The Professor Novels & Stories

"Welcome to English Literature. My name is Professor Alabaster, and for the next semester, you’ll be under my watch." His eyes scanned the room, sharp and authoritative, and when they passed over Belle, she thought she saw the briefest flicker of something, something dark and heated. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the professional, unyielding facade of Professor Alabaster. Belle shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying to focus on what he was saying. He moved around the room, talking about the syllabus, the expectations, and the importance of participation. His voice was steady, his words calculated, but underneath it all, Belle felt the tension between them building. Every time

he added, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before he turned and walked away. Each step was an effort, his wolf howling in frustration as he distanced himself from his mate. But he knew he couldn’t stay—not yet. She was human, or at least appeared to be, and that complication alone was enough to make his head spin. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to leave the festival entirely. Instead, he lingered in the shadows, his sharp senses trained on her as she resumed her conversation. “I’m glad you came, Elena,” the man - her professor - was saying, his tone warm and familiar. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the next set of classes. You’re making incredible progress with your research

Jared’s presentation was tomorrow and I needed sleep, for my peace of mind. *** “You know what you have to do...” Professor Alma adjusted his tie, almost acting like a mother. Even if she didn’t talk a lot, she had contributed heavily to his work, offering her expert opinion when needed and sharing her dissertations with him. Even if he was a professor, he was young enough to be her child which was why it seemed so cute when she patted his suit and wiped it down, picking up invisible lint. I had to admit, he looked absolutely dashing. His face alone could bring us home the award if they wanted but he was more than a pretty face.

Because of him, I now know at least all the nutritional disadvantages of chocolate and the benefits of vegetables. “And that brings us to the end of the class.” The professor stacks her files together, staring at us through her sharp glasses. Professor McFadden is one of the strictest classes on campus, and I don’t think any student enjoys maths, the subject she teaches well, maybe except for Ivan, but I don’t attend any of his classes. As I sit on my seat, I wonder how he behaves in class, does he push his glasses up whenever an equation seems to fluster him or does he keep his gaze focused on the Professor and not pay any atte

Even if it meant not being able to see him when I pleased. The door was pushed open, the sound of footsteps agaisnt the wood floors made me snap out of my head as I glanced towards the entrance, watching as The professor walks in elegantly. He takes him time to stroll up to me and I just gape at him in shock. For some reason I expected the professors to be old. His long frosty hair was braided into a low ponytail, his spectacles propped gently on the tip of his nose. His strong features were tight and stoic like that of a soldier's. I got up, feeling uneasy under his gaze.

Goosebumps were crawling all over my skin. I didn't really want to associate with the students at the school so I had no business with whoever was staring at me. I didn't turn to look instead, I focused my gaze on the door as a professor, whom I believed was a Chemistry professor, made his way in. He was a short, rotund man with a saggy belly and premature baldness on his head. He wore round-rimmed glasses that resembled those of Harry Potter. A black briefcase was firmly held in his hand.

The professor for the session, the kindly but formidable Professor Patel, entered and stood before the class. “Good afternoon, everyone. Welcome to the final lecture for today. I know you’ve all been through a series of lectures, but think of this as the pinnacle of your efforts. Give it everything you’ve got,” Professor Patel’s deep voice resonated in the now silent room, broken only by the hum of the air conditioning.

His ancient dress code of oversized slacks with a faded brown crossing belt over a white shirt didn't do his figure any good either. "We are sorry sir." "It won't happen again." The two girls muttered intermittently, their heads lowered. Maya could sense the fear in their posture. She could tell already that the professor was a no-nonsense human. "It better not." The professor stated, with a hiss. "Now back to what I was saying, before I was interrupted rudely...the answer to the quiz. Who has an idea?" He queried, his hands resting on the first desk on Maya's row. Maya watched around the class. No one was raising up their hands

In fact, the professor has managed to put on some weight and looks tired. “You sound like I should be worried about being noticed,” he laughs as if he can’t believe me. He probably thinks I’m delusional so I can give him as much as a moment of benefit of the doubt. Just a moment, though. I raise my finger and grin, “Oh, but you should.” “Hmm. And why do you think so, my dear Sarah?” Professor brings his hand up to his face and scratches his chin. I imitate his action as I speak, “Well, to begin with, if you haven’t done your research, you’re in one hospital with the entire Vincent family. Don’t act like you don’t know who they are.”

Dean figured this was the first time he’d found a perk of the awkward title and position. “Sir, to what do I owe the honour to speak with you? How can I help you?” Professor Gains looked to be tottering on the age of ancient and mummified. Dean couldn’t place an age on the man without saying really old. The image of his bald head reflected in the mirror before Dean. He stood in an office that looked much like every other office that professors at the University used while their time teaching.