Kankri (hearts) Cronus: Trope- preacher's son falls in love with the "bad boy"
Your name is Kankri, Kankri Vantas. You'll be eighteen in July, and you go off to university in August. Your father is a preacher, and your mother is a kindly schoolteacher, and you hope to maybe follow in his footsteps and become a preacher as well. You've sworn off of drinking and sex, along with parties. You swore in front of your mother, might your testicles be torn off if you disappoint her, and your stern, mildly approving father. You hope this sets a good precedent for your younger brother, Karkat.
The months fly by, and so does your birthday. You're eighteen and the campus is large, larger than life and lies. There are thousands of bodies cramming the roads and walkways, and you're so confused and disoriented. You manage to maneuver your bags and your other things into your dorm (co-ed, despite your father's best attempts). Your roommate isn't there yet, but you're sure he'll show soon. He was apparently also slated to move in today, but you're just not sure when.
But his tardiness is your luck, and you claim the bottom bunk without his input. It's hardly fair, but after braving the sweltering, frustrated masses, your sense of fair play is weaker than your desire for a nap. Nearly two hours later and you've turned that bottom bunk into a fort, blankets hung from the top bunk's rails to box it in and pillows and comforters to make the inside cozy. The rest of your things have been neatly and efficiently filed and folded and put away, and you ignore the twinge of guilt as you climb into bed and fall into an uncomfortable doze.
"Well now," a gravelly voice says, grating southern drawl prominent. The speaker smells like smoke and booze, and his head throbs in time to the exasperated huffs. "You sure look comfy, Chief. Why, it's almost like you didn't wait for your dear roomy." You want to roll over and moan at him, like he's Karkat waking you up for some stupid movie, but at least you have more dignity than that.
With as much grace as you can muster, you roll out of your cave. "Sorry, it was a long drive." He scoffs at you, coifed hair black and slick with grease. He wears leather and pants tighter than sin. You wrinkle your nose at him, and immediately afterwards hope it came across less offensively than it was meant. You hold out your hand, and smile winningly, "Kankri Vantas, freshman and Theology major. Who're you?"
"Cronus," he says, corner of his mouth twisting up into a smirk that sets your heart pounding and an uncomfortable tension in your loins that sparks fear in the back of your mind. "Cronus Ampora, second year Engineering student." Oh no, you think, as your heart rate slowly returns to normal. All those vows suddenly loom over your head like the sword of Damocles, and your father's grim visage swims in your mind's eye (it's contorted in disappointment).
You laugh nervously, and swear his eyes sparkle in return.