+Tf2 x Reader2+

Ice (xHeavy)

+Author's note

Congradulations on being the first one to comment ElizCloud- here's your request!
Turn the song on for maximum effect!

There is a little cottage down the village.

It has a tin roof with battered windows.

No one has been there for quite a while.

Until now.

Misha walked down the path back home with supplies and other groceries for the strong winter.

He looked up to find the tin roofed house had it's lights on, with smoke billowing from the chimmney.

Suprised, he stopped in his tracks despite his heavy bags to look up at the brightened windows, the lights that poured from the little cottage all thought was abandoned.

Had it's original master returned? Or was it occupied by someone new? Who came to this rural village, and why?

Shaking his head, Misha quickly diminished his thoughts and headed in. Such information was not needed. There was much to do and little time for distractions.

+++

"Have you seen cottage Misha?"

His mother asked as she peeled the potatoes.

"да. Is strange to see one live in it after it be empty so long"

"Stranger yet, it is a Женщина who lives there"

Misha frowned

"A Женщина? Alone in such a house?

His mother shrugged and kept peeling the potatoes, throwing the skin into a metal bowl.

"Strange is it not? A woman, of all things. That house is more fitting for a ghoul or a monster"

+++

Heavy cut the wood from the block he used, sending the firewood flying from his axe.

He huffed in the cold winter air. The mist rising from his breath gave him a most feral look, his occassional grunts and contentrated look made him closely resemble the wilds.

With another swing, he sent the wood flying.

This time it went flying too far, towards his house. In a flurry, Misha went towards his house and looked up.

The woman from the conversation last night walked down the snowy ground.

The village was so rural it had no paths, forcing the girl to trudge through the snow.

But that was hardly what surprised him.

He looked up from the firewood to take a better look at the woman.

Unkept (y/n) colored hair hung like a tangled mess, dark bags hung under her eyes like a blur of charcoal. Her skin was pale from exhaustion and her clothes were thin, worn and tattered.

She fought her way through the snow, black thin stockings were the only thing to keep her from the cold. And the snow boots she wore had holes in them.