Moomin oneshots/headcanons!

Joxter, snufkin and child reader

((Obviously not romantically shipping, because that's disgusting.))

((TW: mentions of gore (nothing super graphic or bad but y'know) , a bit of sprinkled angst, please be warned!))

((You're about 10-12 in this and mute, enjoy!))

Slit eyes with matted hair.

Long tail covered in makeshift bandages.

Jagged, blood covered claws.

Matted fur up forearms and shins.

Something in the forest.

Something dangerous.

The Joxter laughed at the people who believed whatever was in the forest was, "dangerous."
It was obviously just some rouge Mumrick or strange creature that no one knew about.
They told ghost stories in their town square of the creature, telling tales of how it slaughtered livestock and ran off with the head of a chicken tight in it's jaws.
His son was also amused, but he knew that look in any of his children's eyes.

"Snufkin, I honestly don't know why you want to find this creature so bad, it's obviously just some rogue thing." Snufkin shrugged, stepping past a bundle of thorns.

"From the way the village folk described it, it's defiantly a Mumrick." The Joxter snorted, laying back against the hardwood tree behind him.

"Well- of course it is! Just leave it be!" The Joxter took his hat and placed it over his eyes, letting himself rest while his curious son hoped to find what the village folk rumored about.

-

"OW! stop biting me!" The Joxter awoke to the rustling of earth and the frustration of his son.
He removed his hat from his eyes and watched what played out in front of him, his feral eyes allowing him to easily see through the dark.

What he saw broke his heart.

A child- no older than 12, struggling and growling into the forest floor.
Covered in awful bandages and scratches, hair a mangled, matted mess of things, claws out but so dull and chipped they wouldn't be able to tear cloth.

Their eyes ran true feral, they were afraid.

When they realized Snufkin was much stronger, much more dangerous than them, they stopped struggling, hoping giving up would make them pity them and not hurt them.
Going limp and whimpering up a storm, mangled tail tucked away.
Snufkin looked to his father with the same face of worry he'd seen on the Mymble.
The look of "what do we do?" That made his heart ache.

"Let's take them home."

-

You struggled, you bit, you scratched, you hadn't let them take you without a fight.
But you were oh so tired, the hunger pains were getting to you again, your bones ached and your body begged for rest.
You hoped submitting and crying your eyes out would make them go away, to make them pity you and not eat you.
They had just picked you up and took you.
Your whines and whimpers echoed through the forest, unable to struggle more than a swift kick every couple of hours.
The green one carried the red one's belongings as he carried you over his shoulder.
You tried baring your teeth and growling at the green one, but he never responded, never acknowledged it.
You tried to fight sleep, tried to fight the way your body felt heavier by the hour, how the night made you just want to slip away.

You tried, you really did.

-

"Joxter! Wha- who is this?!" The Mymble held the unconscious child like fine china, looking them over with motherly horror.