geneva raised her hand imploring to be allowed to continue. Claire nodded.

“Jamie was right. It was pride. I was so angry with him. For so long. I felt cheated by him. When we got married I wanted it to be a certain way. But it wasn’t. So I tried to change him. To make him into what I wanted him to be, rather than simply accepting that he wasn’t what I wanted any more than I was what he wanted. And he, being the honourable man he is left. He couldn’t live a lie, he couldn’t be less than his true self. And I was so angry. For almost 5 years it’s eaten away at me. He’s the only thing I’ve ever failed at. That I haven’t been able to bend to my will as it were. And so I couldn’t let go. Even after I met David, who is everything I was looking for in my marriage to Jamie and couldn’t find, I still didn’t let go. I didn’t let Jamie go. I knew, deep down that he would feel the weight of the failure of our marriage whether it was his fault or not and I used that to hurt him. Whilst I was living my life and being happy elsewhere, and Jamie was right about that, David does make me happy, I kept on punishing him. And all because I couldn’t admit failure. When my friend called me and told me she’d seen the two of you. I don’t know what came over me. It was like all the anger and bitterness of the last four years were just poured over my head. I wanted to rip my skin off with it. But I saw then , the way he looked at you. The way he never, ever looked at me. But I do have someone who looks at me like that. David has been asking me to marry him for years and I’ve always said no. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I couldn’t bear for Jamie to feel like he had permission to move on. And I’m sorry. I’m so very fucking sorry.” The profanity seemed out of place coming out of the mouth of one so perfectly coiffed and softly spoken. She seemed a different person to the wild eyed, object flinging woman of only a few weeks earlier. She looked at her hands and adjusted her ring.

“Tell Jamie.” She looked Claire in the eye. “Tell him I’m sorry. For all of it. And that I wish him… I wish him joy.” Claire nodded slowly and Geneva smiled, tears in her eyes. Claire unthinkingly reached out a hand and Geneva took it squeezing her fingers slightly. She nodded stiffly and in turned and was gone in a swish of pink tulle and chanel No 5. Claire stood there for a moment, wondering if that had really happened. She took a deep breath and went back to join Jamie.

“So she really said all that?’ Jamie asked incredulous. He had known Geneva a long time and whilst he knew she did have her virtues he wasn’t sure magnanimity had ever been one of them.

“She did” Claire replied nodding. “Whether she meant it, I guess only time will tell, but she seemed genuine” She shrugged. “I’m glad we can put it behind us though. I’m glad that *you* can move on with your life now.

“Aye, aye I can” he met her eyes and held her gaze, reaching for her hand as he did so. “And I so what you to be part of that life, Claire. Next weekend, I ken ye’re off work until Wednesday, will ye come to the Highlands wi me? To Lallybroch?” Nerves were making his accent thicker.

“Jamie, I honestly cannot think of a nicer way to spend my time off.” He smiled a smile of such joy that he looked, for a moment like a small boy. She leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose. “But right now I want to find out what a scotsman wears under his suit.”

A Date With Death

[WARNING: Instance of animal death, mild gore.]

Phillip Toomey could see a man just in the peripheral of his vision. This man was tall and wore a finely tailored suit, the kind you see wealthy businessmen wear because they’re the only ones that can afford such a luxury.

The man stood out in this part of the city where those with money didn’t dare to venture, especially at night; for fear that they might get robbed whether that be by pickpocketing or a mugging at gunpoint.

Knowing this, Phillip couldn’t help but think maybe he was FBI but that’d be ridiculous, the FBI knew how to blend in and then there was this man, so out in the open and not even trying to go unnoticed. Though it seemed as if no one was sparing even a moment’s glance at him and Phillip thought it strange.

With a shake of his head, Phillip grabbed a newspaper off the stand, threw a one onto the counter, and made his way to the nearby coffee shop to grab some breakfast and a latte as he always did before going about the rest of his day.

Keep reading

A Devil By My Side - Sin 1

Genre: Smut, dom!reader, sub!yoongi, dom!yoongi, romance, devil!au, angst

Word count: 2.1K

Warnings: A CEO with problems that only a devil can fix; physically, emotionally, and sexually.  You have been warned.

“Bring the bitch here.”

I pulled out from the corner of the room and was thrown onto the cold, hard concert. The black bag that was blocked my vision and barely gave me air to breath was soon removed and was greeted by the hard light that shone into my face. A chair was dragged on the floor like scratching a chalkboard. Finally the person sat down in the chair and grabbed my chin, pulling it up to look into a fat man’s face. It was one of the men on my board, one of my enemies that rejected each project out of pure hate that I was a woman who was the CEO of my father’s company and not him.

“Look here, you got two choices. You sign over the company to me or I will cut you up and feed you to my dogs. Which is it?” He growled as his face inched closer to mine. Earning a chuckle from me.

“Heh, you mean your little pipsqueak of a chihuahua. I don’t think your dog will will be able to handle, dickhead.” I spat in his face as he sucked in his breath and slapped me hard on my face. Spitting blood out onto the floor, I was dizzy and aggravated that someone like him was on my father’s board of committee. “Is that all you got, fat boy?” I taunted the man. He growled and punched me hard, making me fall over onto my back seeing stars at the bright light. Knowing that I was a stubborn person, but I wasn’t going to allow my father’s hard work go to waste on a greedy little fat man.

“Take her shit off. We will get her to sign the contract when she has three dicks in her.” The man ordered his men as they came to rip my expensive suit off. To think that it would come to this was not a surprise. Men like him would always resort to rape, cause their bitchy trophy wives wouldn’t give it to them. Laying naked on the cold floor, I honestly wanted death. However what I wanted more than death was hell, I wanted the devil to take them to hell to be forever tortured, it didn’t matter the price.

Just as I thought it so, a rather pale young man appeared next to my side. Time seemed to stop as the fat man stood with his mouth open ready to order something stupid and his grunts to comply. Looking at the people in awe, only the little pale boy with black eyes and white hair gazed at me. Watching me as I looked back at him in curiosity.

“I heard you. Is it true that you will do anything for their punishment?” He asked as he kneeled down to my side, his fingertips brushing the strand of hair away from my eyes to get a better view.

“I want you to help me. Whatever the price maybe, I will pay it in full.” I stated coldly as his eyes shined slightly at my answer. I wondered if he would do it, or would he leave me to die. Either way, the answer was very clear, I was doomed.

With a small smirk on his thin lips, the time went as if it never stopped and he disappeared. My eyes widened as I searched the room for the small boy. Cursing myself for not giving him a better offer. Just as one of the grunts positioned his little dick and flabby belly at my entrance, he screamed in pain as his hands palmed his eyes. Blood poured out onto his cheeks as the men next to him jumped back and shouted at why the man was screaming. Only to see his face ripped off and thrown at the little greedy fat man.

Finally the little boy appeared and with a flash the men around me collapsed in a pool of blood. Only the fat man sat back in his seat, shaking and pissing himself as he looked up at the pale young man. With a grin the boy tore out the fat man’s belly onto the floor as the man watch his gut spill.

I was shocked that I was shaking at the grotesque sight. I wanted to scream and run away, but I laid there still at my savior. Who would have thought that someone like that exists. Just who was this person. To answer the question he turned around and looked at me deep into my eyes as he licked his bloody hand.

“Darling, I’m the devil, but you can call me Yoongi.” His eyes were fiery red like the pits of hell, but even through the hellish nightmare, he was a hero to me.

Yoongi the Devil carried me out of the room and walked out onto the rooftop. Granted I was still naked, but his warm made me sweat. My arms wrapped around his neck as his arms supported my back and under my knees. Silently watch him as his leathery wings sprout out from his back. Spreading wide and black I gazed at them in awe. I guess this boy is truly a devil, such a strange thing to have happen. I wanted to touch them just to feel what it was like, but the same second I reached out, he jumped off the rooftop.

I yelped and tightened my grip on his neck as his wings caught the wind coming up and let him fly to a place he called home. During the fly, I gazed at his sharp jaw and his ear that held many piercings, his white hair that flew in the wind to show his refined features. I questioned myself if the devil really looked like this and how? Didn’t they have tails and horns and red skin and a pitchfork.

“I do have horns and a tail, but red skin and a pitchfork, I don’t have.” He shouted over the air.

“Then are you really the devil, Yoongi?” I asked him as he laughed uncontrollably, taken aback for his laughter.

“You are a CEO correct, you are suppose to be smart and educated. So why are you so dumb?” He laughed as I pouted, looking at the distance as we halted to the top of another building. He landed safely and softly, not slipping me out of his grasp. I looked around as I recognized that this is one of the famous apartment complex’s for the wealthy businessmen. He went down to the elevator and it opened up to a grand penthouse.

I owned a penthouse as well, but objects in the house was fascinating and unlike anything I’ve seen. Not sparing a moment for me to look at something for too long, he went up the stairs and into a bedroom that was just as grand as his living room. Tall ceilings with a large bed with little to no furniture with its minimalistic taste. He walked towards the bed, and I questioned myself why he brought me to the bed first. Why not put me on the couch or the bathroom where I needed to be clean.

“Don’t worry, I will clean you up.” I looked up at Yoongi as he set me down on the fluffy bed, and sat on the side of the bed.

“Do you always read my mind, Yoongi?”

“Yes I do.” He replied immediately and smiled. “I want to learn what type of person you are, Miss. Williamson. Thela Williamson. Where did your parents get a name like that?” He asked as his eyes fixated on mine.

“It was made up, since everyone in the family called my the lady. My father combined it and made it Thela, it was rather an interesting choice.” I looked up at the tall ceiling to avoid Yoongi’s fiery eyes.

“You are an interesting choice.” He whispered as he leaned down to gaze over my face.

“So what is the price? What do I owe you?” I asked quickly to change the subject, hoping that he wouldn’t shove his attract face into mine again.

“The price is that you are my slave.”

“What?!” I shot up and looked at Yoongi in the eyes and quickly shifted my eyes away. “What about money, objects, something like that?”

“A deal with a devil can be so much worse than a slave, Thela. I could have eaten your soul after I ate all those fat men.” Yoongi put a slender finger under my jaw and pulled my attention to him. “But you have something that other’s don’t have, and I want it.” He quickly wrapped his hand around the base of my skull and pulled me into a deep kiss. I’ve kissed many times before and fucked just as many, but this kiss was electrify, like I was hit with thunder and eased off by the wave of the sea.

His fingers tangled themselves in my hair as he groaned softly into my mouth. Our tongues flicked against each other and his teeth grazed against my lip, before biting into it and making me bleed slightly. I hissed in pain, but felt Yoongi’s caress  become gentle than before. His groan much louder as he tasted my blood on his tongue.

“You taste like the heavenly angels.” He groaned again as he pushed himself on me and began to grind against me. He continued to kiss me deeply almost like he wanted more blood.

“Yoongi, please.” I manage to gasp out, but it made him shiver and even more gentle. Thinking about his actions, I tried my theory again. “Yoongi stop kissing me.” I stated softly and it made him stop but only for a short second before he latched his lips against mine again, trying to silence me. I couldn’t overpower him, but I could use his name. Isn’t that what it says in the textbooks.

“Yoongi stop kissing me for a minute.” I exclaimed as he detached his lips and looked into my eyes almost in a dazed state. “Yoongi, let me be on top.” I order and felt his weight lighten so I pushed him over so I was on top. His hands were held at my hips as I looked down at him. “Yoongi what is it that you want?” I asked.

“You, I want to taste you.” He answered honestly as his hands traveled up to grip my breast in his hand, giving it a tight squeeze that made me squirm. His other hand going down south and began rubbing his finger against my warmth. “It’s been a minute.” He whispered as he leaned up to attach his lips back on me as he tug at my lip. Silencing me as he pulled my hips to grind against his growing erection.

I moaned into his mouth as he sucked my tongue and licked down my chin to my neck. Nibbling and biting me to pull the blood out of my pumping veins. I groaned as he pinch my skin between his teeth and how his hand tangled themselves in my lengthy black hair, pulling my head back while his other arm was wrapped around my waist.

“Yoongi why are you doing this?” I asked questioning that there are different ways to repay him.

“Because you taste so good.” He mumbled as he bit again into my shoulder. I cried out as he began to be more harsh. Suddenly his pants were slipped off as he returned to kiss my lips, pushing me over to be over me. Aligning himself to my entrance, and driving his cock deep into me. He moaned loudly as he was buried deep within me and began to thrust quickly into my warmth as he bit into my neck again for the tenth time.

“Yoongi…” I called out his name softly and felt him quiver at his name. “Yoongi, be mine forever.” I whispered in his ear and watched as he groan softly.

“Yes, I will stay with you forever, Thela.” I felt my heart skin a beat at his reply and brought my hips up to meet his half way. I moaned loudly as Yoongi’s hips buckled and shake as he came. He bit hard into my shoulder as he held onto me tightly, drowning himself in the high release. Catching our breaths he looked into my eyes with his fiery ones and smiled.

“Now it’s time for you to feed.” He bit his lip hard to draw blood that poured down his chin. Pushing the blood into my mouth, I expected to taste like iron or something horrible, but it tasted like the right amount of sweets. My favorite dishes all mixed up and served to me on a golden platter. My mouth watered as I tasted him and licked him chin clean. He stopped me, and looked into my eyes. “Now you are mine completely.”


Sam x Reader 

Word Count: 1800+

Warnings: swearing, mild implied violence, dirty texts, dirty talking, kissing, fluff, slightly Dom!Sam, smut.

**I realized I haven’t shown Sam much love. He deserves better! So, enjoy.

You shivered as a cold draft brushed over your exposed arms. Why the hell was the air conditioning on at this late hour? You squinted at the small clock in the upper right corner of your computer screen. Correction, this very late hour.

Whatever, sleep was for the weak. You had been furiously hunting for the shape shifter that got away. You first tracked him down in Manhattan, where he was murdering wealthy businessmen and posing as them. You and the boys had been following him for over two weeks, into four different major cities, and he still slipped through your fingers. So, you all decided to head back to the bunker and regroup.

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Far from the Tree - Rafael Barba

P/N: So this is the theory I have regarding the hacking. I know it’s nothing complicated, but I really hope the writers come up with something amazing! Enjoy reading! Let me know if you guys have theories too!

Rafael Barba x Reader

Imagine: A hacking incident that involves Rafael along with many high powered and wealthy individuals. Now Rafael has to deal with the past resurfacing.

The sun was shining bright with a couple of clouds that decorated the blue sky. There were remnant piles of snow that clustered around the streets from the snow storm last night. Despite the cold weather, the short haired journalist sat in content near the big windows. Her nimble fingers typed swiftly on her laptop, recording all the scattered thoughts racing through her mind. The sun’s bright rays seemed to fuel her with energy. Typically, Fridays seem like a drag. However, this morning she felt very productive.

That kind of mindset came rare on a Friday, so she had to make good use of it. She meticulously scoured through the internet in hopes that she would find new material. She wanted to come across material she hasn’t worked with before. Just as she was about to give up and take a lunch break, the office was buzzing with chatter. Phones were ringing excessively and she wondered what the fuss was about. Her eyes glanced around the office as people crowded around cubicles and point in awe at their phones. Curious of the outbreak of excitement, she set her laptop aside and approached a party of five, crowding around a cubicle.

“What’s going on?” She asked, peeking over people’s shoulders. “You won’t believe it! Some crafty hacker just published a list full of high powered executives. There are files of their illegal activities attached as well!” One coworker exclaimed in excitement. “Really? Looks like we got ourselves front page news!” She laughed. “Who are some of the names?” Her eyes squinted at the screen, scanning through the names of some familiar wealthy businessmen, as well as some judges. Her eyes landed on an extra familiar name, one that made her stomach drop. ADA Rafael Barba.

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Homme Fatal - Part One

Originally posted by taeyonggi

Characters: Yuta (With apperances from Johnny, WinWin, Jaehyun, Taeyong, Taeil, and Xiumin of EXO.)

Warnings: Mentions of drinking, assalt/violence, strong language, blood, broken teeth, etc. 

Word Count: 7.8k

Note: This originally was ~11.2k words, so I decided to split into two parts so it wouldn’t be so long. Also, surprise! Something that isn’t EXO. NCT is actually my bias group tbh but I haven’t written a lot for them and that’s gonna change.

Homme Fatal - A fatal man

New York City—the city that never sleeps. The nightlife was proof enough that the city lived up to its infamous nickname. The streets were not nearly as crowded as they are during the day, but that is because most of the people are inside. The city had countless bars and clubs, but none were as elite as this one. Any regular person couldn’t come stumbling in off of the streets, they had to know or be someone to even get in. With that being said, it did not mean all who came in were the cleanest of people. Wealthy businessmen who removed their wedding rings at the first sight of an attractive woman, gang leaders that needed a public but also a private place to discuss their next deal, politicians looking to buy support for their next campaign; even hit men, con men, and spies have been known to frequent the club.

Along with those people, there were also many patrons much like his next target. Her family just so happened one of the biggest and wealthiest families in the pharmaceutical trade. Seeing as she was the only child her parents had, she was the heiress to the entire business. He had been following her enough to know that every Friday night she came here with two of her close friends—the twin sons of the governor. She started her night off sipping on Strawberry Daiquiris and Sangrias, then if she had a bad week she would be downing shot after shot of Whiskey by the end of the night.

Yuta had watched her enough Fridays to know that she had a very high alcohol tolerance, so convincing her to leave the safety of her friends and come with him wouldn’t be easy. She was a very intelligent girl, she knew better than to do that. He knew he would have to gain her trust, maybe even befriend her a bit, before she would even consider going anywhere with him.

Right on time, her and her two friends entered the club. Yuta sat with a friend of his in a booth just far enough away from their booth so that he couldn’t be noticed, but also close enough so that he could keep an eye on them. Sicheng was rather young to be in this business, but Yuta had taken him under his wing to teach him the ropes of the job. Once they got their drinks, they began discussing the plan for the night.

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Trump’s business network reached alleged Russian mobsters

To expand his real estate developments over the years, Donald Trump, his company and partners repeatedly turned to wealthy Russians and oligarchs from former Soviet republics — several allegedly connected to organized crime, according to a USA TODAY review of court cases, government and legal documents and an interview with a former federal prosecutor.

The president and his companies have been linked to at least 10 wealthy former Soviet businessmen with alleged ties to criminal organizations or money laundering.

Among them:

• A partner in the firm that developed the Trump SoHo Hotel in New York is a twice-convicted felon who spent a year in prison for stabbing a man and later scouted for Trump investments in Russia.

•  An investor in the SoHo project was accused by Belgian authorities in 2011 in a $55 million money-laundering scheme.

• Three owners of Trump condos in Florida and Manhattan were accused in federal indictments of belonging to a Russian-American organized crime group and working for a major international crime boss based in Russia.


This is worth seeing even if you know all about it, its still a good reminder and a caution that the first time US Fascism lost, but is back again. Could it be because they did nothing to the plotters.

“ The “Business Plot” (also the Plot Against FDR and the White House Putsch) was an alleged political conspiracy in 1933 wherein wealthy businessmen and corporations plotted a coup détat to overthrow United States President Franklin D. Roosevelt. In 1934, the Business Plot was publicly revealed by retired Marine Corps Major General Smedley Butler testifying to the McCormack-Dickstein Congressional Committee. In his testimony, Butler claimed that a group of men had approached him as part of a plot to overthrow Roosevelt in a military coup. One of the alleged plotters, Gerald MacGuire, vehemently denied any such plot. In their final report, the Congressional committee supported Butler’s allegations of the existence of the plot, but no prosecutions or further investigations followed, and the matter was mostly forgotten.

On July 17, 1932, thousands of World War I veterans converged on Washington, D.C., set up tent camps, and demanded immediate payment of bonuses due them according to the Adjusted Service Certificate Law of 1924. This “Bonus Army” was led by Walter W. Waters, a former Army sergeant. The Army was encouraged by an appearance from retired Marine Corps Major General Smedley Butler, who had considerable influence over the veterans, being one of the most popular military figures of the time. A few days after Butler’s arrival, President Herbert Hoover ordered the marchers removed, and their camps were destroyed by US Army cavalry troops under the command of General Douglas MacArthur.
Butler, although a self-described Republican, responded by supporting Roosevelt in that year’s election.

In a 1995 History Today article Clayton Cramer argued that the devastation of the Great Depression had caused many Americans to question the foundations of liberal democracy. “Many traditionalists, here and in Europe, toyed with the ideas of Fascism and National Socialism; many liberals dallied with Socialism and Communism.” Cramer argues that this explains why some American business leaders viewed fascism as a viable system to both preserve their interests and end the economic woes of the Depression.


***audio is available for free using Realplayer at http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/history/d…

Not-So-Super Hero Rusame au

Part 2 is finally here // Part 1

Soft footsteps and the rustling of sheets brought Ivan out of his deep sleep. Glancing over at the nightstand clock, he saw the time glowing 1:43 a.m. He felt the bed sink in slightly as Alfred climbed under the covers with him.

“You’re later than usual, Fredka,” he mumbled, rolling over to face him.

The younger man looked at Ivan, slightly startled. “Christ, I thought you were asleep,” he said as he settled back down against the bed. He shifted slightly closer, putting his hand over Ivan’s. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

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the life of the incredibly lucky

CONSIDER THIS AN APOLOGY FIC because I know I haven’t posted for Some Kind Of Home in a long time…or February Song for that matter…for which I’m terribly sorry. I’m still working on them. SKOH is definitely coming soon so faint not! <3 <3 

It promises to be a beautiful day. By the way the sun is already shining and it’s a Saturday, by the still quiet of the Manor, by the sound of the birds chirping just outside Alfred’s bedroom window, it’s easy to tell. So he smiles as he goes about getting ready for the day, as he tilts his tie just so. So professionally.

He relishes the silence, only touched by the sound of clocks ticking and cars in the far distance driving down the highway. The house will soon be disturbed by the children running around and a few may argue and breakfast may erupt with pretended or real violence, and noise will come back to life. It’s just the reality of four boys living in one house.

But before all of whatever this morning holds, Alfred is the one to do the disturbing first.

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Sometimes I want an RP with only Hispanic/Latino FCs because there’s so much diversity and yet no one talks about it. I want White Latinos, Spaniards, Afro-Latinos, Brazilians, Mexicans, Asian Latinos, Puerto Ricans, Latinos that speak Spanish, Latinos that speak Portuguese, Latinos that don’t speak either but are comforted by the sounds of the words, Republican Latinos, Democratic Latinos, Latinos whose parents are poor immigrants, Latinos whose parents are wealthy businessmen, devout Catholic Latinos, atheist Latinos, Latinos who pass, Latinos who don’t, racist Latinos, activist Latinos, Latinos in large dysfunctional families, Latinos who were raised by single mothers, Latinos who like art, Latinos who frequent museums, Latinos that are history buffs, Latinos who are at the top of their class. I want mestizos who have to explain why if you ever call them gringos, they will mess you up, Spanish heritage be damned. I want mestizos who have embraced that part of themselves. I want passing Latinos that know when people are insulting them and spout Spanish to retaliate. I want brown Latinos who don’t speak a word of Spanish and are tired of the looks their relatives give them.

God help me, I just want something other than maids and sassy Latinas.

“The elect of an assassin...and not of the people”

There are reasons for the absence of smiles and the prevalence of furrowed brows in the photographs of Andrew Johnson.  His life was not easy.  Born into poverty, his family was plunged deeper into it when his father died when Johnson was just three years old.  Johnson’s mother did her best to provide for Andrew and his older brother, William, but her work as a weaver and spinner was ultimately not enough.  At the age of 14, he and his brother were bound as apprentices to a tailor in Raleigh.  An indentured servant, Johnson was living only a little better than a slave, and despite learning a valuable trade, could hardly bear his life.  Two years after he was bound to the tailor, Johnson and his brother broke their contract and escaped to South Carolina, returning briefly to Raleigh to gather up his mother and move to Greeneville, Tennessee where he opened his own tailor shop at the age of 17.

Because of his situation, Andrew Johnson never attended a day of school.  During his apprenticeship in Raleigh, several men who frequented the tailor shop read to Johnson as he worked and with a book he received as a gift, Johnson labored hard in free moments at night to teach himself how to read.  Upon moving to Greeneville, the 17-year-old Johnson met 15-year-old Eliza McCardle.  A student at a local school, Eliza and Andrew were married less than a year after they met and since was thoroughly educated in comparison with Johnson, Eliza taught him how to write, do basic arithmetic, and improve his reading skills.

Johnson was a quick learner, a skilled orator, and had a gift for politics which he began to exploit early relying on his ability to connect with common people and his popularity as a first-class tailor with a thriving local business.  Elected an Alderman in Greeneville just two years after moving to Tennessee, Johnson became Mayor in 1830 at the age of 22.  By his 27th birthday, Johnson was serving in the Tennessee House of Representatives.  At 33, he was elected to the Tennessee State Senate.  In 1843, Johnson headed to Washington as a Democratic member of the U.S. House of Representatives, where he would serve five terms.

In 1852, Johnson’s rapid rise in politics led him to Nashville as Governor of Tennessee where, in two terms, he championed education and agricultural advancements at home and support pro-slavery Democrats and the Kansas-Nebraska Act nationally.  In 1857, the Tennessee State Legislature unanimously elected Johnson as Tennessee’s newest United States Senator.

Johnson’s Senate term became historic and not just because he was the architect of the Homestead Act – the most influential, lasting accomplishment of the Lincoln Administration not directly related to the Civil War.  As the Civil War approached, Johnson was a steadfast defender of slavery, unsurprising due to the his Southern roots and his unabashed white supremacy.  What was unique about Andrew Johnson was his vehement opposition to secession.  Johnson harshly criticized President Buchanan (a fellow Democrat) for his inaction in the face of secession and his failure to suppress the Confederate insurrection.  In a stunning reversal, Johnson – who supported Stephen A. Douglas in the 1850’s and John C. Breckinridge for President in 1860 – voiced his support for Abraham Lincoln.

As the nation headed to war, Johnson worked with passion and diligence to keep Tennessee in the Union – a battle he ultimately lost.  Despite constant threats to him and his family and being labeled a traitor in his beloved South, Johnson defied his state and became the only Southern Senator to refuse to join the Confederacy.  In the North, Johnson’s actions made him a courageous hero; in the Tennessee, he was burned in effigy and his hometown of Greeneville erected a banner over it’s main street which read “Andrew Johnson, Traitor”.

In March 1862, Johnson was appointed the Military Governor of Tennessee by President Lincoln and given the rank of brigadier general.  Johnson returned to his home state, now occupied by Union forces, with orders to establish law and order and return Tennessee to federal authority.  With virtually dictatorial powers, Johnson slowly and bravely restored order to Tennessee by shutting down anti-Union newspapers, seizing railroads and bridges, arresting priests for sermons that sympathized with the Confederate cause, enacting martial law, requiring state officeholders to swear oaths of allegiance to the federal government, levying and collecting taxes, and gaining a measure of support in the state by urging Lincoln to exempt Tennessee from the Emancipation Proclamation.  Johnson didn’t rule from afar or hide from a disgruntled population, either – he valiantly remained in Nashville, which was frequently under siege by Confederate forces, declaring that “I am no military man but any one who talks of surrender I will shoot.”

In 1864, President Lincoln urged Republicans to dump Vice President Hannibal Hamlin from Lincoln’s re-election bid and form a coalition party (the National Union Party) with pro-Union Democrats.  With an eye to the future and the need for quick national  reconciliation Lincoln dumped Hamlin in favor of Johnson, partly as a reward for Johnson’s unwavering loyalty to the Union and partly to balance the coalition ticket with a Democrat who just happened to be a Southerner.

Johnson’s Vice Presidency got off to an inauspicious start.  Ill from typhoid fever, Johnson took a few shots of whiskey prior to his inauguration in order to get through the long ceremonies.  Unfortunately, the effect was a long, drunken rant against aristocrats and wealthy businessmen and politicians as Johnson spoke to the Senate chamber (Vice Presidents gave their own inaugural addresses at that time) which ended only when outgoing Vice President Hamlin yanked on Johnson’s coattails and steered him away from the speaker’s lectern.  Lincoln was embarrassed and the nation was worried that their new Vice President might be an alcoholic.

The nation’s worries grew larger less than a week after the happy news that the Confederates had surrendered at Appomattox and ended the Civil War and not quite six weeks after Johnson became Vice President.  Shortly after his alcohol-infused outburst at his inauguration, the New York World worriedly said of Johnson, “To think, that one frail life stands between this insolent, clownish creature and the Presidency."  On April 15, 1865, the assassination of Abraham Lincoln led to Andrew Johnson becoming the 17th President of the United States.  Johnson’s ascension to the Presidency was not what anyone wanted or hoped for, including Johnson himself.  A stunned nation suddenly found itself with a very different leader as its chief executive.  The thoughts of many Americans echoed the words that Benjamin F. Butler would later say, "By murder most foul, he succeeded to the Presidency, and is the elect of an assassin to that high office, and not of the people.”

Johnson’s Presidency was dominated by the challenges of Reconstruction, the opposition of Radical Republicans in Congress opposed to Johnson’s conciliatory policy towards the conquered South, and his staunch refusal to recognize the basic human rights of blacks whom Johnson saw as an inferior race.  Johnson had a long history of vivid racism, punctuated by his bombastic speaking style.  Among his comments on African-Americans, Johnson had said “You can’t get rid of the negro except by holding him in slavery” and asked “If you liberate the negro, what will be the next step?  It would place every splay-footed, bandy-shanked, humpbacked negro in the country upon an equality with the poor white man.”

As his unpopularity in the country and in the Capitol grew, Johnson faced an unprecedented challenge from the Congress.  In 1867, Congress passed the Tenure of Office Act, which prohibited the President from firing his Cabinet members without the approval of the Senate.  On paper, this meant that the President not only required Senate confirmation of his appointments, but Senate confirmation of any potential change in his government’s top officials.  In reality, the Tenure of Office Act was a clear provocation of Johnson’s authority, basically daring Johnson to violate the law and face impeachment.  It was a legislative coup d'état.  Johnson didn’t respond well to challenges; he quickly violated the act, firing Secretary of War (and favorite of the Radical Republicans) Edwin Stanton for “disloyalty”.  Every bit as stubborn as the President, Stanton barricaded himself in the War Department and the Congress impeached Johnson on February 24, 1868.

The first President to be impeached (Bill Clinton would join the dubious club 130 years later), Andrew Johnson prepared for a trial in the Senate.  Needing a two-thirds majority to convict Johnson and remove him from office, Republicans worked zealously to secure the 36 votes necessary for conviction.  Facing eleven articles of impeachment (nine more than President Clinton was tried on in 1999), Johnson narrowly escaped conviction and removal from office.  The Senate voted 35-19 to convict Johnson on three articles of impeachment, but as they were 1 guilty vote short of a two-thirds majority, Johnson was able to remain in office and finish out his term.  After the first three articles of impeachment successfully went Johnson’s way, the other eight articles were abandoned and the case was closed.  Johnson’s Presidency was salvaged by seven courageous Republican Senators who risked their careers by voting with Democrats to acquit President Johnson.  Those seven Senators – William P. Fessenden (Maine), Joseph S. Fowler (Tennessee), James W. Grimes (Iowa), John B. Henderson (Missouri), Edmund G. Ross (Kansas), Lyman Trumbull (Illinois), and Peter Van Winkle (West Virginia) – were later lauded in John F. Kennedy’s Profiles of Courage for acts of Senatorial bravery.

Andrew Johnson cried upon hearing the news of his exoneration.  While his Presidency was salvaged, he had little real power and no support remaining.  Like John Tyler before him, Johnson was also a President without a party and though he hoped to seek election in his own right in 1868, no party was willing to nominate him as their candidate so the former tailor returned to Tennessee, declaring that “I intend to devote the remainder of my life to the vindication of my own character." 

It was his return home, however, that changed his spirits forever.  When Johnson refused to support the Confederacy and remained the only Southern Senator in the United States Senate during the Civil War, Johnson’s hometown of Greeneville had famously adorned its main street with a banner that read ”Andrew Johnson, Traitor“.  Now, as the former President rode back into Greeneville, he found that the burning effigies were gone, the insults were no longer flying, and the banner over his hometown’s main street said something entirely different: ”Andrew Johnson, Patriot“.

Johnson remained active in local and state Democratic politics in his final years and in 1875, he was rewarded with what he considered the highest honor of his life.  The Tennessee Legislature elected Johnson to the United States Senate.  Not only was Johnson returning to Washington as the only former President to serve in the Senate, but in one of history’s great coincidences, he was returning to the very legislative body that had nearly ended his political career and removed him from office less than a decade earlier.  When Johnson learned that he had been elected to the Senate in 1875, he told his family, "I’d rather have this information than to learn that I had been elected President of the United States.  Thank God for the vindication.”

Sadly, Johnson’s resurgent political career didn’t last long.  Returning home to Tennessee during a Senate recess, Johnson suffered a series of strokes in the final days of July 1875 while visiting his daughter in Carter County, Tennessee.  On July 31, 1875, the former President and loyal Unionist died at the age of 66.  In his will, Johnson requested one last act of patriotic devotion:  “Pillow my head with the Constitution of my country.  Let the flag of the Nation be my winding sheet."  With his body blanketed in the American flag and his head resting on a copy of the United States Constitution inside of his pine casket, Andrew Johnson was buried under a willow tree on a hill he personally chose in what is now known as Andrew Johnson National Cemetery in Greeneville, Tennessee. 

The two opposing Presidents of the Civil War both spoke respectfully of Andrew Johnson during the great war between the states.  Confederate President Jefferson Davis ignored Johnson’s stubborn opposition against the Confederacy and recognized Johnson’s connection with the common people.  "One of the people by birth, he remained so by conviction, continually referring to his origin…He was indifferent to money and careless of praise or censure."  Prior to choosing Johnson as his running mate in 1864, Abraham Lincoln understood his sacrifices: "No man has a right to judge Andrew Johnson in any respect who has not suffered as much and done as much as he for the Nation’s sake.”