(e/c) = eye color
(h/l/c) = hair length/color
(f/n) = first name
(l/n) = last name
Whelp, there ya go. The basics. First ever 'xreader' fanfic! Cut me some slack, but feel free to comment and critique! XD
I own nothing but the plot, and I gueeessss the idea for the Man in the Moon? Oh well. People know who they own and I know I don't own Rise of the Guardians. Feel free to comment!
It hurt... There was too much pain... Everywhere there was a tingling, itching, aching, pain... Make it stop... All around the clearing there was crimson, the virgin snow christened a bloody martyr by the bodies lying scattered in it... There was no sound, there was no need for sound, you were dying anyway... You had made your goodbyes, your friends were safe, and those evil bastards were gone... You had fought them off, all those years of training finally paying there dues... Gazing up at the moon, you resign to your fate... The snow embraces you... Your (h/l/c) is fanned out beneath you... You sigh your last... The last thing your hear is a soft crunch of snow under feet, the last thing you see a pair of clear blue eyes...
Light shines on your closed eyelids, dragging you from the depths of your subconscious. Slowly, you open your (e/c) eyes, gazing out at the place you now occupy. It wasn't a room, more like an expanse going on and on. You lay in a bed, all white with a silver wrought iron frame. The sheets glisten softly in the light, silky and clean. A simple nightstand sits next to the bed, revealing the source of the light as an ancient oil lamp.
A few feet away, an old Victorian wing-backed chair, also white, sits occupied by a strange looking man. His attention is elsewhere, not noticing your recent return to the world of the conscious. Moving quietly so as not to disturb him, you raise yourself into a sitting position. Form your angle on the bed, you can easily examine his profile. His face is strong in its contours, yet softened. The curve of his brow and the sides of his mouth are gently defined, like he had seen a lot of laughter and felt a lot of pain throughout his life. His complexion was pale, even his lips. Not waxy but almost ashy, like the surface of the moon on certain nights. His eyes were interesting, all a milky white as if he was blind yet clear and full of wisdom, as if he was a man who had seen much amd knew much was to come. His hair was silvery, matching his skin well in there being no color at all on the man. You clear your throat softly, alerting him to your presence. He turns to you, pale eyes full of kindness.
"Oh, good! You've decided to come around, (f/n)," he says. You look back at him, startled.
"Holy shit. How do you know my name?" You question, "Who are you? Where am I? What-"
"Woah, slow down there little one," he chuckles. "I cannot answer all of those at once. I am the Man in the Moon. You may call me Mim, or Manny. I live here, on the Moon. I watch over the Earth below." He gestures to a break in the horizon. The ground drops of at a ledge, providing a spectacular view of the Earth, its lazy rotation drawing your eye. The clouds were slowly drifting across the atmosphere, creating whimsical patterns across multicolored surface. You look back to Mim, catch him gazing at you fondly as a proud father would his duaghter. "I saw your struggle, (f/n). You were so brave. The spark in you is great, I see a great destiny for you." You remember the fight, the blood, your death. You gasp.
"I- I'm dead, aren't I?"
"Currently, yes. But It will not last long. I will send you back when we are done."
"Done with what?"
"With your cider, of course." You look to the nightstand to see a softly steaming cup of cider sitting there. You gingerly pick up the cup, careful not to spill any of the hot liquid on the bedsheets. Taking a sip, you discover its blend of apple and cinnamon. Taking another, you watch Mim stand and walk over to the bed, sitting at the foot of it and patting your blanket-covered ankle.
"We have much to discuss, (f/n) (l/n)." Gazing up at him, he's a tall man even when sitting, you send him a questioning eyebrow.
"What do you mean?"
"As I've said, (f/n), I see great strength and promise in you. You fight for others, not for yourself, and never stop until the battle is won. You're fierce, full of pride and bravery. The world needs a heart like yours. I would like you to become something special for me. Come here, let me show you something." He gets up, walking around the bed and gesturing for you to follow. Getting up, you find yourself in the clothes you wore before you died. At least I'm not naked.
Following closely behind Mim, you come up to five pedestals, each topped with a, of course, white marble figurine. First, a large, bearded man with a saber in each hand. His eyes are large, looking wonderingly out of a balding face. "This is North, he is the Guardian of Wonder. You may remember him as 'Santa Claus'." Your eyes widen slightly. That was Santa? Seemed kind of like he was missing jolly-old-fat-guy part of the deal. Mim moved to the next figure. "Toothiana, the Tooth Fairy and Guardian of Memories." She looked like a cross between a hummingbird and a kindly mother. Most of her body was covered in feathers and she was holding a sort of cylinder in her hand. "Next we have the Easter Bunny, Bunnymund, Guardian of Hope." This statue looked like a giant kangaroo with a fluffy bunny tail. In one hand the creature held a boomarang for some reason and an egg in the other. You glance questioningly at Mim. Seriously?
Not noticing your gaze, he moves on to a much smaller figurine with wild hair and a wide, kind face. Around him and coming from his hands shot little streams of something you couldn't identify. "This is Sandman, the Guardian of Dreams." You nodded, it made sense you guessed. The Sandman, dreams, duh dipshit. There was one last figurine, and you seemed drawn to it. "And lastly, yet not least," said Mim, " this is Jack Frost. He is Guardian of Fun. He is considerably new to the Guardians, yet not much older than you in physical age." This figure was easily identified as a teenage boy, dressed in a hoodie and old tattered pants. In his right hand he held a staff, and oddly shaped crook at the top. In his other palm sat a snowflake, intricate and delicate. His hair was messy, and his smirk was mischievous giving his handsome face a playful tilt. But it was his eyes that caught you. They seemed familiar somehow, but you couldn't think of how. "These are the Five Guardians. They keep the innocent children of the world safe from the terrors that they face." You look up at Mim, waiting to see how this was relevant to you.
"They guard faithfully and are irreplaceable. But, there is something coming. The Guardians alone cannot defeat it, they themselves are in danger. That is where you come in, (f/n)." He looks at you, his milky gaze boring inti your own (e/c) one. Your face must have given away your bewilderment, because he smiled and laid a patronly hand on your shoulder. "You, my dear (f/n), are the one I am appointing the Guardian of the Guardians."