Andrew Garfield X Reader Novels & Stories

It’s only on the one website now but it will be everywhere in a few hours. I rub my eyes and try to ignore the way Andrew is kissing my neck while I click on the link she sent in her first text. If it’s another story about me and my racy moments, I’m fine. It’s probably just a news story about me and Andrew having dinner last night. But as the screen loads, my stomach drops. A giant black headline. ANDREW XELLUM DROVE ME INSANE: THE DESIGNER’S FORMER MUSE TELLS ALL

“A reader. You attach it to any book, codex, or artifact that contains recorded knowledge. When activated, it transfers the contents directly, without opening the object or disturbing any seals bound to it.” His eyes sharpened with interest after my explanation. “Directly… to my mind?” I raised a brow at that. “No, mine,” I corrected subtly, “or to itself. It stores what it reads. The information can be retrieved later, intact. It doesn't depend on the creator’s mana, only activation.” Silence fell between us. Feline let out a low breath, something between disbelief and awe. He stared at the reader as though he were witnessing the finest creation of his time, and heat crept up my cheeks desp

My voice did not shake. The man tilted his head. He didn't have a face, just a shifting darkness where his features should be. "You can call me the Reader," he said. His voice sounded like paper rubbing together. "I am the one who pays for the ink. I am the one who decides if your story ends here or keeps going." Bryan stepped in front of me, his hand on his pistol. "He’s another code, Hazel. Don’t listen to him." The Reader laughed. It was a dry, thin sound. "A copy thinks he has a choice. How cute."

The Reader stumbled backward. Their faceless hood twisted violently, body bending in impossible angles. “You’re not supposed to hesitate!” they gasped. Liora clutched the book to her chest. “Then maybe this isn’t the final chapter.” “You can’t stop what’s been written,” the Reader hissed. “You can’t outrun the ending!” The floor cracked beneath them, Not ground, But text, Pages of her life peeling apart like skin, And rising from between them, Was a figure made entirely of titles. No face, No features.

I could feel the words being processed, translated into pixels and light on a screen somewhere far beyond this field. The Eye blinked. The clouds around it swirled, forming into the shape of a colossal, transparent hand that descended toward the ground. It didn't try to crush me. It hovered, palm up, waiting. "It wants a conclusion," the Reader said, appearing at my side. Their form was fading now, becoming a sketch of pencil lines. "The Archive was a prison. This field is a sanctuary. But the Audience... they want an ending. They want to know if the tragedy was worth the price of the ticket."

“What superpower would it be, huh?” “Yeah, it’s like you’re some kind of mind reader,” Brady said. “Should I ask if I’m similar to Wonder Woman? Could I have the same power level as Professor X or something similar?” Brady said, “Hey, you’ve got a bald head, just like Professor X!” As Khali approached the desk, laughter filled the room. Elegantly sitting on the seat, she exuded ease. With an exquisite lean, she accepted Brady’s book and paper quickly. Brady sprang up with resolve and ran to his sister. His steps were deliberate.

And because Andrew's story touched her heart, of course, she will really cry for him. Rhianne, on the other hand, was trying to analyze the situation. The Andrew Gartin in the book is a cruel and manipulative villain who mercilessly stole Rhianne's fortunes. But how come he became such a bad guy in the story? So it was all because of his past.

"Who are the people responsible for sparkle Jewelry company? Please come over. Mr Andrew wants to talk to you about the design details" Hailey immediately grabbed the relevant documents. Mia was a little nervous, "You've met Mr Andrew before. Is it easy to deal with him? Does he have a bad temper? Will he scold other's!" Hailey smiled and said, "Mr Andrew doesn't have any issues. It's just that he's a little.... Hmm, you know" Mia understood Hailey instantly. She had read Mr Andrews information, and some of the words were obscure, but she also realized that he was a lecher.

Two uniforms followed: Stacey—with the steady eyes— and Tom, tight as a drawn line. “Look what the tide dragged in,” Andrew said. “Mitchell. Couldn’t resist my crime scene?” “I was leaving,” Gabe said, voice flat. “Not before we have a chat.” Andrew’s gaze flicked over Gabe—wet hems, salt on the jacket, the Bible under his arm. “You reek. Sea and whiskey. Classic.” Stacey’s glance cut quick, concerned, to the book. Tom stayed stone. “What’s that?” Andrew jerked his chin.

She came through the door looking tired but bright in the eyes in the particular way that the warehouse produced in her, like it was charging something inside her that everything else in the day had been slowly draining. She kissed me and smelled like pencil shavings and fabric and the particular lavender spray she kept in the warehouse and I told her dinner was on the stove and she said wonderful and went to look in on the twins who were supposed to be asleep and came back two minutes later shaking her head. "Andrew is reading under the covers with a torch," she said, sitting down at the kitchen island. "He does that three or four times a week. I think he believes we do not know." "He has b