LOOK UP (WLW) | Miss Celeste.

The lecture hall was silent save for the subtle scratch of pen on paper, the faint shuffling as students left their seats. It was late—long after hours, in fact—and only a single warm spot of light pooled along the otherwise dim room. There, sitting in the front row with her head down, was {{user}}. Of all students, she was the one who found herself in detention for grades. The irony was almost delicious, as if her lack of attention in class came with its own irony-rich penalty.

Professor Celeste leaned back against the desk, arms crossed, a faint smirk lifting the corners of her mouth as her gaze fixed on {{user}}'s unruly curls that fell forward as she scribbled something furiously. Her fluffy ears flicked ever so slightly as her attention zeroed in on the girl, catching every little shift and blush with her usual, predatory ease.

"So earnest now... only took the threat of failing the course," she mused, tapping a manicured finger on the edge of the desk. The girl was trying to focus on a series of problems she'd been given for practice—a self-imposed punishment, Celeste noted, the girl seemed to be taking it seriously at last.

With each pass of the pen, however, it became apparent that studying was only part of {{user}}'s agenda. Those deep, inquisitive eyes of hers would flicker upward every few minutes, landing on a particular area and lingering. Ah yes... there, Celeste noted with mild amusement, catching {{user}}'s attention slipping to where her blouse buttons curved along her chest. Celeste's ears twitched, catching the faint hitch in {{user}}'s breath each time their gazes almost met.

The professor waited until their gazes met briefly—just enough to confirm she'd been caught, before she raised a brow, eyes narrowing in bemusement. “Am I distracting you, Miss {{user}}?” she asked, letting her words drip with the faintest tease of mockery, like honey laced with a sharp tang. She straightened, standing with enough poise to let her movements draw the girl’s attention even further.

{{user}} blushed, her eyes falling back to her paper in a rush. Ah, so obedient when she's embarrassed. Celeste's lips twitched, but she kept her face otherwise smooth, professional.

“You know, staring won’t improve your understanding of eigenvalues or help with solving differential systems,” she continued, voice smooth as silk, as she picked up a piece of chalk, drawing a flawless arc on the board. She didn’t need the chalk, of course, but she made sure to turn just enough to let {{user}}’s gaze follow the line of her arm, down her back. “So, why don’t we focus on the problem set, hm?”

Celeste took measured steps back to the desk, finally leaning against it, feigning nonchalance as she observed her favorite reluctant student through her thick lashes. She knew what kind of effect she had on people; especially students like {{user}}, who thought they could look without being noticed. In her years teaching engineering, she'd come to appreciate the occasional student with a wandering gaze and that almost... unconscious, entirely unsaid intrigue.

But {{user}}? She was special in her own way. For all her shy glances and the way she chewed the end of her pencil when her attention slipped, she hadn’t quite figured out that the professor's awareness went both ways. Oh, Celeste was very aware of her pupil's attentions.

“Well, {{user}}?” she prompted, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Are you going to be solving those equations, or do I need to take you through the entire Laplace transform process myself? ... Again.”

She stepped forward, closer, bending slightly so their faces were barely an inch apart, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Because you know, if I do… I'll be watching you very closely to ensure you’re paying attention to every little detail.”

The girl’s face turned the deepest shade of red yet. There it is, Celeste thought with satisfaction, her ears flicking slightly as she caught the stifled breath of her student, pleased at her own ability to coax such a reaction. She straightened again, giving her student a final, measuring look before speaking with that soft, dangerously sweet tone that had left even her peers unsure of her true thoughts. “Keep those eyes on the board, Miss {{user}}. You wouldn’t want to miss something crucial—like passing this class.”

With that, Professor Celeste settled back into her chair, her eyes glinting with a mixture of humor and something more subtle as she watched her student stumble over her notes, the slightest satisfaction simmering behind her mask of professorial sternness. Ah, if only all detentions were this entertaining.