Looper | Purple Guy X Reader

Prologue

You came back home to your little town for summer break. It has been a long academic year, and you were happy to finally see the sign welcoming you. When you were younger, all you wanted to do was leave the small town and experience the big city. Now that you actually studied in a big city, all you wanted to do was to go back home where it was quiet and didn't smell like car fumes and meth.

The moment you arrived at the front of your parents' house, your mother came onto the porch. Upon seeing you, her eyes lit up. She stepped from one foot to the other, impatiently waiting for you to get out of your car.

You got out and immediately fell into her embrace. She wasn't a very big woman, but the way she crushed you with her arms; you would have thought a sumo wrestler was trying to squeeze you until you popped.

A laugh sounded from behind her as your father came out of the house. He stood on top of the steps, arms crossed, a lazy smile on his face.

-You sure kept us waiting, kiddo! – He said, after your mother finally let go of you.

You didn't even get to have a proper breath, when your father hugged you with the force double your mother's.

-Oh, God. – You struggled out, and your father laughed again.

-Nope, just dad. - He finally let go of you, and you rolled your eyes at his dad-joke.

When you were younger, you always thought that their love for you was embarrassing. Whenever you tried to make yourself out to be a badass in front of all your friends, the image shattered the moment one of your parents got their hold of you. But now it was different. You were twenty-one, almost twenty-two. Single (ready to mingle), and pretty friendless. It felt good to get a hug and some bad jokes from your parents.

-Alright guys, time to come inside. – Your mother waved you both in. – I made some food for us all to enjoy, while you, – She pointed her finger to you. – Tell us all about how your year went.

You smiled at her and nodded as you all went inside. In fact, nothing changed in your studies. You were a third-year criminology student. It was all the same things as last year, only now more detail-focused. Either way, you were going to tell them all about how you've been. After all, you knew it was just an excuse from your mother to start a long conversation between you happy three.

-Any new techniques for catching bad guys? – Your dad asked, a bit of your mom's casserole falling out of his mouth.

-Jesus, when will you learn to swallow then talk? – Your mother sighed, wiping a piece of food from your father's shirt.

-Isn't it better this way? At least you'll always know what I ate before I actually tell you. – He laughed, pointing to the stain.

You and your mom also laughed at the comment.

-Dad, I already told you that we're not the ones catching bad guys. – You said, for probably the hundredth time. You swore your dad kept asking this question on purpose. – We're sort of technicians, remember?

-Haha, sure kiddo.

You continued to talk about everything and nothing at the table. The food was long gone, and at some point, your mother started pouring you glasses of wine. The three of you sat at the dinner table, telling each other stories. Your parents told you all about what happened when you were gone, and in return, you told them all about your life as a university student.

When all of you got tired and well beyond "a little tipsy" (as your mother said while nearly falling over two times in a row), you decided to go to bed. Your parents clumsily made their way up the stairs, leaving all the dishes to be cleaned up by their future selves.