worm stache

Just a Laugh

based off this post that I love so fluffing much I couldn’t help myself

Pairing: Royality

Word count: 1769

Warnings: self-hating speech, insecurities, implied depression, homophobic speech

A/N: I might write this too with moxiety, so let me know if you’d like to see that

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added/removed): @holdnarrytight @whatin–tarnation @love-sanders-sides @demonickittykat @milk-withtwosugars @lizziepopanime @musicphanpie-b @pat-on-verge

Make the prince laugh. It was easy enough of a request, right? It should be simple; tell a funny joke, make the prince laugh, wed him. And yet here Roman was, sitting in front of the nth suitor, completely morose.

There were many reasons why he never laughed. The first and most important reason was his immense insecurities about himself. Roman wasn’t cut out to be a monarch; he was charismatic, sure, but he was arrogant, over dramatic, and quite frankly stupid. These weren’t traits that a king should have. Not to mention his body image issues. An insecure ruler would undoubtedly lead the country into a spiraling downfall.

Another, slightly less important reason was the selection of suitors. For starters, they were all either nobility or royalty. A good partner for a king could be found anywhere, even if they were straight off the streets! Plus all of them were female, a big problem for the extremely gay prince. Sure, he could tell his parents, but in the incredibly homophobic kingdom, he’d be immediately exiled… or worse. So far into the closet Prince Roman stayed.

This particular princess was just bland. She had no individual personality, like a cookie cutter of what his parents would describe as the “perfect girl.” The princess—Maira, he thought she’d said—was smart, beautiful, and obedient. Maira followed every rule, did exactly as she was told, and did so perfectly. However, this ended up making her have the personality of a brick.

Roman sunk deeper into his chair and gestured to the guard at the door to escort the girl out. He couldn’t stand another damned minute in the presence of her meaningless stories.

Soon, the prince was laying on his plush bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, and wishing he wasn’t there anymore.

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