ꜱʜᴀᴅᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ʙʟᴜᴇ, ɢʀᴇᴇɴ, ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴅ |ᴅᴜᴄᴋᴛᴀʟᴇꜱ|

Chapter One

Chapter One

Art by Soul

The diner door rang with the tiny clatter of bells.

"Welcome to the Rainbow Cod Diner." A waiter said automatically, before noticing who had sauntered through the door. "Oh. Hey, Uncle Dewey."

Dewey nodded at his nephew. "Hi, Enzo. Where's-"

"DADDY!!"

A high pitched scream pierced the air, drawing many of the diner's patrons to stare as a little 5 year old girl tackled the man.

Dewey laughed as he hugged the child. "Did you miss me?"

"Yes!" She exclaimed, looking up with wide eyes. "Were there pirates this time??"

Dewey's excitement deflated slightly at having to let down his daughter. "No, I'm sorry, (Y/n)...Not this time.."

(Y/n) frowned. "Really?"

"No..but-" Dewey's eyes lit up mischievously. "There were mummies"

The little girl gasped in awe. "Did you beat them?"

"Would your dad lose a fight?"

(Y/n) shook her head no.

"It was me against twenty of those mummified jerks. No weapons. No escape. Just me and my fists.' Dewey boasted.

His daughter's eyes widened at every word. It was pure magic when he told these tales. Like he had sucked her in and now she had experienced it too.

"Dewford Duck. Would you stop filling our kid's head with that crap?" A voice said suddenly, snapping away the spell.

Dewey and (Y/n) looked up to see (Y/n)'s mother glaring at them from behind the counter.

Dewey peeled his daughter off of him and went to kiss his wife. "Hello, Beautiful."

Yah no. She wasn't buying it.

"Dewey. She's not gonna survive in the real world if you keep exaggerating-"

"That one was true though, Mira.." Dewey mumbled.

Mira sighed, wiping off excess fry oil onto her apron. "We talked about this."

Dewey huffed, but nodded after a second.

(Y/n) skipped up to her parents. "Secrets?"

Mira picked up the 5 year old. "No, honey. Just adult talk."

"Mommy." (Y/n) whispered, into her mother's ear. "Can I go with Daddy on his next trip? I wanna fight mummies!"

Mira rubbed her temples, looking from her daughter to her husband with a disapproving expression.

"We'll think about it, Sweetie."

******

Warm amber light poured through the glass diner door. The closed sign moved slightly in the early morning breeze.

Mira walked up to the locked door and took the keys out of her purse.

(Y/n) arrived half a second after her, blue shirt and overalls stained with sidewalk chalk.