2 months ago - reblog
2 months ago - reblog
— Bringing the Fight :: @SafiaCrowe


It was like watching wild animals, beasts at play as the two moved and circled each other, eyes never leaving each other. Safia found herself licking her lips before she decided to make the first move. It was not an attack but a feint, just to see how well his body moved with the damage she had already inflicted at their last encounter. The knife glanced close to his arm, might have even run through some of the soft hair that ran up it. Safia darted around behind him and spun on the ball of her feet to come back down in a defensive position. 

A smile lit up her face, she did not mind him knowing how much this little play between them pleased her. It was just who she was that this was enjoyable, if it hadn’t been for the fact she owed him pain and death it was the best foreplay she’d had in her life. Her eyes dropped and ran over an old scar over his shoulder and for a moment her mind was filled with the thought of her tongue teasing along it. “You don’t appear to be too slowed down by earlier, I would have hated for this to be over too quick. 

Dean recalled his training and the skills he acquired from the many years of putting them to use. He had scanned every inch of the room as he watched her. He noted every piece of furniture and how many steps it would take to maneuver around them in the case of foul play. Finally, she breached his eyesight again and Dean found a grin in place over his lips. He remembered the closeness of their bodies as they wrestled earlier. How he could have easily flipped her beneath him and taken her. He wasn’t against the thought, still, but the line had been crossed.

His marred flesh still remained exposed for her to see the damage she had inflicted upon him. He anticipated her every move and it didn’t surprise him when she lunged with a knife. Swiftly, he brought his arm up in a blocking gesture as it slid right past, barely skimming him. He gave a half-smirk and lunged forward, rolling across the floor to quickly recover. He held himself in a push up-like stance, his eyes locked on her. “You’re pretty fast for being trained by that mediocre Christian.” He grinned, knowing her wounds from Christian were still fresh. He wanted to pain her in any way he could.

4 months ago - reblog
— Bringing the Fight :: @SafiaCrowe


Safia was hardly surprised when the power went out. In fact if it hadn’t she might have scolded him, though Mr Sommer’s was not one to follow the book. The tune to which they danced was nearing its crescendo and Safia herself might not have bothered with the power herself, the room would be lit whether by sunlight or street light but it was enough to cast greater shadows and add to the psychological impact.

Safia stretched as she waited for Dean, no sense pulling something and dealing with that discomfort after. She heard him on the stairs approaching and she knew he was making no effort to hide his ascent. They were beyond that now. She barely even looked up as he entered. Instead she smirked knowing his eyes would roam her form as she continued stretching, bending…

Finally she stood and turned to face him again. She had a throwing knife in her left hand, nestled between her fingers, barely noticeable. But she didn’t throw it, it seemed unprofessional to simply flick the blade into this throat, hardly fun.

“Would you like me to give you a moment to warm up, old man.” Safia’s flicked down his body, the lighting flattered the taut muscular frame and Safia could imagine a very different reason to launch forward and pin him down. It was a pity he would have to die without them enjoying the moment, Safia had never met a man who matched her professionally and she was ashamed to say she could imagine in vivid detail how well he might match her personally. “I’m happy to give you a sporting chance.” She grinned and stepped closer to him, she was ready to begin. 

Dean kept his stroll casual as he walked through the halls of the motel. The occasional guest popped their head out of their room in wonder of why the power had gone. He whistled Twisted Nerve in the most delighted of spirits as he walked, finding it to be the most applicable tune to set the mood. 

His skills has served him nicely over the years. Just by listening to Safia, catching a slight glimpse of her, he found her exact room easily. He took a breath before opening the door to the room swiftly to find a limber Safia preparing herself for the fight. 

Warm up? I’m still going from earlier, sweetheart.”  He grinned. He would be lying if he said his eyes hadn’t roamed over her frame, admiring every curve, the stretch of legs and how she looked in the dimmed room. It was a very fleeting few seconds before he was brought back to the present. His scarred flesh remained visible to show her what she had done, her handiwork. 

Dean kept calm as he took a few steps towards her, assessing his opponent in battle. He may not have saw the throwing knife, but he did find something else of interest. Something he could use towards his advantage. He smirked as he took one last step, eyes finding hers. "I have all the luck in the world right now. I wish I could say the same for you."

5 months ago - reblog
Jesus, Crowe…
6 months ago - reblog
*growls, wanting to smooth my hands up those stockings and dip beneath that dress*
6 months ago - reblog
7 months ago - reblog
— Bringing the fight @SafiaCrowe



"Sugar, they couldn’t find your hard on with the strongest magnifier." Safia smirked as he stood, she was hardly surprised when he started in her direction, she wasn’t hiding or she would have done more to mute the call. He was good, he was very good, the best she had ever faced, the only one who had ever challenged her, who ever gave something back…he was the first one to change the game. 

She listened as he moved onto the balcony, still looking in her direction as he turned on the dramatics. Safia actually laughed. “I didn’t know you were such a prima donna, Sugar. You waiting for the applause” She moved, she knew he’d notice the shadow cross over the window.  She had no desire at all to shoot him, where was the fun in that, where was the challenge. “You gonna put one in me, instead, or maybe even shoot me?” She smirked, pausing in his line of sight, her silhouette clear against the thin curtain. “Or do you want to come over here and end this.”

Safia pulled back the curtain on the room across from him, she looked him right in the eyes and her stomach lurched with nerves. It stunned her to have some kind of reaction like that to this man…she did not react so personally to any event, any person, but suddenly staring at him, flirting with death and danger she imagined sharing a passionate moment with him. He made her grit her teeth and square her shoulders. He should be so lucky. “I’m right here, baby. Wanna show me what you’re made of, or are you ready to just roll over and admit defeat.”   

The murmur of Safia’s voice on the phone as he held it out was faint. He was focused more on what was going on inside of that room. He sat in a dangerous position. He could wait for her to blast him away from the earth, or he could see what time would buy him. Certain words became clearer to him as she spoke, causing his eyebrow to perk. He dropped his head to look towards her location again, spotting the curtain vlinb open to expose her fully. 

Their eyes met across the expanse of land. Dean’s lips turned upward in a most obvious smirk, putting it on display for her. She stood tall, an attempt to intimidate him, no doubt. He lifted only the receiving end of his phone near his mouth, speaking clearly, each word crisp. “On my way.”

He ended the call with her, still staring into the window at her. A body taut with muscle and curves. A beautiful face to accompany a perfect physique. Dean tutted quietly to himself, knowing it would be such a shame to waste such a body, face and talent. He could surely teach her his methods, but she had already crossed the line and now he had to terminate her.

He left the balcony after he shot a lingering stare at her, not bothering to dress himself. His prized piece sat disassembled on the table, not bothering to take it. He wanted to end her with his own hands. It may have been a stupid move to not bring protection, but it was certainly a bold one. 

He took nothing. The looks he received as he left the hotel in nothing but a pair of tattered slacks that he had worn previously in his tango with Safia. He slithered his hands into his pockets as he casually glanced around, whistling an upbeat, happy tune while passing through the lobby and out into the streets. He neared the motel, making a slight detour as he neared the back of the building. It wasn’t hard to find the electrical box and fuse box, opening the metal door to the entire set. He grinned as he began plucking fuses and flipping levers, hearing the power outage begin. Just to seal the deal, he pulled his hand back, fingers curling into a hard fist before slamming it into the box, rendering it to the point of that the fuses could not be placed back inside. 

He continued his whistling as he shook the blood from his hand and entered the back door of the motel. 

7 months ago - reblog
Stop teasing me, @SafiaCrowe.
7 months ago - reblog
— Bringing the fight @Dean_Sommers



Safia almost snorted as she watched Dean through the disconnected scope. Did he think her so naive that she would disregard a dissembled gun in that hands of a professional. She knew how quickly she could reassemble her favourite piece, and instinct said that it would be his favoured weapon that he had laid out before him as he affected such an air of indifference and relaxed. He wasn’t unarmed at all…..he was raising the stakes of the game that they were playing, trying to make it a bit more fun, test Safia and see what she was made of. 

Safia slipped the ear piece into her ear, the scope still at her eye as she watched him, watched the little movements of his body that told her that it was all a ruse, he was alert and he was reading, he was waiting for her. She could have easily taken him out right now, double tap to the head before he even started to react but that seemed wrong, cowardly, disrespectful…for some reason she had some measure of respect for the man, and undoubtedly for his skill. 

She licked her lips and for a moment she recalled the way he had returned her kiss, the fierceness of it. She recalled the taunts that they had shared and she wondered at the bravado of his claims, perhaps it was not all just talk. Too bad she would never discover the truth of those…skills.

She hit call on the cellphone, knowing he’d still have his, knowing he was cocky enough for it. 

"Hello, Sugar. Still fantasising about me?" She had a light teasing tone to her voice and had no doubt that he would easily detect the real smile on her lips. He brought something out in her. It seemed she was not only ice and her training on the inside like she had assumed for so long. 

His voice was dry with sarcasm as he spoke into the receiver of his cell phone, Safia’s voice ringing in his ears. “Yes, they could see this hardon from space, don’t you know?” His eyes traversed the room as his trained ears were in-tune to any noises that existed in the background of the call. Years of devotion to the FBI had taught him many things. Direction, location. He could tell the general area of someone from the rustling of the wind. 

He focused hard on anything that could give him her location, and surely it happened. The car horn of someone passing by her caused Dean’s head to turn, staring out the window, undoubtedly at her. His smile spread, cocky and thick. “Miss me much, Crowe?” He stood, remaining stoic from his injury, walking out to the balcony again to lean against it once more. He wanted to have this conversation face-to-face, so to speak. His eyes scanned for anything that could give a definitive location on her, not that he needed it. 

"Go ahead," he taunted her with a smirk, "Shoot me. Shoot me dead right now and end your troubles." He pulled the phone from his ear, extending his arms out to his sides in the air to give her a clear shot, shouting out into the air. "I’M ALL YOURS!"

He cast his eyes to the sky, waiting for anything to happen.

7 months ago - reblog
— Bringing the fight @SafiaCrowe


Safia had burned through two throw away phones in the last two hours, calling in favours, leaving herself untraceable. She had a location for Sommers. She was hardly surprised at the upmarket location, the man reeked of a need to make himself feel like a big man. Safia had to close her eyes for a moment as her mind took that to a different place and then she swore, taking a long drink from the tequila bottle. It was beyond her how their fight had become arousing, the fact that it had, perhaps, had something to do with why she had become quite so feral against him.

Safia hadn’t been the kind to mix business with pleasure, in fact there had been very little pleasure and nearly all business, especially with Christian’s continuous need to make it personal. Safia exhaled slowly, she had no regret at all that he was dead. He might have been her mentor, her teacher, her saviour, but he had also been things he should never have been to a girl so young. She hoped his soul was twisting in the hell fires now.

Safia moved off the bed in the little one bedroom motel in the seedy side of town, weapons slipped sideways off the bed and she quickly pulled them back. She looked over her small armoury and then went into the bathroom, inspecting the wound on her back as best she could, throwing back a couple of pills after washing them down with the tequila. She had to keep the pain at bay as best she could while she sorted a plan.

Sommer’s had hurt her, nobody hurt her, she was the best at what she did, she had never been hurt in the field by a mark before, not like this. She had never gone up against a mark like Sommer’s, grudgingly she admitted that he was good, better than good. He had to be do get to her like that. And the fucker had pulled his shot… she wasn’t an idiot, she knew he had her, knew he was good enough to take her down but he’d let her drive off. Why? Why would he do that? The question was eating at her, had he shown restraint because of her, was it his injury or was it the need to keep playing, that he liked the game. Safia didn’t play the game for the enjoyment, though she enjoyed the thrill, she played because she was good at it, she wasn’t a deranged psycho getting aroused by what she did. Well until this fight.

Safia shook her head recalling that moment as they wrestled where his hips had pinned her, when her breath had caught in her throat in a way that had everything to do with how well he fitted against her.

Safia cursed and rested her head against the bathroom mirror.

This was not going to happen, she was not going to be weak because her body had decided it wanted to go another ten rounds with Sommer’s this time using the knife to shred his clothes. He was going to die, she was going to best him, she was going to smirk down at him as he bled out at her feet and she was going to make sure he knew in his final moments that he had failed and watch his ego die before his body did.

She took another sip from her bottle and then she set it down, time to arm up and head out. She had a little drive ahead of her to reach the dead man walking. 

Dean pulled himself from the balcony to sit inside of his hotel room once again, occasionally stealing a swig of the amber alcohol to ease his pain. He knew she would use it against him as a weakness. He knew he would have to steel himself against her. He couldn’t let her get the upper-hand in their tango, or it could prove to be his end. He took one last drink and set the bottle aside, finding the small complimentary table and seat in the far corner of the room, lowering himself into the seat. 

He pulled out his favorite gun, one he had stolen from his first kill. It looked of platinum with thorns etched into the neck. It was a thing of beauty. Carefully, he dismantled the gun completely, setting each piece onto the table in a display of sorts for when Safia arrived. He knew she would. He knew this dance of theirs was long from over. Dean didn’t bother to plant any weapons throughout the room, he just sat and waited. He let his marred flesh show, needing no shirt. He sat in his slacks, legs extended out with his hands folded over them. 

At first glance, one would think the assassin was just resting, relaxing after a long day of work. That was the thing about him, he seemed so ordinary to any onlooker. He looked wholesome. Yes, he was charming. Good looking, of course. No one would peg him as a highly skilled assassin. His skills were impeccable and the pay was out of this world. The man who appeared as a family man was the most dangerous man in the world.

Still, he waited for his rival to strut into his room with every intention of taking what was left of his life. He knew she wouldn’t expect him to be unarmed, but he also knew that it only took his swift hands five mere seconds to piece the gun back together to shoot her dead. Granted, with the wrong moves, those five seconds could prove to be fatal, but Dean had much more faith in himself with all of his training. 

He whistled to pass the time, glancing at his wrist watch every so often to check the time. He knew she wouldn’t be long and he knew she would bring her best. He was ready and waiting for her.