#widowsdobite

Even in her dreams, Amorette couldn't escape the terrors she'd been through. She could still remember the chains digging into her wrists and ankles, binding her to the chair as she tried to break free, the cold steel of a knife threateningly pressed against the skin of her neck. The fear had made her tremble, still able to feel the pain when it finally cut through her flesh, the screams of terror that fell from her lips and echoed through the warehouse with each cut of the blade into her flesh until the red liquid oozed to the surface.  How she'd even come out of this alive was a surprise to Amorette. They'd mistaken her for the Widow, kidnapped her and held her hostage for information that she didn't even know about. The time had gone so slowly, that by the time SHIELD had rescued her, it had felt like years and she'd arrived on the helicarrier into a worried Natasha's arms completely covered in bruises and blood.  The Frenchwoman woke up in a hot sweat, bringing a hand to her mouth to muffle the scream that echoed through the room when she'd awoken. Her eyes darted to Natasha who was sleeping soundly beside her and the blonde winced. She'd tried not to worry her, even when she flinched at sudden noises, even going as far as borrowing one of Natasha's guns and hiding it under her pillow for some kind of protection. It'd been horrifying and now Amorette was living in fear. Slowly she eased out of bed, wincing as her body ached in protest, reaching for the cigarettes she kept on her beside table. Bringing one to her lips and lighting it up, she headed out onto the balcony and leant against it; still trembling from the nightmare she'd had. The blonde prayed she'd be normal again, but she highly doubted that would happen for a long time.

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Natasha would probably put a bullet through the person’s brain and Amorette would most probably just curse at the person a lot in French.

"Do you blame me Tasha?" She asked with a laugh, kissing her softly.

"Natasha! C'mon stay with me!" Amorette's voice was hoarse from screaming, the metallic stench of blood reaching her nose and making her stomach twist in sickness. That was the least of her concerns however, more worried about the dying assassin in her arms. Tears were already welling to her eyes, noticing the blood already pooling through the cloth she was holding to one of Natasha's bigger wounds. The fluids were staining her porcelain hands a horrible red.  The blonde sniffled, screaming out for help, knowing SHIELD were already on their way. She was close to crying, humming and pleading for Natasha to stay with her. The Frenchwoman wasn't sure what she would do without her, how she was going to live without her. Natasha had filled up the void in her life and now Amorette was scared she was going to lose her forever. Although that was typical in Natasha's line of work, and the blonde had seen her come home covered in horrible scars and wounds that had made her cry on many occasions.  "Tasha, I love you. Cherie... c'mon." She screamed, hearing SHIELD's chopper already flying over head, clutching the woman to her chest.

It wasn't every morning that you saw your favourite superhero ordering a coffee in the same coffee shop as you. Amorette peeked up from her book, noticing the familiar looking redhead in line for her coffee, although they looked similar and on numerous occasions, the Frenchwoman had actually been confused for her; there was no denying that the Black Widow was standing in line for her coffee.  Chewing on her lip, Amorette closed her book reaching for her coffee and downing the rest of it with vigour unsure if to approach the woman. Although she'd been part of the battle of New York, she didn't want to bother her, that and if she'd get caught in her famous thigh attack, well that was something she didn't want to risk. Gulping she slid from her seat and moved towards the line, waiting until Natasha had ordered her coffee.  "M-Ms Romanoff? I'm a big fan..."

Obsession: I’ll write a drabble about my character having an obsession with yours. Vise versa.Amorette couldn’t believe she’d seen her, the subtle glimpse of red hair and the same facial features the blonde almost collapsed at the sight of her. Slowly she approached, despite her shaking body and tapped the Widow on the shoulder. "E-Excuse me… You’re Natasha Romanoff right? I’m a big fan…"Song: My charcter singing a song to yours, or vice versa.Amorette smirked as she slowly wandered around the kitchen, picking up the utensils as she baked. The blonde watched Natasha sitting on the couch, singing softly in French as she began to cook.Scarf: Your character or Mine borrowing/stealing clothes from the other"You know I’ve always liked this sweater. Can I keep it?" Amorette asked curiously, watching as Natasha packed for an over night mission only a few hours away. She cuddled the sweater to her chest, peeking up softly at Natasha and grinning at the woman’s smirk. "Of course you can, cherie." The redhead replied.