A/N: If you like my writing, consider commissioning me, or maybe backing my P-A-T-R-E-O-N? (All one word, ffn is dumb.) You can find all the info you'd need on my tumblr, chickengums.

Every dollar helps! I'm hoping to move cross-country by this time next year, and could really use whatever help I can get. (Gotta get somewhere where it's safe to be a lesbian, yo.)

Tracer zips throughout the battlefield, taking potshots at whatever enemies she spots as she goes.

Sure, normally she'd be trying to get a bit more than the occasional legshot… but, she had a job to do.

There was some sniper causing trouble for everyone, and her unique abilities cast her as the best gal to stop them.

So, after a bit of running around and waiting to get shot at to help pin down their position (Really, excellent plan HQ. Glad to know you're lookin out), she zipped up the side of the nearest building and put operation Flank em and Spank em into effect.

But… there was a slight complication.

She came to a screeching halt behind the target… and stared.

She couldn't help it.

It was just… perfect. Shapely, plump, and-

And flexing?

She took just a moment too long connecting the dots, and the one with the gorgeous ass capitalized on that, swinging around, hooking a leg around her neck and taking her down to the ground, trapping Lena's neck between her thigh and her calf as she crouched down and slowly lined up her next shot.

Lena didn't even notice the shot ringing out, as she was a bit preoccupied with trying to decide whether to breathe and survive, or let herself suffocate and have the most bitching tombstone ever.

(Un)Fortunately "Here lies Lena, strangled by fantastic thighs" was never etched into anything, because the one with the amazing ass eased up on her windpipe, allowing her to get some much-needed air.

And letting her get a good look at who, exactly, she'd been pinned by.

"You?" She asked, blinking.

Widowmaker mutters something in French, and Lena-Tracer, she has to be Tracer, now, not Lena the uncomfortably turned-on lesbian, Tracer, the quick-witted badass, screws up her nose a bit.

"Yeah? Well, 'murd oooblieyay man makwilahge' to you, too."

Widowmaker just scoffs and turns her attention back to the battlefield, pressing down on her windpipe again, though Tracer notices it's a good bit gentler this time.

She doesn't really feel like she's gonna suffocate, which is a plus.

Now she just needs a way out of here that doesn't involve a body bag.

"So…" She says, and Widowmaker tightens the hold, cutting off all oxygen for a long moment as she lines another shot up.

She loosens the hold as she fires, and Tracer gasps for air.

"Silence, chérie." Widowmaker admonishes. "I have to concentrate. Two more kills, and I'll speak with you."

"Hey, you-" Tracer starts, and white dots appear in her vision as pain shoots through her throat and she feels her airway close entirely.

Widowmaker eases up much faster this time, but Tracer has to spend much more time gasping for air before her mind quits telling her she's dying.

It takes her a few more moments to notice Widowmaker hasn't fired a single shot.

She looks up at her… and catches the supposedly emotionless sniper looking down at her with unmistakable worry on her face.

Widowmaker bites down on a full, wonderfully plump, kissable lip, (That's gay, Lena) and returns her vision to the battlefield.

The two shots come much quicker, with none of the preparation she'd been using earlier, and then she's looking down at her, and Lena has nothing to say.

Well, she could ask her to go out for drinks, but she's pretty sure chatting up the enemy was against some kind of regulation.

Not that she couldn't go for a quick boffing, but she was more looking for a relationship at the moment, and also this was a woman who she'd seen kill without any remorse, so amazing body or no, she couldn't just decide to have it off with her.

But she could think about it.

Widowmaker's eyes narrow slightly, and Lena can't help but wonder if she can read minds… or if her face is just being a bit too expressive.

"Leave, chérie." She says, looking directly into Lena's eyes as she stands, taking the pressure entirely off her neck. "Quickly, and I won't shoot you in the back."

"I'm always quick, love." Lena says without thinking.

There's a long silence, and then she runs, setting what she's pretty sure is a new speed record, even for her.