A.N: Not sure if this is going to be something more of not. But I love to image these two in full adult bodies and they would be cute teachers.
gumball is a culinary teacher and marshall is the hot music teacher.
Some kids were distracted again in my class, and I was pretty sure i knew why. Curse the scheduling. Everyone had to have my class after they had..his class.
Doctor Marshall Lee Nightosphere, bachelor of the fine art and doctorate in musical theory, the music teacher for Aaa, Accelerated Academy for the Arts. I of course teach the second most diplomatic art there is, the culinary arts. We as teachers are expected to lead the class with example and with a rigorous curriculum that makes our school so notorious. This of course requires a certain doctorum.
Marshall Lee does not have this.
He's unprofessional to the point of freely cursing in his class, unorganized to the point of making up his lesson planes on the fly, irresponsible to the point where he shows up to all of the teacher meeting late (I take allot into planning the snacks thank you very much).
What's absolutely horrible about it all is that everyone adores him. I mean everyone. the teachers, the students, the parents. Everyone seemed to like him except me. All i keep hearing every morning throughout the entire day is.
He's so cool
he's so hot
he's so funny
Mr. Nightosphere is my spirit animal
He's my favorite teacher
He's so understanding.
He's prime marriage material
His classes are my only saving grace
He has
and so on and so forth
which is why I am walking up to this student and taking away their phone before I hear anymore
about him-I mean 'it'.
"Larry Simon Parker give me that mobile device this instant" I was trying to show the class how make whip cream from scratch, it actually a fun lesson. If we finished early, which i doubt that now, they would allowed to experiment with different flavors and colors and additions to their pieces. I set my bowl down and walked over to the small crowd of students gathering around their phone.
"Sorry Mr.G," LSP said however he did not stop the video, that punk.
There was a dreading feeling once i got closer to the phone and I started to hear the audio. It was music, guitar bass solo to be exact (I'm not ignorant of other art forms mind you). I stood there with my hands on my hips, tapping my foot against the tile, "What could possibly be more important than your grade in this class right now?" because his participation in my class was absolute garbage and I have given him several opportunities to redeem himself.
"Mr. Lee brought his axe base to school today!" Another student, David Danish, answered practically hopping up and down from his chair right next to LSP.
"I managed to get a recording for my snapchat story" LSP tilted the screen as if I actually wanted to see and to not be rude I leaned in to...observe the footage, common curtesy of course.
I shouldn't have because the first thing I noticed wasn't his gorgeous playing, or the way his base was balanced delicately on his lap in an enviously gentle way, but the fact that the man had rolled his sleeves up, exposing those forearms as he played. Sure, I noticed all of those other things later, but i was so caught up at gazing at those forearms, sinfully rippling with each stroke of the strings. Curse him.
Curse him and his good looks. The way his hair hangs in his face as he plays and how sometimes he has to crane his neck a certain way to move it out of the way. That's what you get for letting your hair grow out like you are somekind of teenage vampire. Absolutely unprofessional that's what it was.
"Yes we all recognize that Mr. Nightosphere has admirable skill in his pursuit artistry but please, we have a lesson to complete," I swiftly said as I confiscated the phone, only dignifying it with a two finger hold, and dropped into my apron pocket as i walked to the front. "You'll get it at the end of class. Hurry now or else I'll be forced to give you homework."
Groans resonated throughout the entire classroom
I, Marshall Lee of Nightosphere, was a man of many things. One of those things was not patients. His friends knew that, the other teachers, and so did the students. I like to think of myself as a man of passion. Passion fueled my artistry, made my profession, and what is currently finding myself staring at Mr.Gumball's fine posterior.
Thank glob above that my classroom or else I might have never encountered the apron wearing pink haired muse I've always yearned for. Everything that he did was attractive, the way he fastened the buttons of his chief coat, the way he kneaded dough the way I want to knead his delectable backside, the way his lean handsome artist hands made coffee for the entire staff each morning (coffee that tasted like it had been crafted by angels. He /is/ an Angel), the down right adorable to the point of swooning way he wrinkled his nose whenever he was frustrated, the way he worked the kitchen with all the confidence and sensuality of a conquering lover. Did I mention I know like men in uniform because he looked so good in that chief jacket (it would look better on my bedroom floor. damn so good.) He was kind, he was beautiful, he had grace, he can cook. He would be perfect.
except he hates me.
From day one, when I came back to Aaa after getting my to find that they had a replacement culinary teacher for sometime who was so scrumptious I could die who took one size up of me and gave me that defiant look of otter despise and loftness as if to put me in his place. Which was kind of sexy (except I would rather have you begging underneath me) if it wasn't for the fact he actually thinks I'm trash. Doesn't even look me in the eye the sexy son of a cake.
So i decided to stare at his ass instead and drive his life into a living hell while I'm at it.
At first it's very heated looks.
Then very heated comments
Next thing you know I'm slapping him on that succulent perky ass during passing period.
Let me tell you he makes the cutest little sound everytime I do it and it's like music to my ears. Don't blame me because he got hot buns hun.
Speaking of fantastic attributes. I was sold when i discovered him in the music room one morning.
I woke up that morning with a headache, the kind that hurts only enough so that it's messes you up from the shadows throughout the entire day. When I walk up to the large music room door to find it already unlocked. I open to hear piano music playing.
At first I thought a student had came in early to get some early morning jitters out before the school day, it had happened before, but then I saw how the soft morning light had fallen onto his hair, his soft flush skin, the white of his chief coat. He looked like a globin angel. He played like a god.
Beethoven. He can play Beethoven. I'm so done for, was all I could think of. Where is the marriage contract? give me the pen. I am willing to take his last name.
My headache was forgotten, all I could think about was his gorgeous expert hands flying across the piano. The song was passionate, loud notes and sudden changes and shifts from one end to the keyboard to the other. He hasn't noticed me. How could he? He's had his eyes closed the entire time lost in the music. Moving his head to the flow of it.
Just when I think he's done, when I lift my hands to clap. He gets up to open the grand piano to and starts playing the strings on the inside because apparently he's just absolutely brilliant like that. It shakes me to the core, I have to lean on the wall because I am so afraid my heart will give out once my legs do. Too bad I'm too far gone to care otherwise. I just stood there with this absolutely dazed look until he finishes finally closing the piano with a satisfied sigh.
He squeaks, jumps a little, when he notices me standing there after he turns around, "Oh goodness," He let a heavy breath pass through, "Y-you frightened me."
"You played the daylights out of me so guess we're even," He blushed and suddenly straightening his kitc after he said and Wow did his blushes look ever cuter than his scowles did. I took my stride to him as close as I could possibly get to him. This conveniently meant that i had trapped him between my arms and the grand piano.
"We could make beautiful music together."
he smiled at me, the first, kind and genuine smile directed towards me I had ever received from him, it was beyond comparison. Perhaps bubba Gumball is out of depth.
He kindly moves me aside with a tender hand, the same hand that had been playing the piano so i couldn't process his action until after the fact.
"You're charming Doctor Nightosphere," He's the only teacher that calls him by that honorific with his last name and it does absolute shit to his composure. Gumball touched my cheek with the back side of his hand and said in a hushed voice, "But I cook better." Then he just sauntered off like he's some saucy character from a kids movie leaving me in a puddled mess. The roles should have been reversed. I'm the saucey one! I should be leaving you in a gooey catastrophe on the floor.
The only reason I'm not going after him is because one, i don't beg, and two, his highness has the best hinnie in Aaa