The writer's block and the library ogre

It was a steady, rhythmic taunt, reminding me that for the last three hours, I had produced exactly zero words. My coffee was a cold, muddy puddle at the bottom of a paper cup, and my brain felt like it had been run through a paper shredder.

I, Maya Thorne—average literature major by day—was currently failing my second life. Because by night (and during boring lectures), I was StarryRain, the author of “Midnight Marigolds,” the top-ranking romance web novel on LuminaReads.

“How am I supposed to write a first kiss?” I whispered, burying my face in my hands. “I haven’t even been hugged by anyone who wasn’t a relative in three years.”

I scrolled down to the comments section of my last update. My readers were feral. They wanted chemistry. They wanted fireworks. And then, I saw it. The notification from my MVP.

> SoftKitten99: “Dear Author, the emotional tension you’ve built is sublime. I am eagerly awaiting the moment their souls—and their lips—finally meet. Please take your time; art cannot be rushed. (P.S. I hope you ate well today.)”

I was about to force my fingers to the keys when the atmosphere in the university library shifted. It was like a cold front had suddenly rolled in. The frantic whispering of students died down, replaced by the heavy, rhythmic thud of combat boots.

I didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.

Leo Kael. The "Ice King" of the Engineering department. He was terrifyingly tall, always dressed in black, and possessed a resting face so stern it made freshmen turn around and walk the other way. Rumor had it he’d once stared down a vending machine until it gave him two bags of chips for free out of pure intimidation.

Of course, because the universe loves a good joke, the only empty chair in the entire quiet zone was directly across from me.

He sat down with a heavy thud. He didn't look at me. He just pulled out his phone, his brow furrowed into a terrifyingly deep V, and began tapping with an intensity that suggested he was launching a cyber-attack.

I tried to disappear. I pulled my hoodie strings tight and stared at my screen. Focus, Maya. Focus on the romance. Ignore the human glacier three feet away.

Ten minutes passed. My laptop groaned, a red "5% Battery" warning flashing on the screen. Panic surged. If my laptop died before I saved my draft, I’d lose the little progress I’d made.

I scrambled for my charger in my bag, my movements clumsy and frantic. My hand caught the edge of my pencil case, sending it flying. Pens and highlighters rained onto the floor, and one bright pink ballpoint pen rolled across the carpet, coming to a dead stop right against the toe of Leo’s black boot.

The world stopped.

I held my breath, waiting for him to crush the pen or glare me into dust. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Leo looked up. His eyes were sharp, his jaw set.

“I-I’m so sorry,” I squeaked, diving under the table to grab my things.

As I lunged for the pen, I accidentally glanced upward. From my angle under the table, I could see his phone screen clearly. He wasn't looking at stock markets or blueprints.

He was on the LuminaReads app.

The layout was unmistakable. The pastel purple header, the star-rating system... and the title at the top: “Midnight Marigolds.”

My heart did a somersault. He’s reading my book? The Ice King?

But it got worse. Or better. My eyes darted to the comment box at the bottom of his screen. There was a draft of a comment already typed out, waiting to be sent:

> “Dear Author, the emotional tension...”

My brain short-circuited. I sat back up so fast I nearly hit my head on the table. I looked at Leo. Truly looked at him. Up close, his eyes weren't just sharp—they were slightly glassy, his eyelashes damp as if he had just blinked away a stray tear over my last tragic chapter.

Leo froze. He realized I had seen his screen. The terrifying, stoic mask he wore every day cracked in an instant. His face went from pale to a deep, frantic crimson. His hand flew over the screen to hide it, but it was too late.

The most feared man on campus was my biggest fan. He was SoftKitten99.

We stared at each other in a silence so loud it made my ears ring.

“You...” I started, my voice trembling.

Leo’s eyes darted around like a trapped animal. “If you tell a soul,” he rasped, his voice deep and desperate, “I will make sure you never find a quiet place to study again.”

I looked at his phone, then back at his blushing face. A slow, mischievous realization began to bloom in my chest. My writer’s block? It was gone.

“Deal,” I whispered, a grin tugging at my lips. “But you’re going to help me finish the next chapter.”