#asteriananthologies

Maybe, as she mentally planned this whole evening, there had been a three-course meal that she, Cecelia Holmes-Moran, a woman who has trouble cooking pasta, had made from scratch, but that had quickly fallen by the wayside when Sebastian suggested they just order Chinese and then everyone gets what they actually like. “Oh my god,” she begins, wrapping her arms around Sebastian from behind, only to kiss his shoulder and then walk away again, “she’s still going that thing where she throws her teddy out of the crib just to yell she wants it back. She’s doing it to get to me. And you can’t not give it back to her because she just starts screaming at you.” He is getting blamed for this; he’s too soft with her, there is zero discipline with that two-year-old. Although, it does seem like something she would do when she was younger; they also have the same first words! No, mine. Maybe they’re too alike.

Cee twirls around the kitchen like she has something to do but he’s sorted the wine and the table was set earlier. Actually, could this be nerves? She’s never hosted a dinner party for his friends before, she used to having a team of people who know her more, who understand her quirks and the world she exists in. Tonight she’s Mrs Moran, wife of the most dangerous man in London, not Cecelia Holmes, most fashionable woman in London. Well, she still is.

She opens her mouth to speak but the doorbell rings through the kitchen and she frowns at Sebastian, “you should get it. We shouldn’t crowd them, you get their coats and stuff. I’ll-- uh, I’ll pretend I know how the cooker works or something, make myself look busy with it.” 

“And how would you serve revenge, Sebastian?” Despite his calm exterior, he was furious. News of his younger sister’s execution had reached him in Jamaica, and he’d arrived too late to prevent her from being beheaded. Whatever information she had stored in her phone had left her vulnerable to attack, and not even his influence, gathered from years of subterfuge and espionage, could save her. 

Sully was here to do some snooping; Samantha didn’t like other crime bosses and she wanted to know just how much power this one had. It was weird, she had to admit, to be in another club that wasn’t eXXXquisites but being there so often made her comfortable in this kind of atmosphere. She leaned against the bar, green eyes scanning the dance floor before turning to whoever was at the bar. ❝ Who’s in charge here ? ❞

( @asteriananthologies )

Harry had always enjoyed a night out at the theatre, and living in London allowed him to go to the West End whenever it tickled his fancy. The closing show of a long run of Macbeth had been incredibly good and he felt enamoured with the play anew.

It was afterwards, however, in the pub near the theatre, when he saw her. The actress was looking surprisingly fresh and layed back for someone who had been drenched in blood not an hour previous. Harry fixed his tie and smoothed out his lapels before heading over to the bar.

Regulus never felt that he fit in well with his family; always easily blending into the background. He never felt truly noticed until Sirius left, and maybe back then when Sirius was with them he felt jealous that he always got attention be it good or bad from their parents while he was cooly ignored and praised rarely.  Then again Electra may have felt the same as he, being the sole daughter of the main branch of Blacks.

// ��mafia aus, you say ...?