Can you do a Drabble where the reader has a dog and it's named like Pixie or (some wizard species) and Newt thinks that she thinks it is that creature and tries to explain that it's a dog to her and then she has to explain the name thing
When you first told Newt about Pixie, you didn’t understand his alarmed reaction, nor the way he grabbed your arm and dragged you up, demanding you take him to your house straight away so you could deal with the threat.
“She’s not a threat.”
“Merlin’s beard, not a threat? She’ll ruin your house!”
You frown at that. “Maybe when I first got her, but I’ve house trained her since then.”
He widens his eyes at your ignorance. “Just bring me there. I’ll take care of this for you.”
You almost don’t want to given his stubborn insistence that she’s a pest, but you decide you may as well show him that the Pomeranian really couldn’t do much damage to anything larger than a rat.
The entire way there he talks your ear off about how your plants will be knocked over and your papers shredded and your couch and armchairs full of tiny teeth marks. You tune him out eventually, tired of trying to defend your poor dog. Pixie is a sweetheart. She cuddles on your lap and never leaves messes in any of the rooms and she’s always there to greet you when you get home.
Newt mutters the entire way there, annoying you, but you don’t say anything. When he’s on a rant like this, it’s best to just let him go.
He stops you at the steps leading to your front door. “Wait here.”
You open your mouth to protest when he draws a jar from his jacket pocket, causing you to change your question. “What are you doing with that?”
He looks over his shoulder at you, hand on the door knob. “I’m going to capture it in here.”
“Newt, she’s not going to fit in there.”
His forehead wrinkles in confusion at that, but he shoves the door open before you can say anything else. Sighing, you follow his creeping figure in.
True to her regular self, Pixie comes tearing around the corner when she hears the door open, running straight for you and Newt.
He watches her streak past his legs. “I’m surprised the pixie hasn’t terrorized her yet.”
You stop in your spot. “What are you talking about?”
Newt glances at the ceiling, searching for Merlin-knows-what. “The pixie.”
You lift the tiny puppy up, holding her as she wiggles in your arms, trying to bend around and lick your face. “Newt, this is Pixie.”
He turns on his heels. “What you’re holding?”
He shakes his head. “That’s not a pixie.”
Your face heats up. “What are you talking about? I’d think I would know.”
He faces you fully. “So that’s what you think a pixie is?”
“I know this is Pixie. What is your problem, Newt?” You’re fully annoyed now. He comes to your house, insults your dog, then tells you that you don’t even know your own dog. You grit your teeth.
He walks toward you, stopping a few feet away. “That’s a dog.”
“Way to figure that one out.”
“You said you have a pixie.”
“What?” You shake your head, bouncing the Pomeranian in your arms. “This is Pixie. She’s seven months old.”
“No,” Newt says, his own terror at whatever threat he’d perceived dissipating and being replaced by some amusement, “that’s a dog.”
You sigh, slowly understanding what’s going on. “Newt, I know this isn’t a magical creature.”
He frowns. “Then why do you keep calling it a Pixie? Those are small, blue buggers that fly around and cause mischief. Very dangerous.”
You drop your head to your chest, kissing the squirming puppy before setting her on the ground. “I named her Pixie after a movie star I love, not after those creatures.”
Newt presses two fingers to his lips. “So all this time…”
“I was talking about my dog, yep. You dragged us back here for nothing.”
He looks between you and the little puppy sitting patiently at his feet. After tucking the jar back in his jacket, and avoiding your eyes completely, he reaches down and lifts Pixie up.
“She is much better behaved than any pixie I’ve met.” He mumbles as she curls up against his chest.
You just rub the bridge of your nose and sigh again.