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angelofthenight · 2 months

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Haiii ^_^ I was just wondering if you can do like micah (from children of the corn 2) x plus sized reader who’s insecure ?? 🖤🖤

Micah x Plus Size!Reader

(Fem!Reader)

Warnings: Body insecurity, Hurt/Comfort, Reader is the pastor’s daughter, Alluded religious trauma, Mentions of Micah’s abusive dad, Teenage boy hormones (very faint), Kissing

Word Count: 3.0k

( Got a little carried away with the word count but I thought it was appropriate for how long this has been sitting in my inbox😭😭 Also this will be one of the exceptions from only writing Micah as a yandere )

Micah was naturally independent.

He wasn’t shy or outcasted, he was just reserved and preferred to be at a distance where he could observe those around him. Those who danced mindlessly on the cleared floor in their best formal wear. Those who huddled around the punch bowl muttering about some misunderstandings. Those who clutched their pearls at how a few of the girls’ heels were too high. Those who chose to argue with their partner in the corner of the big room at a celebration like this.

But despite how independent Micah was, and despite how non-complex he viewed everyone in town as, his eyes could never stop from looking for one particular person in each crowded room he’s ever been in. Yet you were nowhere to be found.

In his most honest mind, he looked forward to this town party hosted by the town’s pastor, otherwise known to be your father, to celebrate the renovation of the church. It quite honestly didn’t need to be renovated in the first place, it was a tad small but it was perfectly fine. It was a waste of money in his opinion yet he kept that to himself after letting it slip to his father. His father brutishly shunned him for thinking such a way of the town’s beloved church, followed by a snapping backhand.

The reason he looked forward to this gathering full of balloons and caters was to see you all dressed up. He was still a hormonal guy so the thought of you in a dress made him tug at his collar.

Micah pined after you hard. Simply just thinking about you made his face redden and collapse in his hands, and he left every interaction with you struggling to resist a dopey grin. He just liked and admired everything about you and found you to be the most interesting person out of all 968 people in this town.

You were a bit of a town outcast. Not physically an outcast where people avoided you or excluded you, no, you were actually very well-liked by the townspeople. You were almost like the People’s Princess of Gatlin. As the pastor’s daughter, you attended lots of town events and were always incredibly polite and humble. Like a princess.

Though, you were just so… different from the rest of the town. Your world-views, your opinions, your personality, your attitude, your humor, your wit, the way you spent your free time, the way you danced, how you walked, how you talked, and so many other traits. Micah personally surmised you didn’t even believe in God.

You didn’t belong here, not in this town, Micah knew for certain. You were meant for bigger, more exciting things and settings and environments. This small town was one big restraint on you.

And maybe there were much better words to properly describe you, but to Micah he saw you as cool. Like a cowboy.

So other than his great infatuation with you, he genuinely liked being around you. He wanted to say the two of you were friends but he sometimes guessed he was just a small speck in your colorful world filled with thoughts and views he could never dream of.

He craved your presence, he found attending this party not even worth it if you weren’t around. But maybe this was what he got for wanting to see you in a short dress so bad. That was until when he lingered around the windows for a change of scenery, he caught the misty sight of your silhouette sitting in the grass facing the cornfield.

It was as if the boredom zapped out of his eyes when he was certain it was you. Quickly running his brown eyes around the room, he spotted his father lost in quiet words exchanged with the farmhand’s wife. She was holding a tray of banana bread muffins with a gushy and blushy expression on her face as his father ate a pinch off one of the sweet breads with a sultry smile, clearly trying to make it look like he was talking about her baking with her when it was clear to Micah that was most definitely not what they were talking about.

With his father too deeply distracted by the female skin of infidelity to prevent his son from sinfully conversing with a girl, Micah took that as his blessing to exit the church in pursuit of you. He didn’t know exactly what he was going to make conversation out of. Maybe he could talk you into joining this little group the new kid in town, Isaac, was gradually forming. He wondered if the central philosophy of the group would appeal to you. He wouldn’t be surprised if the pastor’s daughter held a resentment towards the adult.

As he dug his hands into the pockets of his pants, not even the breezy night air could cool the warm temperature creeping up his neck the closer he approached you.

“Hey, (Y/n).” He accidentally croaked out. Your body subtly flinched in the thick cardigan you wrapped yourself into. After rubbing your eyes hurriedly, you turned your head to look up at the dark haired boy. “Oh, hi, Micah. Didn’t hear you creeping up on me.” You said with a soft and friendly tone of voice.

Micah could’ve fallen to his knees right then and there from the sight of your shiny gaze casted up at him like that, the color of your orbs brighter than a full moon. And he swore he could name every constellation through your eyes. “My apologies. Mind if I sit?” He said, gesturing towards the area of the ground beside you.

Your plump lips parted with the intent of asking to be alone but as you thought before you spoke, you changed your mind. “Go right ahead.”

A smile spread softly as he squatted down to sit with his legs crossed, his eyes taking in your styled hair and the sweater that shielded whatever you were wearing underneath it. “You look nice. Why aren’t you inside? I’m sure lots of people are waiting for you.” He said with a teasing smile yet also trying to be gentle with you as if you were world class.

You hugged your knees closer to your chest as you practically huddled deeper into your cardigan like a hermit crab, the thought of going inside made that lump in your throat thicker and your thoughts self-destruct all over again. “I know…” you kept pressing your lips together to prevent them from quivering in front of someone, “but I think I’m gonna run back to my house and change then join the party.”

Micah got confused now. You were clearly all pampered up for the party, even wearing the vintage pearl earrings he remembered your grandma used to wear. “But you’re already dressed. What’s the problem?” He took notice of how you sunk into your sweater, wondering if you were just cold. “It’s warmer inside than it is out here so you-”

“I just think this dress was a mistake.”

His dark eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean? I’m sure whatever you picked looks great.”

The sound of a mix of a huff and a whimper emitted past your lips as you pulled down your cardigan to reveal your dress. The floral print dress was shorter than your other ones, the skirt only covering less than half of your thick thighs (especially when you sat with your legs up), and the short sleeves were loose over your shoulders. It wasn’t tight but it hugged your curves and your busty cleavage peeked over the low cut collar.

The borderline skimpy outfit was different than how you usually dressed. Much more revealing and bold. And Micah felt as if he was witnessing a once in a lifetime sight, the universe teasing him with what was unattainable yet blessed him the sight out of pity. He didn’t realize his face was turning rosy until he felt the heat in his cheeks. He pursed his lips together and glanced off into the corn.

As goosebumps littered your exposed skin in the nighttime air your blurry eyes remained set on the grass in front of you, your focus not on anything specific. “My dad and I got into a little argument about my dress for tonight. Said it was too short even though it went past my fingertips. I wanted to really stick it to him, like give him the finger, so I altered it to this. But now that I’m actually here, wearing this… I don’t think I can go in.”

In Micah’s mind, he thought you were trying to express your insecurity of the indecent dress because you knew slut-shaming and proclamations of sin were guaranteed to be thrown at you the second you stepped through those doors. You were the Pastor’s daughter after all, and being his only child golden expectations were set for you.

And though you actually did exceed those expectations by being noble and headstrong, you were a relatively tough individual. You never once stood for someone displaying disrespect and you were never afraid to put someone in their place with a fiery, wide gaze, intimidating people into that place. Other than who your kin was, nobody dared to argue with you. More reasons as to why Micah admired you.

So imagine his surprise when he heard a wet sniffle and noticed the twinkling reflection of thickening tears over your eyes. “Actually I think I’m just gonna go home and stay there. Sit this one out.” Your turning body to stand up made Micah for sure of the emotion in your face.

He said with a careful and nonthreatening tone, “Hey, hey, hey.” His arms softly reached out to grab your biceps, keeping you seated so that he could lean his face closer to yours so that he could meet your tearful eyes; his eyebrows curving upwards and his frown parted. “Why are you crying?” He asked gently with worry but the verbal notice of your mood only made your tears fall.

You sniffled again as your frown trembled, the sight causing a squeezing pain to erupt in Micah’s chest. “You’re not the only girl in town who would get criticized for being revealing. You shouldn’t think of it as a personal or discriminative or victimizing thing, it’s just the kind of conservative community this town is. You know they didn’t even like when Lacey in our class wore Daisy Dukes in the middle of July.” He tried to comfort using a soothing tone and a realistic view on what he thought you were insecure about.

Though he soon believed he said the wrong thing when your avoidant gaze finally snapped onto his with your eyebrows furrowed, an annoyed essence swapping out your dejected image. “What? I don’t give a crap about them thinking I’m dressed like a whore. I’d wear a Scarlet Letter on my forehead and still not care about whatever they have to say.” You said sternly and clearly.

Micah, with his hands still gently holding onto your biceps, glanced back and forth between both of your eyes and the cornfield. He was lost and puzzled. “Then… What are you so worried about?”

You didn’t blink as you stared into his brown hues before your gaze hardened and you slightly leaned back away from him. “..…Are you mocking me?”

The boy’s eyes widened as he frantically shook his head softly. “No, no, no. I really don’t see the problem if it’s not being slut-shamed.” He said with genuine bewilderment.

Your emotions were in spirals and urges to scream in his face and cry at the same time flooded through you like oil leaks near a fire. You felt your spitfire blood pressure grow hot but yet… you didn’t explode. Perhaps it was because of the vulnerable weakness you harbored for Micah that rendered you unable to aim any sort of your conflagration toward him. Your weakness for the shy boy that always sent you a smile when you made eye contact was stronger than your fuse. Especially when he held you so gently and looked deep into your eyes like you were the only thing left on earth.

“Micah, have you seen me?” You said hoarsely, deciding to be point-blank with your approach. “I’m the weight of a cow. And this dress does nothing but make it more obvious.” The way you said your words sounded as if you were insulting someone with the intent to hurt them, but you spoke in the first person.

Micah had to take a second to register and digest what you were saying. But when it did it felt as if his heart broke into small pieces and fell down to the pit of his stomach. If anyone said that about you, Micah would gladly exchange black eyes with them to defend your honor. But the fact this was coming from you… He always thought so highly of you, thought you were in a whole different world than him.

He was dumbstruck, dumbfounded. He looked back and forth between your eyes for the relieving hint that you were joking, or lying. But no, you were neither of those things. You were delusional. “What are you talking about? (Y/n)... you look incredible.” He breathed out yet his honest words just seemed to sting you even more, your frown deepening and the tears swelling back up.

You slightly wiggled in an attempt to get out of his hold yet his firmed his grip on your arms to keep you close to him. “I just… I just can’t believe that you would say that about yourself. Because in my eyes, you’re like this masterpiece crafted by the divine hands of the universe.”

Your mind told you not to believe he was telling the truth, that he was just flattering the Pastor’s daughter and not you. But yet despite the dripping tears that fell into the grass, you felt yourself hang on every word that he spoke with such unfiltered sincerity that came out easily.

“Your curves are not mere flesh and bone, but a testament to the wonder of creation itself, each curve a stroke of genius, each imperfection a mark of authenticity. Like, your body is an exact replica of the muse’s in the renaissance for paintings and sculptures. The timeless ones that people put up in museums to be admired and awed.”

Micah tilted his head to the side to place his face in your avoidant eyeline. He wanted you to look him in the eye as he told you this. “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, to see how breathtaking and charming you are. Don’t let some insecurity blind you, because you are a masterpiece, a work of art, a marvel to behold. Your body is a temple, a vessel through which your radiant spirit shines forth, illuminating the lives of all who are fortunate enough to bask in-”

You harmlessly giggled with the sweetest smile and a punch shade of pink dusting across your round cheeks. “Okay, now you’re getting weird, you sound like a preacher.” You used the back of your hand to wipe your nose but also to hide your flustered grin. Micah smiled at the sight and the uplift of your mood, finally sliding his hold off of you.

A cleansing silence drifted over the two of you in your own little bubble. A comfortable one. Your heartbeat thumped sweetly in your chest, making the rest of your insides feel like warm mush that melted because of Micah’s honesty. “You know, I…” You paused to allow your blush and the reality of the situation sink in. “I never knew you felt that way.” You said as you looked up at him softly.

He didn’t know how to respond since he still believed you were so out of his league that you didn’t hold any affection for him. “Well now you do.” He said with a shrug. Your smile grew as your pupils dilated. “And I’m glad I know now.”

He approached what you said with caution and nervous curiosity. “Why?” You abused the seconds of suspense to truly admire the boy in a whole new light. “Because now I realize that I feel the same way.”

Micah was torn. Torn between his father’s words about the shameful sin of just simply talking to girls and the gravitational pull of his emotions and heart and attraction. Everything he was ever taught and learned was coming to question and doubt as he looked into your doe eyes, it was like an epiphany. Perhaps this was his final push into Isaac’s cause and his proclamation that the adults are wrong about everything.

Because could one small stolen kiss with a renaissance muse really condemn him to Hell?

“I really want to kiss you.” He finally breathed out like a warm sigh. “Do you think it’d be a sin if I kissed you?” He asked, genuinely wanting your insightful input.

You took a moment to ponder until you settled on your answer. “I do.”

Micah glanced down in disappointment. “So I’m damned if I do…” he looked back up to you with an entranced sense in his eyes, “but damned if I don’t.” He then leaned in to capture your lips in a passionate kiss, his hand moving to rest just below your soft jawline. He hummed into the contact which created a feeling of electricity shooting through you, prompting you to thread your fingers through the dark hair on the back of his head.

If this was the thing that would supposedly convict him to Hell, then Micah believed it was worth it a thousand times.

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