thomas-downing

Hi! I absolutely love your blog And can I have a Newt imagine where the creators sent a dog and the reader and Newt are just playing around with it. Thank you so much.

Requested by Anonymous 

“It’s a dog.” Newt said, his face scrunched up in surprise. It was the same face and tone that he had given you two months ago, when you had first been sent up in the box with Teresa.

“What?” asked Thomas, stepping down into the box with Newt. You shoved your way to the front of the Gladers, peering at the motionless dog. It was a young black lab, it would have been around the same age as everyone in the Glade had it been human.

“Why did we get a dog?” asked Thomas.

“Ya shank. I’m pretty sure that’s what we’re all wondering.” Minho responded.

“Does it have a name tag?” you asked. Newt crouched down, cautiously prodding the dog.

“No.”

“Well, get it up. We don’t want it contaminating the rest of our supplies.” said Alby. The dog was hurled to Gally, who began to lock it in the Cage.

“You can’t do that!” you said.

“Why not y/n?” Newt asked. “It’s bloody dirty and flea-ridden.”

“So are half you, but Teresa and I don’t lock you all up! I’m a Medjack. I can take him down to the creek and wash him. Please.” Newt looked at you, then sighed.

“Go ahead.” he said grudgingly.

“This way.” you said to Gally, smiling.

The dog in fact, was a boy, you discovered as you scrubbed its fur clean. Looks like the Creators aren’t breaking their streak.  He was a gorgeous dog, one that could win dog shows. It made you wonder again why the Creators had sent it up. Why any of you were sent up. Exhaling, you picked up a nearby stick and threw it a few feet away. Almost immediately, the dog ran after it, bringing the stick back to you fast. You laughed, and standing up, threw the stick again a couple more times.

“Y’know-” said a voice behind you “-That kind of ruins the point of cleaning the thing in the first place.” You turned and faced Newt.

“It’s really not a ‘thing.’” you stated. “It’s a dog. And the Creators must have sent it up for a reason, just like they did-”

“All of us?” You looked Newt in the eyes.

“Yeah.” you said softly. There was a beat of silence, then Newt picked up his own stick.

“Y’know, you aren’t very good at throwing.”

“Ah!” you exclaimed, taking your stick from the dog’s mouth. “Throw it. Whoever throws farther is the best. Loser… Sleeps with the dog.”

“But… You don’t mind sleeping with the dog.”

“Looks like I’ll win either way.” Newt scoffed, smiling.

“Alright. You’re on.” Newt brought back his arm, then threw the stick into the forest. The dog tore after it, taking only a second to come bounding back.

“If the mutt takes longer to get yours, I win.” You drew back your own arm, aiming anywhere that didn’t have branches, and released. The dog came back with your stick as well, same time as he had with Newt’s.

“Again, then. I’m not shucking losing to you” he said. You two took turns back and forth, throwing your sticks into the woods, but it was always the same amount of time for the lab to bring it back. You were about to throw again when the poor dog collapsed at your feet, panting. Newt laughed. “I think we’ve been out here longer then we thought love.”

“I guess.” you agreed. “We’d better head back.” Newt knelt down, scooping up the dog.

“What?” he asked when he saw your face.

“Nothing.” you replied, a little to fast. “I just… Forgot how strong you were.”

“Thanks y/n.”

“No, not like that!” you laughed, and Newt joined in.

He called me love…

“Hey.” Newt said when you were back in the Glade. “I think I thought of a name for him.”

“Yeah? Tell me.”

“Benji. Some of us are named after famous people… The dog should be named after a famous dog It just seems right.” You smiled.

“Benji it is, then.”

Everyone won that day.

Thomas Downing (American, 1928 - 1985)

Untitled (Lavender Circles), 1966
Acrylic on shaped canvas
21 x 30 ½ x inches
Signed and dated ‘66 at edge
Provenance: Henri Gallery, Washington, DC