#tom wambsgans headcanon

[romeulusroy]

Succession Preference: Giving Them The Silent Treatment

Requested: hi hi! I've been loving succession, I think Tom and Kendall are my favorite characters <3 Could I request a preference for the siblings (+ Tom or Greg if you're comfortable, totally understand if you don't wanna add them) making it up to their S/O after an argument? Maybe their S/O has given them the silent treatment and they wanna fix things?? Or something like that, it's totally up to you <3 - @meltingsandwhich

A/N: Shai!!!! I love this idea!!!! Thank you for requesting!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Connor would want to rip his hair out. The thought of you being angry and hurt enough to give him the silent treatment kills him. Forgotten and ignored as a child, the silent treatment doesn't sit well with him. It reminds him too much of his father, ripping open old wounds. He gives you the space you need, but eventually it becomes too much. He has to talk to you and he needs you to talk to him, to acknowledge him. He apologizes profusely, desperately, the people pleaser in him coming to life. You're still upset, but you realize immediately what you've done. You did what Logan has been doing to him his entire life. You apologize, too, putting into words why you were so upset. Your relationship isn't perfect, especially after a fight, but you know you cannot do that to him again. You have to talk it out, you have to address things, you have to break the cycle. Connor is more than happy to do so, hating the long stretch of silence.

Kendall, I think, would be just as petty at first. When you stare at him, mouth closed, anger radiating out of you, he realizes what you're doing and tries to beat you at your own game. He can only last a few minutes before his own insecurities devour him. Why aren't you talking to him? Is it over? Did one fight murder your whole relationship? He can't listen to the quiet anymore, finding any way to fill it. He screams and yells and begs, but you're stubborn. One too many times he has broken his promise to you, he has broken your heart. As far as you're concerned he deserves to suffer. You want him to. Not forever, not forever, but in this moment? It's all you want. He kicks furniture and makes a mess, yelling, angry, hurt. You can't keep it in anymore and you stat yelling, crying, telling him all your pain. Everything he's put you through. He promises to do better, to be better, that this will never happen again. You're not sure if you believe him. You're not sure you'll ever believe him again.

Shiv sorta pretends nothing happened. She asks you if you want to order in for dinner after a few days of not speaking. You can't believe it. It makes you even angrier, causing you to give her the silent treatment. By not speaking, you're forcing her to address it. You just stare at her as she goes through the drawer of menus. What? Are you seriously still mad? This frustrates her, causing her to become defensive. You're being irrational. You're being insecure. Funny, you say, you're starting to sound like your father. That hits hard. The fights you have are volatile and downright cruel. Afterwards you have to nurse your wounds, you take a few days, before going to one another. There isn't necessarily an apology spoken from either of you, but it's as close as you're going to get. You go back to normal after that. You're sure one of your fights will be the downfall of your relationship one day, but that day isn't this one. You know Shiv doesn't mean it, and neither do you, it's just the kind of thing you were raised to do: go for the throat.

Roman feels incredibly anxious when you give him the silent treatment. He can't stand it. He tries to fill the silence with jokes, but it doesn't work. His one defense mechanism isn't working nor is it appropriate. When is it ever? You break him down with your blank stare. He feels jittery and nervous and nauseous. Finally, he asks you what's wrong. Is this about our fight? Fuckin- seriously? He can't believe you're still upset. Of course I am, you say. He senses your frustration and he braces for the worst, flinching when you step closer. You explain to him, yet again, that though you're upset, you would never dare hurt him. He kinda wishes you would, at least then it would be all over and you wouldn't have to talk about it. You don't care that it makes him uncomfortable, you don't care if he squirms the whole time, you are going to address what's wrong in your relationship. He's not sure where to start, relying on you. You make up by talking it out in a serious manner, so that he understands.

Bonus! Tom is a big gift giver after an argument. Though he didn't grow up with money, he's quickly learned that if you throw enough of it at a problem, it'll go away. He knows you typically get quiet after a fight so he lets you be. In the morning he'll have something expensive and thoughtless wrapped up in a bow. You've learned that there's typically a double meaning to what he gets you and it often leaves you more hurt than you already were. You don't want something that cost a lot of money, you don't want something wrapped in a bow, presented to you like it's a million fucking dollars, you want him to change. You want to stop having the same arguments over and over again because, though he promises you he'll be better, he never is. That's what you want. You know if you said this though, it would fly right over his head. He doesn't want to change. He likes himself just the way he is. That's what you can't stand, that's why you go silent.

Bonus! Greg is pretty much oblivious to your silent treatment. He thinks, after your fight, which is less of a fight and more like a tense conversation when it comes to Greg, that everything is cool. Everything is going to go back to normal. He comes home after work talking about how Rome punched him in the arm and he thinks he's getting somewhere with Mencken when you ignore him. Sore throat? Are you coming down with something? No Greg, you say, frustrated, you're still mad at him. Oh. He didn't think you would be. He thought you got all you needed out when you were talking to him. You have to explain that the conversation you were having was actually a fight, that he participated in it, and he said some pretty hurtful things. Oh. He apologizes, but there's always a "but" in there with an excuse. That's what you're talking about. He's learned from the best at Waystar how not to take accountability.

#requested #headcanon #preference #connor roy #connor roy headcanon #connor roy x reader #kendall roy #kendall roy headcanon #kendall roy x reader #shiv roy #shiv roy headcanon #shiv roy x reader #roman roy #roman roy headcanon #roman roy x reader #tom wambsgans #tom wambsgans x reader #tom wambsgans headcanon #greg hirsch #greg hirsch headcanon #greg hirsch x reader #succession #succession headcanon #succession x reader

[wambsgansshoelaces]

maybe general dating headcanons of the succession characters? like the type of partners/lovers they are? thx 😸

hi anon!! so sorry this is late AKDJSJF hopefully you like it x love u thank u for requesting <3

listened to “i see the light” on loop while I wrote this so now it’s the size of a oneshot

dating them (succession main cast)

Kendall

ᝰ idc what you have to say, words of affirmation is his TOP love language

ᝰ all the others apply to him but like

ᝰ that one is his favorite

ᝰ both to give and to receive

ᝰ he’s always making sure you’re happy

ᝰ in the moment and just in general

ᝰ and it’s like his world comes crashing down when you express you’re feeling insecure

ᝰ he’s your #1 supporter in self love

ᝰ once you’ve moved in together, he starts leaving you notes where he know’s you’ll find them

ᝰ things like “you’re loved” with crappy doodles of hearts and two stick figures that you think are supposed to be the both of you

ᝰ he likes treating you to nice things whenever he can

ᝰ fancy dinners, jewelry, watches, vacations

ᝰ he has the money; it’s not like he’s just going to NOT spend it on you

ᝰ and he’s your biggest advocate in everything

ᝰ sometime’s he’s lowkey rude about it

ᝰ like if your order comes out wrong at a restaurant

ᝰ he’s all “um, actually, no, this isn’t right”

ᝰ and you’re just “ken calm down”

ᝰ “no, you deserve the best, which is what you’re going to get.”

ᝰ maybe he’s not so much into kissing in public, but he’s always touching you one way or another

ᝰ he’s always holding your hand, or you’ve taken his bicep or elbow, or he has his hand on the small of your back, your hip, your shoulder

ᝰ the paparazzi is always around, and he wants you close and safe

ᝰ and he also likes that everyone can see that the two of you are involved

ᝰ committed to each other

ᝰ at the end of the day, he’s just happy you’re his

ᝰ you make him a better man

ᝰ and he’s eternally grateful that he has you

ᝰ he’s your big ol softie

Roman

ᝰ physical touch and quality time

ᝰ you spend all of your evenings together cuddled up and murmuring to each other about your days

ᝰ can’t cook for the life of him, but when he can, he makes you breakfast

ᝰ if your hair is long, he’ll learn to braid just so he can spend mor time with you

ᝰ under all the jokes he’s really just soft and sapp

ᝰ he treats you with so much car

ᝰ everything he does is thought out as to how you’ll receive i

ᝰ he only takes you out to dinner when he knows you’ll be able to have your favorite table

ᝰ he learns how to make different kinds of soup for you when you’re sick

ᝰ subtle pda king

ᝰ if you’re at dinner with his family, his hand’s on your thigh

ᝰ if you’re out walking in the street, he’s holding your hand

ᝰ if you’re lounging around on his dad’s yacht, his head’s on your stomach

ᝰ and he’s snoring but that’s not the point

ᝰ he loves just being with you

ᝰ he sits right up against you when you’re on the couch

ᝰ he lets you sit in his lap whenever you want

ᝰ his arm’s around you in every picture you take

ᝰ your cheeks smushed together in a bunch of selfies

ᝰ you’re his phone wallpaper

ᝰ work and home

ᝰ he loves talking about you

ᝰ at work galas he absolutely adores introducing you as his spouse

ᝰ or if you’re not there he asks “oh, do you happen to know my partner?”

ᝰ and then talks about you nonstop

ᝰ at a dinner you leave him to go get something for you both to drink

ᝰ before you make your way back, you spot him talking to a colleague

ᝰ he has his wallet out, and he’s showing the colleague something

ᝰ you get closer and realize it’s a picture of you

Shiv

ᝰ she treats you like a queen

ᝰ she’s a physical touch girl

ᝰ but really she loves words of affirmation

ᝰ and gift giving

ᝰ giving you gifts, specifically

ᝰ her favorite part of life after meeting you is spending lazy mornings in, cuddled up, kissing, touching

ᝰ she particularly enjoys going on long walks with you

ᝰ down piers, beaches, whatever

ᝰ her hand in yours, her eyes towards the sky

ᝰ she loves bringing things back for you from work trips

ᝰ or any trip she takes

ᝰ chocolates, matching bracelets, trinkets that remind you of her

ᝰ she makes all your days brighter

ᝰ one day on a visit to her office to bring her lunch, you find out there's literally seven framed pictures of you on her desk

ᝰ you are her phone wallpaper

ᝰ but she has it so it changes every time her phone closes

ᝰ so it's really thirty different photos of you are her wallpaper

ᝰ most mornings, she’s tucked up against you

ᝰ face buried in your neck

ᝰ it’s her favorite place to be

ᝰ just with you

ᝰ despite all of her peacocking and chest puffery, she just needs your support

ᝰ she needs you

ᝰ she needs her rock

ᝰ your love

ᝰ she tends to overthink and stress herself out

ᝰ but when things look like they’re going bad, she knows she can come to you

ᝰ and you’ll kiss her, tell her she’s beautiful, coo to her with that perfect voice of yours

ᝰ and suddenly everything is okay again

ᝰ for that, she knows you deserve the world

ᝰ she pampers you

ᝰ spoils you

ᝰ a tradition between the two of you is an annual trip down to the caribbean

ᝰ you both spend all your time out on the beach

ᝰ either splashing each other in the water

ᝰ or her curled up on top of you, skin pressed to yours

ᝰ she loves doing your hair and picking out outfits when you let her

ᝰ she loves doting on you when you’re sick

ᝰ she can’t bear it when you’re hurt

ᝰ but obviously won’t ever show it

ᝰ what she will show is how much she loves you

ᝰ everywhere you go, you feel loved

ᝰ she’ll never stop loving you

Tom

ᝰ mr. quality time

ᝰ literally does not care what you’re doing; he’s with you

ᝰ all he wants is to be with you

ᝰ you bring him peace

ᝰ his favorite pastime is cuddling with you in bed

ᝰ specifically with your jaw cupped in his hand, anchoring your head to his chest

ᝰ along with quality time, he’s huge on gift giving

ᝰ every week, he comes home with flowers

ᝰ and there’s always a fresh vase on your work desk

ᝰ he LOVES writing you notes

ᝰ love letters, even

ᝰ every new bouquet of flowers that show up at your work come with a heartfelt note

ᝰ in every single one, he tells you he loves you

ᝰ then writes about whatever it is he has going on in his day and how he’s thinking of you

ᝰ while he’ll never admit it, he loves pda

ᝰ specifically when you initiate it

ᝰ it makes him all smiley and happy

ᝰ he especially loves it when you’re hanging off of his arm at work things and he gets to show you off

ᝰ he just thinks you’re the most gorgeous person to exist ever

ᝰ he can never go to sleep without his arms around you

ᝰ he started wearing those nasal strips because he knows he snores and doesn’t want to keep you awake

ᝰ this man loves him a good restaurant

ᝰ but only if you’re there with him

ᝰ he can never get behind sitting across from you unless you’re in a booth

ᝰ he says that it’s more intimate when you’re sitting next to each other at a square table

ᝰ ALWAYS lets you eat from his plate

ᝰ if he ever ‘stoops as low’ (his words) as to go to a fast food place, he always asks if you want fries

ᝰ he knows to get you an order regardless otherwise you’ll just steal from him

ᝰ not that he cares anyway

ᝰ he also particularly loves watching the sun set with you

ᝰ something poetic about the sky almost being as beautiful as you

ᝰ you both try to watch it whenever you can

ᝰ because you only have so many days on this earth

ᝰ he wants to spend as many of them as physically possible with you

ᝰ you’ve noticed, though, over the sunsets, he doesn’t really pay attention to them after a certain amount of time

ᝰ he just stares at you

ᝰ and whenever you catch his eyes, they’re so full of love

ᝰ just for you

ᝰ only for you

Greg

ᝰ acts of service warrior

ᝰ LOVES doing things for you

ᝰ whether it be chores or bringing you coffee at work

ᝰ he likes feeling useful

ᝰ especially if he feels useful to you

ᝰ it’s a different sort of ecstasy for him

ᝰ you like buying him bracelets

ᝰ he wears them everywhere

ᝰ you’d gotten him an “i love my partner” (those like i <3 my gf) pin as a joke and he unironically wears it around on his waystar lanyard

ᝰ "yeah, my partner got that for me!"

ᝰ he’s a bit panicky and overthinks too much

ᝰ but he just has to look at you and his anxieties come under control

ᝰ he’s always running around, so he really enjoys just laying with you in bed

ᝰ he sleeps like a dying victorian child

ᝰ slumped over on you like the life was sucked from him

ᝰ he likes going on miniature adventures with you

ᝰ they’re nothing crazy; just dates that push him out of his comfort zone

ᝰ like kayaking

ᝰ you had to force him into the boat to go kayaking with you

ᝰ like physically

ᝰ yeah he’s scared, he doesn’t want to get hurt

ᝰ he doesn’t want you to get hurt

ᝰ but he hears you laughing and sees your gorgeous smile

ᝰ and that’s when he realizes he can just suck it up

ᝰ because he wants you happy

ᝰ he learns how to make those braided bracelets for you

ᝰ it’s a calming hobby, and he likes seeing them on your wrists

ᝰ he made something for you

ᝰ and you like it

ᝰ that’s all he could ever need in life

ᝰ he learns how to cook your favorite meals for you

ᝰ and he’s a surprisingly good cook

ᝰ his hyper vigilance over the food makes it come out almost perfectly every time

ᝰ unless he’s having a breakdown

ᝰ which happens less now that he’s gotten with you

ᝰ you make things calm

ᝰ he loves calm

ᝰ he loves you

Stewy

ᝰ he’s so extra

ᝰ literally every single love language under the sun is his favorite one

ᝰ showers you with little trinkets that just remind him of you

ᝰ if you collect something, he’s constantly gifting you specifically that

ᝰ he spends as much time as he can with you

ᝰ as long as he’s not working, he’s perfectly content just sitting in silence with you

ᝰ he’s a massive fan of the water

ᝰ may it be yachts, jetskiis, floating gazebos

ᝰ he likes making special dates out of things like that

ᝰ he wants you to feel like everything you do together is new

ᝰ he doesn’t want you getting bored

ᝰ he’s worried you will, actually

ᝰ if he buys you jewelry, it’s hella expensive

ᝰ and diamond studded

ᝰ if you’re a watch person, he’s even worse

ᝰ he buys you every watch you ever look at

ᝰ goes the most bananas over pda out of everyone

ᝰ internally, anyway

ᝰ he doesn’t make it kown, but his some of his favorite moments with you are when you’re both bustling through a crowd in italy or something

ᝰ but you’re clinging to each other so neither of you get lost

ᝰ did i mention he likes traveling

ᝰ he likes traveling

ᝰ and you’re the only person he’d ever even consider traveling with

ᝰ at night in greece, he discovers he likes the pinky holding thing

ᝰ he saw it on tiktok

ᝰ so when you’re walking back to your hotel, he hooks his pinky with yours

ᝰ and it becomes a thing between you two

ᝰ also is for some reason obsessed with giving you his jacket when you’re cold

ᝰ it could be below freezing and you already have a jacket on

ᝰ and he’d give you his blazer or coat anyway

ᝰ and he’ll stand there shivering with this dumb grin on his face

ᝰ it always ends with you two sharing a scarf

ᝰ you think he does it on purpose, just do be close

ᝰ just to have an excuse to have an arm around you

ᝰ and really, you’re right

ᝰ he just needs you

#succession x reader headcanons #succession headcanons #succession #succession hbo #succession x reader #anon ask #kendall roy #kendall roy x reader #roman roy #roman roy x reader #siobhan roy #siobhan roy x reader #tom wambsgans #tom wambsgans x reader #gregory hirsch #gregory hirsch x reader #stewy hosseini #stewy hosseini x reader #wambsgansshoelaces

[scarletttries]

How Succession Characters would react to getting you pregnant...

Pairings: Kendall Roy x Reader, Roman Roy x Reader, Tom Wambsgans x Reader, Greg Hirsch x Reader, Lucas Mattson x Reader, Stewy Hosseini x Reader

Author's note: Thank you for this fun request! Here is a little bit of thoughts on how a bunch of the Succession characters would react to finding out their partner (the reader) is pregnant ☺️

Kendall Roy

This man has had the importance of succession literally bred into him. His struggles with infertility and trying to be the kind of father he wishes he could be have taken a toll on poor Kendall, making him feel like he'll never have the family he's always wished for. That starts to ease when the two of you get together, slowly coming around to the idea that maybe he doesn't need anything else as long as he has you. But when your period is late, expect Kendall to notice, always keeping track of your body in the back of his mind in a way he just can't help but obsess over. He daren't say anything, certain that in the next week it will turn out to be nothing, his body once again failing to deliver him what he craves so much.

A few days later when you bring him lunch at the office he's all but pushed that hopeful thought out of his head until you present him a carefully wrapped box, inside of which sit a dozen positive pregnancy tests. He's in complete disbelief at first, eyes welling up and repeatedly asking if you're sure, and more uncomfortably for him, if it's definitely his. Once you've suitably convinced him of both of those facts, you'll get full, smiling, happy Kendall, scooping you into his arms and telling you exactly how 'fucking excited he is' loud enough that by 2pm that day everyone in the Waystar office has heard the news.

While you're pregnant Kendall can't stop telling everyone that the two of you are expecting, overflowing with pride and joy and love for your growing family. He's the kind of person to fly in the best midwife/doula/doctor in the world to make sure everything goes exactly to plan, making sure you don't have to lift a finger for the whole nine months. He'd also be an absolute menace for not being able to keep his hands off you, the way you glow as you start showing driving his little brain insane, wanting more than anything to just put baby after baby inside you.

Finally when the baby comes expect Kendall to be there. Yes he'll have a few wobbles and won't be perfect, the reality of his experience of fatherhood making him doubt he'll do anything good enough for this baby, but every time he sees the two of you, he knows he needs to step up and do whatever it takes for his little family, now that he finally has what he's been dreaming of.

Roman Roy

It's taken a long time for Roman just to get comfortable being intimate with you, a slow but not unpleasant journey that the two of you have been on since he first fell embarrassingly hard for you while working at Waystar. Given the months of longing looks and lingering touches it took to get to your first kiss, you never really thought about needing to use protection with Roman, until one particularly special night he finally wanted to try 'the whole thing' with you, surprised and delighted at how perfect it felt take make love to someone he truly cared for, allowing himself to be vulnerable in every way with you. As if wanting to make up for lost time, that night would lead to a real Honeymoon phase of Roman not being able to keep his hands off you, desperate to feel that incredible connection again and again.

You can hardly feel too surprised as the nurse confirms your suspicion, a follow up appointment made and a heavy piece of news on your shoulders as you ride silently in the town-car back to yours and Roman's home. He's his usual ball of emphatic energy as you step through the door, bounding up to you before stopping in his tracks at the clear weight on your chest. The words spill out before you can overthink it, watching carefully as you watch him process it all, slinking down to the floor and sitting cross-legged in silence as he contemplates. Roman had never planned to have a child, not ever expecting to find someone like you to share his life with, and he didn't exactly have the best relationship with the concept of fatherhood, a chill running down his spine at the thought of Logan ever laying a hand on his kid. Then a realisation began to calm him; that he was nothing like his father. And while he wouldn't be perfect, his immature brain sure to make mistakes along the way, he knew he would always make his child feel safe, something he wished someone had done for him all those years ago. So then he'd smile, and pull you down to the floor with him, and laugh his teary-eyed hyena laugh, and wrap you in his arms, protecting all three of you for the next chapter of your lives.

It's safe to say his family would be extremely surprised by the announcement, particularly Logan, who'd rejoice in a way that made Roman feel even more sure that he'd never be that kind of cruel, manipulative father that only wanted his children for what they could do for him. Throughout the pregnancy Roman would be up and down, jubilant and terrified, proud and ashamed, the whole thing trudging up more than its fair share of childhood trauma. But when it comes down to it, he'll be there to step up, immediately swearing to do whatever it takes to make sure your little one never feels the way he spent his life feeling.

Tom Wambsgans

Despite all the venom and acid that burned him in his first marriage (this one's for you team Tomshiv divorce), Tom is peak fatherhood material. You only have to look at the intensely caring way he talks about Mondale, the bizarre energy he's put into raising Greg, and of course, his absolute undying affections for you, to know this man would coddle a child like no one's business. You wouldn't even be scared to tell him, the news unplanned but certainly not unpleasant, the way this man fucks like a freight train clearly no match for the average condom.

You'd make an event of it, ordering balloons and cake and flowers to your shared duplex, so when he got home to a sea of congratulations there would be no doubt. A midwest man through and through, if you weren't already married he'd buy you a ring the very next day, the floods of happy tears stopping long enough to let him pick a perfect diamond. He'd spend half the week on the phone telling everyone he knows, so excited to grow your little family, and be the kind of man he'd been raised to be. He's definitely type to read an unhelpful number of articles to make sure he's doing everything he can 'to serve you and your growing child during this strenuous time', calling his mother to fly across the states to help out as you get closer to your due date. This man already has a short-list of the best preschools in New York by the time your bundle of joy comes in the world, ready to be a present father and husband, even if it means for once his career has to take a backseat.

Greg Hirsch

You had worked very very hard to make it crystal clear to Greg that whatever happened between the two of you was strictly on a casual basis, not wanting to get drawn into his complex family dynamics, or end up the centre of ATN news story. Despite his clear infatuation he had agreed, following every boundary and rule you set out to the best of his slightly clueless abilities. So when you triple checked the calendar and realised what had happened, you couldn't help but lock yourself in the Waystar women's bathroom and scream enough curses to make Kendall Roy blush. After deciding this was something you wanted, you'd finally let Greg buy you dinner, surprised by the calibre of restaurant he picked for what was really just a first date.

When you tell him the news, and make it clear you don't expect anything from him, you'd be pleasantly surprised by how loudly and excitedly he proclaims "that he loves kids!" earning a few uncomfortable looks from the tables around you. He'd be stressed and feel unprepared for sure, but he wanted more of a relationship with you and this was going to put that on the cards for him, plus he'd always wanted a family of his own so he couldn't wait to tell 'Uncle Tom and Great Grandpa Ewen' the news.

Realistically he'd be quite a useless partner, buying you your favourite sushi without realising you can't have it, and wanting to throw a party in your favourite bar to celebrate, forgetting you can't drink, but the thought would always be there. And if you need anything done, he's ready and waiting, even if he needs the clearest possible instructions and will end up having to call you for more information anyway. No matter how much trouble it gets him in with work/Tom he'd be at every appointment, proud to have a reason to pull himself together and excited to be a grown up, if it means being one by your side. Once you have your baby, he'd 100% bring them into the office, showing them around Waystar and being shocked at anyone implying its not appropriate to bring your baby to work, having Tom back him that it's important for all the Roy family to be there together.

Stewy Hosseini

Coming from the happiest family in the Succession universe, Stewy's often thought about having a family of his own, but his lifestyle of late nights and kissing boys on Molly means it's not something that he's ever really applied himself to pursuing. So when the two of you start dating he takes it seriously; he can tell he could have a real future with you, the type of warm, intelligent, kind person he's always wanted to find and settle down with. It wouldn't be long until you were introduced to his parents, watching over his nieces and nephews together and giving Stewy no choice but to pray you'll be the mother of his children. He'd want to go through the traditional order of things, getting married and building a home together before you started to grow your family, but when a happy night of too much rose in the hot tub on his balcony leads to a positive pregnancy test, he'd be absolutely elated. He'd call in every favour he was owed across the city to get your dream wedding together within a month, dragging you round viewings of townhouses with little gardens he immediately describes as 'perfect for the little one.'

Stewy would still respect your independence though, making his hopes and preferences known, but ultimately letting you call all the shots, just a helping hand and credit card to make whatever you're dreaming of come true. He's less protective than some of the others, but only because he knows you're tough as nails now and always, not wanting you to feels smothered and wrapped in bubble-wrap, still making sweet plans for just the two of you before and after the baby comes. Stewy would be such a happy and excited father, truly just a joy to be around.

Lukas Mattson (warning: darker themes, reader discretion advised)

Even just being seduced by Mattson would feel a little bit unsettling; uncertain of exactly how much of what he said he really meant, and what was all just charm and bravado that seemed to effortlessly ooze out of him. So when he insists that you don't need protection, or says he'll pull out but always does it a moment too late, you don't realise what he's up to until it's too late. You see from the moment Lucas met you, he knew you had to be his, and the easiest way to tie your lives together forever is to get you pregnant.

He'd pretend to be shocked by the news, like he hadn't worked night and day to baby-trap you, asking you sincerely if you want to keep it, and telling you you'd want for absolutely nothing if you just let him look after the two of you. He says it so sweetly, so sincerely, hovering his shaking hand just shy of your stomach and looking down at you with nothing but awestruck affection in his eyes that you can't help but fall for him, this image of devotion exactly what you want for your future. And as you say you want to keep it, and have your family with him, he'll fall to his knees and tear up, his whole life feeling like it lead to this moment, a child to make the best future he can for.

He'll throw himself into his work for a lot of your pregnancy, a new perspective on his work with AI, tinkering with the latest baby tech to make sure you two have everything you could possibly want to help you with this stage of your lives. You'll grow slightly more used to his intensity as he points it in a helpful direction, worshipping the ground you walk on and trying desperately to make everything as good as it can be for your little family.

#writing #fanfiction #one shot #requests #kendall roy headcanon #kendall roy succession #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy #roman roy angst #roman roy fluff #roman roy imagine #roman roy x reader #roman roy #tom wambsgans #tom wambsgans x reader #tom wambsgans headcanons #greg hirsch #greg hirsch x reader #greg hirsch headcanons #mattson x reader #mattson headcanons #stewy succession #stewy hosseini #stewy x reader #stewy hosseini headcanons #succession imagine #succession hbo #succession #succession headcanons #lukas mattson

[bowieandqueen11]

Kissing Roman Roy Would Include...

Request: oh my god! your kendall roy kissing headcanons were adorable! would it be possible to get some for roman as well? i just know that man is touch starved and definitely had an awkward time kissing the reader early on in their relationship. obviously, you can choose to ignore but thank you!

Awww yes of course you can get some my love this man is 100% touch starved you’re so right <3

LADS OKAY I’M COMING BACK TO SAY THIS IS NEARLY 7K AND MY LONGEST FIC BY FAR LMAOO BABYGIRL CODED anyway comments are much appreciated because I am so tired lol ty ty ily all! :)

Warning: mentions of injuries/ blood, childhood abuse, and some swearing! Also MAJOR spoilers for Season 4!!

(I do not own Succession or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @xihatiancai.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

We all really took one look at Roman Roy and went wet pathetic disgusting meow meow man I love you, and I really love and appreciate that for all of us. Because like... if not babygirl, why babygirl coded?

The first time you guys ‘kissed’, you were both around seven years old: on the tennis court, Shiv had sent a ball flying at Roman that had bent his hand backwards, and left quite a nasty gash of blood running down his arm. Instead of comforting the brother she had just bruised for the umpteenth time, the set of Roman crawling down to sit on the grass while cradling his arm just made her furious, and she went storming off towards the kitchen for some chocolate milk to cool down. You had been watching from the doubles side line, dropping your own racket as soon as Roman began to snivel, squeezing his skin back together and wincing as warm blood gushed out onto the grass. You run over to kneel in front of him, the harsh rays of light blushing across your head like a halo as you grab onto his elbow. You press the back of your shirt against it, hoping it will do until a nurse or one of the waiters comes running out with a first aid kit; as you glance up, the furious face of his father comes pacing past the balcony doors, and so you turn Roman’s head to look at you instead, praying that he won’t spot him. It will only make him whine more. It surprises you when he curses curtly instead at the feel of your fingers pressing down hard against his wound, but when you mumble an apology he finally stops scowling down at the ground and looks up: it’s as if he’s seeing you properly for the first time. His eyes light up as you gently lean down and press a kiss against the bloodstains; just the slightest hint of pressure, and tingling warmth of your your lips is enough to send a flourish through his body and make Roman Roy feel nourished. No longer withered, no longer left to rot. Roman gazes up at you: past the dappled sunlight, past the dotted clouds, past the earth and skies and heavens, and past it all he sees you. 

You’re the first and last person he’s ever wanted to kiss. Like craving poison, he knows it will pass through and destroy him if he allows himself to indulge. But by god, if it wouldn’t taste so sweet as it pours down his throat and overwhelms every dilapidated part of his body.

The first time he works up the nerves to kiss you back, is in one of the pool storage huts just past the outer boundaries of his father’s estate. Shiv had finally convinced her father to allow her out into the city to go shopping for some new suits, and Ken had been chained into a business meeting to take notes for Logan, so Roman had been left all alone to wander around the ostentatious shadows and lonely halls of the house he hated to call home. Feeling trapped, like he couldn’t breathe, he wanders towards the ‘safe space’ the two of you had created a couple of years ago: a small nook you and Roman had spent the day nestling out (and nearly breaking his arm shoving unused surfboards and pool cleaning chemical boxes) in the dim, and slightly damp room. Finally feeling at home as he stepped into the mildew-steeped scent cloud that enveloped the square box stuffed full of things his father had wanted out of his sight, his heart is allieved to spot you already there. You don’t even have to look up from your book as he comes dawdling towards you like a puppy afraid it’s about to be kicked. When you open your arm up to him willingly, the true him comes leaping forth: like a darting hummingbird, he comes flying  into your side, nestling his chin on the hard part of your shoulder so he can scan the words lazily past your head. After about half an hour of him gripping onto your shirt, as sweet and softly as infant spring, he glances up towards your face and an overwhelming urge overtakes him. Before he can stop himself, before he can make sense of his decision, before he can chide himself for his weakness, he lifts his head up and presses his lips firmly, if a little harshly, against the side of your cheek. Your book crashes to the floor with a thunderous slap, lifting a small cloud of dust as you raise your fingers to the wet spot in surprise. He immediately shuffles backwards at the noise, before making an awkward, fumbling excuse and running out the door.

He never brings it up again, but whenever you’re round at the Roy residence after that you can feel the intensity of his eyes land on you far more often. He blinks away and scratches the back of his neck nonchalantly whenever you catch him, or sometimes scrunches his nose up and starts biting the edges of his fingernails if he’s really nervous. But the love is there. He just can’t say it yet.

Once, when you were the only person in the house besides Connor and Logan, you were asked by the second-born eldest son to help him find Romie. With a concerned sigh, Connor wanders off to check behind the bathroom door off the living room, his lips forming a tight line as he disappears off down the corridor. Turns out, Logan had found out that Roman had been the one to spill his ice cream cone in the car on the way back from his fencing lesson, and Roman had run off cursing and crying when he heard the roar reverberate out from his father’s office at the news. You know where he is, instinctively. Of course you do: you don’t even need to think as your feet guide you towards his bedroom, and your body shrinks down to scoot under the bed and lie on the pristinely clean floorboards. He’s hiding behind the tendril weeds of his fear, making himself as small a target as possible as he balls himself up, trembling like heavy branches when lanced with frost. From behind his raised elbows that protect his face, he’s sniffling, his feet leaving the ground every few seconds from how harshly they shake. You lie down carefully on your side beside him, so hyperaware of any part of yourself brushing against him, in case the wounded creature decides to bolt. Thankfully, he comes sliding towards you, only stopping when your chest does the job for him; being as physically close as he can get to you, he huddles into your embrace while you stroke back the few curls by his ear. Once you’ve finally managed to choke back your own tears, your lips latch onto the spot of skin by the lobe of his ear, eyes closing and ticking his skin. He warbles against you, shivering, and the kiss just makes him whine more harrowingly against your chest.

Romie’s always around you. Always. He finds it difficult to actually be physically intimate, so it says quite plainly (even if you can’t understand it yet) that you’re the love of his life when he comes barrelling down the front stairs of the veranda and straight into your hug whenever your first foot falls onto the estate. It also means that during family dinners, when he’s finally mastering the skill of slouching back in his wishbone chair and tuning out all the horrible and spiteful things wrapped up in faux sincerity his family are saying about each other, he turns instead to kick your feet under the table. The brush of his ankle against your shoe is soon followed by the heavy pressure of his fingers reaching over onto your lap and entangling with your own. When the two of you are finally excused, you decide not to go back inside straight away. Instead, the two of you go for a dander around some of the verdant fields around the edges of the property: a few green patches here there that are filled with the scent of honeysuckle and freshly blooming rainbows splattered amongst the dirt. You decide to stop and sit for a while on the edge of a cobbled stone wall, laughing as Roman nearly falls off the uneven patch as he settles down beside you. He shrugs you off with a wave of his hand, but he’s smiling as you pluck a daisy from between the blades and tuck it behind his ear. For a while, the two of you just exist: watching the sunset brew violet and lilac gleams across your eyeline, talking shite and poking fun at each other, until Roman shyly takes a break from his rapid talking to blink slowly. He leans his torso forward, and after a bashful burn flickers over his cheeks, he squeezes his eyes shut and plants a wet kiss against your cheek, just like he had done all those years before.

He climbs into your room later that night, and you nearly hit him with a baseball bat when you come strolling out of your bathroom to see a teenager laying splayed out in a heap on your rug, a few pages of your homework flying over your desk from where he had banged his knee and tripped. With a lopsided grin, he decides to just stay lying there (once you had convinced him that you weren’t going to actually hit him). Sometimes Roman just likes to watch what you’re doing: to observe as an outsider what normality, what contentment should and could feel like. As you sit by your lamp and finish off your english essay for the next morning, you notice with furrowed eyebrows that Roman is moochier than normal tonight: he keeps squirming, rolling about and whining as if he’s debating something in his mind. That’s why when he’s gripping onto the ivy and finally climbing back down into the darkness later that night, you grab onto the collar of his sherpa jacket and heave him up through the air like a flustered bird towards you. After his initial surprise at the feeling of you pounding your lips against his own, he melts into you: clumsily, messily, desperately, but with one hand gripping so hard onto your window frame that he splinters the wood. His top lip refuses to let you go: capturing onto your bottom lip over and over and over again, the sweet taste of cherry flooding your senses as you bite down on the lip forcing its way into your mouth. When he pulls away, he looks so uncharacteristically serious for a moment as he hovers a few inches away from your face. His eyes never break from your lips, as if he he looks away the miracle he’s been graced with might fly away and he’ll be left with the hellish nightmare of his normal reality. But it doesn’t, and so you let him go.

He burns a crimson red and starts muttering incoherently as his feet work their way back down the garden lattice, but he’s got this giddy smile and a spring in his swishing walk the whole way home.

I mean, like, of course Connor invited you on the camping trip. And man, I mean the tension that had been expanding between you and Roman over the last few years was becoming more and more obvious to his brothers, and it pierced Roman’s heart with a stroke of fear when he realised it was to him as well. Connor’s little fishing expedition by the river turned out a little differently than he expected: instead of a placid moment between family, learning and teaching new skills together and bonding over one activity they could all share in, it was more of a ‘watch little gremlin Roman flirt obnoxiously with Y/n and, once again, ignore everyone else’ fest. Kendall sat on the shore, itchy against the reeds of grass and sighing every time he looked down at his watch. Connor was still having fun, though, from where he was wading his brand new, and never worn again wellies into the shallow end of the creek. It was just that every now and then he would have to trip over his fishing line and scoot to the right to avoid large splashes of weedy water landing on him; Roman had decided a much better use of his time was to try and pull up handful of mud and chase you around the river side with it. Your squeals, as you ran around the tamarack trees and peered around the sides like a meerkat, could be heard from the campsite. So, too, could Roman’s hyena laugh as he went laughing around the bend after you, and Connor had to spend half the night ignoring your shared snickers as he apologies to camper after camper. 

I don’t even know how, but somehow the two of you managed to convince Connor that it was a great idea for you and Roman to share a tent. Thanks to Kendall’s pointed warning for the two of you to behave and ‘not embarrass the family name anymore’, you were both surprisingly well behaved during the night. Mainly due to the fact that before you fell asleep, you leant over and left a chaste kiss against Roman’s cold forehead, before turning onto your side facing him and wishing him a goodnight. He wiggled down into his sleeping bag like a little worm as the electricity from your touch spread down like firebolts through his body. That man did not sleep one wink that night. Not one. Instead he rolled onto his left side, and chose to spend his time contemplating you: taking you in. The milky buzz of twilight flooded through the loose zip, the chirp of bouncing crickets on the darkened rocks outside match the intense thudding of his heart. Fumbling his fingers up so they rested underneath the side of his jaw, he made himself comfortable as he observed the way your chest rose and fall: the way your nose crinkled up in disgust when you were in the throes of a weird dream, the way your mouth mushed as you turned more into the stony ground. How much he loved you. How happy he could be if he could just summon the bravery to tell you. How fucked he was. How, if he did, his father would immediately utilise it, weaponize his love against him.

Roman wasn’t stupid, but he was. He didn’t know if he could find a way to escape this cage. Deep in his heart, he knew there was no key to this dog kennel, to this bird cage, to this leash. But he lay there, still, dreaming of freedom.

You get invited along on their family holidays a lot, mainly because Logan spends his whole time on phone calls and not mentally being present so he doesn’t really notice you’re there. If you and Roman aren’t spending the afternoons sitting together on a sun lounger, reading aloud softly to him by the pool side, it’s spent actually in the pool. A freshly seventeen year old Roman had seemed nervous, besides the usual annoyance at having to wear nothing but swimming shorts: shaken all day; when you touch his pinkie finger and grip onto it, silently asking him with your stern expression if you were okay, only the most miniscule of grins could cross his face in response. He still seemed unsettled in the water, besides the fact that Shiv’s foot nearly thwacked him up the face as she and Kendall wrestled each other under the water, both unrelenting in their accusation that the other had lost their splashing match. While you watched on in horrified curiosity, you nearly jumped when you felt Roman softly touch your elbow and lead you away from the affray. You think he’s trying to guide you towards the Jacuzzis as you bob across the water, or perhaps back to his room to escape the antics of his family. Instead, Roman leads you further into the deep end for a moment; after a sharp turn right, you’re surrounded by a small well, a shallow area just out of sight of the main swimming area. The imposing walls loom over your head as you take a perched seat on the brick bench that runs around the semi-circle, and Roman’s breath trembles as he follows suit, sitting maddingly close to you. You open your mouth to ask him what’s going on, but before you can get a squeak out he’s lunged at you, fervently enough to make you nearly bite your tongue. It’s not super romantic, and it’s incredibly clumsy as an inexperienced Roman Roy mashes his lips against your bottom one until he can feel his teeth clash against yours. You can taste a touch of pineapple from the inside of his mouth as he sloppily raises his cupid’s bow, and soon after the tang of chlorine as he falls too far forward and sends you both tumbling backwards into the water. But when you come back up for air, heaving him up by his underarms and staring dumbstruck at him as he pants heavily and tries to look anywhere else, you burst out giggling. Roman’s smile grows brightly enough to blight the sun as he looks incredulously at you, the laughter only stopping short on his lips when he catches the squinting look of his sister watching the two of you from the boundary edge.

It’s the first and last time Roman Roy kisses you for a while, terrified that one of his siblings will go squealing to daddy and he’ll take you away from him. And then, suddenly, the two of you have grown up. Roman’s still stuck to you like glue, but the repression festers away in his stomach until he feels as if some kind of scaly tooth monster is gnawing away at his insides. He feels the leather tighten around his neck whenever he’s standing like an affronted ostrich in that office with his father, his master, his demise, his ghost, him. 

So, Roman starts to try and avoid you whenever he’s at Waystar, worried that the grief that never seems to leave his mind will strangle you if he lets you in. Terrified that his father will die, but also that his father will never die. That this is just another cage. Eventually, after weeks of him turning on his heels with a manic jolt and running out of every board room he spots you in: after months of the child dressed up as a man putting his phone to his ear and having nonsensical phone calls every time he passes you in the corridors, you manage to nab him when he’s walking out of the break room. Even though a stuttering cousin Greg thinks you’re trying to kidnap him when you grab Roman by the collar and start dragging him to the elevator, you refuse to let go until Greg’s waving hand is firmly shut behind the metal sheets. You let go, and he fumbles backwards onto the hand-rail that runs around the small rectangle with a bemused ‘what the actual fuck’, but you just cross your arms and stare at him, refusing to talk first. 

Your austere façade quickly drops, and you’re quick to slam your first into the emergency button on the panel, gripping onto Roman’s sleeve as the elevator lurches to a stop between the twenty-second and twenty-third floors. A kind of acceptance has washed over Roman, some kind of known and familiar claustrophobia from having spent his whole life locked up, his whole life thrown about sets in. He picks at his fingernails as his eyes dart about, wild and brutal and crushing as he looks around for an escape route. It’s only when you put a hand on his shoulder and draw him in for a hug that he breaks down; he squats down so the two of you are resting a few inches off the floor, his face buried just atop of your heart as he shakes and he cries and he allows himself the security to just crumble. To melt down. To kick his feet and hope his father feels the wring of the shackles against his own ankles. He hopes for the first time in his life, as you stroke the back of his head and shush him comfortingly, that they hurt him. 

Something changes between the two of you that day. You’re kinder to each other, and slowly to yourselves. It’s not outspoken, or rushed, or ravenous, but it begins to grow and grow and grow until it’s not only confusion and anguish that lies at the pit of Roman’s rotting core.

It starts with him becoming more comfortable showing affection to you around his family. Like you sitting on Roman’s lap at Shiv’s wedding reception, not listening to the speeches but trying to hide your giggles in Roman’s palms as he’s busy trying to take roses out of the centre piece and pin them through your hair. Or his full weight against you during the professional photos out on the balcony, and not even Shiv flicking her brother or Tom waving his hand at Roman to try and get him to behave could stop him from leaning backwards and planting a kiss underneath your jawline once the man said he was taking the final photograph. The two of you go out into the gardens later that night, trying to escape the ear-hammering loud beats of the D.J., and to try and make an early escape from the growing fight that seemed to be coming between Tom and Shiv’s old work acquaintance. With two beers and slightly tipsy heads, you sit down and talk on the dew-ridden grass, shoulders swaying against the other’s in time with the falling pine leaves. You felt like children again, and against the smouldering clash of fireworks that brandished the sky in bursts of red and gold, you both felt undying as well. He kisses you then, his hand reaching up to brush against the side of your cheek, his bottom lip teasingly tugging at your bottom lip and making you swat him away with a laugh. As you take his hand in your own and press a promise filled kiss against his middle knuckle, he hopes that one day he’ll be able to kiss you at your own wedding.

When you know he’s having a rough day at work, you like to try and sneak into his office and wrap your arm around his stomach, peppering kisses up and down his spine. Although he tries to shake you off like a startled starling at first, when he realises that you also managed to close the blinds on your way in without him noticing, he quickly relinquishes himself onto your barrage of adoration. He becomes all whiny, and soft, and needy, and all the things he’ll never allow himself to be outside of the security blanket of this closed off room. Although he still isn’t comfortable with anything too sexual, you won’t find him complaining as he wrestles you to the sofa. Once you’ve had the wind knocked out of your lungs, and Roman’s satisfied with how fully you’re splayed out on your back before him, he’ll go scuttling over to the end of the sofa and kneel down beside it. With a mischievous glimmer in his eye, he’ll swish his hips from side to side and come crawling up the sides of his body like a wolf slinking towards its dinner. Then he attacks: his tongue heavy and slick as he draws a hickey out just under the pulse point on your neck, pressing him firmly against you if you try to squirm away, chiding you with a warning. When it becomes too much, he lets you grip him up by his tie and walk him backwards until his thighs hit his desk. He jumps up to perch on it, and you stand between his legs as they tighten around you. You’re slow and careful as you loosen the material between your fingers, opening the first button of his shirt, and only the first so he doesn’t become too uncomfortable, with a satisfying loud pop. He whimpers as you lean over to scrape your teeth against the exposed skin, working your way up until your lips are tantalisingly hovering over the stubble on his jaw. He can feel your breath, hot and unsteady as it pants against him, but he still can’t stop the shiver that racks through him as he takes your hand and guides them under his shirt. With your hands firmly planted against his abdomen, you look at him quizzically, worried, but he just keeps his fingers on top of your own and answers you by sweetly pressing his top lip over his own. Just once, he wanted to feel safe, to feel okay with the love of his life touching his body.

The two of you have this game where you try to steal kisses from each other during the most inappropriate and annoying times possible. Oh, Shiv’s trying to talk to you in her kitchen about how her trip to England went? Roman barges in between the two of you, nearly making Shiv chop her thumb off, just so he can interrupt his sister by smirking against your mouth. Kendall wants to run through a presentation the two of them have to give the next morning? You’re grabbing onto Roman’s head as you run through the office, nearly giving him a heart attack as he scrambles backwards and allows you to drop his head back onto the cushion. With a full plant landing on his already pliant lips, Kendall’s left with a fed-up ‘hey’, yet unsurprised look of disappointment on his face as you run off back to your own desk.

When his father called Romie a moron in Prague, the look of desolation that crossed through his teary eyes was enough to make an angel weep. But it broke you even more when he pattered out of the dining area, walking shoulder to shoulder with you, but not saying anything. He was just staring down at his hands as if they were blotted: stained with specks of blood, and he would have to spend another sleepless night scrubbing them out of his skin. It wasn’t the first time he heard it, but it was the first time you were there to hear it too, and you weren’t going to let him get comfortable wallowing in that fearful acceptance. You grip onto his shoulder and steer him away from the milling crowd of sheep, stuffing him into a bathroom stall of the east wing of the hotel. Crowded together, Roman’s hamstring bumps against the porcelain as the two of you scoot about until you’re standing facing each other as best as you could. He looks at you, bleary eyed, and you look at him, bleary eyed. He breaks. Choking, gasping, breathless sobs, drowning in his misery. He grabs onto your shirt, clawing into the meat of your shoulders as if he’ll sink if he lets go. He keeps babbling through bubbles of spit about how he just wants to make his father proud, how he wants to be just like him, how he wants to prove that he can rule all this too. How he can never replace him. But he can. He wants it all to burn, but he wants to stand on the ruins and be the one to plant the foundations again. To make a better world, in honour of his father: in honour of the god of war that rages within his head. You press quick kisses on his sweaty forehead whenever you can, doing your best to dodge the quick turns of his head and wiping away the trails of tears with your thumb. All you can do in that moment, as you press your lips against the side of his ear and whisper it to the most intimate, lost parts of himself, is to let him know that you’re proud of him, no matter what happens next. You always have been, and even the ghost of Logan that possess Roman can’t stop that.

The sloppy kisses he gives you the next morning omg. When the two of you are sitting on your bedroom steps, and you’re biting your bottom lip in concentration as you try to do up the buttons of his dress shirt and make him look presentable in front of his family. Like a feral dog, he uses all of his leftover energy trying to nip and bite your fingertips, catching them on his tongue and pursing them against the roof of his mouth whenever he can.

You cannot convince me that Roman isn’t a jealous bitch. Like at Kendall’s fortieth birthday party, when he finally gives up trying to get up into his special little secret treehouse club, and Shiv has left him to go ham on the dance floor instead. You finally manage to convince him into relaxing for a fricking minute, making him join you at the bar. If someone tries to grab your waist, though, or butt into your conversation while the two of you are hyena giggling and seeing who can spurt more beer into the other’s face, Roman will full on goad them into fighting him. I mean, chest puffed out, crazed look in his face, hands up by his side until they send a weak shove in their general direction. It only ends when Roman either: near topples you to press a bracing kiss against your lips, or you dragging him off and having to hold him through the brackets of his arms. In the corner of the room, over by the sheets of warbling fire that seems to be coming from a central room, you stand behind his feet and wrap your arms up his chest. You can feel the fury roll off him, allowing him a moment to blow off the steam, until his head finally falls like putty and begins to synchronise his breathing to yours again after you hold your lips against the nape of his neck.

The kisses when he comes back after being held hostage (I am doing this so out of order apologies) omg??? He clambers sombrely to sit beside you on the deck of the boat, looking so out of place and serious as he leans back against the cushions. His siblings make fun of him, and tease him, and although he realises it’s harmless and he’ll see it as a key bonding moment a couple of years down the line, in the inside the typical Roy storm is brewing. He can’t say anything: just hides behind the jokes and snide comments so the words don’t choke him. You just feel his weight fall against yours little by little, until his hand reaches out and takes your own so tightly you know it’s going to bruise. The muscle in his jaw tightens and he squeezes his eye shut in an enduring pain at the sight of his father’s helicopter coming in to land. So, for that kind second before his life comes crashing back down around him again and he has to revert back, to hide behind the brick wall again, you take him over to the railings. It’s just the two of you, the warm sea salt stinging against your grimacing faces, and the ungodly sight of a near-naked Cousin Greg lying stretched out beside the slide below you. After a few goes, you manage to unlatch his claws from the white metal and replace them with your soothing palm, rubbing semi-circles against the back of his hand. You’re here. You’re here, with him. You’re not going to let him go it alone again, if he wants.

And he does. He could cry, he so desperately does. Some of the tension falls from his shoulders as he raises your joint hands to his lips and kisses them, gracing over every inch of skin his mouth can latch onto. 

You both know, in that moment, that it’s enough. It’s a promise. You’ll stick together, no matter what. You’ll love each other through everything, no matter what. You’ll stay around, no matter what or who he becomes.

Which brings me to... kissing him when you find out about the passing of his father. Standing on that boat, on the most joyous of occasions, feeling as if the whole world is shattering around you. Feeling miserable at the knowledge that deep down, some part of you is overjoyed by the news. Feeling even more downtrodden to realise, as the streaky eyes and thousand-stare faces of the Roy siblings flash back and forth in your line of sight as they pass the phone to each other, that Logan will never really be gone. They’re talking to his lifeless, empty shell through the speakers, but it doesn’t matter, because he’s here in this room. He’s staring through their eyes. Talking in their quivering, harsh voices. Pounding through their feet. Tearing them apart as they try to cling onto each other. In their accusations that burst through their mouths innately. In the ordered instructions hurled out to keep business running smoothly. Hidden between the cracks of their voices as they sharpen their words and seethe them out between clenched teeth when the slightest chance of Logan even being dead is raised. He’s here, right now, as you let go of the death grip Kendall and Shiv have on both of your hands and catch sight of Roman rocking backwards and forth on the floor.

Giving a final squeeze of apology to Connor’s arm, you take Roman out of the room before he combusts. The whole air seems to be chilled: still, like something’s lurking unspoken between the threads of air. Like you’re leading Roman through the cold remains of a morgue. He wanders around for a minute, not even hearing the click of the door as you close it behind you. Not even crying. Not even speaking. For the first time in his life, he looks so much like his father. Too much. It scares you. Until eventually he just closes his eyes and trods over to the wall, thumping his forehead down on the cool metal until it burns. He holds his hand out to you, cufflinks gleaming like the edge of a knife past the ceiling lights, as if he’s offering a contract out to you. Apprehensively, your tentative hand creeps out and places itself gingerly on top of his own. He takes it, his dry lips latching onto you until the bridge of his nose is resting now upon your hand. The deal is done.

When you get back to your apartment though, and Romie finds out that Matsson wants him to fly out and meet him in Norway... that’s when Roman gets weird. Devastated. Freaks out. Grieves. You come out from your shower, wearing one of his suit shirts as your pyjama top, and he doesn’t even give a whistle of appreciation. Instead he’s crumpled on the floor by the canopy of your bed, cradling his knees to his chest, swearing into his kneecaps furiously. But you - you, oh god, you’re the only thing that can stop him from being swallowed up by Logan’s fury. You tilt his chin up during a tangled rush of expletives I don’t dare to copy down here, a scowl setting itself into his face like stone. It begins to soften when he realises you’re touching him, when he can feel the scrape of your nail around his jugular. You do your best to warble an unconvincing smile as you turn his head to the side, so you can better wipe your bottom lip against the edge of his throbbing mouth. You mould yourself to him, working at his pace as he winces at first, before slowly falling more and more easily into your grip. His hands loosen from his arms and fall onto your triceps as he deliriously tries to come back to himself through searching through the velvety warmness of your mouth: by swiping against your tongue and choking back his grievances as you pant into his open, waiting mouth.

You wake him up the next day with a fond kiss against the tip of his nose, and for the first time in a long while he smiles before he wakes fully up. The morning light cradles his bleary face as he sleepily runs a few fingers over the edge of your cheek, before cradling himself into your side again. He feels safe, weary, anguished, loved enough to fall asleep again, after pressing a few gentle licks behind your earlobes to try and hear you laugh again. Even through it all, his main concern is you. 

You trace his features while he restlessly dreams, although he squirms from time to time and alludes you to the fact that he’s secretly awake. A kiss here, between the junctions of wrinkles on his furrowed forehead. A kiss there, on the patchy stubble just underneath his left ear. A few there on the dark circles underneath his eyes, until you’re balancing over him and holding yourself up by the hands splayed over his pillow. He just needs to be reminded he’s beautiful from time to time. That he’s perfect. That he doesn’t need to try and be someone else. To encapsulate his father. 

But also like, Roman fucking hates Matsson. The way he looks at you during the whole field trip, like a hunter about to swallow its prey whole. Although the continuous comments about his family, and the two new Co-Ceo’s, and the legacy of his father make him burn down to the pit of his stomach with a white hot fury, he can deal with them if he would just leave you the fuck alone. He doesn’t take kindly to anyone but him looking at his soulmate with such adoration and lust in their eyes, so if that overgrown yeti gives you the up and down check out one more time he might actually just deck him in the middle of the retreat. He bites down on his tongue so harshly that his taste buds begin to bubble and prickle with blood, deciding it best to storm off and collect his thoughts before he lashes out and does something he can’t take back. You finally manage to track him down a little way off the beaten track, winding your way over some cobbled steps to find a branched alcove with nothing but a bench and a breath taking view of the gushing river down below. He’s hunched over with his fingers knotted over his knees, his lips so tightly drawn together that at first you don’t even spot the droplets of blood until he turns with a raised eye to look at you.

He knows it’s not your fault, so there’s no convincing or apologies when you join him. Just Roman finally getting all of that pent up sorrow and distress out. After an awkward moment of bouncing your foot up and down, you decide your best course of action is to just open your arm up to him again, like you used to do when you were children. At first he raises a confused eyebrow, before the realisation dawns over his face, and his features crumble. His lips purse, his throat bobbing as he heaves the tears back down, but he can’t stop his lips from trembling as he falls into your side. That kiss was the sweetest, as he leans his chin familiarly against your shoulder and bumps noses with your own. He frowns, sobbing at the knowledge that he can kiss you, finally, in the way he’s been yearning for all his life, and yet it all feels so wrong. So upside down. So far away from what he had dreaming. The freedom feels like a tether, and yet he juts his chin out and latches placidly onto your bottom lip anyway, the tears trickling down and falling between your mouths. 

It’s an act of defiance. A key sliding into the lock. He still can’t say it, but he won’t allow himself to smother the feeling anymore. The first sip of poison gliding down his throat, and Roman prays as he presses his forehead tearfully against your own, that it would kill the Logan part of him first.

#succession #succession imagine #roman roy #roman roy imagine #roman roy x reader #kendall roy #shiv roy #roman roy headcanons #logan roy #roman succession #roman succession imagine #succession season 4 #greg hirsch #connor roy #tom wambsgans #succession spoilers #kieran culkin #succession fanfic #succession fanfiction #x reader

[romulusfuckingroy]

succession as @whitepeopletwitter pt 2

(1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10)

#mine #succession #succtwts #shiv roy #roman roy #kendall roy #greg hirsch #connor roy #tom wambsgans #tried to play around this time by changing the tweets to the typing styles I headcanon them to have and make the tweets sound like— #—something each of them would say lol #I could not have Greg using AAVE or using British words dude 💀 #also EVERYONE CONGRATULATE CONNOR ON LEARNING ABOUT EMOTICONS!!! :D #his favorite to use is <3 he uses that with Everyone I think #anyway. enjoy #throws this on the ground in front of u and runs away

[tomshivendgame]

tomshiv - romcom edit (uptown girl by billy joel)

pov: Succession AU where Tom works at Waystar Royco as Shiv’s assistant

#tom x shiv #tomshiv #tom wambsgans #shiv roy #succession #failmarriage #succession hbo #tomshivedit #OMG SO SORRY FOR NOT POSTING HERE ANYMORE #here’s a headcanon i had for weeks #LETS PRETEND THEY ARENT FAILMARRIAGING FOR A SECOND #they’re so romcom coded #GIVE SARAH AND MATTHEW A ROMCOM NOW #if this reminds you of The Proposal YOU GET IT !! #SOMEONE WRITE THIS PLS IM BEGGING #romcom #workplace romance #still missing them hours #ROMCOM TOMSHIV SUPREMACY #this is canon idc

[tomwambsgays]

happy pride month, tomgregs 🏳️‍🌈

#tomgreg #tom wambsgans #greg hirsch #cousin greg #gregory hirsch #tom x greg #tom and greg #succession #hbo succession #succession edit #my edits #ikea bisexual sofa #i'm open to whatever ppl's headcanon for tom and greg's sexuality are #but let me make this joke for now bc the ikea bisexual couch is so iconic #anyway happy birthday gays

[danothan]

[image id: a succession meme in the “people who like x vs people who like y” format where the first column is titled “explaining tom’s gender” and the second column is titled “explaining greg’s gender”

in the tom column, there are three images: tom and shiv’s wedding photo with the words “yuri couple” in impact font hanging over them, celebrating and/or jinxing their failmarriage. immediately after follows a meme that reads “my pronouns are he/him/hers because she took everything in the divorce.” below these is the pepe silvia meme of charlie’s conspiracy board that has been edited with screenshots of tom’s dialogue, which read 1) “I’m like an old woman who’s had a baby somehow.” 2) “We’re like a sorority house. We’re in sync.” 3) “You’re spending so much time with Kendall, a girl could start to wonder.” and 4) “Bad news about my hymen!” pride flags are scattered across the column, representing transgender, transfeminine, and bigender identities

in the greg column, there are two lines of text: the first reads “wouldn’t it be funny if greg was so forgettable that the roys just figured they misremembered him when he was younger.” the second smaller, transparent text reads “also 6’7 win for the trans masc community.” below these is a wet image of greg, shirtlessly draped over a dock and drinking a rosé he doesn’t particularly like. top surgery scars are drawn over his chest. /end id]

#tom wambsgans #gregory hirsch #cousin greg #succession #succ #tomgreg #tomshiv #gender headcanon #trans character #danbles #and they’re t4t.

[princess-kendall-roy]

So in the next episodes a heartbroken Tom asks Greg if he would kiss him (in a non ironic way) recalling the S1 E1, and Greg is like hahajs you're kidding right?, and Tom is like no greg I'm serious, and Greg start to giggling and Tom kiss him awkward and hard

#succession #tomgreg #tom wambsgans #greg hirsch #headcanon #delusional

[c0usingreg]

💖 Manifesting a very merry tomgreg year 💖

#they’re on there way to miku expo #headcanoning my middle aged boyfriends as closet weebs #my art #tomgreg #hatsune miku #HBO succession #succession #Greg hirsch #Tom wambsgans #cousin Greg #sorry not sorry

[romeulusroy]

Succession Preference: Baby Roy's Relationship (Non-Roy Characters)

Requested: loving all the baby roy content!! but i am curious: What are interactions with baby roy and greg like? does she bully him, too? does she just give him the sad “welcome to the shit show” smile? is she envious that he never had to grow up like this? - anon

A/N: These relationships are based on this particular fic/headcanon set. They're my favorite Baby Roy, and I think it really complicates some of these relationships! I know this was more of a question rather than a request, but I just couldn't get it out of my head!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Tom doesn't like you. You don't like Tom. The feelings are mutual. Not only do you think he isn't good enough for Shiv, which he's not, but you two have a lot of unspoken tension and hostility that's there just because you're you. Tom thinks you're a fuck-up. You're an addict and an alcoholic. You have been since you were a kid. With all the money and opportunities you and all your siblings have had, and yet you turn out like that? Rehab after rehab. Overdose after overdose. Not even your own father could stand you in those later years. He understands why he locked you in your room for days at a time, why he hired nanny after nanny so he wouldn't have to deal with you. Even your own mother doesn't love you. Tom thinks you shouldn't have any power in the company that you shouldn't have any say. Not after the stunts you've pulled. He still can't believe your brothers and sister still ask your thoughts and genuinely listen to you. You've shown him that you're not a Roy. You're not ready to hold that title. If anyone is, it's him. Not you. But he has to put up with you. You both resort to the silent treatment and talk behind one another backs. It's just easier this way.

Greg likes you, at least as much as he likes your siblings. He's kinda afraid of you. He's intimidated by you, to say the least. You're an all or nothing person. Growing up, you were in the thralls of your addiction and often got him involved. Could he go into your room and get you a white circle pill from the prescription bottle in your nightstand? Could he get you another drink? Don't tell Logan. Greg wasn't sure what to do. He couldn't say no to you. He was definitely scared of you, so often he did as he was told. Now that you're sober, he's grateful you can have some type of normal relationship. Kinda. Normal for him, at least. Like your siblings, you order him around a lot. He's in the way or just around too much. Who invited Greg? You don't see him as one of your equals. He's just there, Tom's assistant, basically. When it's just you and him, you're capable of having a relationship, but as soon as Tom invited himself, you're immediately turned off. To you, he's an extension of Tom. He's the puppet to his master. You don't have a lot of respect for him either. He does as he's told. There's no fight, there's no push back. When Tom destroyed his office he just let it happen. You have your issues, but you're not a pushover.

Marcia wants to act like your mother. She knows your mother is pretty absent and doesn't want to deal with you, contributing to your issues. She hopes that if she steps up, you'll confide in her, and you'll get your act together. She and Logan talk about your issues long before your siblings ever know. But he's not concerned. He sees no problem with it. You've gotten your temper under control. Secretly, Marcia worries, but without Logan behind her, she can do nothing. You don't like her. She's not your mother, and she never will be. Maybe she genuinely cares, maybe not. It doesn't matter to you. Years she spent watching you hurt yourself, and she did nothing. You come and go as you please. When you are home, she fears she'll have to call an ambulance every time. You and Shiv make jokes at her expense and laugh along with your brothers when they have something to say. She was an accomplice all those years, and you can't forgive her for that. She's just another one of his wives. That's it.

Gerri is a lot like your mother figure. She has the relationship that Marcia wants. She's the one you go to when you have no one else, when your father has iced you out. She's always had a soft spot for you. You're the baby, after all. She's there for your first drink, and hopefully, your last. She watched you grow up. She watched you spiral. She knew everything Logan knew. And he knew everything. It was Gerri on the phone with you after a hospital visit, telling you that she was sorry but your father was very busy, too busy to talk to you. She was the one who called, angry, fearing the worst, while in Norway. She sat in the emergency room while you got your stomach pumped. She was there through it all. Not Logan, certainly not your own mother. She gives Roman the cold shoulder, but she can't bear to let you go. You're like one of her own. She still emails, asking how you're doing. You tell her you're still sober. You definitely go to her for all your mothering needs and approval. When she's around you understand what it would have been like had your mother actually been caring and attentive.

Lukas likes you a lot. When you called them during their getaway to Norway, when you overdosed again and they came running to your rescue, he didn't see weakness like everyone else had. He saw power. He saw someone who had a shitty childhood and did something about it. Granted, it maybe wasn't the best thing, but you did something about it. It was a major middle finger to your father and everyone involved in the company. That takes guts. Far more guts than the rest of your family has, he thinks. You wouldn't meet until he signed the Gojo deal. It's there that he expresses interest in you. You aren't like your siblings. Look at you. You're barely clinging on. You're real. You're a real person with real faults and a hell of a history. He'd like to order you a water and hear all about it. Your siblings make sure you stay far away from him. He's screwed them over now. He is not to be trusted, especially around the baby of the family. Not now, not ever. You don't think you like him. He chose Tom for Christ's sake. Tom, of all people. His judgment must be piss poor if he chose Tom. He's not as smart as everyone thinks. That was a bad move for the future of the company.

Stewy is actually a good friend of yours. You've known him as long as he's known Kendall. You grew up before his eyes. You guys aren't that close outside of clubs and bars. He's a bit of partier himself. Like he says, he likes bad drugs. You two would find one another at a club and spend a few hours together. This was before your family knew about your late nights. Stewy was impressed by your tolerance, forgetting you were still just a teenager. He was too messed up to remember to care. You'd get high and dance, and at the end of the night, you'd throw however much you owed him at him. Money was never an issue. He made the mistake of bringing it up to Kendall shortly after they figured out what was going on. Kendall banned Stewy from seeing you from getting near you. How could he? You partied at all the same places. You'd assured him that Kendall was just being dramatic when he said that. Stewy wasn't your only dealer, but he was the smartest. You didn't get anything laced with him. Now you're not as close. He still says hi, but he still goes out, gets fucked up. As much as you want to, you can't.

Uncle Ewan has similar feelings towards you as Tom. He's called you a "junkie" more times than you can count. He doesn't let you defend yourself and doesn't care what your siblings have to say about it either. He doesn't see you as Logan's child or even as a Roy. As far as he's concerned, you don't exist. You don't matter. When you do see him, he always rubs your sobriety in your face. After Logan passes and you self-destruct at a club, he feels the need to ask you how much you've had to drink that day. Even at the funeral, he says he can smell an entire bar on your breath. If you weren't so afraid it would kill him, you'd punch him. Your brothers have to hold you back after a comment like that. He wasn't ever sure why Logan even had another kid. You weren't anything special to begin with. He didn't even like your mother. He knew, from the beginning, you'd be a disappointment. To Ewan, you have always been and always will be a disappointment.

#requested #succession #succession imagine #succession headcanon #tom wambsgans #tom wambsgans x reader #greg hirch #greg hirch x reader #gerri kellman #gerri kellman x reader #stewy hosseini #stewy hosseini x reader #lukas matsson #lukas matsson x reader #marcia roy #marcia roy x reader #succession x reader #ewan roy #ewan roy x reader #greg hirsch #greg hirsch x reader

[wambsgansshoelaces]

so basically my finger started gushing blood this morning so I decided to ignore school and start a headcanon series

please let me know if you like them and want more!!! I’ll always take requests :)

cutting your finger

Kendall

ᝰ takes your hand and cleans it for you

ᝰ “quit squirming, it doesn’t hurt” while he has a cotton pad doused in saline solution clamped on the open cut

ᝰ carefully puts a bandage on it, admiring his work

ᝰ gets you a can of ginger ale

ᝰ “ken, it’s a cut.”

“i don’t care. drink.”

ᝰ leaves for work the next morning after kissing your forehead and demanding you “don’t do anything stupid”

ᝰ “it’s just a cut,” you say again.

“do you want to amputate your finger? just listen!”

Roman

ᝰ blood makes him squeamish

ᝰ you’re sitting there just watching your finger gush blood and he’s run across the room

ᝰ “can you at least get me a bandage?”

ᝰ flings you one from the kitchen like it’s an olympic discus

ᝰ doesn’t come back until the blood is gone

ᝰ “very helpful,” you say, a bit disappointed in him

ᝰ takes your finger and gives it a kiss

ᝰ “all better,” he tells you

ᝰ and it is all better

Shiv

ᝰ “oh, no, what’d you do?”

ᝰ you shrug and then you both realize you don’t have bandages in the medicine cabinet

ᝰ she takes a paper towel and wraps it around your finger

ᝰ “i don’t think this is doing anything,” you say, watching the paper towel turn red

ᝰ “i’m just staunching the blood flow!”

ᝰ “i don’t think you know what ‘staunching’ means.”

ᝰ you end up just sticking your finger under the sink’s hot water

ᝰ she makes dinner in apology

ᝰ kisses you before sliding you your plate

Tom

ᝰ sees it before you see it

ᝰ before you can even notice the blood he’s wrapping the tip of your finger in a bandaid

ᝰ “you need to be more careful,” he tells you, so deadass serious

ᝰ “what even happened?”

ᝰ you never saw the blood

ᝰ demands you change the bandage every three hours so you don’t infect yourself

ᝰ peppers your face in kisses

ᝰ “am i dying?” you ask him, suspicious of but loving the affection.

ᝰ “no, because i’m taking care of you.”

Greg

ᝰ “oh, look, i’m bleeding,” you tell him while you’re cuddling on the couch

ᝰ acts like you got hit by a bus

ᝰ “oh my god i have no idea what to do!”

ᝰ “greg, i literally wiped it and it stopped bleeding”

ᝰ “stay there, i’m going to target.”

ᝰ he comes back with a bunch of snacks and a box of minions bandaids

ᝰ “they’re the only ones i could find…”

ᝰ “they’re kind of cute.”

ᝰ just so he stops worrying, you stick one with the little fat minion onto your finger

ᝰ “thank god you’re okay.”

ᝰ you kiss his cheek, laughing

ᝰ you’re grateful he cares

Stewy

ᝰ “stew, can you grab a bandaid? i’m bleeding.”

ᝰ “oh, cool, let me see.”

ᝰ inspects your finger

ᝰ “sick,” he says

ᝰ puts the bandaid on for you

ᝰ it’s all lopsided; the sticky part is on the cut

ᝰ “you tried,” you tell him

ᝰ plants a sloppy kiss on your mouth

ᝰ you spend the rest of the night watching him play video games

ᝰ you wake up the next morning, the bandaid lost to your sheets

#succession headcanons #succession x reader headcanons #succession x reader #succession #succession hbo #wambsgansshoelaces #headcanon series #stewy hosseini #stewy hosseini x reader #greg hirsch #greg hirsch x reader #tom wambsgans #tom wambsgans x reader #shiv roy #shiv roy x reader #roman roy #roman roy x reader #kendall roy #kendall roy x reader

[scarletttries]

ik it’s the last day to do it but i hope ur still taking wedding related requests!

i have 2 possible ones lol

first, Tom Wambsgans x Reader

It’s his second wedding and he’s incredibly nervous about round two of marriage. He invited Shiv, expecting her to not arrive, but ofc she did. (Kinda a loose concept but idk lol)

second, Greg Hirsch x Reader

He’s greg, but he’s still a Roy. So ofc the whole fam is invited to his over-the-top, subtle luxury (not subtle at all bc again, Roy family) wedding that he just let the wedding planner put together. Kinda just wondering HCs for how the Roy siblings behave themselves, the venue, greg being nervous etc lol. And whether his future wife/partner also works at waystar/atn or if they have a “normal” job, maybe a vet or something (totally not specific or anything)

regardless of if you take these requests, CONGRADUFREAKINGLATIONS!!!! I hope your wedding is absolutely wonderful 🫶

Thank you for this lovely message 🥰 and I love the two scenarios so thought i'd write a few headcanons for each of our boys 🥳

Tom's Second Marriage X Reader Headcanons:

- It took Tom Wambsgans a long time to feel safe enough to open up to anybody after his divorce. A marriage founded on power imbalance and venom had left him scarred and scared, not sure if he was capable of sustaining healthy love without betrayal ripping it apart at the seams.

- And then he meets you. Kind and honest and straightforward and warm, and suddenly the thought of getting hurt again doesn't feel so bad. So he asks ATN's new weather girl out for dinner, and he doesn't try and pass it off as a work meeting, or make underhanded comments about being your boss, or any of the moves he might have pulled in the past. No, he's completely honest and tells you he's interested in getting to know you better, as a date, but he respects if it's too difficult a position because you work together. You can't imagine his relief when you accept his offer.

- Flash forward to a year of healthy communication, and supporting each other and building a solid foundation of trust that ensures your relationship could survive even the greatest quakes, and Tom would be back where he thought he'd never be again; down on one knee, holding a ring.

- Together you'd plan a small and intimate wedding, something close to your families, without any media coverage. Tom would lose sleep over whether or not to invite Shiv, until finally you tell him it's clear he needs to invite her to alleviate the guilt, assuming she wouldn't bother showing up.

- As the big days comes around, Tom waiting nervously at the top of the aisle, unable to contain his grin at the perfect summer day only you could have predicted, when suddenly a dark cloud shifts in front of the light in the shape of Shiv Roy. A cruel smirk is plastered to her face as she settles amongst his family, needlessly close to the front of the ceremony as the violins begin to pick up, signalling your arrival.

- As the two of you circulate the reception, overwhelmed with joy and well wishes on your perfect day, it would be you that took Tom's hand firmly in yours and dragged him over to address Shiv head on, genuinely excited to speak to a woman who had such an impact on his life. If Tom was caught off guard by her arrival, Shiv was flabbergasted by your genuine smile and friendly, straightforward tone as you thanked her for coming, and asked her about herself. She'd bluster about the amazing new guy she was getting very serious with, watching Tom closely to see him start to come unravelled, but instead all he'd be able to do is stare at you. His sweet, supportive, strong, intelligent bride, who sees the best in people but doesn't take their shit either. And he feels at peace, wishing Shiv all the best before leading you away to talk to his mother as she hands out glass after glass of their fancy wine, toasting to a marriage they all know is truly built to last.

Greg Hirsch x Reader Wedding Headcanons:

- Greg as a groom is absolutely hilarious to me, because it feels like something he has genuinely been dreaming of since he was a little boy. Yes he enjoyed his time as a disgusting brother, but meeting someone special, getting the chance to form a meaningful connection with someone other than Tom, and then having a giant party to show off how happy you two are, well than just feels like the best thing he could ever imagine.

- Working for a liberal online newspaper, you would have never imagined you'd be walking down the aisle towards the right hand man of the head of ATN news, but you know deep down Greg is not an unkind man, and being anything within his family is a daily struggle. So you love him for who he is, and accept him for who he's not, and know that his unwavering loyalty to you will continue to make him a better and better man as you spend more of your lives together.

- Despite being a very untalented public speaker, Greg will insist on writing and performing his own vows, a fifteen minute monologue about 'how dope you are' that he foolishly asked Kendall to co-author with him. Despite his generally cynical nature Kendall would be genuinely supportive of Greg's union, knowing how much joy and love a marriage can bring, and hoping his cousin doesn't repeat his mistakes.

- Roman would spend the wedding blatantly flirting with you in front of Greg to stir up trouble, but Greg has learned enough about Roman over the years not to be the least bit threatened, slipping a hundred dollar bill to the wedding planner at the last second to get his seat moved next to Gerri, a last gesture of kindness towards the strange little man, nothing in this world able to bring down his optimism today.

- Connor and Willa would be the life of the party, getting far too drunk and taking over the dance floor, getting to enjoy a much livier wedding than the one they ended up having, and being glad for a bit of fresh blood joining the Roy family, especially someone from outside their immediate social circle. Connor would insist on getting a gift outside the registry though, giving Greg an ornate antique sword that you actually kind of love and end up using to cut your cake that night.

- Oh Tom. He would be the worst kind of petty at your wedding. He's never liked you, for reasons he can't ever quite articulate but is clearly jealousy to everyone else, so seeing Greg publicly declare his love and commitment to you would have him turning into a complete bitch, backhanded complimenting everything about your day and trying to get in Greg's head every time you two have to part for a moment. Thankfully before Greg can get too rattled, Shiv would swoop in, sensing Tom's weakness and painting her affections as a way to make Greg jealous, which leaves Tom fawning over her all night long.

- Greg would be on the dance-floor until every other guest had gone home, gangly uncoordinated limbs wrapped around you for the whole night, clinging to the one person he trusts to actually have his best interests at heart, your loyal servant the rest of his happy life.

#writing #fanfiction #one shot #requests #succession #succession imagine #succession headcanons #tom wambsgans headcanons #greg hirsch headcanons #scarlettsweddingevent

[bowieandqueen11]

Kissing Kendall Roy Would Include...

Request: idk if the Kendall Roy request is still open but like; i know it sounds silly but just kissing him. Just always kissing him whenever you can reach at the time. his hands while he hands you a glass of wine while youre sittin on the couch? sure. top of his head from behind? you got it. his eyelids when hes slowly waking up? amazing. under the jaw after straightening up his collar? lovely. on the chest after the shower? hot. cheeks so he doesnt cry? the cutest. just how can you stop when its HIM-

BABE I am YEARING god you are so real for this I want to cry I- Also ty ty for doing my job for me and giving me legit all the amazing headcanons inspo ily fr <3

NOT ME WRITING 4.1K OF KISSING KENDALL HEADCANONS LMAOO anyway I went a bit overboard and this took quite a while to write, so please please let me know if you enjoy! :) Thank you!

Warning: Kissing, racy kissing, some heavily implied NSFW, mentions of drinking and smoking and a little strong language! Although not explicit, I’m going to go with 18+ on this one please!

(I do not own Succession or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @technicolourtelevision.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Hngghhhh I want to kiss Kendall Roy so bad like?? His little dopey eyes and his sweet as seduction smile and his perfectly squidgy cheeks and those sad plump lips like frick Logan and the cycle of abuse Kendall Roy was invented for kissing pls-

Your first kiss happened when the two of you were sixteen: Shiv and Roman had been shipped off for the day to some yacht event their mother was hosting in England, and so the usually imposing mansion seemed all the more eerie when you slipped into its hall. Trawling through the rooms, you peered through ornate doorway after empty doorway to find nothing other than freshly beaten rugs and expensive looking vases crowding the place. Little did you know, as you snuck into one of the Roy’s ‘entertainment rooms’ in the west wing of the second floor, that Kendall was similarly as bored as you were; finally being given a break from listening in to his father’s conference calls, it wasn’t long until Ken decided to investigate the weird sound of talking coming from down a couple of corridors. He came trawling in to see you looking surprised, sitting hunched up on the floor and watching some kind of 00s looking rom-com on the flat screen television. He smiled fondly, not surprised to see you, and came dawdling over until he was perched politely down in front of the settee beside you. His freshly pressed brown trousers brushed against your own as his knee came to rest against your own, and he didn’t even hesitate to reach into your open backpack and pull out a couple of sweets you had smuggled into the Roy residence.

There had always been something between the two of you, ever since you had met as neighbouring children almost ten years ago now. A stolen glance. A kiss on the cheek when the two of you departed to plod sadly back home. A missed bite on the lip when the two of you waved and ran over to hug each other after only a few days apart. Kendall cradling himself and always beelining straight for your arms when his father had yelled at him again. Even so, while the two of you sat staring at the television screen without even really seeing it, it took Ken quite a lot of courage to try and make his feelings a little better known. Taking inspiration from the way the character flashing before his tired eyes had grasped onto the protagonist’s hand in some desperate plea of true love, Kendall tentatively spread his fingers out like a sprouting vine until they bumped against your own. He didn’t even turn his head when he planted them gingerly down on top of your own, but his fingertips shook nonetheless. It took you a great deal of bravery as well to rest your elbow back on the cushion as if you were going for a yawn, before letting your own fingers fall back down against the nape of his neck. Uncertainly, you hold your breath, and hear Kendall’s hitch as you play with a few strands of the hair poking out just above his cream cable-knit jumper. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his hand claw where it’s resting on his inner thigh.

Before you can even register your shock, Ken’s torso has turned and he’s leapt at you, clumsily knocking you backwards. Luckily his hands have already shot out to grasp behind your back, so you manage not to bruise yourself against his ferocity, but it doesn’t stop you from gasping as Kendall clambers over your body like a shoot reaching for the sunlight. The overwhelming rush of love gushed through him like the course of a river as he overtook you, his lips frantically latching and smothering and pulling against your own until you couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t feel. All there was in that moment was Kendall, his legs sliding between your own and the throb of his plump lips as they graced over every inch of your mouth they could latch onto.

He only pulled away, most unfortunately in a state of fear driven panic when the door pounded open and the scowl of his father thundered across the doorway. It was the first time Logan had ever caught him in the act of showing true, unforced, fully felt love, and so for a while after that Kendall retreats back into himself. Feeling the lash, feeling the sting of his father’s disdain, he becomes more cautious about allowing himself to indulge in the one thing he’s ever truly wanted in his life.

He tries his best to pull himself away from you - but it’s like an invisible tide, slowly swallowing him whole again until he’s lost in the warm tides, the glimmers of you breaking through the blue bounds like shards of sunlight and free air. He tries his best to smother it, or to drink and smoke the hole in his chest away, but even then it doesn’t do the trick: he has to steal one more kiss from you before he goes away to college, and then he can release you from the hell scape that is his life. A few hours before he’s due to head off for his first term, you enter his bedroom to find Roman rummaging through the last few half-packed boxes, searching for technology he can steal from his brother. You ask him where Ken is, and he gives you a ‘I wouldn’t even fucking bother, I’ve already tried to talk to him’ raise of his eyebrow and shrugs, titling his head slightly towards the bedroom’s balcony. That’s all the invitation you need to slide open the gliding doors and step out into the cold breeze, shivering as a few drops of rain brush off from the drooping trees that dance over the railings.

Kendall’s sitting on one of the lounge chairs: his legs are pulled up to his chest, and his arms are tightly clasped around them. He has headphones on, and as you come to sit beside him, you realise that his chin is tucked into the gap between the legs and he’s crying quietly to himself. He startles when he feels your pressure against his side, but neither of you say a word. You just already know that his heart is broken. And he knows there’s nothing he can do, nothing he can say that will stop him from being the shadow latched onto his father’s shoe. He’s tired. Of his father. Of his life. Of being a Roy. Of not being able to be with you in the way he so desperately begs for at night. So, before he gets into the limo you can see rambling down the stone-spitting drive, Kendall Roy kisses you for the second time. And in his mind, he believes it to be the last. You can taste his salty tears as he tenderly leans his head over, the slight pressure against your mouth making the lines on your forehead deepen. For a moment, your mouth opens in a gasp and Ken takes the opportunity to brush the front of his tongue against your own. But then the limo pulls up outside the front door and honks its horn, and Ken pulls away with a sigh. Before he leaves, he sorrowfully lets his forehead fall against the top of your own, and he sniffles for a few seconds as he desperately tries not to choke on his tears. 

Then he just gets up and leaves. He can’t even bear to look backwards. It just hurts too much, even though he feels his heart being bruised and broken with each step away from you he takes. 

Thankfully for Kendall, you’re not going to give up on him. You’ll stay by his side through thick and thin, keeping as his best friend throughout his adult years. If he can’t allow himself to love fully, and freely at the moment, that’s fine. The time will come for the two of you. The time will come when he’s no longer scrambling for that knife in the mud. The time will come when he’s the victor, and he can bend and snap the rules at his own will and fancy.

Besides, soulmates always found their way back to each other in the end.

It takes quite a few years for Ken to finally admit you’re the love of life. Until his mother’s wedding in a beautiful, if slightly dusty, hamlet in Southern Tuscany. Like a flower blossoming out of the cracks of a dull grave, he breaks down in front of his siblings on that sun-dried street. How much he ‘fucking loves you’ and ‘fucking misses you’, and that he’s a ‘coward’, so it’s no surprise that when you come wandering past one of the orange backhouses trying to find Ken, Roman and Shiv give each other a look and decide to give the two of you a moment alone before calling for a car. When you spot him sitting alone, shivering, looking as if life had just stomped on him and left him a quivering mess by the bins, your heart just crumbles.

He barely moves when you come to settle down on the dirt beside him. He just stays flopped like a ragdoll, his hands shaking where they rest over his knees. After a moment or two of you just allowing him to settle into a safe silence, he begins to wrangle his hands together nervously: a sure sign that he’s about to start sobbing. So you do the only thing you can think of in that moment, without breaking him into a million pieces. You lean sideways, and press a gentle kiss against the top of his stubble line, the skin warm and scratchy under your touch. He finally musters the courage to take a glance at you then, and from the sheer emotion that wallows in the pained look he gives you, you just know. He can’t hide it anymore. It has to come out, whether he can admit to it or not. Ken opens his mouth, a gasp rushing in as if his whole lungs are about to tumble out, and you jump at the opportunity. Before he can drown you lunge forward and latch onto his lips, right where a stray beam of sunlight is resting. He’s quick to reach up and cup your face, turning his head sideways so he could better wipe his bottom lip against the edge of your mouth. He cinched you to him, a shiver rolling down his spine as a few stray tears rolled their way down the bridge of his nose. The heat of the sun starts to burn against the back of your head but you couldn’t care less, because Ken has started laughing breathlessly, hysterically against your open mouth. It’s almost as if strangled devotions are about to choking their way up his throat, but you quickly silence him once more, and he falls, for the first time in his life, easily against you.

Thankfully, kisses after that afternoon come much more freely - especially the languished ones on your wedding night. I mean, he’s waited far too many years for this moment, so Ken manages to sneak you away from the party and bridal carries you up the staircase and into the newlywed suite of the fancy estate. You bite the edge of his bottom lip as he places you down on the bed, his chest already heaving just from the slightest dance of your hands as they slide under his shoulders and shove the suit jacket off of his shoulders. Messily, hungrily, fervently, he crawls over the duvet and clinks his teeth desperately against your own. Once he’s above you, he uses a free hand to rustle underneath the rustled layers of your dress until he finds the square of bare skin where your upper thigh meets your buttocks. He scratches his fingernails teasingly underneath your panty line and squeezes firmly, making you groan into his awaiting mouth. He smiles, both fondly but with a hint of smugness, as takes your free hands and lifts them up towards his shirt buttons, guiding you to undo them with a heavenly pop after pop. He swears in that moment, as your hands glide out over his abdomen and massages the sides of his pecs, he would be content to die in your arms right there and then.

Kissing to wake him up every morning is literally what bliss must feel like. At six on the dot, you lean over on your side and gently kiss the top of his eyelids until they sleepily flutter awake. Bless his heart, the first thing he does every morning now is automatically smile; his arm reaches out onto your side of the bed before he’s even fully awake, seeking you out. It always makes you laugh, when his hand finally grips onto the side of your waist and tugs you further against him, because it was a little habit that had grown since your childhood years. When Kendall managed to sneak you in through his bedroom window, unable to sleep soundly by himself in his own bed, he would always start out feeling so self-conscious. Lying on his side, he faced out towards the open opaqueness and gilded shadows of his hollow room, his hands bunched up under his pillow. Even though he used to leave nearly a mile between the two of you on the silk sheets, he was so hyper-aware of making you uncomfortable: of scaring you off, if any part of him touched you. By the morning though, he always managed to kick and crawl and scrabble across the bed in his sleep. Although he was still to conscious to hold you fully, you would wake up to feel an intense pressure against the top of your back. Kendall’s head would be stoutly impressed upon your shoulder blade, his hands curled up and tucked against the small of your back and his legs raised against your hips as if he were a child curling up against his mother.

Now, though, Kendall’s finally content. He’s finally able to open up, to indulge himself in the only thing he’s ever truly wanted. He allows his cheeky side, his Roman-esque side to shine through by lulling you into a false sense of security. After a few minutes of you cradling his head against your bosoms and pressing kiss after kiss against the expanse of his head, he’ll jump up and pounce at you. You squeal as you scramble for an escape, trying to kick him off as you throw your hands to the floor and try to run your way towards the kitchen. He’s quicker though: not even a second passes before his arms tighten like a vice around your abdomen and he’s blowing wet raspberries against your throat. So infantile, so uninhibited, he drags you kicking and giggling back towards him so he can latch onto your bag and spoon you for a little while longer. You don’t complain when you feel him settle behind him, the heaviness of his leg as it reaches up and clambers against your own a welcome comfort. So is the feeling of his loving lips wiping a fond kiss against the nape of your neck.

Mhhh you bet those domestic kisses are godlike baby! The whole time you’re sliding around the kitchen trying to dump the takeout the two of you had decided to order on a tired whim onto plates, he’s holding you. His hands are thrumming against your waist as he presses against you from behind, singing into your ear a song the two of used to dance around to when you were younger. Every time you think he’s finally pulling away to maybe, you know, help by getting some cutlery or dumping the empty boxes in the recycling, he appears again to tickle you by licking gently behind your ear. You try to swat him off with a laugh, but that only seems to spur him on; the man is literally so deliriously happy he could cry. This. This domesticity. This fondness. This trust. You. It’s all he’s ever yearned for. Spent his younger years dreaming about. So you bet your ass he’s going to come sneaking up back behind you so he can tremble against your back as he pulls down the back of your shirt and leaves a few hickies proudly littered behind along your shoulder.

When the two of you finally settle at the dining room table to eat, to talk naturally like you’ve done a million times before over the years, you actually manage to surprise Kendall. Using your foot, you catch the edge of his sleek charcoal chair and pull him closer to you until he’s sitting by your side. It makes it far easier to grasp onto him when he shakily pours you a glace of wine and hands it to you, and definitely is a far more satisfying viewpoint to see how his tears well up when you take the wine glass from him and place it passively on the table. Unclenching his hand, you slowly kiss each knuckle one by one, raising them up to your mouth in the way someone may kiss royalty. He’s giddily smiling when you rub your thumb over the back of his hand, and he refuses to let go of you, even while he’s eating. As he turns back to try and cut up his noodles with the edge of his fork, you compassionately pretend you don’t notice him turn his head away from you for a moment, so he may sneakily try and wipe his eyes on the corner of his shirt.

On tougher days: when things haven’t been going well at Waystar, or his siblings have decided to barge in and try to stir up some new unwanted drama in his life, the sweetness and tentativeness of shower kisses are Kendall’s favourite. He will actually melt into a puddle of goo if you hold onto him, allowing him a moment to feel safe as the water cascades down and burns against his clenched eyes. He finds it difficult to be around water, so he may be a little panicky, but the feel of you wrapping yourself around his naked torso always manages to calm him straight down again. That is, until he gulps heavily at the feel of your lips kissing a trail up his inner chest to come tease with soft bites against his pulse point. He’ll wrap his arms around the curve of your spine, running them gingerly up and down as if he can’t believe this is still really happening. 

When you rinse out his hair, he finally comes back to himself and blinks in amusement when you try to wipe away a few of the leftover suds from the tip of his nose with a short kiss.

Bro I mean- it also helps him immensely when he finally just like... snaps. When he can no longer hold back the growing pounding against the dam of his heart, and the desire that’s been eating him alive ever since he was a teenager comes cascading out. In a split second, your hands have been removed from where they were running soapy circles against his oblique muscles, and he’s pinned them harshly above your head. Taking a step towards you, he traps you against the steaming glass of the shower while his tongue explores the inside of your mouth. He pulls away, panting, before lowering himself onto his knees and kissing the inside of your thighs as he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder.

Sometimes you make him jump with your kisses, no matter how well intentioned they are. Kendall hates having to work inside his dad’s old office: suffocated by the smells, the sights, the overwhelming life that still bursts forth from the space and haunts Kendall, even in death. To try and help him relax, you’ll come sneaking in to kiss the back of his head, making him jump a country mile. With a smirk, he drops his phone down onto the desk and leans backwards slowly, raising his arm up until it latches onto the back of your head. Langurous, he leans his head back against the headrest until you fall down and softly press your mouth against his. Even though he can see Gerri and Karl give each other an unimpressed side-eye glance, he honestly couldn’t care less. In the end, Kendall would give all this up: everything he’s worked his whole life to accomplish. In the end, he couldn’t give a fuck if he made his father proud, if he was competent enough to earn being a Roy, if he lived up to the mantle of being the second-born eldest son. Of being the favourite. Because in the end, all Kendall Roy actually wants is you.

Being CEO also comes with its perks, though, like you being able to straddle Kendall’s waist and sit on his lap, the two of you squeezed into Logan’s old chair. His groans can reverberate hoarsely throughout the empty floor after ‘lights out’, only the poor cleaners being left to see the blinds to his office shake as something hits against them. With an unceremonious thump, the tie you had loosened and thrown falls onto a shelf full of open binders, soon followed by Ken’s shirt. He fidgets underneath you, bucking his legs up when you begin sucking against the bottom of his jaw, and it fills you with great pleasure to feel his hands clutching desperately into the meat of your hips.

The sweetest kisses shared are up on the company’s roof. Sometimes Ken is just having an off day, mentally, and needs some time to decompress away from everyone else. No matter where you may be in the building: no matter if you may be in a meeting, or at your desk, or just hanging around the breakroom listening to Tom and Cousin Greg discussing something with heated whispers in the corner, Kendall comes lumbering in looking crestfallen and immediately dismisses everyone in the immediate vicinity. They all scramble off like cockroaches, and Ken reaches out to take your hand. You offer it willingly, knowing what’s going on when he starts fiddling with the edges of your fingers. He folds into you in the elevator, clasping onto you and tucking into your side as you hold him against you, stroking back his hair. When the two of you finally arrive on the wide stretch of beige concrete, and no one can see him be weak, Kendall allows you to guide him down until he’s sitting between your legs. He leans back against your chest, squeezing his eyes shut and gripping onto your legs as he simultaneously feels the sharp sting of the wind and the feel of your lips against his temples. 

Kisses at events are actually the best no joke like those married life vibes are off the chart. When Connor and Willa decide to have another, smaller vow ceremony in front of immediate family, everyone (even Shiv finally relents) thinks the two of you look so cute. Holding each other close at the edge of the country estate’s freshly manicured lawn, the fresh crunch of the dewy grass underneath your shoes is a welcome relief against the burn of Kendall’s hand as it caresses your own, holding it up by his side. The two of you can barely make each other’s eyes, falling into a fit of euphoric, infantile giggles that makes the other wedding guests stop and stare confusedly at the two of you. The kind glow of the varnished barn lanterns brushes over you and Kendall’s blushing cheeks, the lace-like wood work that winds up their edges illuminating over your bodies and making the two of you glow like you were sublime. Like a fool madly in love, he keeps snatching looks at you with that big, soppy smile of his, before pressing a kiss against your forehead. He leaves his chin there, sighing in contentment as he pulls your shared hand over till it’s resting against his heart, and continues swaying the two of you back and forth.

Ken has adopted this adorable little habit of letting you know when he wants kisses. He dips his head and looks at you like a forgotten puppy, taking your jaw in his hands and stroking his thumbs over your bottom lip and man does it just make you melt and indulge him straight away.

I mean my man has a literal lifetimes of kisses to make up for, and I’ll be damned if he isn’t going to grab onto every opportunity he can. Every touch, every caress feels like a fresh spring breeze, like sunlight caressing the curling corners of a brand new flower, like the cascading glimmers of light falling through the vastness of an unsurmountable ocean. It’s a renewal of life. Of hope. And in all honesty, it’s the main thing keeping the real Kendall Roy alive.

#succession #kendall roy #kendall roy imagine #succession imagine #kendall roy x reader #roman roy #shiv roy #kendall roy headcanons #succession season 4 #jeremy strong #succession headcanons #tom wambsgans #greg hirsch #logan roy #succession fanfic #succession fanfiction #succession season 3 #succession season 1 #kendall succession #kendall succession imagine #kissing #kissing headcanons #x reader #gerri kellman #karl

[jordanmoreau]

greg being even more so a slimy prick next season is gonna be interesting BUT also i want him to be vocally just the worst. I want everyone to really see that letting him worm his way in so quietly has fucked them all over. his sardonic grinning in the trailer gives me hope for his drama queen bitch era

#like give us betrayal #I want him to laugh in someone’s face fr #sucession hbo #succession headcanons #tomgreg #tom wambsgans #greg hirsch #nicholas braun #matthew mcfayden

[doodoocumfart]

Little quick drawing I did of me and my friends hypothetical shivstewy affair child in the tomshiv reproductive horror timeline: Rose Roy. She is taking lithium at only 10 years old to combat her 50 different personality disorders. Stay strong queen. dealing w a white mom and a gay dad, and all her tomshiv half siblings r sniveling lil creaturas

#hbo succession #succession hbo #succession headcanons #tomshiv #shiv roy #tom wambsgans #stewy hosseini #shivstewy