Reader One-Shots {Anime}

Black Buter: Prince Soma {"Miami Beach" • Modern AU}

☆WRITTEN DECEMBER 2018☆

A/N: Okay, so going forward I think my inclination is to name the sections. That may change, but it's what I'm feeling atm. This one's about you and Prince Soma. It involves you going to Miami, and dealing with both American and Indian stereotypes by the lame British bastards and their imperialism. Also, he misinterprets the song at the top, by LMFAO, "I'm in Miami Bitch," and you realise he's more innocent and angelic than ever. Also there's a lot of preening. And clapping. Okay, enjoy!

I dedicate this to someone who will probably never read it:  my best friend irl. She's Telugu, and/or miss India USA, a Brahmin and though I love her, a human peacock, so. this goes out to you, my love, the female Prince Soma.]

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"But I wanted to to go to Goa!" You rolled your eyes, after wiping them from laughing. The young man you'd been crushing on ever since he'd come to study abroad at your college, like it was called in America, was so funny. He made everything entertaining. "Aaagniii! Can't we just fly there instead?"

Oh. Right. He was rich- what would be a modern prince, literally, though Indian royalty held no real power anymore. It didn't stop him from being as extravagant as they once were. He wanted to go on his plane to India, to the famous tropical paradise of his younger days. He was still a kid. Well, kinda. Eighteen.

"Ibiza was the second choice, if you remember, my Prince. You'd asked for a vote. Goa lost." The old boy/young man had brought with him a literal butler. You snorted as the man clapped at anything his (and you grimaced even saying it now, in the twenty-first century, as a proud citizen of the greatest nation in the world- you didn't believe in titles or stations) master said or did. The man believed your friend to be a God.

"I'm from here." You gripped the steering wheel of your car, a nice one from your house, on the beach, which was also a nice one. It was in Miami for the love of God! This was an awesome vacation spot. "Don't you think it's fun to see more of where you're studying directly?" You turned off the road, down the sandy path leading towards the water's edge, where you could see scores of people gearing up to party. The sun was hot and the sky was blue: perfect atmosphere to riot. The other passengers in your car huffed as they were jostled around.

"Hey! Take it easy!" You groaned.

"Yes, I must say it's terribly bumpy."

"Memememe It's terribly bumpy I must say. I find this maritime landscape most disagreeable." You mocked the other two irksome members of your party, one more tolerable than the other. He acted like a damn anachronism, like he was copied and pasted from the 1890s. The British were the worst. "I'm from London. I'm Sebastian. I can't speak like a normal dude. I have to talk like I'm on Downton Abbey." You lowered your voice, mocking an older protagonist from a show you referenced frequently but hardly ever watched. You stuck your chin in the air, pushing your shades up on your nose as though they were spectacles, ones which bore a sole purpose: punctuating drollery which for some reason was freakin' riveting for those yahoos. Everything I've ever heard is vexing." His friend snickered.

"If you hate England so much why'd you spend half of Uni there?"

"College."

"You weren't on holiday."

"On vacation."

"You went there to study the Victorian Era!" He laughed. You slammed on breaks at his next words. "That's where you met us- Sebastian was your professor at Oxford!"

"We're here. Let's go swimming." You were about to get out of your smaller-than-you'd-like-it-to-be sedan, that you liked the functionality of, but still kinda envied the sports cars all around you. Before you could, however, the young man you actually cared for like that opened his mouth excitedly, nodding and pointing at the radio, which you'd turned down to argue with the dumb British people. Ciel was okay, though. You liked him enough.