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the-chosen-fanfiction · 4 months

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Matthew | There Is Something Behind Your Eyes | Platonic

Requested: Yes

Matthew is convinced that the stranger at his booth must be an angel.

One, two, three.

Matthew turns his key three times.

Maybe a fourth time for good measure? No, he decides against it. After all, he has to catch the cart driver lest he arrive too late and has to walk all the way to the other side of the village. He cannot risk it.

He gulps in disgust as a few rats scurry barely past his feet. Pressing the rag clutched in his hand against his nose, he tries to block out the smell.

Everything inside of him has been on edge lately. He cannot put any words nor reason to the odd and unfamiliar feeling, but it is there, and he is not sure what to make of it. For now, he blames it on the current dynamic within the fishing village of Capernaum. Things are tense and uneasy, as if something massive is about to go down.

Matthew remembers the riot around here about a year ago, and hopes that this time around it will be extinguished before it can break loose. After all, he left the last revolt against the Romans unscathed, but this time around, he cannot be so certain.

“You there, public-anus!” The man with the cart Matthew has made an arrangement with already stands waiting for him just outside the street near his house. Attempting to not retch at the stench of sheep dung, Matthew approaches him slowly, trying to keep his sandals clean to his best ability. “Hurry up and get in!”

Matthew does not correct the wrong pronunciation of his professional title, instead hops inside the cart with uncharacteristic haste. He does not want to risk being seen, even if it means potentially getting his expensive garment stuck on any rusty nails in the process. He pulls over the cover, laying down inside the hay that the salesman transports in spite of its dampness. Once down, Matthew feels the cart shift into motion. Neither of them speak to one another whilst the tax-collector watches the street underneath him through a gap between the planks on the bottom, the sound of squeaking wheels filling his ears.

Perhaps he could ask Gaius to become his daily escort, Matthew wonders. If his calculations are correct, people wouldn’t even try to bother him while he is on his way to work, then.

Suddenly, the cart halts - halfway through the journey, Matthew knows - right before the market square. “Get out!” the merchant hisses at him, “I can’t be seen with you. I need to drop off my goods here and I cannot take the risk!”

Matthew is momentarily blinded by the sunlight as the man lifts up the cover. “Out, taxman!”

“I-If you want to take risk into consideration, I’d say that there would be more of a risk of you being caught if I were to get out here rather than if you were to bring me directly to the booth–”

“I don’t want to hear it! Out!”

Apprehensively, Matthew exits the wagon and pulls up his shoulders, making himself as invisible as he can. His cream-coloured tunic makes it difficult to miss him. He stands out like a sore thumb. If the tax-collector wanted to remain unseen, he should have picked a different outfit.

An impatient palm appears in his field of vision, and Matthew fishes a leather pouch of money from the satchel on his hip. He pulls it open and counts the money inside, taking out a few denarii, then counting on his fingers, eyes lifted up in thought.

“What are you doing?” the merchant queries.

“Counting how much I owe you. Technically, you brought me about halfway through the village, so that is half the amount agreed upon. However, when taking into consideration the liability that I will now have to undergo due to me having to travel further on foot, I will have to withhold about twenty percent of the amount owed–”

“Just give it to me!” the man snaps, grabbing the pouch of money from his hand before Matthew can realise it, “You’re costing me money as you speak. Consider the extra as collateral due to the risk of being seen with you.”

Matthew opens his mouth to protest, but he is not intimidating enough for the merchant to not just walk away with his cart. Knowing that fighting it will make things even worse, Matthew sighs and lets it go, thinking about the safest route to take through the city in order to be exposed to the public eye as briefly as possible.

Once the transaction has been made, the man grunts and walks off with his cart, muttering under his breath that this was the final time they’ve done business. Matthew tilts his head slightly and calculates the best direction to go into to avoid conflict before starting his trek towards the booth.

He ignores the scornful glares sent his way; after all, he is so used to it at this point that he’d be more taken aback by actual kindness. Gaius is already waiting for him, his usual scowl on his face, as if he doesn’t want to be here. Perhaps that the Primi Ordines doesn’t necessarily like guard duty in a place of such regular unrest.

Matthew greets him with a short mumble and enters his booth, laying out his necessary tools in front of him. Everything has its own place, and he enjoys the feeling of a tidy desk. It’s one of the few things he can control at all times, and Matthew takes great pride in keeping it clean.

The morning goes on as usual, with occasional displeasure from tax-payers as well as tears streaming down pockmarked, hollow faces, but Matthew stoically goes through with it. The sun is past its highest point when it becomes a little more bearable in the booth, and Gaius leans against the wall, sighing as he eats an apple. Matthew vaguely remembers the Primi mentioning that the change of guard was coming up soon, but the publicanus wasn’t sure how long ago he had said it.

The amount of customers is declining as the day carries on, most people heading to their homes to prepare for Shabbat instead. It gives Matthew a rare moment of peace and quiet in his booth, and he takes some time to sort out his ledger, checking for any errors in the calculations and–

“Shalom.”

Matthew startles a bit at the sudden voice and looks up. A young woman about his own age stands in front of the booth, a kind smile on her face. Her (e/c) eyes slightly glitter as she watches him curiously.

“Sh-Shalom.” Matthew stutters, putting his current chore aside. “How may I help you?” He doesn’t recognise you from around here.

“Just here to have a chat.”

Matthew grabs his ledger. “What’s your name?”

“(Y/n).” you introduce yourself, and tell him where you are from. “So no, I don’t have any open debts to pay you.”

The way you’re looking up at him is not very familiar to him. There is a gentle expression on your face, and he isn’t sure what to make of it.

“Then what do you want?” Matthew wants to know.

“You’re Jewish, right?” you query.

Matthew nods, looking at Gaius from the corner of his eye. The Primi doesn’t seem to mind your presence, instead gazing out over the empty streets, unbothered by the conversation going on right beside him.

“I am.”

“So, what are you doing here?” you ask.

There is no accusation nor malice in your voice, a tone regarding his profession that is quite new to Matthew.

“My-My job.” he mutters, “If I can’t help you with your taxes, I’d like to wish you a good day.”

You let out a hum and watch him curiously. “Shouldn’t you be home, preparing for Shabbat? It’s almost sundown…”

“I… Don’t. I-I think you should go, though… Otherwise, you won’t be home in time, either.”

Your smile is soft. “Don’t you worry about me, now. You haven’t told me your name yet.”

“That’s not important–”

“Matthew–” Gaius pipes up, “Can you get her to hurry? That change of guard is apparently not happening and I am really in need of a break, so I want to close up this booth for a while.”

Matthew sighs and you hum. “Matthew, huh? Don’t worry, Primi, I’ll be here just for another minute or so.” You turn back to the tax-collector.

“Listen, Matthew, I know a lot of people loathe you and shame you for the work you do. You chose to work for the Romans, so part of their indignation is justified. However, I crossed past your booth and was overcome with the conviction to share something with you today. A word.”

“A word?” Matthew looks at you a bit puzzled.

You hum in agreement. “I’m with this group of people. With a Rabbi. I think you’ve heard about Him, too, haven’t you? I can feel that you have.”

Matthew feels his throat run dry - yes, now he faintly recognises you walking alongside the followers of this infamous Rabbi. He had indeed heard about Him causing quite the stir, but he had never investigated it.

“What about it?” He tries to sound indifferent, but something wavers in his voice. You give him a kind smile and reach out through the gap in the booth. You do not touch him, but lay your hand close to him. Gaius eyes you a bit suspiciously, but when Matthew does not display any sign that you’re assaulting him in any way, he looks away again.

“I think Jesus is going to call you out of the darkness and into the light.” you whisper. “That is His name, by the way. The name of my Rabbi.”

For a few moments, Matthew rapidly blinks, staring at you dumbfounded. “What do you mean by that?”

“Because whenever we pass by this booth while in town, I get this feeling inside my heart to come over and talk to you. One of the other followers always hisses something under his breath about you, but I think it’s not totally justified. Sure, you’ve chosen this profession and thus betrayed our people by working for our oppressors, but…” your smile grows a bit, “I think you’re more than that.”

Matthew feels his face heat up slightly with a hint of shame. Why are you being so kind to him without even knowing who he is? Even though the sole thing you know about him is that he betrayed your people?

“I think you feel that sentiment towards me just because you’re not from around here. I suggest you leave me alone and go to pay your taxes in your own county.” Matthew moves away, but you lean a little closer.

“Matthew,” you pipe up, “Why do you think I’m meeting you here minutes before Shabbat? I am here for a reason, and I need you to know this. If… If you choose to follow Him one day, because I am convinced that He will call you one day or another… You will need a friend, someone to stick up for you. Know that I’ll be that person.”

Abashed, he shakes his head. “I don’t have friends and I don’t need them, either.”

The smile that grows on your face is nothing short of angelic.

“And yet, the offer still stands. Just had to let you know, okay?” You look at the sky, thinking for a long moment. “If I want to be at my friend Mary’s place before sundown, I’ll have to go now. Shalom shalom, Matthew. I have a feeling we’ll see one another soon.”

At a loss for words, Matthew replies a soft “Shalom,” as you give him a friendly nod and walk off, and he leans closer to the iron bars to keep watching you until you disappear behind the corner.

“Well,” Gaius huffs, “Believe it or not, I think that’s the nicest way I’ve ever seen someone talk to you.”

Matthew does not reply, instead stands in silence, his mind racing with questions.

A few weeks later, Matthew is standing in his booth, going about his day, when a familiar group of people enters his field of vision as they pass by. A few wisps of (h/c) hair draw his attention and you look over your shoulder, making eye-contact with him.

As soon as Jesus halts, a smile forms over your lips. Matthew tears his gaze away from you to settle it on the Rabbi, Who looks at him with a determined look on His face.

“Matthew, son of Alphaeus.”

Matthew blinks, wondering for a second if there is another person with the exact same name standing right behind him, and he leans closer. Your eyes glitter as you gaze at Jesus, and then back at the tax-collector in the booth.

“Yes?” he breathes.

“Follow Me.”

#the chosen #reader insert #the chosen x reader #x reader #chosen x reader #angel studios #the chosen matthew #the chosen matthew x reader #matthew x reader

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 5 months

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John the Apostle | Thunder Blues | Platonic

Dialogue prompt: “Are you serious right now?"

Requested: Yes

When the younger Son of Thunder is upset that he has to stay behind in Capernaum to wait for Simon, you comfort him, reassuring that Jesus knows best.

The Apostles have gathered at Jesus’ behest. Sitting next to John, you watch both Andrew and Philip as they reveal that their ministry has brought more harm than good in the Decapolis.

Jesus, across from the two, nods in understanding as they conclude their rather distressing story.

“Aha… And… What was your strategy to clarify it?”

Philip takes a sharp breath. “Well, we uh… We told, uhm…”

“We-We-We tried to… Uh, to tell one of Your parables.” Andrew stutters. It is clear that both of them feel embarrassed.

“Parables! Good!” Jesus praises, “That’s what I would have done.”

“Which parable?”

Philip clears his throat. “The… The Banquet.”

“You know, the one where guests give excuses not to come and so, everyone else gets invited.”

Next to you, John huffs in disbelief. “You chose the Banquet?” You put a hand on his arm, trying to push him back into his seat, trying to not escalate the situation. You know that the two feel humiliated enough as is by coming clean about their troubled mission.

“People get upset by that one.” Nathanael adds.

“Of course they do.” Jesus hums, but there is no hint of accusation in His voice.

Andrew lets out an anxious noise: “Well, if it makes you feel any better, we first considered the Wheat and the Tares but… We thought better of it.”

“I already told you,” Jesus patiently explains, “Some people wouldn’t understand that parable.”

“I’m not even sure I understand the Wheat and the Tares.” Thomas adds. You give him an understanding look.

Jesus lets out a soft chuckle and winks. “Give it time.”

Philip sighs. “The problem is that they did understand the parable and it caused fights in the street–”

“Rioting.” Andrew emphasises. “Between Jews and Gentiles.”

Jesus lets out a soft hum as Philip carries on. “Leander has told us it’s getting worse every day. The prominent Hellenistic priest has changed his ways, which is good, but… When he abdicated his duties as priest and leader, others tried to fill the void, and so projects are going undone and people are just angry, and blaming each other for everything.”

Next to you, John has a concerned look over his features. You put a hand on his arm and gently squeeze, at which he smiles a bit wistfully at you.

“It led to stealing,” Andrew says, “Fights in the streets… Many people are actually leaving their homes to escape the violence.” The final part of his sentence is a whisper. You can sense the shame he feels.

Big James stands with his arms crossed. “That’s the violence You suggest sending us into?”

Brief silence fills the room as all eyes turn to Jesus. “What part of the parable caused this fight to break out?”

“The people outside the city.” Philip answers. “The ones on the highways and the hedges, the last to be invited and the last to accept the invitation.”

Jesus draws a sharp breath. “That’s what I suspected.”

John leans forward. “Speaking of which - the highways and the hedges - does that actually refer to Gentiles?”

A deep sigh leaves the Messiah. “He who has ears to hear, let him hear. We leave in the morning. Everyone go home and gather your things. We take to the highways and hedges before dawn.”

The Disciples go to stand, and next to you, John still looks worried. As Jesus speaks to comfort Philip and Andrew, you whisper in John’s direction.

“Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just… Thinking.” he mutters. “How this might affect our ministry. What it might mean for us. If we must fight, then so be it. We’ve got strong men on our side who would be strong and capable in battle. I’m certain we’ll be able to snuff out this riot before it escalates even further.”

Before you can reply that you don’t feel like the Messiah is aiming at such an approach, Jesus gets up from His seat, grabbing a few empty cups. “John, may I have a word?”

John picks up his head and looks up at his Teacher. “Yes, Rabbi.” He gives you a small smile as he gets up, and you nod at him.

“Good luck, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Of course. Shalom, (Y/n), have a good night.”

“Sleep well, John. Shalom shalom.”

As you watch him head after Jesus, Who is currently rinsing out the cups, you let out a sigh. Being John’s childhood friend, you know better than anyone of his oftentimes brash nature out of sheer passion and dedication.

The soft look in Jesus’ eyes, however, ensures you that He will take care of things. You smile at Him and stand to leave the house and find your own instead, giving Him a nod in greeting.

He mirrors it and turns to John, giving the former fisherman a special task.

The next morning, you’re sitting at Matthew’s old place, spending some time with Mary and Tamar as they work on their small business.

“Perhaps you should stay behind with us.” Tamar muses, “Help us out here.”

You shift and shake your head, smiling. “And miss out on all the tension? Hm, I’ve got a feeling that this is going to be a pivotal moment. The last thing I want is to be left out.”

As other followers of Jesus come trickling in, you check your belongings one final time - an extra tunic, a full waterskin, and another pair of sandals. On the bottom of your bag sits a stale piece of bread, so you toss it out.

“Jesus is here,” Nathanael loudly announces, “Time to go!”

Everyone moves to the door, momentarily gathering outside the building, where Jesus is patiently waiting for everyone. You follow the group as one of the final people to leave, putting the strap of your bag over your shoulder, getting ready to leave.

Before exiting the building, however, you halt on the threshold, turning to look inside the house one last time. Upon noticing John pouting as he is leaned against the wall, you frown slightly.

“Hey, John. What is going on? Come on, we have to go.”

He huffs and crosses his arms over his chest even tighter. “I’m fine, (Y/n). You wouldn’t get it.”

Planting a hand on your hip, you approach him. “What are you on about? By the way, where is your bag?”

John clicks his tongue, barely looking at you, muttering something under his breath that you cannot quite understand.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

He sighs. “Jesus wants me to stay here in Capernaum so I could wait for Simon.”

“He still hasn’t showed up, then?”

John lets out an exasperated sound. “No, he obviously hasn’t! Which is what frustrates me so much!”

“Why?”

“Because I want to come, too!” He looks at you with an expression that is nothing short of frustrated. “Everyone is getting to go out there with Jesus and witness perhaps a massive turning point in this ministry, and I get waiting duty! I want to go, too! I am also part of this group! He calls me beloved, so I must be important enough to see it too, right? I can’t stand it.”

You watch him for a long moment, slightly narrowing your eyes in thought. “Are you serious right now?" you question, although there is no reproach in your tone.

John grows restless under your scrutiny, exhaling sharply.

“What, are you going to judge me for that?”

Pursing your lips, you hum. “John, son of Zebedee. This is not about you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he snaps.

In spite of his anger, you remain calm. “I’ve known you forever, John. You’re always so keen on staying in the loop of things, which is a great trait to have. You are inquisitive, passionate, eager to learn. I admire that about you, my friend.”

His expression softens. “Huh, thank you for your kind words. But what does that have to do with anything?”

You step closer, putting a hand on his arm to comfort him. “Jesus loves you. He loves all of us. This entire ministry, however, does not revolve around us. About what we see, or about what we do, or about what He does for us. It is about what He does for them.” You nod at the door behind you, “For the world out there. For those who are weary, and wounded, and in need of healing.”

You pause, sighing.

“I know that it is difficult to possibly not be there when something pivotal happens, but it is not a given that we get to witness every single thing that will happen for the glory of Adonai. Besides, a lot has to happen behind the scenes. If Jesus did not need you to be here to wait for Simon, He wouldn’t have asked you to.”

“Jesus said that the success of this mission depends on Simon.”

You smile. “See, there you have it. Jesus can use you in many ways, even if you are not directly at His side.”

John lets out a sigh and lowers his gaze. Regretful about his outburst, he folds his hands in front of him. “I know.”

“Our plans do not always match up with His plans, but you trust Him regardless, hm?”

“I do. More than anything.”

Nodding, you pat his shoulder in a friendly manner. “Then we should not always rely on our own understanding of a situation. You might not be satisfied that you have to wait now, but in the long run, that feeling will make sense, and you will be glad that you indeed waited for Simon.”

The wry smile on John’s face makes place for a brighter one. He tilts his face back up, smiling.

“I hadn’t thought of it this way yet, (Y/n). Thank you for your perspective, that was very meaningful, and I can now see the value a bit better of Jesus asking me to stay behind.” He sighs, his smile slightly shrinking. “Although I am still a bit upset, how can I not be? You guys are going to get to the Decapolis! I wish I could be there right with you!”

“But Simon is necessary for the success of this trip, according to Jesus. Trust Him in this, too. Completely, okay?”

John sighs and nods. “Okay.” he says, exhaling. “Okay.”

You smile, stepping away from him. “Good.” you say, “I will see you soon, okay?”

He hums in acknowledgement and gives you a small wave, appearing way more positive now. “Thank you for your words. Safe travels, (Y/n). We will see each other before we know it.”

Nodding kindly, you agree to what he said and head after the others, finding them just outside the house. Big James puffs out his cheeks as he sees you and lets air escape slowly, knowing that you had to deal with a pouting John. However, you give him a small smile in turn.

“Things will be alright with John,” you reassure his older brother, “He just needed another perspective on things to see that the task Jesus gave him is valuable in and of itself.”

“That is good to hear, (Y/n),” Big James states as you walk together into the outskirts of the village, following the group of Disciples. “Plus,” he adds, “It means we won’t have to deal with his nagging for a few hours at least.”

Chuckling, you shake your head, knowing that John feels useless regardless of the importance of his task, and bump a fist against James’ shoulder.

“Tch, as if you nag less than he does. That you two haven’t physically chatted my ears off at this point is a miracle to say the least.”

James rolls his eyes, but cannot fight the grin that spreads over his face.

“Fine, it means you won’t have to deal with half of the nagging.”

#the chosen #reader insert #the chosen x reader #x reader #angel studios #chosen x reader #the chosen john x reader #john the apostle

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 6 months

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Andrew | Beautiful You | Romantic

Requested: Yes

In spite of your low self-esteem, Andrew reassures you that you are just as beautiful as those you compare yourself to, and to him, even more so.

Thomas is not exactly subtle. Whereas he has been staring at Ramah for the past twenty minutes across camp, you have found him out the second he set eyes on her, and are now observing the strange scene by looking up from your sewing every so often.

Matthew tries to be more discreet, but your keen eye has spotted him as well. His gaze is fixated upon Mary, watching her carefully, eagerly drinking in every detail of her.

The two women do not seem to mind it. At least, they don’t seem to be sensing a pair of eyes scrutinising them.

You don’t feel a pair of eyes on you, either.

But why would you? It’s not like you’d ever be half as beautiful as Mary or Ramah. Their hair shines, their faces brighten up under any circumstances. Even when tired, they are rays of sunshine, vessels of pure beauty, and you… You are just you.

Plain, simple, unassuming. With (h/c) hair you wished to be more healthy. And you are certain your (e/c) eyes don’t sparkle as vividly as Tamar’s dark ones. Of course the bachelors around camp will not even consider you a potential marriage candidate. Not when the other three women around your own age here are way more attractive than you are.

You are sunken away in thought as you are suddenly roughly disturbed from your focused state when you accidentally poke your finger with the needle you are holding. Yelping, you immediately bring it to your lips to take up the small droplet of blood that immediately appears.

Footsteps approach you from behind, and before you can even withdraw your index finger from your mouth, Thomas’ voice rings inside your ears.

“Hey, (Y/n), could you maybe help me with… Are you okay?”

You slowly take your hand away from your face and hum, eyeing him expectantly as he gives you a strange look.

“Well then. Okay, could you maybe help me with trying to ask for Ramah’s hand? I-I mean not like that! I am just… I am trying to… Do you know… Does she… Ever mention me?”

One of your eyebrows rises higher on your face. Thomas awkwardly grins as he gives you a hopeful look, anxiously awaiting your answer.

“She does, but… What would you need my help for? I do not know the kind of man her father is, so I’m not sure of what use I’d be and–”

“Kafni is fully aware that I intend to marry his daughter one day.” Thomas interrupts you, “It’s just… I want to do something special for her, you know? Ah… Let me rephrase. Imagine being a bachelorette waiting for a potential love interest to ask for her hand…” – Not that difficult to imagine, you bitterly think to yourself – “What would you like him to do? What would make you more interested in marrying a man?”

You put down your sewing work and purse your lips, humming in thought. “Let’s see,” you muse, “Ah… I never really considered anyone being interested in me that way, but… I think I would be interested in being with a man who is Godly, respectful, kind and caring, and most of all he’d have to accept me as I am. I wouldn’t want him to do anything specific, but…”

Pausing, you take a deep breath, suddenly feeling emotional as your throat feels tighter.

“But the only thing I’d ask for is for him to accept me for who I am, flaws and all.”

Thomas thinks for a moment, gazes over at Ramah, and then shrugs. “Not exactly the kind of answer I was looking for, but thank you anyways, (Y/n).”

You give him a grimace of a smile as he stalks off before even giving you the chance to react. You’re certain he didn’t mean anything negative with it, but it leaves you feeling even more lonely than you are, a pit growing in your stomach.

Suddenly, you are yearning for some time alone.

Putting down your work, you stand and stretch your sore limbs before heading for the women’s tent, grabbing your shoulder bag containing a few belongings.

“Where are you going?” Tamar asks as she looks up from her chores, “Is something going on?”

With a small shake of your head, you smile at her. “No, nothing is going on. I just need some time to myself.”

“Where will you be heading?”

You sigh, but there is no hint of annoyance in the sound. “Just to the nearby lake, I think. I need to sort out my thoughts.”

“I know that look. You seem troubled.”

You halt in your step and momentarily consider opening up to her. Tamar seems concerned enough to inquire about it, so why not? She is your friend after all, but you’re not sure if she would understand completely.

“I’ll be fine,” you reassure her, “Thank you. I’ll see you later.” Tamar remains unconvinced as you leave the shade of the tent, stepping out into the scorching sun.

Holding onto the strap of your bag, you head for the body of water you know to be nearby.

You had seen Andrew and John head out for it yesterday evening in the hopes of catching a few fish for dinner tonight in the shallow parts of the water, although the latter of the two had returned to camp with no catch and an upset stomach about an hour ago, complaining about feeling under the weather.

The lake seems deserted for as far as you can look and is only a few minutes away. Part of it is around a bend, but there grows little to no foliage there, leaving you to take a seat with your back to camp, finding some coverage underneath a small tree.

You sigh and look out over the water, drinking in the feeling of serenity and solemnity. You’re just far enough away from the encampment to not hear any sounds from it, leaving you to your thoughts alone.

They soon drift to the future. Where would the ministry take you? Where would life after the ministry take you?

Thomas and Ramah would likely be married. Perhaps something would blossom between Mary and Matthew. Tamar would not have any trouble finding a spouse, either.

You’d be the only bachelorette left without a husband. Not that you needed one, but it hurt regardless.

You’d have to become more pretty, like they were.

The sun reflects on the water and makes it so that trying to use it as a mirror is futile. From your bag, you take a polished shard of glass you usually use to see your reflection and hold it in front of your face, inspecting your own features in the harsh light of the nearing noon.

Your (s/c) skin lacks radiance, you establish. With your index finger, you point at a few blemishes here and there. It’s dry and flaky from the damage long walks in bright sunlight has brought along. Your lips are chapped in spite of you usually rubbing them with some oil every night before bed. The (h/c) hair that frames your face doesn’t shine like Mary’s luscious locks do, nor do you have the sweet freckles Ramah has, nor the beautiful allure that Tamar possesses.

A tear rolls down your cheek and you don’t even bother wiping it away. How will you ever be enough? All the bachelors around camp must have crushes on these three women. There is no way that you can compare, even though it is not meant as a competition.

You sniffle, tucking some hair behind your ear in the hopes of making it look better, but the insecurities take the better of you. With a blurring vision, you wrap your free hand over your mouth and stifle the small sob that threatens to escape.

“Hey, are you alright?”

Andrew, carrying the net he has just cleaned over his arm, startles you greatly. Your eyes widen as you instinctively shy away from the sound of his voice, your heart skipping a beat.

“Are you okay?” he repeats his question when you do not answer. It takes you a second to gather yourself, wiping dry your cheeks with the back of your hand. Andrew, however, has seen more than enough to know that you are crying. His brow is furrowed in worry, although this goes unnoticed by you.

Your cheeks are flushed with embarrassment as Andrew drops the net onto the ground and takes a seat next to you, the concern not leaving his face. “Hey now, (Y/n). You’re clearly upset about something. Did something happen?”

Sniffling, you shake your head. “It’s nothing, Andrew,” you hiccup, “Thank you, but I’ll be fine. I’ll just need some time by myself.”

The younger son of Jonah does not seem to move to get up again, instead leaning closer to you. “If anyone hurt you, just let me know so I can go and–”

“It’s okay.” you cut him off, “Really.”

Andrew doubtfully sighs. “I will not force you to answer, but know that you can go to Jesus with everything, too. I am sure He will know a way to help you.”

You scoff involuntarily and close your eyes in immediate shame. “I don’t think that He can help me. Plus, I don’t want to trouble Him with my insignificant issues.”

“If they are so insignificant, why are you here all by yourself, crying your heart out?”

Swallowing away the lump in your throat, you exhale. “Because it is significant to me, and me alone. I don’t want to inconvenience other people with my nonsense.”

“You can always inconvenience me with anything, (Y/n),” Andrew emphasises, causing your heart to pleasantly jump inside your chest. “If you need anyone to speak to, you know where to find me–”

“Do you think I’m ugly?”

The question leaves your lips before you can realise it has formed there and your neck and throat immediately turn crimson in humiliation. New tears well up inside your eyes, and they soon roll down your face.

Andrew stares at you dumbfoundedly. “What? I-I mean, what are you talking about? Where does that come from?!”

“You aren’t denying it.” you whimper.

He shakes his head frantically, and if you hadn’t been so dismayed in this moment, you’d have found the movement of his curls humorous.

“What? No! Not at all, (Y/n)! I-I think you’re gorgeous!” Andrew's cheeks turn pink and he clears his throat. “But– Where are you getting the idea that you aren’t?”

Your face pales. Did you just hear him correctly, or is he just saying what he’d think would comfort you?

“W-Well, Tamar is always stunning in her gowns and alluring beauty. Ramah is bubbly and beautiful and has caught the eye of Thomas. Mary is so sweet and caring, so it is no surprise that Matthew is totally infatuated with her, but… No one is looking at me! There is no way that I can ever be as appealing as they are, and it is making me feel… Like I’m not worth it.”

Andrew’s jaw drops.

“(Y/n), you are worth it!”

You inhale sharply. “Thank you, Andrew, it’s kind of you to try and make me feel better, but I know that you’re just saying it because you think it is what I want to hear, but I know that I am not half as beautiful as–”

“I mean it, (Y/n)!” Andrew counters with a tone to his voice that is almost pleading. You finally dare to look back up at him, his dark eyes filled with genuinity. “I think you are one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met.”

You gulp.

“Any man would be so lucky to marry you. You’re a wonderful woman who pursues Adonai so eagerly. You’re friendly, generous, selfless, admirable. You are beautiful on the inside and on the outside.”

Processing what he is truly saying, you chew the inside of your cheek, your heart hammering inside your chest. “That is one of the nicest things someone has ever said to me.”

Andrew smiles at you - delightfully so - and your stomach swirls with sudden butterflies.

Could he be…

His eyes sparkle as he looks at you. You think back on the brief conversation you had with Thomas, about what you’d look for in a potential partner.

Godly. Kind. And the way he is making sure that you are alright is more than enough evidence to prove that he is sweet and caring.

And he accepts you just the way you are.

“Andrew,” you croak, voice heavy with emotion. “I… Thank you.”

The former fisherman hums, smiling a bit, but his face twists as if he is thinking about something.

“I would… I would be very stupid if I were to pass up on this opportunity to ask you if you would be interested in arranging a marriage between you and I… I-If you’d have me, that is.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Are you… Are you serious right now?!”

How could a handsome man like Andrew ever fall for someone like you? Sudden uncertainty tugs at your heartstrings. What if this was some kind of twisted joke he was pulling on you?

No, Andrew would not do that.

“Of course I am serious.” he whispers. “It would be such an honour to have a woman like you at my side for the rest of my life.”

A large grin breaks out over your face. “Then yes! Yes, please!”

Relief floods Andrew’s features. “Oh, that is wonderful! Thank you for trusting me with this, (Y/n)! I must… I must admit that I’ve been in love with you for a while now.” He averts his gaze, shyly looking away. “For quite some time, actually.” The words make your heart soar and you put your hand on his, smiling broadly.

“Thank you, too,” you respond, “For seeing in me what I didn’t see in me.”

Andrew smiles softly, brushing some hair out of your face. “I’ll repeat it from now until our final days, (Y/n), that you are the most magnificent woman I’ve ever met.”

Blushing, you lean into his touch as he gently cups your cheek, remaining like that for a few long seconds.

“Shall we sit here for a while longer?” you suggest after a minute or so. Andrew smiles, scooting closer to you so that his leg brushes against yours.

“Yes,” he says, looking out over the lake. “You and I, let us sit for a while longer.”

He takes your hand into his and squeezes.

#the chosen #reader insert #the chosen x reader #x reader #angel studios #chosen x reader #andrew x reader #the chosen andrew x reader #the chosen andrew

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 6 months

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hope you’re doing good!! i’ve loved reading your writing and can’t wait to see what else you come up with xx

Hi friend, thanks so much for checking in! I'm doing alright, just exhausted at the moment. My job is taking a greater toll than I was expecting. I miss writing content for you all dearly. Hopefully, I'll get back in the flow soon, but I can't promise anything just yet. I hope you are doing well! God bless!

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 7 months

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Little author's note

Hi all, sorry for going pretty much MIA. My new job is draining me, but I'll get back into writing eventually. Thanks so much for your patience and God bless you!

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 7 months

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do you know who are the other writers in this fandom? i'm wondering if there are more people creating content for the chosen, either x-reader or regular

Hi friend, sorry for my late response! Here are a few that spring to mind.

@multifandomsofficial @fattened-goose @he-ate-with-the-wrong-people @loafandfish @queenofrest

If there are any I missed, please do let me know <3 God bless!

#the chosen #reader insert

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 8 months

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i'm wondering if you take requests for your ABC's headcanons?? you've only gone through 2/12 of the disciples so please don't feel pressured, but it would be super cool seeing the ABC's with shmuel & yussif

Hi friend! Yes, I've kind of put the ABC's series on hold because I rarely have time to write nowadays, and when I do have time I usually spend it on the one-shots. I am planning on doing them for all characters, including the two you mentioned, so don't you worry about that! :) It will just take some time for me to get around to write them. God bless!

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 8 months

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Jesus | Blinded To The Truth | Platonic

Dialogue prompt: “You really like making things difficult.”

Requested: Yes

After inviting you to listen to His meditation at Synagogue, your childhood Friend Jesus makes the boldest of claims.

“Hey, you’re cheating!”

“I am doing no such thing!” you quip, throwing the small ball towards Rafi in the hopes he will not catch it–

–He catches it with his left hand and you huff, preparing yourself to get it hurled back at you in return. However, Rafi tosses it with a firm movement of his arm towards Jesus, Who misses it by a hair. The ball falls to the grass and Rafi cheers, causing you to roll your eyes. Aaron lets out a sigh of defeat.

“I win!” Rafi exclaims.

You place a hand on your hip. “Fine, you win. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to get myself some snacks to comfort myself at this incredible loss.”

“Nah, (Y/n), you are just being sarcastic now even though I know quite certainly that you are upset.”

“I’m not! It’s Rosh Hashanah, I will not allow myself to sulk over something like a game.”

Jesus chuckles at your response and runs a hand through His hair, sighing deeply. “You did better at this game than I did, (Y/n),” He reassures you. You smile at your childhood Friend, Who heads over to you. “I will join you for that comfort snack, okay?”

You nod in agreement and both of you head for the nearest platter of sweet treats. You scoop a whole load of honey onto a slice of apple and give it to Jesus. He thanks you with a word of gratitude and waits for you to get one for yourself as well.

“Hey,” Jesus begins as the pair of you bask in the sunlight, enjoying the fruit. “I am going to give a Torah reading tonight at the synagogue. Would you like to attend as well? You’re a good friend of Mine, so I would appreciate it if you were to–”

“Of course!” you say without hesitation, “I knew that You were a Rabbi now. Your mother told me about Your ministry.”

Jesus hums. “I don’t think she told you all of it.”

You frown in puzzlement. “What do You mean?”

The Nazarene gives you a look. “You’ll see.”

Trusting Him enough to not ask, you decide to not press any further.

“Time for a rematch?” you suggest, nodding at Lazarus and Rafi, who are still gloating in their victory.

Jesus nods in agreement, polishing off the honied apple. “Let’s go.”

In spite of the heat outside, the synagogue is cool and dark, apart from some light drifting in through the small windows above. The village of Nazareth has gathered and you’ve taken a seat with two women who introduced themselves to you as Martha and Mary, whom you’ve started to mingle with in anticipation of Jesus’ reading. You’re curious to see what He will choose to read.

The crowd’s chatter falls silent when Rabbi Benjamin walks up to the pulpit and stretches his arms in a way to lead everyone into prayer. You bow your head and close your eyes.

“Blessed are You Lord our God, King of the universe. Who has kept us alive and sustained us for another year. Who bestows kindness, restores and redeems. Praise to You, Adonai our God, sovereign over creation. Who has chosen us from all the peoples. May Your blessings be all who seek You earnestly. Bring joy to Your land and gladness to Your city. In Your mercy, bestow on us a prosperous year, a bountiful harvest, and the promised arrival of Meshiach. Your anointed One, the Son of David.”

The congregation replies with an agreeing ‘amen’ as the sound of the shofar fills the room in a few quick puffs of noise. Goosebumps litter your skin at the sound like it does to you every time, and you smile, watching Jesus across the room.

“Thank you for the call to repentance and rest.” Rabbi Benjamin comments. “And now, for the reading and interpretation we have with us Jesus bar Joseph. He was one of my students in Torah class and we’ve heard reports–” he turns to Jesus, “Some of them very positive, of His rabbinic journeys.” Jesus and Lazarus chuckle a bit, “Jesus.”

Jesus heads for the pulpit and smiles. “Thank you, Rabbi Benjamin. Ah, please.” He gestures for the person carrying the scroll to lay it out for Him.

“You know, it’s not easy to share in front of Nazareth’s most pre-eminent Rabbi, but I will do My best. And I’m certain that if I miss a word or two, one of you at least will speak up, huh?”

A few of the men make sounds of agreement, Lazarus leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed. “Oh, don’t worry.”

“I wonder who it will be,” Jesus murmurs in amusement before turning to the scroll.

“A reading from the scroll of the prophet Isaiah.” Jesus announces, then lifts His eyes upwards for a few silent seconds. He unfurls the scroll and takes the yad to point at the text He is reading to follow along.

“The Spirit of the Lord God is upon Me. Because the Lord has anointed Me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted; to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovery of sight of the blind. To the opening of the prison for those who are bound; to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour.”

With bated breath, you watch as He steps away from the scroll and rolls it up, handing it back to the assistant before taking a seat in the chair placed in the middle of the room. For a moment, He locks eyes with Lazarus, then with you, until He opens His mouth to speak.

“The fulfilment of this Scripture as you have heard it is today. This is the year of the Lord’s favour. This is a year of jubilee. A year the poor, the brokenhearted, the captive and the blind are offered redemption.”

Your heart stutters inside your chest. Are you hearing this correctly?

Rabbi Benjamin’s posture stiffens.

“Here. Now.”

Jesus pauses for a few moments, and Lazarus speaks up. “We are here with You,” he remarks, “Keep going.” He seems just as interested in Jesus’ words as you are. “Not bad for a carpenter’s son, yes?”

You cannot fight the small laugh that escapes you, and Rabbi Benjamin gives you a sharp look.

“I mean, especially Joseph…” Lazarus continues, “May he rest in peace…”

Rabbi Benjamin has a stern look on his face when he speaks up.

“Jesus, please explain why You stopped the reading before Isaiah spoke of the day of vengeance of our God? Especially during a time of such oppression.”

A few silent moments as you keep your gaze focused on Jesus, anxious what He will say. You have never heard this interpretation before, and you’re only hoping that Jesus will not say anything that could get Him in trouble.

“The day of vengeance is in the future. I’m not here for vengeance. I’m here for salvation.”

Rafi and Aaron’s brows furrow, as does Rabbi Benjamin’s. “You’re here for salvation?” the Rabbi mutters, “What are You saying?”

Over her shoulder, Mary looks at you with a delighted look on her face. Your expression resembles confusion as your heart hammers inside your chest. “It’s Him…” Mary whispers, “He is trying to say that He is… You know…”

You swallow thickly. Thinking of the rumours that have been going around about Jesus, and now… Could He be…

“You know what I am saying.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“And this year of jubilee, this year of the Lord’s favour, is not about release from financial debts. I’m here to provide release from spiritual debt.”

“We are the chosen seed of Abraham.” Benjamin darkly sounds, “We don’t have spiritual debt!”

Jesus purses His lips and looks away.

“Jesus,” Aaron starts. “We’ve been hearing about the signs and wonders, and now this? Are You claiming to be more than a Rabbi? More than even the Baptiser?” Aaron has the exact same question as you.

The room is tense and you lean closer towards Him, not wanting to miss a single word.

“No doubt one of you will quote me the Proverb; ‘Physician, heal yourself’. The things we heard You did in Capernaum and in Syria, do here in Your hometown, yes?”

“Why not?”

“I get it.” Jesus counters. “It’s always easier to accept hard truths and even greatness from strangers than from those you know well, especially those you knew as awkward teenagers or even as adults as some of you saw earlier today. Laz here would make a more believable prophet.”

You grin as the two chuckle, until Jesus’ smile falls.

“But this brings up an important truth. No prophet is acceptable in his hometown.”

Around you, people start to mutter amongst themselves.

“Be careful with what You call Yourself.” Benjamin growls.

“This should be easy to prove!” Aaron says, “Dinah and Rafi, you say you saw it, yes?”

Rafi nods. “Yes! Yes, we saw it, but… He did not claim this…”

“A true prophet from Adonai would not deny His own people signs and wonders.”

Jesus takes a sharp breath. “Listen carefully. When a great famine hit Israel during the days of Elijah. Three years and six months. There were many widows, yes? And we know how the Father cares for His chosen people, especially widows. But Elijah was sent to none of them… Not one.”

You drink in every single word He says, your mind spinning with questions and clarity at the same time.

“Instead he was sent to a widow in Sidon, in Zeropath. A Gentile woman. Martha, what happened?”

Jesus turns to her and for a moment, He locks eyes with you. It is as if He can read your mind - your soul - and He nods. He nods to answer the question bouncing around in your skull, and you have to prevent yourself from gasping.

“She gave up her last flour and oil for one more cake and gave it to Elijah.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Elijah told her the Lord said to do so.”

Jesus turns back, “Yes. The Lord said that He would make it so that her flour and oil would never run out. And she believed. A pagan Gentile in a pagan land. And she was hungry enough to know that she needed God and to obey Him. And so, God sent Elijah to multiply our food forever.”

He shortly pauses to let the words sink in.

“What about Elisha, and Naaman? There were many lepers in Israel during this time, but none of them were cleansed except Naaman. Only a Gentile, a Syrian soldier and enemy of the Lord’s people. But he was so desperate, he trusted Elisha, and his leprosy was cleansed.”

The tension in the synagogue rises with every word that falls from His lips, and your throat runs dry at the expression many hold on their faces; deep, unadulterated offence.

“You may be the chosen seed of Abraham, you may be the people of the covenants, but that will not bring you My salvation.” Jesus’ eyes are shimmering with both sadness and persistence, “If you cannot accept that you are spiritually poor and captive, in the same way that a Gentile woman and a Syrian leper recognised their need–”

He pauses, the words getting stuck in His throat as He pinches together his fingers to emphasise the message. Across the room, you see Aaron shake his head slowly, and Rafi’s expression is conflicted.

“If you do not realise that you need a year of the Lord’s favour… Then I cannot save you.”

You can hear a pin drop as the hostility in the room advances, your heart almost leaping out of your chest in fear as Aaron slowly stands, his brow knit together in rage.

“Who do You think You are?!” His voice drips with malice.

“This is what Hannah talked about.” Martha says in front of you, making your chest tight with anxiety for His safety. “That He even called Himself the Messiah!”

Rabbi Benjamin takes a step in Jesus’ direction. “Are You claiming to be the Messiah, or are You merely claiming to speak for the Lord as a prophet?”

Jesus, turned away from the Rabbi at first, slowly pivots in His seat.

When He opens his mouth to answer, your face pales.

“Yes.”

For a moment, you lock eyes with Lazarus, who looks from you to his sister Mary, who has a certain sparkle in her eye that makes you convinced that she believes, too.

And so do you.

Something within your spirit puts you on edge in a way you have never experienced before. It reels inside your gut in a strange way, as if everything in your soul is teetering on the edge of interfering, but that same spirit holds you back from doing so, convinced that He knows how to handle this all.

“You are a false prophet!” Benjamin accuses.

Mother Mary gasps in shock and you put a hand on her shoulder to comfort her immediately. Lazarus reaches over to put a hand on the elderly Rabbi’s shoulder. “Woah, that is quite a thing to say! Jesus, maybe we should leave.”

Aaron interrupts: “Lazarus, you’re His friend, you cannot be involved! You know what the law of Moses says–”

“We are all His friends, Aaron,” Lazarus counters. “We cannot say things like this!”

“Jesus, stand up at once!” Benjamin orders, but Lazarus tries to fan the flames.

“Rabbi, please. Rafi, come with Jesus and me, we will leave, and you can all continue the service.”

Slowly, Jesus rises from the chair.

Rafi clearly draws his own conclusions. “Rabbi Benjamin has asserted false prophecy and I cannot argue it.”

Lazarus will not have any of it. “You said you saw the miracle!”

“He’s saying only He can save us!” Rafi bites.

“He did not use those words–”

“–It’s what I meant.” Jesus quips, earning Him a glare from Lazarus.

“Jesus, you’re not helping!” Lazarus pleads.

Deciding to intervene between your bickering childhood friends, you stand and make your way down to them. “Rafi, are you deaf? And blind? Have you not heard the stories of the miracles? Have you not tasted the wine?”

Aaron scoffs. “Those are just rumours! You’ve got no evidence, and people can say whatever they want. As long as enough people tell the same story, you’d believe anything, wouldn’t you, (Y/n)? Always so gullible…” He shakes his head almost pitifully.

You let out a noise. “And you, not even considering the words of a Man you know to be trustworthy, even though He makes things so clear right now! You really like making things difficult!”

Jesus puts a hand on your shoulder and you turn to Him. He smiles at you softly, His gaze containing a certain kind of warmth that fills you with rest. It is the briefest of moments, but intense nevertheless.

Rafi points a finger at Jesus, breaking the moment of eye-contact. “He’s saying we are not the Holy One’s chosen!”

“Now, He did not say that!”

Rabbi Benjamin’s voice is like ice, full of fury, unlike anything you've ever heard before. It makes the hairs of your neck stand on end. “In words, the book of Moses; ‘But the prophet who presumes to speak a word in My Name that I have not commanded him to speak, that same prophet shall die.’...”

As Lazarus leans closer, he lowers the volume of his voice. Jesus’ mother seems distraught and anxious. “Rabbi Benjamin, I beg of you… Not this…”

“Lazarus,” Jesus calmly hums, “It’s fine…”

“Jesus they’re going to–” Jesus leans closer to His friend and whispers something in his ear for a few moments. As soon as He pulls back, Lazarus stares at Him rather nervously.

“Yes?” Jesus acknowledges, and Lazarus reassures Him.

Before you can speculate, Lazarus locks eyes with you, and nods towards Jesus’ mother Mary, whose eyebrows are furrowed in fear of her Son’s safety. You immediately understand the hint, rushing over to her and crouching down to take her hand in yours. She gives you a grateful glance, but it soon focuses back to her Son, Whose safety she so desperately fears.

“Jesus…” Benjamin utters, “If you do not renounce Your words, we will have no choice but to follow the Law of Moses…”

You can hear your own blood rush inside your ears as the strain within the synagogue reaches its breaking point. The Messiah steps closer to the Rabbi, His eyes filled with heartache.

When Jesus speaks, it is the straw that breaks the camel’s back:

“I AM the Law of Moses.”

Benjamin staggers back, gasping in indignation. Before you can truly process what is going on, Jesus is grabbed into His tunic by Rafi and Aaron, who shove Him towards the exit. They yank off the tallit that is still draped over His shoulders and Mary reaches out. You can barely hold her back to keep her from harm, but Lazarus soon assists you.

Before He is pushed outside, Jesus has a moment of intense eye-contact with His mother, but then, He is forced out.

As Jesus is led out of the synagogue by the angry mob, Mary starts to sob. You can barely look at what is happening, your entire being frightened and shaking, but you cannot follow the crowd to see if there is a way to save Him. All you can do is comfort His mother, who accepts your embrace as you pull her into your arms. Her form trembles in agony.

“Jesus promised that He’d be alright,” Lazarus reassures both His mother and you as everyone pours out of the synagogue, “We will meet Him after sundown on the outskirts of Nazareth, where His father is buried. Mary, you know the place, right?”

Slightly calmed by the words, Mary nods meekly, but her demeanour remains distraught. And who could blame her? Although she trusts that her Son’s word is true, and that He will be alright, a mother’s instinct is ever so strong.

“It will be fine, Mary,” you whisper, yet still filled with questions. “Is this all true? Is He truly the Messiah?”

Mary nods, her lips trembling as fresh tears brim on her eyes.

“He is.”

Your mind spins with everything you feel in this very moment - confusion, happiness, relief, fear. “Then why do they not accept Him? I don’t… I don’t understand. The signs and wonders…”

Mary slowly shakes her head, sniffling a bit, seemingly calming down. “I do not know,” she whispers, “But what I do know is to trust Him on His word.”

“Always, Mary,” you reassure her, “Always.”

You remain in the synagogue until the sun has fully set.

#the chosen #reader insert #the chosen x reader #x reader #chosen x reader #angel studios #the chosen jesus #jesus x reader

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 8 months

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Headcanons | Thaddeus, Andrew & Big James reacting to you being injured | Romantic

Thaddeus

It is common knowledge that Thaddeus is a man who wants to do things right as well as that he is very gentle and caring.

When you show up to camp with a snake bite on your ankle, he immediately suggests bringing you to Jesus.

However, when he realises Jesus isn’t around, he starts to panic a little.

To make sure nobody bothers you, he sends everyone away out of the most comfortable tent so that you can properly lay down until Jesus comes back.

It doesn’t take long for a fever to start so Thaddeus wastes no time and cools your forehead with a damp rag.

He says the softest and sweetest words to console you. Despite your writhing, he remains calm.

He tells you stories about his youth as a stonemason to distract you.

He doesn’t show it but he is panicking on the inside. The last thing he wants is for you to be worried about him.

This man loves you with his whole heart and this just proves it even more.

Once Jesus shows up and heals you, Thaddeus cries a little because he is so glad that you are still alive.

And you cry in turn because you’re so grateful to have him.

Andrew

The two of you are in Jerusalem one afternoon when you accidentally ingest something that is off and are immediately hit with a terrible vomiting spell as well as a high fever in the middle of the city.

Andrew goes full panic mode. He holds onto you and promises to bring you to Jesus as soon as he can.

Right away, he feels guilty for not paying enough attention to what you were eating, even though he couldn’t have known. He is convinced that your wellbeing is his responsibility.

When your face grows pale and your legs are too weak to carry you any further, his anxiety grows even more.

Andrew is more concerned about your health than you are.

He frantically starts asking strangers for help, but most of them turn away in disgust as they witness you puking into an empty bowl.

He is sobbing and grabbing onto people’s tunics at a certain point, begging them for their assistance or directions to the nearest physician.

At a certain point, he is so afraid to lose you that he sits down next to you and holds you, pressing his face against your shoulder and basically starts whispering his goodbyes and saying that he is sorry for not protecting you.

In spite of your weak and ill state, you tell him that you’ll be fine.

At that moment, Simon Peter and Nathanael pass by with their arms loaded full of supplies. They notice you and rush back to camp to fetch Jesus.

As soon as you are healed by Jesus, you turn to comfort Andrew instead, who mutters that he was so afraid to lose you. You tell him that you love him and that you’re not going anywhere.

Big James

Tough Guy™ who is only soft and gentle for his significant other trope.

While setting up camp, you accidentally tear yourself a gash on the palm of your hand owing to a rusty nail that you didn’t see on time.

Big James sees you right in time when you’re about to faint and catches you before you’re able to hit the ground.

He scoops you up without much effort and calls the others to get Jesus, but He isn’t present.

Trying to stay as calm as possible, he carries you to the nearest table and places you on top of it so he can look at your injury.

Your hand is bleeding terribly but he doesn’t care that you are getting it all into his tunic.

Barely breaking a sweat, he tries his best to clean it up and allows you to squeeze his shoulder to alleviate the pain as he wraps it up in a clean piece of cloth.

For the time being, it will do.

He gives you a kiss on your forehead and promises to keep you company until Jesus is here.

You thank him and hug him tightly, feeling safe in his arms while you wait for the Teacher to return to camp and heal you.

Even after Jesus heals you, James remains protective over you.

From that moment on, he doesn’t let you handle the rusty nails anymore.

#the chosen #reader insert #the chosen x reader #x reader #chosen x reader #the chosen headcanons #the chosen thaddeus #the chosen andrew #the chosen big james #thaddeus x reader #big james x reader #andrew x reader

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