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A brow shifted upwards behind the dark sunglasses, as if the answer to that other ways question should have been obvious. He didn't believe he had to spell out what a heist of a human being would entail—a fake kidnapping, if you will. If that was retaliation for the crime of his crocs, so be it. A faint chuckle leaves his lips, as he returned the cigarette to it's place for another drag before he responded. "The kind of ways you'd use for priceless artwork, jewels." It's a subtle cue meant to guide him toward exactly where this idea was heading.
The irony of his older brother thinking an entire country, with a completely different language, was obsessed with him and deciding to never visit said country wasn't lost on Troy. His brother was as whimsical one can get, that meant a lot coming from Troy, really. "Other ways?" One simply couldn't pass up what those were when talking to a criminal mastermind like Aslan, after all. And really, if they were really doing this, Troy wanted to do it right. Almost another celebration of his brother's recent promotion. "He makes up look at those crocs everyday, we need to make him pay for that crime."
#( interactions — troy windsor. )#criminal mastermind fake kidnapping his friend to turkey IS SENDING ME
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The cadence he's met with doesn't pull a reaction other than the brief dip of his gaze to the weapon in her hands, one that looked so out of place prior to returning to her face. A beat of silence followed, as if to allow the weight to settle, wordlessly urging her to shift her perspective away from where it currently sat, to accept this for what it was—a contingency plan, not a transformation nor punishment. Until she repeats his words to hint she's understood. "Wherever it's reachable. Somewhere you don't have to think twice about."
There's no doubt in his mind that Esra is a fast learner, she'll eventually reach the conclusion he's ushering her towards. It would just take practice—time spent shifting her instincts. However, it's her final question that gives him pause. He could teach her all the skill in the world, but none of it mattered if she was stuck in her own mind, in a place no one but herself could pull her from the depths of. "If he were to tell anyone, it'd be Kerem. But you leave that part to me. You focus on this, familiarize yourself with it." The Kurtlar of it all, he'd handle.
"Carry it where? In my purse?" Exasperated didn't even begin to cover the sound weaving its way through her voice. Of all the Durmaz and Soykan children, Esra had always been the least violent. Capable if pushed to a breaking point as any person might be, but she always preferred to fight using wits over weaponry or fists. Perhaps that would explain why Aslan insisted on this now, since she was also the least likely to have a method of escape when backed into a corner. "Fine." Bright and early, too. She wouldn't make this lesson easy for him as a testament to how much she disliked the entire idea.
"Aim for the head," Esra repeated quietly, gingerly lifting the gun off the table and absorbing the weight of it in her palms. Another thought crosses her mind, one he hasn't voiced and yet hovers in the periphery of their conversation. "Do you think someone else knows that he found me?" It's the perpetual boogeyman under her bed, the looming shadow of Serkan's family and the threat which accompanied them discovering a loose thread.
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bermudezbytheway When a breakfast becomes a photo shooting w/@thebursin 🤍 We have a lot of beautiful pics bro. Cant wait to share all of them.
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"You didn't know she was here?" There was a flicker of something in his eyes akin to recognition. A silent understanding pertaining to the way people ended up here. No one chose Los Angeles, not people like them. They were pulled in by circumstance, by the ties of business. But what follows her final comment is a crack in his infrastructure - a hint of amusement paired with a slight smile at her humor. As if she were diffusing the situation unnecessarily. "What brought you here then?" It wasn't unkind, nor accusatory, just a straightforward question he'd rather get out in the open.
Her nod was subtle, a fleeting acknowledgment that she had, infact, seen her sister. "Not intentionally." She admitted, because that was the truth. She hadn't chose Los Angeles, it was for a job and Miray had never planned on staying there long term. The irony, however, wasn't lost on her. She'd spent an entire decade chasing after Esra's ghost, only to find her in LA when she finally decided to stop looking.
"A couple of months," Miray answered, though it felt as if she'd aged years since her arrival. It felt like she'd stepped into a battlefield, and she was doing her best to carefully avoid stepping on landmines. "Long enough to know it's a shitshow here." she added dryly. A hint of humor flickered in her voice, but her expression remained unchanged.
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There's a thought that crosses his mind, that if he shot out the Porsche's tires - would the kid have something distracting him to keep him away from an operation long enough for it to go smoothly?
Once he's met with the palm against the window - a silent fuck off - his gaze dipped briefly to the tire. One bullet would really be all it took. "You forgot something." It's with a sigh, that the folder within his hands—containing the classified information of the upcoming jewel heist—was tossed into the vehicle. The same folder that Adem had left behind in the back meeting room. Though, if it were up to Aslan, his hands would be nowhere near it.
open starter · @bloodnglorystart location · on some side street
his porsche vibrates with trap music, loud enough to drown out the sound of any passing traffic. a sound bath, adem called it. what better than to christen his new car — a gift to himself upon moving to the states three months ago — with thumping bass ?
that is, until he's interrupted by a presence outside his window. had they just knocked ? he hadn't been paying attention, focused too intently on editing the vehicle's audio settings, balancing and rebalancing the equalizers. with an impatient slam of his palm against the window, a nonverbal threat was conveyed to leave him the fuck alone. but upon second glance, a newfound tolerance was formed. he rolled the window down, barely lowering the volume of his music before throwing them a pointed, " what do you want ? "
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It was almost strange—how something so normal, so domestic, felt more foreign to him than a heist gone sideways. "Take that as a yes." Her words rang true, on both counts: she'd always be welcomed in his home, and breakfast was unlikely to take place in this kitchen if left up to him. That confirmation was made evident with the huff of breath from his nose. Which, in his books, was a close second to a chuckle. "Coffee?" he offered, already moving toward the machine.
the morning visits between the two of them quickly became part of dilan's routine. breakfast was simple and something that the brunette always seemed to make too much of — how could she not share it? it wasn't just some normal offer, aslan didn't have to look out for her the way that he did and his company wasn't so bad either — that effort meant something. "you keep opening the door." she told him softly, keeping the energy light as she began unpacking the items she brought with her. "besides, would you even eat breakfast if i didn't bring it?"
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There was no denying the fact this fucking house was a far cry from a home. All glass, concrete, and surveillance. A show home he tolerated more than lived in. But it's one he'd chosen for the seclusion and bulletproof windows, not the ambiance. Prompted to remind her of that with, "the windows are bulletproof. That's the upside." However, her comments were familiar and dealt out by himself almost daily. So, it's with a huff of amusement that he'd leaned back in his seat, the drag of his cigarette trailing smoke toward the ceiling whilst his gaze focused on her.
It's at that blondie comment his brow quirked ever so subtly. It's one that hadn't quite hit his ear right, perhaps never would with consideration the sole reason he'd divulged anything pertaining to his relationship with Cami to Arden was to avoid a repeat of the two of them spending a night in a jail cell. But he won't entertain it, choosing to shift focus to the reason he asked her here. "I was pulled in for questioning this week. LAPD is looking for answers." Surely he didn't have to go into detail with that, she knew enough. "Wanted to ask you if you've heard anything new since the fire."
where: aslans fuck ass mansion who: @aslansoykan & arden moore
"Have I told you yet today how much I fucking hate your place? Because I hate your place," the brunette mumbled, eyes tracing over the myriad of iPads mounted along wood-paneled walls, the lack of warmth or personal touches stark enough to unnerve even Arden of all people. Not that she was sure what kind of place he should have instead -- no, because for as well as she'd come to know Aslan, there were still parts of him that were wrapped in mystery, in enigma. Including what sort of home decor suited him best, apparently. "Surprised blondie hasn't come in here and torn this place to shreds. Unless she just hasn't gotten to this room yet, and the entire back of the house looks like chandeliers and caviar puked all over it." Arden couldn't help the scoff that fell from her lips.
"But, whatever," she reached over and grabbed a potato chip from the bowl between them on the kitchen table, popping it in her mouth "you needed something?"
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The silence was comfortable between them, to Aslan, it had always been. A silent truce forged over years of deals sealed in blood and the occasional bullet delivered into his arm by Kaan himself. The low burn of the cigarette between his fingers mirrored the low simmer of thought behind his eyes when he sought out Kaan's gaze.
The bait had already been cast. The Hollow, faceless and calculated, had dealt the hands all along. The MC had bitten, gladly. But that still left too many loose threads: Enzo Barone's death, the gun in Cami's hands, the cop on their payroll too conveniently placed at the scene. The Family had struck back—an eye for an eye—but how long before those eyes turned to Kurtlar? To Nightshade?
So when Kaan finally broke the silence with the weight of an alliance between their two organizations, Aslan's response came steady. It's one that's expected, with the proximity of their work. Their deals. Where trust could have been fractured following the matter on the yacht, instead, Aslan could see it for what it was: bait.
"Bait." It was repeated, tasted on his tongue like the echo of the word would reveal the secrets of the Hollow within it. "They'll come for all of us. The Family may be hit the hardest for now. It won't last. And we-" specifically Nightshade and Kurtlar, "can't have a repeat. There has to be a threat behind baiting those who fell for it, isn't there? Something to have them ... more agreeable. And she refuses to tell you anything?"
Nonetheless, a nod of his head was offered in agreement. The thought of aligning had already crossed his mind. Sides would need to be drawn, lines reinforced. Loyalty was rare—harder to earn, harder to hold. And while Kurtlar and Nightshade were formidable alone, there’d be no denying the strength they’d hold together. "I'll bring it to Kerem. Doubt there'll be any pushback."
beneath every thought would soon rest one certainty, that everyone would become a suspect. in some fashion, in some form. for the hollow had remained a mystery. not even the faintest inkling to who or what they might be. a member deep within kurtlar, a head of the family. even with histories that stretched back years, there could never be a surety in the depths of one's mind that they weren't sitting directly across from the very individual that had been pulling the strings. or, in a lesser capacity, that had agreed to be a willing component of the madman's schemes.
that thought only registered for a moment. for in all the years that their paths had crossed, kaan had never worried over aslan's loyalty. nor his friendship, even after the many times that the man had broken into his home. damaged his security system. made him waste bullets.
the pause that settled between them stretched. hung in bated silence. save for the soft hiss of the cigarettes burning in their fingers. the question that kaan had proposed was weighted. for he knew how other paths had crossed, how they continued to align. and when aslan finally offered up his thoughts, each word had been anticipated. which kaan greeted with a slow nod of his head. " the family took their revenge, and then some. which means that if this isn't seen as the eye for an eye it is. the hollow may get exactly what it wanted. " a war. an all out fight between the organizations.
kaan rolled his head, a soft crack of his neck. before he sighed. " we won't even know what bait they'll come to us with. but judging by the start of events, it's sure to happen. and sooner, rather than later. " he rubbed his palm against his temple. " there's only one way to ensure that. " he offered, " we form an alliance between nightshade and kurtlar. we ensure our people understand who is off limits. " and any that found it necessary to step out of line again, there would need to be consequences.
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There was no need for anything more than the way Aslan extended his dominant hand, a firm shake paired with a slight nod to confirm the deal was done. That alone said it all. And as the conversation shifted, he slipped one hand into the pocket of his trousers, taking his time with a slow drag from the cigarette while he turned over Gael's words in his mind. Where that last question may have pulled a chuckle of some sort, Aslan allowed the amusement to settle into his eyes - briefly - before he tapped the ash loose and let out a breath.
"Been telling Kerem we gotta get off the grid." It's his own attempt at volleying a joke in return. Which, in all cases, wasn't far from the truth of the matter. Technology, though it had it's perks and immense strategical advancements, was the bane of his existence on most days. On a more serious note, he turns, "they want chaos. Want us all too distracted at each other's necks to realize they're our biggest problem." There was no denying that most alliances and territories previously carved out had been in harmony prior to the surfacing of the self proclaimed Hollow.
Long, unhurried drag was taken off his cigarette. Aslan was a man of few words and he'd never been someone who found silences unnerving, perfectly happy to exist without words when the situation warranted it. "I'd hope so." Was his only response, corner of his lips curving into a quick smirk. But he didn't miss that the observation was as good as a declaration. "I'll send someone your way tomorrow." And just like that their business was done. But Gael wasn't done with him just yet, wanting at least the length of time it took him to smoke his cigarette before they parted ways. There were other topics that could be worth their time, nonchalant words leaving his mouth next. "What d'you make of all this shady, faceless stuff?" The Hollow. Though he stopped short of dignifying them with their name. Another drag and then a more flippant remark, knowing that they'd proven themselves a somewhat worthy adversary but he found it hard to summon any respect for someone who'd keep themselves hidden away. Only cowards hide their faces. "Think if we all just changed numbers that'd solve it?"
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waste of aslan's time!! | plot drop
Summary: new task force are losers, Aslan said direct all further questions to my fucking lawyer @nolanfitz
It had not come as a surprise - the moment Aslan was called upon to be questioned. Intercepted in the midst of his day and pulled into yet another police interview. Evidently, the initial questioning on the yacht hadn't been sufficient enough.
So, he sat back in the chair, appearing entirely unbothered by this interruption despite the exasperation that rose within him. He'd done this before. Been here before. Been trained, conditioned to have rehearsed answers ready off the bat. Though he hadn’t needed to in this case, unless there was a charge attached to his name, he wouldn’t be saying much without his lawyer present.
The urge to glance at the Patek on his wrist simmered beneath the surface, but he resisted. In the back of his mind ran a quiet tab: three meetings rescheduled, a security briefing waiting, a shipment of jewels inbound from the East. And yet here he was—wasting breath on a department that couldn't keep its own house from burning.
When the questions began, each more predictable than the last, it was evident they were grasping at anything - throwing questions like darts in the dark to hope something pulled a reaction.
"Where were you the night of April 25th and 26th?"
His responses carried the easy cadence of someone with nothing to hide, under the guise that he's cooperating. "25th went for dinner at Le Celeste." With Charlie Windsor, if they needed a name. However, he's certain they're already aware of that. "26th, I attended a new collection unveiling at The Heritage Vault. Private showing." And easily verifiable.
"What do you remember from the yacht party?"
The recap to this entire evening had already been given - on the night of, during initial questioning on the yacht. So this was what he saw as routine, an attempt to gauge if he'd change his story. "As you know, I sustained a hit to the head that evening. Memory's been in and out." Contrary from the reality of the situation, which was walking away nearly fine from that ambush - a forged neurosurgeons report from the renowned Dr Syed-Kerr would provide the proof needed to solidify the lie he'd just provided. "You can call my lawyer."
"Did you see anything suspicious?"
There would be no response, no change in expression, no flicker of any emotion amidst the solemn demeanor. Except for the moment Aslan had leaned forward slightly. From the inside pocket of his suit jacket, he pulled a business card and slid it across the table. Nolan Fitzpatrick. Attorney. Each question from that point forward would receive nothing more than a nod of his chin towards the card in a silent rendition of the words he'd repeated since having entered the precinct — call my lawyer.
"Did you see Camilla Barone with the murder weapon?"
It's this question that proved his suspicions pertaining to that scandal of the missing gun that continued to haunt them. His features wouldn't show it, but he'd noted the desperation that weighed on that subject.
"Do you remember seeing Enzo Barone prior to the shooting?"
Maybe the last time he'd seen Enzo Barone was sometime last year. Not that it mattered, not that anyone had truly seen Enzo prior to the shooting, as far as he knew. But now, with his newfound knowledge of what the patriarch had done to his family, to his own daughter—all Aslan could picture was the scar down Cami's face. Enzo Barone was exactly where he belonged.
"How long have you been associated with Camilla Barone?"
That particular question seemed to continually come up as of late. Frankly, more than just the LAPD had become curious about their relationship. But it would remain, in Aslan's eyes, no one's fucking business. Certainly not for the detectives before him to pry into. Because to them, it wasn't really about association, perhaps it was more about implication.
"Was the fire retaliation for the fight that broke out on the yacht?"
He could have rolled at his eyes at this one considering retaliation, in his eyes, had already taken place that night. Onboard, in real time. As far as he was concerned, the MC had burned themselves out of relevance in his mind by morning.
"Or did you have something to do with the murder of Officer Schwarz and his wife?"
His gaze doesn't break from that of the officer who just posed - what he considered - one of the dumbest questions. And it's the deadpan in his stare that conveyed perhaps more than words could have. What idiot would say yes to that? He hadn't had anything to do with the murder. Though truth be told, he wished he had.
#( plot drop. )#( para. )#idk he said call my guy idk what to tell u ppl#this is late but leave me alone
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Where her opinion fell that she wasn't worth an attack, or that she'd fall off the radar of the Hollow, or a rival gang, Aslan believed otherwise. "You're familiar, you may not think anything of it, but it's about what they see when they look at you. What you represent," he began, voice low with the explanation. And for someone like Zeina, who knew him well enough, this was Aslan's version of conveying he cared. That she mattered, regardless of where she placed herself within the hierarchy of Kurtlar. In his mind, if a lookout was hit, it was an attack on the entire operation. "Leverage. Liability. The list doesn't end. I won't waste our time with it. But I'll have security there by midday." A beat, where he'd brought the tea to his lips to pass a sip before a thought struck him. "You know how to use a gun?"
Gaze flickered to the text, one she'd already read from her own phone. Brief nod was given, affirmation before she continued. "Sort of figured it was none of my business. Or at least, someone else's more than mine." There were plenty others within their organisation who'd know what to do with the information far more than her. While she was deeply entrenched in Kurtlar from a social perspective, viewing the members as a family, she knew very little of what really went on behind the scenes. There to patch them up when needed or someone to listen, not one to volunteer plans. "If you think it's a good use of resources I won't argue with you but I can't say I think it's all that necessary." She takes the sugar then, stirring it into her tea as she tries to mask her discomfort at the notion of having such precautions taken for her. It seemed like an awful lot of hassle for a medic but Aslan was second in command for a reason. "I'm not sure they'd want much to do with me." Not self-deprecating, for once, simply stating that if they were to target someone within Kurtlar there were far more key members than her."
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@camillabarone
Beth, let's put the crazy away. Would you like to go on the gathering with me tomorrow?
#britt told me i wouldnt do this so i have 2 do it#what now#( musings. )#( ft. cami)#says let’s put the crazy away 80 times a day
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A new task force had surfaced, with the main objective of uncovering the fallout from the yacht incident and everything that followed. It had been only a matter of days since Aslan was pulled in for questioning, which had been nothing short of a disruption, though not unexpected. If anything, it reinforced the need to put distance between himself and their upcoming heist. Hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers, he kept his pace steady beside Rafe. While his gaze remained fixed ahead to habitually assess their surroundings, his full attention anchored onto Rafe's words that confirmed the timeline he'd already had running in the back of his mind. Three days, one window. There's a slight nod of his head that followed. Faint, barely there, but enough to confirm his agreement. "We're not sitting on it. Once Charlie gives the green light, you move in. I won't be anywhere near it." If the department had eyes on him, it would be utilized to their advantage with the aim to misdirect them. "Have you mapped all transport routes? Might be cleaner to intercept mid-transfer."
@aslansoykan location: golden sands beach
"They're moving in three days," he noted as casually as he might have spoken about the weather as he kept a slow pace down the boardwalk beside Aslan. The sweep of chaos over the last few months hadn't done much to distract Rafe - what did he care of the board? Of the blonde woman usually attached to the hip of current company? He could sympathize, but it was little more than skin deep. It was the sudden influx of figures - both notable and not so much - being pulled for questioning. The shipment of diamonds that would be leaving Los Angeles in mere days had been something they'd had their eyes on for what felt like months now. The window between the jewels leaving the safe house and arriving at the private airstrip would be opportune, but if the cops were breathing down their necks, it'd be tight. "We hit them before wheels up, or there's no chance we're getting another shot at them." Once the jet landed in the carribbean, they'd never set eyes on them again. "We're ready now, unless it's too hot.."
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"Could have told you that for free." That it would, in fact, taste like water from a fucking coconut. Nonetheless, amusement settled into his features with her response, one that easily pulled a light chuckle from him. Cami had a way of stirring something deep inside him, something that breathed new life into his world. And maybe he hadn't realized it fully until this moment– with sunlight warming her skin in a similar way she'd warmed his life.
A faint nod was offered once she'd said Paris. There had been a comment on the edge of his tongue, an idea for the city that had previously known him so well. However, it hadn't landed once that comment of his birthday was thrown. It's one he paid little mind to because he only had one response to provide: he didn't know when that day would come. Didn't care to, either. Every piece of paper bearing his name was forged to create a ghost amongst the living. Aslan was nothing more than a byproduct of the story he'd been fed since childhood: no family, no history, no reason to celebrate beginnings. Regardless, the point of birthday's was lost on him. At least, his own. Though he can comprehend the idea for other people, for her, especially. As his lips parted to begin to steer the focus back onto where it mattered most with a quick, "yours is the important one. No need to wait." There'd been a pause then, with the words that filled the space between them which shook his thought process.
Should know that I love you.
It landed like a bullet fired too close to his head and somehow rang in his ears louder than anything else on the island. It wasn't the weight of them that caught him off guard. It was the simplicity. The way she said it like she might've just told him the time. And for perhaps the first time in his life, Aslan was entirely lost. For a man who valued being ten steps ahead, this specific outcome he had never seen coming. The words were unfamiliar, foreign. They didn't slot neatly into his understanding of the world he was conditioned to know. And though some part of him knew what he felt for her—something that deeply consumed him—he didn't possess the wiring to identify it, nor communicate it aloud.
His brows barely lifted, the only outward expression that conveyed his brain was in the midst of short circuiting whilst attempting to make sense of everything she'd said. It's where he'd remained for several long beats, unable to find the right response. Which was unlikely he ever would. That realization pushes him to lean forward, one hand lifting to anchor at the side of her face, thumb brushing against her jawline as he closed the space between them to press a gentle kiss to her lips.
As he handed over the coconut, she took accepted it happily. "I dunno." She shrugged, glancing up at him. "Guess i'll find out." She murmured with a slight grin. It was the first time someone had actually cracked one open so that she could drink straight from it. So, Cami wanted the full island experience, sue her. Bringing the straw to her lips, she took a long sip. "Tastes like water from a fucking coconut." She noted dryly. Not that she'd been expecting anything else, considering it was just that.
She turned her attention to the horizon, watching waves break lazily along the shore. At his question, she hummed thoughtfully before looking back at him. "France, but Paris specifically." She mused aloud, fingers absently stirring the straw around. "Or wait and go somewhere for your birthday."
For a quiet moment, she traced idle patterns along the armrest, fingertips drifting slowly as her thoughts wandered. That was when the words spilled out, unable to stop them. "Should know that I love you." It was stated plainly, almost casual, but soft enough that they didn't demand a reaction. She'd fallen completely and utterly in love with Aslan Soykan, something she hadn't been certian of until now. "And I don't expect you to say it back." She added quickly, because she didn't. "But wanted to tell you."
#( interactions — camilla barone. )#ok srry idk how i got here this was CRAZY#how do u say fucking freak in turkish#he said all i did was open a coconut 1 time and she confesses her love RELAX
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FOR: @deadlyalibis ( dilan ) LOCATION: aslan's house.
It wasn't necessarily an awkward silence that filled the kitchen. It was more so a familiar one, filled with the quiet sounds of movement as Dilan unpacked whatever she'd deemed qualified as breakfast that day. His laptop remained opened before him, a half burnt cigarette held between his thumb and index finger. "This going to become a habit?" It wasn't a complaint, he'd always liked Dilan's company despite her choice to steer clear of the life the rest of them were born into. So that question stemmed from simple curiosity as to why she seemed to enjoy dropping by every so often when he'd made a point to maintain distance—for her sake.
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Kerem Bürsin x Montblac ✨️🖊🫦
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