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the-chosen-fanfiction · 1 year

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Headcanons | Being John and James' adopted sister | Platonic

When you're around the age of 8, Zebedee and Salome find you orphaned after your mother passes away. They do not hesitate to take you in.

Your mother always brought you along to clean homes with her, so you're keen on helping out in the household as a means of expressing gratitude.

They've got two sons who are a little older than you. Of course, not being used to having a girl in the house, they pick on you at first.

After a good talk with their parents, they eventually warm up to you and grow very fond of you.

James and John are quite the rascals in their early teens, so expect them to get you into all kinds of trouble, albeit unintentionally at times.

It appears that you've got a knack for their shenanigans and often participate in their endeavours, which usually ends up with one of you being drenched after falling into a creek or getting stuck in the highest branch of a tree, requiring Zebedee to come to the rescue.

The boys are very into the coming of the Messiah and are glad to include you into that hope, and soon, you’re also stoked for Him to arrive and pray about it as well, thoroughly enjoying the stories the boys have about who they expect Him to be.

James tries to teach you how to sword fight with a stick so that you can one day fight the Romans. John pretends to be a soldier which you then need to chase and beat up, which turns into such a mess of shouting and hollering taunts about Romans that Zebedee and Salome occasionally have to cut things short lest you draw attention from actual soldiers. Once James accidentally strikes John rather painfully one day, however, sword fighting is suddenly not so fun anymore and none of you talks about it ever again.

Around your 12th year, Zebedee starts taking you on fishing trips with him. The boys think it's odd at first but soon agree to the idea. You have very nimble fingers and appear to be very talented at detangling nets and ropes.

Zebedee teaches you how to swim around this time, too. Basically, he tells you to jump into the water and repeat the movements that he's making with his arms and legs. It takes a while for you to get the hang of it but he's trying his best.

When you're 14, you accidentally call Salome 'eema' one day, and it sticks. This also goes for calling Zebedee 'abba' from that point on.

The boys in the village take interest in you and this, of course, does not go unnoticed by your protective brothers. It comes as no surprise that you haven't even been asked for your hand by the time you are 18. Anyone who wants to go to you should get through John and James first.

Into adulthood, this protectiveness stays. The moment their ministry with Jesus starts changes nothing in that.

Even the Disciples who show interest in you aren't safe from the dangerous glares of your adoptive brothers. The only Man they'd allow you to see alone is Jesus.

Although the Messiah is very different from what you had expected, you wouldn’t change anything for the world.

It is as if you've been part of the family all your life. Occasionally, you still mourn your own parents, but when that happens, all four of them are around you to comfort you, and they reassure you that grieving is okay, and that they will always be there for you, no matter what happens

#the chosen #reader insert #the chosen x reader #big james x reader #big james #john the apostle #john the apostle x you #big james x you #zebedee #zebedee x reader #salome #the chosen fanfiction #chosen fanfiction #chosen x reader #platonic #headcanons #the chosen headcanons

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 1 year

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Zebedee | Not Too Shabby | Platonic

Dialogue prompt: “Don’t laugh, it’s not that funny. Okay, maybe it is.”

Requested: No

Zebedee is not very good at repairing his own tunic and it shows at the worst moment possible.

“Here, catch!”

Your father tosses you a folded net without checking if you’re paying attention. It collides with your chest and you huff, nearly toppling over. It reeks of fish and you scowl, holding onto the grimy ropes.

Zebedee just grins at you. “I told you to catch it.”

“You know how much I hate the smell of fish, abba.”

He clicks his tongue and hoists a bucket of fresh catch over his shoulder to carry it inside. “Well, you did well to be born in a family of fishermen, then.”

You roll with your eyes and smirk, tossing the nets against the wall at their assigned spot and drape them properly to dry in the sun. “I didn’t have a choice in that, now did I? For the rest I really love you, though.”

Zebedee chuckles and you push open the door to the house, holding it for him. You brush your fingers against the mezuzah after kissing them before taking off your sandals and washing your feet whilst your father drops off the fish at the kitchen counter, where he kisses Salome on the cheeks.

“Shalom darling.”

“Shalom my love.”

Salome turns back to prepare dinner and you head her way whilst your father goes to rinse the dirt from between his toes, and you pluck a piece of bread from the freshly baked loaf, earning a playful look of indignance from your mother. “You’re worse than your brothers sometimes.”

You shrug and lean against the counter. “From what they have done in their youth, eema, I can eat several loaves of bread all by myself and still not be even.”

“Don’t pretend you’ve never participated in their mischief, young lady.” Zebedee says with a grin, “I remember several occasions where I had to get you out of trouble because John and James were too scared to rescue you.”

“Ah yes,” you laugh, “The incident with the tree. I was way lighter than them and easily climbed way higher, until I got stuck and they were too afraid to tread on the thinner branches. I sat there crying until dusk and—” Your eye falls upon a small rip in Zebedee’s tunic. “Oh, abba, you’ve got a hole right there.”

His gaze follows your pointing finger and he clicks his tongue. “Again? Just when you girls are done patching up all damage, another one appears.”

You head for Salome’s sewing kit already. “Here, I’ll fix it—”

“No, no, don’t you worry about that. I’ll do it myself. I’ve patched up many nets in my life, doing the same to a tunic cannot be that difficult, right?”

Salome and you give one another an amused frown, curious to see how he will manage. Zebedee takes it off, left in his undershirt, and takes a seat at the table whilst rummaging through the sewing kit. You open your mouth to protest when he takes out a long string of thread that is meant for smaller patches, but your mother puts a hand on your arm.

“Don’t say anything,” she whispers, “Let him figure that out for himself.”

You cannot fight the grin that spreads over your face. “You know what, eema, perhaps we should get James and John to try it out for themselves, too. I’m getting really tired of fixing their things constantly.”

The two of you watch as your father fights with the needle for a while before finally threading it through, giving you a proud laugh. “See, that’s the first stitch almost set! I can do this by myself just fine. Let’s see…” He attempts to set a few stitches and ties them up way too loosely, but neither you nor your mother say something.

Zebedee’s tongue flicks over his lips in concentration as he pulls the thread through the rough material a few times and you grit your teeth to keep silent, for it is almost painful to see how he abuses the thin thread by putting way too much stress on it, but you stand your ground.

Salome has turned back to the food but still holds a very amused look on her features. You hope to have a relationship like your parents one day, you think to yourself as you grab an apple from the fruit bowl and take a bite.

“And that takes care of that! See, not too bad for doing this for the first time.” He shows you and Salome the poorly stitched linen and you purse your lips to fight the laugh that threatens to escape.

“Wow, incredible.” you manage to squeak whilst inspecting the uneven, off-coloured sewing job.

With glittering eyes, your mother gives Zeb a small nod. “I didn’t think you had it in you, darling.”

Proudly, Zebedee puffs out his chest and pulls the tunic over his head again. Just in that moment, your brothers barge in whilst loudly chatting about whatever has been keeping them busy.

“Shalom my sons, you never guess what I just did!” With his hands on his hips, Zebedee shifts back and forth on his feet, smirking.

James and John look at one another in confusion whilst eyeing their father. “Uh… You’ve got your hair cut?” James tries.

“No...” Zebedee smooths his hands down his tunic and lingers where he has patched it up. “Look closely.”

John shrugs. “Did you get a new tunic or something?”

“Not really, but you’re close! If I may give you a hint… It’s good as new again…”

Your brothers look at you for a second in the hopes of finding a solution, but you show your palms and shake your head, smiling.

“I’m stumped.” James admits, to which John agrees.

Pointing at the mismatched thread that shows way too obviously on the surface, Zebedee proudly states: “I’ve repaired my own tunic.”

The two young men narrow their eyes at it before John snickers.

“Oh, that. Yeah, we can see.”

James bites his bottom lip to fight his laugh. “We applaud you for trying.” Salome clicks her tongue and smiles, earning a look from her boys.

“You are all perfectly on time, actually.” she changes the subject, “For I need some errands to be run. James and John, if you two could get some firewood, we are almost out. (Y/n), could you and abba go to find a nice variety of vegetables at market?”

“Of course, eema,” you tell her, putting on your sandals again.

Your brothers have already left when you exit the home together with Zebedee, who still proudly beams regarding his earlier accomplishment. “Maybe I should start my own line of clothing! If the fishing business happens to fail in one way or the other, I can always resort to sewing!”

Your eyes widen and you clear your throat. “I think you should keep focusing on your vessel, abba.”

“Why?”

“Eema told me you’d find out for yourself.” You didn’t necessarily clarify what you meant, but it was some kind of heads up nevertheless, and Zebedee frowns in confusion.

“Women are strange sometimes.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, smiling a little. “Well, thank you very much, abba.”

“I don’t mean that in a negative way. I just don’t understand you two from time to time. Anyways, let’s veer right here, the vegetable stall has recently moved elsewhere in the village.”

The familiar woman behind the stall greets you as the pair of you walk up to her stand. “What should we pick?” you ask your father, who presses a thumb into a few cucumbers to see how firm they are.

“Here, let’s take this one… And…” He points at some onions, which you put into the basket on your arm as well. “Hm, what else would you like?”

“I believe we needed some garlic, too.”

The merchant picks a few bulbs off the bunch that is tied to the overhang of her stall. Zebedee taps his chin and lets his eyes go over the rest of the food before selecting a few pomegranates and a handful of dates before paying the requested price.

You thank her and wish her a nice day, but when you turn to head back home, Zebedee grabs your arm. “Wait, my dear, why don’t we get ourselves some meat?”

“Didn’t we still have mutton left over from two days ago?”

Zebedee lets out a noise. “I… Might or might not have polished that off.” Looking at him with raised brows, he gives you an apologetic look. “I was peckish.”

The pair of you head over to the market stand that sells kosher meat, far away from the other stalls that might make it impure. Other than the other merchants, the shochet has put out only a list of available meats and has covered up the rest of his wares lest it become dirty. Next to his stall, a few goats with beautiful horns shuffle around in the dirt, their snouts pressed into the hay that he has scattered over the ground.

“Shalom,” the salesman says, “How can I help you today?”

“Ah, I would like to have five portions of veal and a bit of venison if you’ve still got that.”

The butcher nods at Zeb’s request and gets the items whilst you look at your father in question. “Abba, venison is so expensive!”

He shrugs. “Well, sometimes we need to treat ourselves, no?”

Whilst your father pays for the meat, you tuck the neatly wrapped portions into your basket, turning away to head down the road again in order to go home, but a sudden yelp from your father makes you freeze on the spot. Whipping around to see what is going on, you find his tunic clenched between the teeth of one of the goats. “Let go of me, you strange animal!”

You rush forward to assist him whilst Zebedee tries to have the buck release the rough material, but to no avail. Even the merchant, grabbing the animal by the horns and calling out to it with a strict voice, doesn’t manage to get it off.

“Hey, let go!” the butcher barks at the ovine, “Let go!”

At last, he does, but not without giving a firm tug at Zebedee’s shirt.

A loud sound of ripping fabric fills your ears and you stumble back, gasping. The hole in your father’s tunic that he had so proudly repaired a little while ago has been torn open and has increased all the way up to his elbow, leaving his undershirt exposed from his hip to his underarm on his entire left side.

In shock, the three of you look at the gaping hole.

Then, you snort. Both men suddenly look at you and you press your fingers to your lips, fighting your giggles. The moment you let your gaze go to the massive rip again, though, you burst into a fit of laughter, putting a hand on your chest.

“Don’t laugh, it’s not that funny!” Zebedee cries out, but soon allows himself to chuckle. “Okay, maybe it is.”

Now that the pair of you are laughing, the shochet feels comfortable enough to join in. Howling, Zebedee wipes the tears off his cheeks at the hilarity. “Your eema is never going to believe this!”

“She won’t!” you snicker, “I can’t wait to tell John and James about this!”

“Don’t you dare, young lady!” Zebedee points at you but the merry expression on his face does not do him favours in that threat.

The butcher clears his throat, still grinning widely, and holds out a closed fist towards your father. “I’m so sorry about that, sir. Giving you your money back is the least I can do for this inconvenience.”

Zebedee shakes his head and lets out a few dry whoops before finally calming down, although the grin on his features does not fade. “No need for that, good sir. You cannot help that your goat did that to me. If anything, it was extremely funny and I am not upset about it at all, as you may have noticed.” He lets out another amused sound before exhaling deeply and turning to you. “Now, my daughter, shall we rush back to our house before too many people get an eyeful of my undershirt?”

You nod in affirmation and greet the butcher one more time before rushing home together with Zebedee. He puts a hand on your shoulder and squeezes, dark eyes glittering. “Couldn’t you have told me that my handiwork was able to be ripped by a gust of wind?” There is no accusation in his tone and you smirk.

“Well, eema told me to have you figure that out for yourself.”

“Your brothers should learn how to patch up their own tunics, since apparently I can’t do it by myself either.”

You hum in agreement. “Yes,” you admit, “I can teach them soon enough.”

To this, Zebedee replies positively whilst you walk up to your home, heading inside, where another wave of amusement ensues once spotted by Salome and your brothers.

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