TMR Imagines and Preferences

You Take Off Your Makeup- Newt

You were at the end of a movie, curled into Newt's side. A yawn escaped your lips as the credits began to roll across the screen, and Newt suggested that you both go up to bed. The sun had set an hour ago, and from the windows you could see the stars, yet drowsiness convinced you to agree. Newt clicked the TV off and walked back to you, lifting you up like a toddler. Sleepily you wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, ready to fall asleep in his arms. 

Down the hall in your bedroom, Newt gently laid you on the bed. He helped you into your pajamas and then stripped down to his boxers and a t-shirt. Newt got into bed next to you, and immediately rolled to face you. One hand worked it's way into your messy hair, and the other gently grabbed your chin. His lips met yours, and Newt kissed you with polite hunger. Your legs tangled with his and you were in a state of bliss, sleep forgotten. Just before you threw all cautions to the wind, you remembered that you hadn't taken your makeup off. If your skin wasn't as sensitive, it wouldn't be an issue, but if you went to bed with makeup on the next day your face would break out.

"Umm, Newt, I'll be right back. I have to go take my makeup off," you whispered regretfully.

Newt pulled away and stared into your eyes with passion. "Y/N, love, can't it wait?" He found your hand and squeezed it tight, trying his hardest to make you stay.

"No, it can't, I'm sorry. I promise I'll be very quick." You rolled off of the bed and padded your way to the bathroom. Taking a washcloth, you wiped at the eyeliner, blush, and foundation. Soon it was all gone, and you were left with a bare face. Suddenly, all of the imperfections stood out. A few acne scars on your forehead, little black dots on your nose, redness on your cheeks, and an uneven complexion. You were reminded beyond a doubt that the makeup you used was necessary. Every single time you put makeup on in the mornings, there was something inside of you that thought maybe, maybe you didn't need it. Maybe Newt could love you just as much without it, maybe your face was pretty enough. However standing in the bathroom there, with the white lights highlighting every single flaw, you felt ashamed, and all of that hope was gone.

Newt still waited back in bed for you, but you were scared of what he would say if he saw your real face. Of course it wasn't the first time he had seen you without makeup, but something about tonight made everything seem different. You flicked the lights in the bathroom off, and turned away from the window so your face couldn't be seen in the moonlight. As soon as you got back into bed you turned to Newt staring down at his hands. You tried to lift his face and kiss him again, but he just let out a dramatic sigh and looked away again.

"Newt, what's up with you? I thought you were okay?"

Newt finally met your eyes, and your heart nearly broke at the tears gathering in his.

"Newt-" Before you could finish he pressed a short kiss to your lips, effectively shutting you up but leaving you with more questions.

"OK, Y/N, just hear me out. This is... this is hard for me." Newt kept glancing down at his hands, but eventually his eyes locked into yours. His gleamed dark in the moonlight, his hair perfectly catching the glow. To you, he was the most handsome man in the world, but of course he would never believe you if you told him that. If only you knew he was thinking the exact same thing.

"I, I feel like I've failed you. I didn't do my job well enough, even though I made a promise to you. How can I be right for you if I can't even do one bloody thing right?"

You were shocked. Newt never did anything to harm anyone purposely, and whenever you fought he would always apologize first, even if you were the one who was wrong.

"Newt, you didn't do anything wrong! What are you talking about?"

"Love, I've failed you. A boyfriend is supposed to make you feel better about yourself. They are supposed to show you just how beautiful you are, and I haven't done that. At least, I haven't like I should have. Every single day you put on that bloody makeup, and I hate to watch you do it. It's as if you think there is something wrong with your face, or the way you look."

You watched Newt struggle to speak every word, and your heart fell quickly to the very bottom of your stomach.

"If I was a good enough boyfriend, you wouldn't feel like you had to cover up the thing that is uniquely yours- you wouldn't feel like you had to cover up or hide anything at all, especially to me."

For a moment, you considered your options. If you told Newt that he was good enough, you would be telling the truth, but if you continued on to say that you would stop wearing as much, or would be less self conscious around him, you would be lying. In that moment, nothing you could imagine would convince you not to paint on that disguise, not even Newt's pained tears and confession.

Instead of saying anything, you curled up into Newt's side, burying your face into the place where his shoulder met his neck. All night you allowed him to hold you, but you knew that you couldn't have forever to keep your secret from him.