The new teacher (M looking for F | Plot-driven!)

[Becca]

It's a cliche, but I'm craving writing a good teacher-student romance right now.

I'm the most interested in playing the young male teacher, but I could be convinced to try another role if the idea was interesting enough!

It's important to note I'm not looking for one of those teacher-student romance rpgs where they jump into the sack within the first page of the game. I want this story to be layered, interesting, filled with tension and drama. They want to be with each other, but she's still underage and he's still her teacher. He knows just how much he's putting in jeopardy merely for desiring her, and yet he can't get her off her mind.

As for the student, it's up for my partner to decide her personality and struggles, but I'd like there to be something about her that adds layers to this rpg. Perhaps she is bullied, or brutally shy, or she comes from an abusive home (not sexual, but rather verbal and even physical abuse).

I'd like my character to be a literature, English or drama teacher, but could settle for arts as well, or even history. I'm a big sucker for literature and theatre, so at least one of those -or both!- could be introduced in the game, that would be amazing.

Here's a little snippet from my potential character, though almost everything about him is up for discussion. It's just a little amuse-bouche to tempt potential partners and to let you see my style :)

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Atticus Jacob Wendell -or A.J, as he had gone by all through middle and high school-, seemed to have been born and raised to be a lover of good literature.
With a mother who had minored in comparative literature and majored in french literature, who worked dutifully as a librarian all through AJ's youth; and a father who made a living translating books from the three languages he was fluent in to and from English, he had grown up in a house filled with as many books as his young mind could desire.

Not only did every room in his house feature a large bookcase, but the main area in their home was the study, rather than the dining room or the kitchen. He had been encouraged to pick up a book from the moment he began learning how to read, and found no embarrassment whatsoever in carrying several books on his person at all times, even during holidays and weekends.

He cherished the memory of his mother reading him "A Christmas' Carol" under the tree by the fireplace each December until he left his parent's home, and had always been grateful his father had taken great care to ensure his son learned both his native English and his wife's beloved french.

It had been heartbreaking, thus, when his father passed away a year after Atticus graduated from college, leaving behind a void that would not easily be filled, even as an adult. Atticus had been, at least, relieved to know his mother would not be forced to leave their family home, with the mortgage being paid for and his own newfound ability to send her a check each month to help cover the bills.

Right out of college, Atticus accepted a job as a teacher's aid at a local public school, and little by little, year by year, earned better positions for himself until he had finally managed to get an interview for one of his dream jobs. A school that was focused on the arts, a school which his own father had graduated from. Atticus was hired as an English teacher at this prestigious private school, a position quite coveted in the teaching community.

Though Atticus had always been well aware of his natural good looks, he had never been arrogant about it, preferring to focus on other areas he figured were far more attractive, like intelligence and culture.
With slightly ruffled short brown hair and a neatly maintained beard, a face with strong features and a charming, inviting smile, he had gotten used to teenagers making puppy eyes at him and shortening their skirts as the semesters went by. It was tempting, of course, it always was, but he had never been foolish enough to act upon such thoughts.
His eyes were a dark shade of brown, always attentive, a trait that seemed to help him create a connection with those around them. He had never been self-conscious about staring straight into the other person's eyes.

He had decided to volunteer as a mentor for the theatre club when the time finally came along, and as a new member of the faculty, he was expected to supervise detention once to twice a week until the year was over.

His first day had finally arrived, and Atticus felt like a silly little boy anxiously preparing for the beginning of the school year, as he put on a simple white shirt, brown slacks, and a red and grey striped necktie. Grabbing his dark brown jacket and his leather haversack filled with his teacher's notes, a few books, and his trusted notebook, Atticus left his home and got in his old yet reliable car.

It was not long before he found himself in the classroom he would be calling his own for the next school year. A large corkboard filled a portion of one wall, the other portion being covered with rows of books and several school supplies. Behind his desk, a large blackboard. He was also granted use of a projector, computer and a few other devices he might find a use for.

Students were wandering in, and he stood by his desk, hands in his pockets, smiling at them with that dashing grin he so naturally could bring to his lips. He wrote "Mr. Wendell" on the whiteboard and watched the clock.

When the bell rang, he started roll call, before properly introducing himself.

"I am Atticus Wendell and will be your English and literature teacher for this school year. I hope you guys like your Shakespeare because you won't be skimming over his work when I'm around"