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444names · 1 year

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polish, ukrainian, german and dutch forenames

Aafyme Aariitje Adegius Adelia Adramiy Adrij Agni Albertje Alee Allefa Almias Alomard Ameke Ande Andel Andra Andrik Andrinzem Andt Anian Anierna Anjen Annie Annuyi Anonis Aria Armar Arneslatje Arnie Arnwa Arse Artofte Auba Auguliy Axely Balex Baranne Bard Baria Barl Bera Beryize Birje Birk Bogdanno Boguntje Boha Bohae Boysta Carbenoor Chre Christy Cilecyusz Cuni Czen Cäciesa Cäsawaldor Daanuelia Daarethor Daarine Dagda Damir Danca Danna Dars Davaana Demyst Dena Denstina Dentefanna Dezy Diekto Diela Dies Diethaike Divetje Dobbere Dobiert Domy Doni Dore Doslaw Dympleffel Ecka Edert Edsena Edulaw Eelsbea Elfrijs Elfritann Ellawerzyl Ellefantje Ellick Enradle Enrijk Evanka Evger Evhelbe Ewefantje Fanna Fayiamundo Flek Flomirsta Flon Franek Franne Friaetary Frietje Friy Fytana Gaber Galaw Garan Garberij Geen Geeniska Geerla Geetef Gergredek Gerichen Gerolad Gerten Gertje Gotte Gottondrud Gretje Gribast Gryhorgria Gryslauge Grzeslaw Gund Gunnia Gunyaksia Hana Harie Hariej Harthysia Heida Heignin Heigumit Hela Heleslav Hener Henne Hertje Hertry Hilmariy Hold Honia Hryna Hubald Huija Huisz Huybine Huyi Ilormgard Iner Ineslaw Ingeno Insta Ireczys Iren Irenz Irmarta Jacpeltje Janki Janselav Jansta Janya Jardan Jarysaasta Jedrik Jenas Jeriede Joan Joharan Johda Joka Joksyntje Joria Joslaapi Jozaba Jozary Jörga Kaanchenz Kaimil Kaje Kamina Karit Kasa Katen Kathold Katijntia Katje Katra Kazm Khrijs Khrike Klavetha Klawa Kleik Klenchola Klens Klesje Koemylyi Kona Kons Korgius Koromung Kria Krijd Ksel Ksela Kubromin Kyryhons Larma Lartale Lauke Lecharisia Leenja Leenorzyd Leeris Leesan Lenna Leofilf Leokke Leor Levhe Liaarikold Liesla Liestanna Lijd Lillawale Liskoli Ljudir Ljudirs Lody Lubert Lubertus Ludigmus Luditte Ludoka Lukre Luygmut Luyi Luzalehar Lyubolgita Maco Majlothen Mald Malenikode Mane Mannegusz Marbiner Marhyi Marissi Marl Marlav Marmek Maronia Marsen Mart Maryi Mata Mathe Mathor Matte Mayisen Maylorie Meniand Mich Micja Miko Millibel Mirt Mirta Mona Morysbete Myrysla Naanatje Naddia Nado Nica Nicht Nietrea Nika Notel Nowefje Nyudiy Nyustiy Oleoniya Oleslaghim Opan Opar Orta Ortros Oskold Otmaniana Otyntje Palomus Patje Pazysz Pelig Perhys Phöbetbov Pier Poutein Przeltry Pylwiandt Rafymond Raich Railie Raim Ravlon Rayi Rayidiale Raymard Rein Reina Resla Rica Rich Riedegard Rijthory Ritth Robanasta Roelertje Rogda Rola Rolas Romäus Rosefa Rosenna Rosiacht Roszuly Rous Rozyna Rusia Rutgertusz Ryska Rystya Sabetja Saliya Salma Sanda Sannia Semiem Sephav Seppolo Serd Sermek Sert Sery Siede Sigeliya Sigmusla Sild Sjountje Slawarie Sobas Sonia Soplerya Stalinatje Stane Stefa Steliya Stemedemen Ster Steriene Stier Stionikke Susla Sybies Szysla Tard Tarzist Tata Tera Theikert Then Theodola Thiliame Thin Tiedriya Tien Timil Timit Tonjam Toor Torsteppie Trech Trena Trie Trik Trislana Ulfrick Ulisiata Ully Urse Ursti Utertje Vaaska Vadelin Valip Vani Vard Veethe Vertia Vicheuw Vicy Vitje Vitta Vitz Volia Wala Waleme Walgumin Wastin Wenert Wennus Wenz Wiel Wiesiy Wike Wilin Wilinerth Winma Wistina Witta Wittef Wlaw Wloffeltry Woloentje Yanzhilhe Yariya Yelbia Yevkola Youta Yurd Zdzisawen Zdziskusta Zoffi Zoryska Zöle

same thing but shorter names

Aara Adek Adel Adra Adrunde Aelchte Agni Alen Alesa Aletra Aletter Almart Ammek Andra Ands Anek Anel Angen Anikel Annel Annella Anorik Ansje Ante Antyn Anuli Apold Arko Arma Armani Arnus Arnwa Avhe Axelen Bald Balja Bara Barier Barina Barrina Basz Belke Berkje Berlo Bertrii Berzen Bianuel Bogusz Bohaia Bolanka Bold Bolf Boysta Brik Broslav Brudert Bärbas Card Carga Carond Casje Cecht Celo Cezabel Chrida Chrike Chrius Chriya Chrya Chrysla Clawa Conie Coon Coorg Coose Cäcia Cäcisi Cäsaapi Daari Dagmarz Damer Danikus Darta Dena Denrie Diedolf Dietiy Dimar Dira Dmincht Dobine Dola Domine Dorg Dorscha Dosje Ebeke Ebenina Edeke Eder Edga Edius Effirt Elia Elian Ellaw Emir Emmek Erda Erislaw Euge Ewelor Ewertje Ezebov Ezek Felka Fema Ferey Fert Flen Floni Fras Fraut Frazja Fren Freth Fricjan Frijka Fris Fritje Frizav Galexa Gard Gebieda Geesla Geonja Gerlina Gertal Gertij Gerzylo Gijke Gisla Gota Gote Gott Govet Grech Gretene Gudy Gund Hana Hane Hanfra Hanien Hansta Haud Hedre Heid Heika Heini Hellia Hennesz Henzczy Hiliesi Hryna Huijke Huyia Ihna Ilsje Immeke Inayi Inel Ineliek Ingotte Insaan Irman Irys Izaber Izolazy Jachen Jand Jann Jannika Jard Jenty Jertr Joachel Johda Johdana Jolaze Joleeno Joorosi Jorie Jula Jusz Jürgina Kaild Kaltja Karbert Karga Kargius Karlip Karo Karolaw Kaspa Kata Katijn Katt Kaza Kazm Khrid Klardia Kliendt Knus Koni Kosypa Krita Kryk Krzej Kundra Kyry Laddir Ladiy Lenizy Lenrija Leonori Lettazm Liej Lijs Lildel Lixi Lodzi Lorisla Lucisaw Luck Ludert Ludir Ludomen Luitlek Lyure Macin Madigna Magmuni Maine Malen Marauka Marber Marbina Mard Mardek Mardula Marene Mariko Marin Maris Marl Marli Maronka Mart Mata Matje Matonse Michel Mick Mienz Mika Millek Milm Minne Miro Moni Mych Mykt Myryna Naddäus Nadysje Nard Nata Nath Natha Natsian Neena Nethaj Nicja Nika Nikaas Nike Nooro Okka Olen Olerva Olexana Olheon Oliya Oresje Oreste Orthim Ossje Osypard Otma Otta Otthe Pata Pathe Patia Patord Paukha Pazarli Petjet Petta Phina Phöber Pionike Porsuli Priusz Przan Przej Rafke Rail Rayi Rayia Reida Reigelm Rena Ress Rhert Riana Rica Ricja Robal Roessa Rolad Romot Ronsa Rosla Roslaw Rostia Rosty Rouwtje Rubro Rute Ryka Rösch Saas Saler Salo Sana Sane Sankena Seba Seesla Seida Seinius Selbek Serlix Sewe Sietje Sijs Sile Simard Sini Sobina Sopola Sout Steel Stefa Sterl Stert Stertje Susz Sver Svina Szchand Szyl Taim Teke Teta Tetje Teund Tharek Thola Thor Ties Tima Timir Timmena Timpje Tooryta Torich Trana Trionis Truit Udos Ullerle Ulliede Ursta Urszka Utek Vaaster Vaata Valda Vani Vanna Vannek Viantje Virosyp Virteuw Vlaw Volaw Vrola Vrose Walaw Walex Walyz Wasa Wiej Wiek Wiesla Wilip Willian Wina Wine Wiotta Witl Witte Wojzy Wojzyla Wolda Wula Wyna Yanz Yeverno Yosa Yukje Yulfi Yulika Yulke Yurgieb Zdzisz Zeniand Zenz Zosz Zölecja Zöleeri

#444 names #444names

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starlightsearches · 4 years

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Office Romance: Ch 20 Inspection

General Hux and Kylo Ren have found themselves competing for the affection of a lieutenant aboard the Finalizer.

Series Warnings: Language, some violence, near-death experiences.

Masterlist

AN: Haha, I finally did it! Thank you all so much for your support while I figured out where this story goes, and where it ends. I received so many kind messages and so much love. Warnings for this chapter: angst, canon-typical violence (force choking), discussions of abuse, kind of?

You wake up with bleary eyes and a pounding headache. For a moment, you're able to forget why you feel so terrible—not just physically, but deep in your bones—and you sit and wait until it hits you.

You had cried late into the night—cried until you couldn’t anymore—but as soon as the memories resurface, so do the tears, stinging your tired eyes. It's only just started, but you're sure that it will take a miracle for you to get through the day.

You force yourself out of bed and to the sink, drinking straight from the faucet, and then you down a rehydration canister as well, for good measure. (Technically, they're for medical use only but they're a godsend for hangovers.) The taste is questionable, and you'll have to piss like a bantha later, but it'll be worth it if it gets you feeling like a human again.

You rinse off in the sani-steam and put on your uniform, already feeling better. The positivity is immediately lost when you see Ren's helmet sitting on your desk. The memory is blurry even now that you're fully awake—stumbling through the halls on the way back to your room, the weight of his helmet sitting heavy in your hands, and the words running through your head on repeat just in case you ran in to him: you left this, you left this, you left this.

What would you say to him now? You obviously have to talk about it, but . . . how? There's a slight unease settling in your stomach as you think about what had happened between you and Ren. Had you liked it, the kiss? It's hard to separate the event from everything that had happened after, which you definitely had not liked.

After a moment of debating, you decide to take the helmet with you, tucking it under your arm and hoping that the bulk of your greatcoat would hide it from view.

You walk in the direction of the bridge, doing your best to appear normal as you try to sense Ren's location through the force. It's not something you've tried before, and not something that he had tried to teach you yet. It's more difficult than you anticipated; everytime you open yourself up to the force you become overwhelmed by the feeling of all the lives on the ship, and you're unable to distinguish between any of them, let alone pick out Ren's unique signature from the group.

You pull yourself from your search just before you collide with someone—a harried-looking maintenance tech busy staring at her data pad. She doesn't notice you, and you catch her by the shoulder just before impact, stopping her momentum. She lets out a small oof, the data pad threatening to tumble from her hands before she gets a hold of it.

"I'm so sorry, Lieutenant General," she says, saluting once she recognises you, "I wasn't looking where I was going."

"It's alright, I wasn't either." You give her a small smile, hoping to put her at ease, to show that you're not angry, but it doesn't take long for you to realize that you're not what's making her nervous.

"Busy day today?" you ask, scoping out the surface of her thoughts searching for the origin of her woes. Please don't let it be Ren, please don't let it be Ren . . .

"Uh, yeah, actually," she replies with a little trepidation, "we've got like, seven different emergency repairs and they're all- "

" Code 4120?" you finish for her, and she looks back, surprised. You don't know all the repair codes, but that one you've memorized. Lightsaber damage.

"Uh, yeah, actually," she replies with a nervous laugh, "I don't know what got into the commander but I hope it doesn't happen again." She blushes—embarrassed to talk this way about a commanding officer in front of another commanding officer—and walks off quickly, leaving you to dwell on the information alone.

You continue on your way to the bridge, but decide to stop at the officer's dining area first, hoping to grab a cup of caff before officially starting your shift. As soon as you enter, though, you'd like to walk back out, because the first thing you see is Ren's shiny new black eye, uncovered and set in a fiery glare towards Hux's normal seat, which is currently unoccupied. There are others in the dining area, though, full of sick curiosity as they shovel their rations into their mouths, glancing at Ren every few seconds, desperate to know what happened. You have to be careful. These next few moments could be explosive if you weren't.

"Your helmet, sir. You left it in the training room after our sparring session," you say to Ren, dropping it on the table in front of him. Everyone perks up when you address him, hoping to be clued in on the drama, but Ren doesn't even look at you, which suits your plans just fine, for now.

You lean in just a little closer, trying to sell the lie as you whisper, loud enough for the people closest to hear, "and I'm very sorry about your eye, sir."

"Wait, you gave him that?" Someone takes the bait, and you hold in your sigh of relief as you turn to address them. It's Kaimill Wate, the one you picked to be your replacement for Phasma after your promotion.

"Yes, Lieutenant. It was an accident, my hand slipped." Ren continues to ignore you, but the rest of the officers buy into your lie anyway. Thank the gods for that.

The only one who still seems suspicious is Mitaka, and his eyes follow you around the room, his mouth formed into a slight frown. You grab your caff and flash him a look, hoping he'll get the message, and he does, standing from his seat immediately and tossing out the rest of his breakfast before following you out the door.

"What is going on with you?" he asks, as soon you're alone, his whispers tight and angry as he checks to make sure that no one around you is listening.

"Oh, fuck," the words fall out completely unbidden, and the panic slips back in to its home in your chest. Would you have to feel this way forever? Constantly on edge, waiting for this to explode into the light and ruin you? It's no way to live; you don't think you can bear it.

"Hey," Mitaka speaks again, pulling you to a stop, "tell me what's going on." His voice and touch are gentle and it breaks your heart all over again that you've spent so much time lying to someone who cares for you so deeply.

"I will tell you what's going on, Doe, I promise. Just not right now." He seems distrustful, and you don't blame him after everything that's happened, but he nods in agreement, and you feel a little more at ease.

"Are you ready for the inspection?" Mitaka asks to change the subject, and your eyes widen with surprise.

"What inspection?" Normally the Directorate gave ships a week's notice before any official visits. Had you somehow managed to forget in all the chaos?

"The general sent out an alert early this morning. It was a surprise for him, too, I think," Mitaka responds, just as you enter the bridge. Hux is there at the view ports, looking no worse for wear, despite his injury.There’s a maintenance worker with him, probably updating him on the progress for the repairs, but it doesn't seem like he's truly listening, and after a moment, they walk off.

"Who is performing the inspection?" you whisper to Mitaka, hoping to avoid the general's attention for as long as possible. You’re still not sure what you want from him. And you don’t know how he’ll react when he sees you again, or if he’ll react at all.

"Hello, Lieutenant General," the voice behind you answers your question before Mitaka can, and when you recognise it, you can feel the cup of caff begin to slip from your fingers. No, not him. Not here.

"General Pryde, welcome to the Finalizer," Hux has arrived, and Mitaka takes his place on the bridge, leaving you alone with the two men as they greet each other with a slight nod and hate in their eyes. You have to hope that you're still asleep, because this is a nightmare. You try to wake up; nothing changes.

"Shall we begin?" Pryde asks, and both of them turn to look at you. Even with some kind of miracle, you're not sure you'll survive this.

You try your best to remain focused, but there's little hope for that when you think you sense Ren around every corner, when you're simultaneously trying to catch the general's eye and stay invisible to him, when you have to watch every word that exits your lips to make sure that Pryde will not sense even the slightest trace of the deep and abiding hatred lurking just below the surface of your skin.

No, You're not focused, not in the slightest, but you know the general would rather chew on mouthfuls of glass than look like a fool in front of a superior officer and he makes up for your lack, leading you and Pryde from place to place, careful to avoid the parts of the ship that Ren had left in disrepair. The whole thing goes fairly well, as far as you can tell, and you breathe a sigh of relief once you return to the bridge, finally finished with your looping tour.

"Thank you for your time, General," Pryde says dismissively, and you tune back into the conversation, nervous about the change you can sense in his mood. He turns his attention to you, and although he has the same stony demeanor as always, you know what he's feeling, and you know what he's about to say, "I'd like to speak to your lieutenant for a moment. Could you spare her?"

General Hux looks at you for the first time since the last time he looked at you, since you watched him walk away. You're afraid to look back, but you do anyway, ready to see the loathing you deserve reflected back at you, but his gaze is absent of any emotion at all, and somehow that’s worse.

He's waiting for permission. It takes you a moment to realize that this extended eye contact is not some kind of a punishment that the general is hoping to inflict, but an offer of protection from Pryde. He's willing to say no for you.

You give him the slightest nod you can manage, and only then does he speak, "of course, Allegiant General." He walks off without a word, and you watch him go without a chance to thank him.

Pryde clears his throat, and you follow him from the bridge, down to the hangar where his ship waits for him. Something about the moment makes you feel like a little girl again, like he's about to yell at you for running through the house or breaking a lamp, and the same sickness comes right back, the same fear, the same sight that you saw so often in the plane between waking and sleeping: Pryde, blaster in hand, pointing the barrel of the weapon directly between your eyes.

It's a ridiculous notion, a silly thought. You're not a child anymore. You're a soldier. A force-wielder. You can defend yourself. But could you defend yourself?

As soon as Pryde finds an empty corridor, he acts, pulling you into some abandoned meeting room. You breathe deeply through your nose and think calm thoughts. He just wants to talk to you in private.

"Well?" He's already angry, which means you'll have to be careful, have to hit every mark and deliver each line with perfect inflection to keep his anger at bay. Even without an audience he still demands the doting daughter routine. Lucky for you though, it's a role you have had a lifetime to perfect.

"It's good to see you, father," you say, pressing a soft kiss to his papery check, trying very hard to keep thoughts of your last kiss out of your mind. This was a critical performance; you could not afford any distractions.

He relaxes only slightly, but you refuse to let your guard down until you know what he wants. It seems that he is ready to join in on your act, putting on the guise of a concerned father. He must want something.

"You seem tired," he begins—less convincing in his role than you manage to be, which is understandable. He's under less pressure. "Is everything alright?"

"I didn't get much sleep," you offer, " I've been kept busy since my promotion." He looks skeptical, but you're not sure why, especially since it's the truth, or part of it, at least.

"Is General Hux giving you too much of his work? I would recommend you for a transfer to the Supremacy. I'm sure that General-"

'I don't want to leave the Finalizer, father," you interrupt, and the look in his eyes makes the regret appear instantaneously. "It's just one night without sleep; it won't kill me. I appreciate the concern."

"Your mother sends her regards." He seems mollified enough, and then he changes the subject, which doesn't surprise you in the slightest. He doesn't care how you are. He's just searching for weakness.

"Tell her I miss her," you respond on instinct, and then after a beat, "and you, as well, father." Gods, You want this conversation to be over. You're tired of walking on glass and hoping it won't splinter beneath your feet.

"We've been talking recently," he says, falsely casual, "she thinks you should come home. We both do." It's off-script, and the surprise throws you out of your act and directly into a spiraling panic.

"What?" You genuinely think you might faint. Even after the news you received last night, this somehow manages to come as a bigger shock. Maybe you should have seen it coming. You thought you were safe from him here, but maybe that was all an act too.

"We don't feel comfortable having you work in such a dangerous environment, and after the assassination attempt, can you blame us? Your mother was a wreck for days after the event, hardly sleeping, unable to eat. I thought the stress would kill her."

He's trying to guilt you into giving in, and you might have been more receptive of it, if it had been anyone else. You wish the stress would kill her. Wish it would kill them both.

"Please, come home. We'll take care of you again. We'll keep you safe." He rests a hand on your shoulder, the loving father, the one you always deserved, and you hate yourself for it, but you almost buy into it. Because you want to believe, damn you, want to believe that someone else would care for you. You want to unload, give away the reins and let someone else make the tough decisions again. Because you're so damn tired. Because you're not strong enough to do it yourself.

Hot, fat tears roll down your cheeks and you bow your head in defeat. The woman, the fortune teller from Irrade, she was right. It's not always an or the other. You can choose not to decide. You can give up.

Pryde lifts your gaze to his, wipes the tears from your cheeks, pulls you in for an embrace. You don't find home in his arms, but maybe someday you could.

"You'll be safe now," he whispers and you will yourself to believe it, "I'll take care of everything." It's not until he runs a hand through your hair, an approximation of a soothing gesture, that you notice it. For some reason, that's the contact that tunes you into his thoughts—thoughts that he must have had the whole time but kept hidden, and you were too distracted to see them.

"You know," you say, pulling yourself from his grasp, "about my training. About Ren." How could you have been so blind? He didn't want to save you, he wanted to save himself. Every part of you hums with rage, and you let the anger flow through you, too tired to stop it.

“You lied to me!” You’ve never yelled at him before, but the words burst out of you, “you don’t want me back, you want me away from him!”

"Now, wait, see here-" he blanches, trying to cover his tracks, but you don't need to see any more to know that it's a kindness for you to only block his windpipe. You're being merciful. You should snap his neck. Force choking is another skill Ren never taught you, but this one is easy and so very satisfying as you bring Pryde to his knees.

"No, general, you see here," you say, getting in his face, looming over him, "I'm not going anywhere. And you are going to stay. the. fuck. away from me. And then maybe I'll let you live." You storm out of the room, not bothering to glance back, not caring to check if you had killed him or not.

You march through the corridors with no destination in mind, desperate to escape the rage that wells up inside, and you finally understand Ren. It would feel good to destroy something right now, but walking would have to suffice.

You end up on the bridge without realizing it. Still, you've never felt more in control. The anger has left your body and you find strength has replaced it. You're not going to run from this. You're going to make a choice.

AN: Okay, that’s it for this chapter! I’m not going to give an ETA for the next one, because I think I’m going to be doing something a little different. I also will probably put requests on hold for the moment until I finish this story up; I’m assuming it will only be three or four more chapters. Let me know what you think!

Tags: @acunningstargazer, @itsa-pseudonym, @ddaeing, @dark-night-sky-99, @i-jus-wanna-writehappy, @fresa-luna, @leiadelreyy, @averillian, @sunbanna (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!)

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x you #general hux x you #general hux x reader #general hux fanfic #armitage hux fanfiction #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren #armitage hux #my writing #office romance #long post

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