Chapter Summary: Prompt from anonymous: Hi, first this blog looks super cool. Second I have a prompt request. Darth Maul x femreader would be kind of cool.
People said the devil wasn't real. You would like to beg to differ, considering that he was currently staring you down in your house. Which he had somehow snuck into and waited in the shadows until you arrived.
Okay, so he wasn't actually the devil, he was a Dathomirian, but he looked like he could be a devil. Red skin, black markings, yellow eyes and horns on his head. Plus, he had a lightsaber the color of fresh blood and a billowing black coat. It was nearly enough to make you feel like you had walked straight into hell and now had a court with the king.
"Can I help you?" Your voice comes out traitorously squeaky, belaying the fear you were trying to keep under control.
He said nothing, boring into your eyes with his own like he was prying every secret out of your head. You could feel something pushing against you, something you couldn't see or hear or touch but as very tangible and real. It brushed against you in tendrils, pushing and pulling against you like the currents of the ocean. Your skin crawled, the fine hairs standing up on end.
"Your Force presence is bright." It was the first time he had spoken to you, and you almost didn't hear what he said. His voice was low and deep, the lowest you had heard from anyone.
"E-Excuse me?"
"Your presence is bright." He repeated, which clarified nothing for you. Your species didn't biologically glow or release any kind of light. "I could sense it the moment I landed on this planet."
"I, ah, I'm not sure what you mean but what are you doing in my-?" Your words tumbled out uncontrollably as your heart pounds, and it only got worse as he glared at you. You just wanted this man to leave, please, you didn't know what he was talking about with brightness or how he had sensed you when he first landed, you just wanted him out.
You moved to find a communicator, your brain managing to scream at you through the fear to go contact the authorities and not stay in the room with the Dathormirian. He moves to stop you, faster than you have seen anyone move, but something stops his movement abruptly and he curls in on himself, hissing sharply between his teeth.
You grab the communicator on a shelf nearby, ready to open an emergency line to the Enforcers, when you see one dark hand pull back from his abdomen. Many species bleed different colors depending on chemical compositions, but this blood is red like yours with a silver tinge and it covers his hand. A gasp falls off your lips and his eyes dart up to meet yours, hatred burning you like acid. But there's something more behind that hatred, something that looks a lot like fear. It's something you can sense, like a thick blanket covering the room and it's almost suffocating.
"You're bleeding." You say and inwardly wince at the sheer obviousness of that statement. Of course he knows he's bleeding, and the "no duh, genius" look he gives you doesn't help you feel any smarter. "W-what happened?"
He doesn't answer that and drops his gaze, but a flash of light and a lightning bolt of pain across your midsection suddenly dance through your mind and for one breathless moment, you feel like your body has been cleaved in half.
And then the feeling passes, leaving you alone again in your house with a bleeding stalker who stubbornly refuses to answer anything you say.
And here I thought this day was going to be uneventful.
You worry your lower lip, torn between calling the Enforcers and helping this stranger, even if he had invaded your house and life. He was clearly in quite a bit of pain and fearful; maybe someone had hurt him and he was on the run. There was quite a bit of blood now that you see the silver stains on his dark tunic…perhaps the blood loss was making him delusional. It would make sense as he talked about brightness and seeing things.
A low dark laugh escapes him, startling you from your thoughts.
"Call the Enforcers, if it makes you feel any better." A horrific smile, one that seems like it was straight out of your nightmares, splits his face. "They won't be able to stop me. No normal being can."
"H-How-?" Was he a mind reader? Horror blooms hard and fast in your stomach and you scramble to protect your thoughts somehow, but you're not exactly sure how.
"The Force." He answered. One of those frustratingly vague answers that made things more confusing than they had been before. "I can sense your conflict. Will you call your Enforcers, or will you chose another path?" The way he says the last part makes you think of darkness, of a descent into hell that one can never return from.
Your fingers hesitate over the communicator, torn about what to do. His eyes meet yours rather calmly, though the undercurrent of anger and hate is still powerful in the room.
You make your decision.
This was a really hard one for me to write; this was the first prompt that made me realize the importance of having a plot point in the request. I can't just BS one off the top of my head very well. That, and I've never written Darth Maul so it was one heck of a learning curb. But hey, here's the finished product!
I thought it would be kind of fun to leave it up to the reader about what happens; help the crazy weirdo or call the enforcers on the crazy weirdo and possibly get them all killed? Who knows!