Although Saint Bayrak had a fairly large circle of acquaintances, there were few he truly considered friends. Friendship, after all, implied a certain degree of trust and forthcomingness — and while Crescent Harbor presented him with an opportunity to start over, the skeletons in his closet safely packed and stored within boxes marked by distance, it was almost too easy to stay in the comfort of keeping others at arms’ length. It was, perhaps, why he enjoyed his friendship with Weston Keller. The other man didn’t pry, and both of them were content to keep things at surface level, all easy jokes and an occasional beer now and then. It was the sort of simplicity that he’d never truly experienced in his life. 

Saint gave a small huff of amusement as he sat down next to Weston. “You know, it’s embarrassing when you call yourself that in public,” he volleyed, tone mildly chastising before his severe expression gave way to an open grin. He gave a slight raise of his shoulders at the question. “Work.” His gaze narrowed at the other man in the next moment, however. “Eight minutes,” Saint echoed mockingly. A thoughtful pause. “You sound like you haven’t been getting laid.”

location; Hop Notch with; @saintbayrak​ - closed

Weston really wasn’t much of a drinker, never had been, but he did like a craft beer every now and again, like the basic ass white man that he was, and the only place in town to get something that wasn’t Coors Light seemed to be the brewery. He’s ordered an IPA as he was waiting for Saint, and nodded at him when he saw the other man walk in. “There he is, the sexiest man in Crescent Harbor! Come get him ladies…or gents, I don’t know maybe you’re widening your horizons.” He reached out and clapped the man on the back as he came to sit with him, taking a sip of his beer. “The fuck took you so long man? I’ve been here for like, eight minutes already.”

The sight that greeted him as he entered his office was not an unexpected one. 

While he had never fully discredited the potential of the younger Blackwood sibling, Saint had mostly focused his energy on the disposal of the eldest upon his arrival in town. From the information he had gathered on the family, it seemed that Sylvia Blackwood mostly kept to her own devices, having left Crescent Harbor a number of years ago to create her own success. But with Nate out of the picture, he had guessed that it was only a matter of time until she returned — there was a power vacuum in both the family and the business, and anyone who had a taste for power would see the easy opportunity. It would have been a fool’s move to assume that Sylvia wouldn’t be interested. She was her father’s daughter, after all. 

Saint’s expression held no trace of surprise as his gaze met hers, his lips curving into an easy smile. “Sylvia. It’s great to finally meet you,” he spoke, walking over to where she sat, but making no move to sit down at his desk. He held out his palm for her to rest her hand upon. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” A quick glance towards the fruit basket. “Bribery will get you everywhere,” he joked, shooting her a boyish grin.

FOR: @saintbayrak​

She heard his name thrown around plenty of times since returning, but she’d never met him. Whenever Sylvia brought up business with her mother or father, they waved her off, still not taking her seriously despite her degrees and despite her experience. They’d talk about it, talk about their disappointment in her older brother, but they rebuffed any attempt she’d made to help. After weeks of bombarding Raymond with questions and suggestions and facts, he agreed to let her shadow him a few days a week. It was a start. With that permission, she finally had her foot in the door and was going to do whatever she needed to continue to amass power. 

So, she set out to introduce herself to Saint, feeling as if she should get to know those who worked for Blackwood Industries just as much as she felt they needed to get to know her. He wasn’t in the office when she came in, but figuring he wouldn’t be out long, she took a seat, her arms wrapped around the fruit basket in her lap. When she heard the door open, Sylvia turned around and smiled at who she only presumed was Saint. Not getting up or extending a hand to greet him, she remained seated and said, “hi, I’m Sylvia. Sylvia Blackwood.” 

maeve isaak emmerson.

   The last people in the pool had gotten out a few minutes ago, leaving Maeve on the swing right by the poolside. Of course they had asked her if she was coming with them but she said she’d be back up in a minute and the silence mixed with the buzz of the alcohol in her system had left the blonde in a state of peace. She’d taken a dip before but without diving in completely since she didn’t want to ruin her hair and make up too early but she figured she’d get in later when more people had left. The way the pool let off steam was realling inviting, telling her it was warmer int he water than it was in the air. 

    The silence was broken by steps and a familiar voice, her head turning towards the male with a small smile before she took a sip of her wine. To find the pool you had to go down a staircase and through a small room but she remembered she had shown him that before. Had he just been looking around or seen her from the balcony that the swin was mounted in? ❛ I’m sure there’s still time, ❜ she smiled, hopping off the swing and pulling down her dress as it had been riding up her thighs when she was sitting down. She had been looking for him before, casually at least, but she had been distracted by some friends and then the alcohol. ❛ I mean… My birthday was actually four days ago, so… ❜ she shrugged. It was a whole birthday week. Maeve walked closer to him, holding out her glass. ❛ You have a big speech prepared, or…? ❜ she teased.  

.

Perhaps it was the alcohol that had flooded his veins, but for a brief moment, Saint’s thoughts were silenced as he watched her. While he hardly considered himself a fanciful person, there was something awe-inspiring about the sight — the lights of the pool illuminating Maeve like a soft halo while the water glittered and flowed softly beside them, the dark of midnight contrasting against her golden locks. Like Amphitrite risen from the stormy seas. 

“A big speech?” Saint echoed faintly, stepping closer. “Turkish has an idiom: Lafla peynir gemisi yürümez.” A corner of his mouth lifted in a teasing smile as his native language rolled off his tongue. “It roughly translates to a common English phrase: actions speak louder than words.” 

A hand moved to gingerly rest under her chin, tilting her head upwards so their gazes could fully meet. Objectively, this was a bad idea. Even if she was farther removed from his professional life than anyone else he had come into contact with in Crescent Harbor (which he was now realizing had created its own set of temptations), they lived in separate worlds. Nothing good could come out of this. But as Saint stared down at her, he found that for once, he didn’t care about the consequences. 

Gingerly, he pressed a kiss to each of her eyelids, then the tip of her nose. A whisper of a touch, skin barely grazing skin. He pulled back to look at her then, a silent question ringing in the air between them.

While he had dalliances here and there with capriciousness within his personal life, Saint Bayrak liked to keep most things predictable. Or, at the very least, at a level of careful calculated risk. But as he strode into his office, bouquet of flowers his assistant had secured in hand, he found the sight that greeted him at his desk, all dark eyes and delicate features, was none of those things. 

“Esmeray.”

It took more effort than he would have liked to keep his expression serene, lips twitching in amusement as he regarded the beautiful ghost of his past. As expected, his memory hadn’t done her justice, and Saint took a moment to simply take her in, from the deceptively innocent looks to the barely concealed anger simmering beneath her smirk. While Saint had never been one to second guess his choices or hold regrets, it would be a lie to say that he hadn’t considered it a shame to leave their relationship. What had originally intended to be a simple courtship as a means to an end had become a surprising discovery of the woman before him — perhaps one of the few people he thought could understand him. If he had let her. 

But he hadn’t. 

His gaze followed hers to the flowers, a corner of his mouth lifting in a boyish smile. “Yes, beautiful,” he agreed. Unbothered by the fact that she was sitting in his chair, Saint walked over, extending the bouquet, as if it had always been meant for her. “They match your eyes.”

LOCATION: saint’s office

WITH: @saintbayrak​​

There were a number of ways she could’ve gone about this, ranging from a methodical approach, to simply giving in to that simmering indignation brought about by memories of once upon a time. Ultimately landing on a choice that leaned somewhere closer to the former, with a resonance of her father’s words on the art of tact. So there she was, stepping into the lobby of Blackwood Industries, various people flitting about carrying on with their business, not batting much of an eyelash to her occupancy. Perhaps it was the aura of confidence that, like them, she was meant to be here, in her mind at least that rang true. Though it happened to be a world in which she lived daily as well.

Esmeray managed to inquire where the COO’s office was located, weaving a small tale that she’d been expected. It seemed he was elsewhere at the moment, which did little to deter her insistence. Once inside, mocha hues attentively inspected the room, unsure whether to be more annoyed or impressed by the level of achievement he garnered. In any case she was quick to move behind his desk, making herself comfortable in the chair, vision idly peering over the bit of folders and paperwork on top. Putting no effort into prying, not yet at least, especially when just minutes after her own arrival the door swung open. Eyes lift to meet him, taking in the expression on his face at her presence, coy smirk upturning. ❝ Merhaba, Saint bey. ❞ Her words flowed calmly, but the undertone that carried them hinted on condescension. 

A small beat before. ❝ You know, it’s rude to keep a girl waiting. ❞ As if a) she’d been there long, and b) he was even aware she’d been in the same time zone, let alone here. Focus drifts to the flowers in hand with a sculpted brow arching suspiciously curious. ❝ How beautiful. ❞

closed starter for: @landon-reid​

event: lily & sam’s halloween party

House parties had never been his thing, and Halloween even less so. But Saint Bayrak found himself inside the Amin home anyway, after having made some visits earlier in the night, if only to make sure Samar was still alive and (somewhat) decent. A small sigh escaped his lips as he regarded the selection of drinks, picking up  the one that seemed to be the least creatively crafted — even in college, he’d preferred straight liquor to fruity cocktails. 

It was then that he spotted Landon Reid, clad in what he assumed was a superhero costume. Even as he knew that it probably wasn’t the best idea, he strode over to the other man — this was a party, after all. He had to allow himself a bit of fun, right? 

Saint lifted his cup in cheers as his eyes met Landon’s, a grin already in place on his lips. “To family.”

closed starter for: @diana-amari​

location: diana’s house

Admittedly, he had never been the best cook. Having been spoiled by his mother’s home cooking during his childhood and then business dinners after he moved out, Saint never truly felt the need to learn to whip up dishes for himself. Although his homes were always abundantly stocked with all the necessary tools, they usually remained untouched, acting more as decoration than actual kitchenware. 

There were, however, exceptions — sometimes in the form late night snacks, sometimes in the form of hosting his family. Tonight was one of such, and he pressed the doorbell to Diana Amari’s home with his free hand while the other balanced a heavy bag of groceries. He’d done enough research on pregnancies to know that it was probably inconvenient for her to move around. And, well? It wasn’t a far flung guess that Halloween wasn’t a holiday many would enjoy spending home alone. 

Saint fixed his features into a neutral expression as the door opened. “UberSaints, at your service.” A beat before he winced at his own bad pun, shooting her a boyish grin. 

Succession — Season 2, Episode 5

(…) the honey is mine. But so is the dark.

Erin Lyndal Martin, from “The Lost Lunar Beekeeper“ (via annabcths)

why won’t you let him go? – a.y. ( 2019 )

maeve isaak emmerson. ​

   This was quite possibly the cheesiest man she’d ever met and for someone who mostly met extreme douchebags it was kind of a nice thing to experience for a change. He sure called her special a lot of someone who had only known her for a very short time. It was a good change. Maybe twenty-six has some luck to give. ❛ That’s… Wow, ❜ she smiled brightly, eyebrows raising at the male before she examined the coin as he explained it further. That really fit her. It was like he had actually thought about her and not just walked into a cheap jewelry store to get some random necklace or something. Although, this could be put on a necklace somehow probably, she just didn’t want to ruin it.

    The hug didn’t last that long – Maeve didn’t actually know if he was a hugger but it felt like the normal thing to do when you thanked someone. She always hugged her friends and family. What she hadn’t expected was the kiss he pressed to her forehead when he pulled away. ❛ Okay, uhm… ❜ She sucked in a deep breath, slowly closing the small box as she stepped back, pressing her lips together to try and hide a smile. ❛ I’m gonna get my brother to start the grill and I can show you around the house if you want? ❜

.

TIME JUMP -> 1AM

Saint hadn’t attended a party since he’d left Turkey. His arrival in Crescent Harbor had been met with plenty of conflicts to occupy his time, and sleep had become a luxury. Though being kept busy wasn’t anything new, he did find himself welcoming the small window of time during the party in which he was simply able to exist. It also helped that he wasn’t familiar with the majority of Maeve’s guests — something he hadn’t been completely assured about in the beginning, considering how tightly knit of a town it seemed to be. 

By one in the morning, he was comfortably buzzed, slightly more relaxed than he usually allowed himself to be. And in his light mood, Saint couldn’t help but walk over to the blonde when he found her standing alone outside. “Pity that it’s already after midnight,” he lamented, giving her a lopsided smile as he stopped beside her. “I missed my chance to give you a birthday toast.”

He hadn’t sought out her attention after their initial greetings, and it was just as well — plenty of other guests were eager to celebrate with the birthday girl. Though like beacon of light, he had always never unaware of her presence when they were in the same room. 

I've done nothing wrong. Except for all the atrocities. Besides that I'm innocent

ft. @maeveie

Lucifer — “Love Handles” (2017)

Alperen Duymaz in Zemheri