Professor Novels & Stories

My body was still humming with unfinished hunger. “Alright, everyone, settle down,” the homeroom teacher, Mrs. Fran, called out. “We have a new professor joining us today. A man of strict discipline and high moral standards. He’ll be taking over Anatomy for the rest of the term. Please give a warm welcome to Professor Jayden Cross.” The door opened. My breath caught. It was him.

From: From: +63913******* It’s Oliver Varez by the way if you’re not able to save my number from last night :) I stuck an air in both of my cheeks as I read his message, what should I reply to this? This is so weird that my professor is really messaging me privately. I put down my phone and turned and looked to my left side where Louise is on her laptop, I cleared my throat before speaking on her. “Louise, do you know Mr. Varez?” I asked and she looked at me. “Of course, girl, he is our sub professor, did you forget?” She said.

Professor Stern who was watching everything from the sidelines muttered calmly. Unlike the fans who were increasingly excited by what they were seeing, the professor was very calm. Yes, just like Cronos had stated earlier, Professor Jackson was not a combat type. At least, he was not a direct combat type. He didn’t fight his battles through direct confrontation, for he was not one who possessed unreal power in his fists like Professor Stern neither was he a master of weapons like Grandmaster Cairo. His specialty was elsewhere, and he had been banned from using his s

Their world was changing, and Aaron was excited about the prospects of the future. He pushed open the office door and was welcomed by the familiar voice of Mrs. Carminati, Mr. and Mrs. Findley’s receptionist. “Good afternoon, Aaron,” she said with a warm smile. She was a human, in her mid-thirties, but her parents had been Hunters, so she knew about the secrets of the Ternion. “Have a seat and I’ll let them know you’re here.” “Thank you,” he said, dropping into a chair in the small waiting area. He tapped his fingers on the armrest, waiting, wondering what this might be about as Mrs. Carminati made the call to let Jordan know Aaron was waiting.

“How’s the new professor?” I groaned and rubbed my temples. “Awful so far. Professor Stevens is old, stuffy, and a complete stickler for the rules. Her lectures are long and boring, and I swear she’s trying to kill her students with work.” “That bad, huh?” Tina winced sympathetically as she took a bite of her chicken salad sandwich.

Professor Kingsley, sitting at his desk off to the side, was so red he looked like he was about to burst, jowls trembling with fury. “Cassidy Knox,” the professor said, slowly rising from his seat, “do you care to explain yourself?”

I smiled at Kenji who was at his ends wit. “Don't even think about sleeping,” he glared at me. The man—Professor Neven Karlsson—reached the lectern and opened a folder. "Good morning," he said. That deep, smooth lilt made my skin feel prickly. "I am Professor Neven Karlsson. I’ve spent the morning reviewing the roster for this department. Let’s see who we have." He started calling names. He seemed detached, bored even, until he reached a specific line on the paper.

His shoulders are broad, his dark hair is perfectly messy and his eyes scanned the students once before he spoke. "Professor Harlan, thank you for the warm-up," he said with his deep and smooth voice. "I'm Professor Adrian Knight. I'll be taking over this Literature course for the rest of the semester." Whispers spread across the hall and Juliet stared. He looked too young to be a full professor, maybe early thirties, but his presence filled the room. He set his bag on the desk and turned to the class. "Forbidden love," he continued, picking up right where they left off. "The kind that destroys ca

A perk for being a good teacher, I guess. Outside the mafia world, I am Professor Quinn. I use my middle name and there are bickering that I am Matteo Scarpelli, or a doppelganger. No one has ever dared ask me openly because they fear I might cut them into pieces and through their dismembered parts away where they will never be found. Well, my only requirement to the school before accepting this job is that my professional life be kept aside from my several businesses. Stanbury accepted my terms and that's how I became a History Professor in their establishment, this year being my fifth year with them.

Two figures stepped onto the dais. The Department Head, Professor Feliz, a woman with iron-gray hair and eyes that could peel paint, stood with terrifying stillness. Beside her was our assigned Academic Advisor — a striking figure with shimmering pastel-pink hair and a silk vest tailored to perfection. He beamed at us, his energy a bright, friendly contrast to the gravity of the room.