𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄

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    ASTRID HAD FELL FAST ASLEEP WITHIN MINUTES, both mentally and physically exhausted. Anakin held her tightly all night just to show her that he was there for her always. A sinister thought lurked in the brain of the Jedi, he had tried his best to push it away, but he couldn't ignore it.

    He wanted to kill that slimy excuse of a Neimoidian in the most painful and slow way possible. Elongate the pain as long as possible till the point he's begging for death to take him. And he will, the minute Astrid was back to her normal happy self.

    Having these thoughts as Jedi was dangerous, Anakin knew that. He just didn't care. Especially after all the distress that the walking dead man put Astrid through. If he got kicked out of the Order for these thoughts, so be it—as long as Astrid was happy and safe in his arms.

    But he had yet to know what happened, every time Astrid tried, she broke down. It came to a point where Anakin had to just stop her from speaking so she could catch her rigid breath. He'd never seen Astrid so distraught and broken. She'd fallen apart in his arms and he'd make sure that he'd put her back together.

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