#the chosen simon the zealot

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Simon the Zealot | Right Place, Right Time | Romantic

Dialogue prompt: “I don’t know what to say, or do.” 

After decades of being left in the dark about his fate, you reunite with your childhood sweetheart under the least expected circumstances. 

Requested by Katie

Ramah is engrossed in her reading as you take slow, deliberate sips of your drink, legs folded underneath you as you sit in the shade of the tent. The days have been slow but you have been managing well enough, making yourself useful by gathering herbs and fruits as well as supporting the women in their endeavours. You admire Ramah’s eagerness to learn how to read and write, for you personally haven’t found the courage to pick up either a scroll or a pen yet. Perhaps that one day, you’ll feel brave enough to give it a go, although you are fully aware that you aren’t getting any younger. 

 Mary enters the tent, wondering out loud how Ramah is doing.

“How is it?” 

She takes a seat on the opposite side of the table. 

“It’s hard work.” admits Ramah, “How old were you when you learned this?” 

You look at the woman in question, also wondering about this. 

“I was young.” Mary states. “I think it’s easier when you’re a child, but I had a better teacher than you.”

There is truth to the statement that things are always easier to learn when done in the prime years of childhood, when minds maintain information like a sponge, but you feel like she is cutting herself short on the latter part of her sentence. 

“I’m sorry about before.” Mary apologises about something that you weren’t part of, so you aren’t certain what is going on.

“Don’t worry about it.” Ramah reassures, but Mary is adamant about it.

“I just feel, um… I don’t know, I… I saw a Roman on horseback today when I was picking persimmons.”  Her brow furrows, obviously troubled, and concern tugs at your heart as you lean closer to her. You have heard about her past and what trauma it had prompted within her.

“Did he question you?” you ask before Ramah can. Mary shakes her head. 

“No… He didn’t even see me… But just the sight of him made me…” she hesitates, “Filled me with…”

When she doesn’t find the right words to say, Mary lets her shoulders slump. “I just dropped my basket and ran. Totally ignored the prayers in my hands.” There is distress in her expression.

“This is hard. Not just the readings.” Ramah says, and it somewhat seems to lessen Mary’s tension as she inhales deeply through her nose, lifting her chin a bit. 

“Do you want to try again?” Mary smiles a little. 

Ramah needs a moment to gather the courage before grabbing her things to start a new reading exercise. As she does so, Mary’s face twists into a grimace. The woman reaches for her forehead as she frowns, rubbing her brow. 

“What’s wrong?” Ramah’s concerned voice sounds. “Mary?” 

You reach over to a distressed Mary in the hopes of comforting her, when a strange noise tears through the surface of the tent. 

“What’s that sound?” 

As you witness Mary’s sudden change of mood, you realise that something is seriously wrong. The three of you rise to your feet, Ramah already exiting the tent as you help up Mary, Thomas and Matthew soon joining you right outside. 

“What’s that sound?” Mary is clearly agitated, her body tense. 

“Are you okay? Mary?” Matthew worriedly queries. 

Before she can respond, a strange man rushes from between the tents, back straightened in an unnatural way. Ramah squeals. Your heart rears inside your chest as he sharply pivots to you and your friends, a strange sound tearing from his lungs. Out of protectiveness, Thomas holds a blunt knife out in the unwanted guest’s direction. “That smell…” The dishevelled looking figure says it with such venom in his voice that it makes the hairs of your neck stand on end. “It’s on all of you, but worse! Putrid!”

“Don’t come any closer.” Matthew bravely warns, stepping in front of Mary. The man smirks mockingly. Mary brushes past the former tax-collector, attempting to appear confident.

“…Lillith?” the man whispers.

Mary narrows her eyes and steps closer. “I don’t answer to that name.” 

The man dangerously hums. “Hmmm… They told me about you.”

“Did they?” 

“All seven of them.” The man nods.

“My name is Mary.” You’ve never seen her in this way. “It was always Mary.” 

The stranger’s arms flex at his sides.

“Oh, the stories they had.” He approaches her, huffing in mocking amusement. “You’re scared.” 

Mary closes more distance. “What’s your name?” she whispers, so softly that you nearly don’t catch it. You share a look with Ramah, who is equally as confused as to what is going on. 

“Belial, spawn of Oriax, fifth knight of Legion.” A chill runs down your spine as it suddenly clicks inside your mind — this is a man possessed by demons. He grins wickedly at Mary, who shakes her head.

“What’s your real name?” 

The man’s muscles seem to convulse inside his neck as he grits his teeth, grinding them together as if everything inside of his being is battling his nature. “That smell, it’s on all of you!” 

“What did your mother call you?” Mary determinedly insists.

He clasps as his throat, his lips trying to form the words. “C-Cal… Cal—” He exhales, suddenly straightening his back. A smug look appears on his face, as if taken over once again. “Can’t say.” He chuckles darkly. 

“Please say your name.” Mary pleads. 

The man steps forward threateningly, ready to reach for her, grab her collar and push her to the ground, when a sudden force collides with his back. Another stranger yanks him away from her, making the demon-possessed man stagger and grunt. A dagger shimmers in the sunlight — curved, sharp, lethal. 

“Leave.” The man with the dagger commands. Something about his shoulders and the way his hair curls strikes a strange chord of familiarity within you. The possessed man sits on his hands and knees, crawling towards his assailant. He darkly chuckles, as if about to say something. It’s enough to make the unexpected rescuer to be caught off-guard and is tackled to the ground with a force that can’t be coming just from the measly bones of the haunted man. 

As the weapon is flung from his hand, the stranger who pulled the possessed man away from Mary immediately rolls and reaches for it, but to no avail. They struggle in the dust for a brief moment before the possessed man’s hands close around his throat, putting inhumane pressure onto it. The rest of you are frozen in shock; Thomas is still holding the knife in the direction of the fight, as if it would make a difference. 

“Out!” Your hear His voice before you see Him. Jesus rushes towards the scene together with Simon, Andrew, Philip and John the Baptist. “Out of Him!” The Legion listens without a second of hesitation, the stranger’s back arching as his head is thrown backwards. It seems like a painful process as he collapses next to the man who had rescued Mary earlier. Out of breath, he staggers away from the now-limp figure laying next to him. 

A beat of intense silence passes. Everyone’s gaze is fixed upon the trembling form of the formerly possessed man. John the Baptist — in typical John fashion — cheers. “Yeah!” It would have been amusing under other circumstances, but everyone is so in shock about what has taken place, that all faces remain serious. Jesus slowly approaches the quivering man, putting a hand on his shoulder to help him turn to face Him. “It’s alright. Welcome back.” 

They share a few words whispered too softly to be heard by you. Your gaze is instead focused on the man who had pulled the possessed man away from Mary, trying to figure out where you recognise him from. Jesus pulls the formerly tortured man, apparently named Caleb, to his feet as John curiously steps closer to the man with the dagger.

“When did you pick up the Zealot?” he asks Jesus. Your heart drops. A Zealot? You are immediately on edge, fully aware that assassins are bad news. The supposed Zealot is still out of breath as John offers him his hand. “I’m John.” 

Without tearing his gaze away from Jesus, the Zealot gets to his feet. There is something akin to awe in his features now that you get a closer look at him. Those eyes. You’d recognise them everywhere, and now that you get a proper moment to drink him in, you realise who it is. Simon.

You don’t dare break the moment between him and Jesus, though. Simon’s gaze is watery as he gazes upon Jesus. 

“Did You heal my brother in Jerusalem?” 

Jesus smiles, and you feel a large gawk spread over your face, your hand covering your mouth as you realise he’s talking about Jesse. “Rabbi?” 

“Yes.” 

Simon takes a moment to breathe, his face twisting into raw emotion. “Then You are…” 

“Yes.” 

“And then where are your ah…” 

“They’re right here.” Jesus gestures at the rest of the group as Simon takes it in. His eyes flicker through the unassuming, ragtag crowd of followers. “Not the fierce warriors you pictured by My side when you were in the catacombs?” 

Simon chuckles at that. 

“There are more who are not here at the moment. Let’s go for a walk, Simon, son of Zebulon.” 

Before Jesus can walk off with him, though, you call out his name. “Simon of Ashkelon?” He freezes and slowly turns to you, wondering how you know his origin. He hadn’t observed you properly when taking in the followers a few moments prior, so when he now takes a good look at you, recognition floods his features.  

“(Y/n)?” he realises in a whisper. Simon looks at Jesus, then back at you. The Messiah smiles knowingly. “(Y/n), how are you here? Why— What—”

Jesus cuts the conversation short.

“—You two catch up later. I need to speak to Simon, first.” Then, Jesus gives the rest a few tasks to take care of Caleb, who is still injured and hungry due to his earlier possession. “Boys, tend to his wounds. Thomas, go get him some food. Ramah, check on Mary, please.”

They all nod as Jesus leads away Simon. Your mind is racing with a thousand questions as he gives you one final look over his shoulder before following your Rabbi. Had John’s suggestion be right, that he was indeed a Zealot?

“You two seem to know one another.” Ramah is stating the obvious but you don’t sense irritation because of the statement. You stare at Simon and Jesus as they disappear into the distance with a solemn expression on your face, all the memories from the past suddenly flooding back and settling deep inside your chest.

“We do.” you confess, “We were childhood friends back in our hometown Ashkelon. His older brother, Jesse, fell from a tree when he was young and got paralysed from the waist down. In our younger days, we played together a lot, and when we were teenagers, well… I thought we would end up together, and I believed that he felt the same way. Then one day, he was just gone. Not a single message left behind for me. Nothing. And now I hear that he might have become a Zealot?” There is unresolved hurt in your voice that seeps through before you can even realise it has formed on your tongue. Ramah puts a hand on your shoulder and gently squeezes upon hearing the pain you are clearly still feeling. “And now, he is here. What is going on?” 

“I’m sure he will tell you in due time,” Ramah comforts you, “Let him speak to Jesus first. I’m confident he will come to you next. Now, I’m going to see if  Mary is okay.” 

You nod, nervously picking at your nails as you start pacing back and forth. You are still trying to make sense of Simon being here, what brought him to this place and what caused him to weep before Jesus the moment he saw Him, and what the deal with Jesse is.

Although convinced that Simon will tell you, you still feel a bit anxious to speak to him again in private after such a long time. 

After what feels like forever, the two walk back into camp. Simon walks up to you right away. There is an obvious uneasiness in his gaze, as if he has been caught doing something he hadn’t been supposed to do, or if you were his mother about to chastise him. “We need to talk.” There is a sternness in your voice that only intensifies this expression. 

“Shall we go somewhere more private, then?” he suggests, which you agree upon. The two of you head over to a more secluded area just outside of the camp, hidden away by the trees. A log lays on the ground on which the two of you take a seat in an attempt to make this unexpected reunion a little more comfortable. Turning to Simon, you take a deep breath before speaking.

“So, you are a follower of Jesus now, I take it?” 

He smiles and rests his hands on his knees. “I am. And you are, too. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.” 

You let out a pleasant hum at that. A brief silence follows.

“I was convinced I was never going to see you again.” you admit.

Simon lets out a noise. “Likewise, (Y/n). Especially here, with Jesus. What landed you with Him?”

“I heard accounts of miracles and decided to check their reliability. I suppose I got more than what I bargained for.” You smile a bit at the memory, which is definitely a good one. Your childhood friend lets out a small hum as he observes your expression, feeling his heart swell upon seeing it.

“How about you? All these years ago… What happened?”  

“I left Jesse a note. Didn’t he tell you?” 

You give a shake of your head. Simon draws a sharp breath, realising his brother wanted to protect you from the hurt that you’d have felt, had you known what he had been up to in these past years of his absence.

He gives you a look — apologetic? — and scratches his jaw in a bit of an awkward manner, as if nervous to admit something. 

“I… Ran away, as you know. To… To train and get stronger.”

“Did you… Did you really join the Zealots?” 

Simon swallows hard, shame shimmering inside his gaze as he gazes at you. You had deserved to know earlier. He should have told you in person, for it would have saved you a lot of hurt.

“Yes.” He whispers. “I did indeed join the Zealots of the Fourth Philosophy. I… I hope you will not hate me for it.”

You feel the colour drain from your face. Now, the supposed implication has been confirmed by Simon himself. The man you had been heartbroken about had left to become an actual assassin? A murderer? It takes a moment to gather your thoughts. Simon waits patiently for you to speak first. About a minute passes before you find the courage to open your mouth again.

“You joined the Zealots…” you whisper, running a hand down your face as your voice teeters on disbelief. 

“The Zealots. You became an assassin? Really? That was the reason you left— The legacy you risked it all for?! Do you know how devastated Jesse was when you left—” 

“I know, I know, I— I’ve never killed anyone, but when I visited Jerusalem I found out that Jesus—”

“—Do you know how devastated I was?” 

You don’t mean to raise your voice, but it happens nevertheless. Unannounced tears suddenly roll down your cheeks, causing Simon to have to resist the urge to reach out and brush them away. 

“When you left, you never let us know anything. You never wrote— We didn’t even know if you were alive in the first place! Turns out you were learning on how to be a killer…!” 

The heartbrokenness in your voice seeps through and Simon feels guilt shunt through his chest. 

“Jesse moved to Jerusalem with the help of some friends from the village. My father died while I was out there just— Just waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and you never returned!” 

“You waited for me?” Simon’s voice wavers as you swallow the lump in your throat — or at least attempt to — and you give him a soundless nod, averting your gaze as you suddenly feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you. 

“I know you didn’t owe me anything, but I just… I thought we… You know... That we would eventually end up…” you can’t finish the rest of your sentence without tearing up too much, and let out a shaky breath to keep yourself from bursting out in tears. All these years of worrying, paired with the loss of your father, your silent hope for him to return; all its weight came crashing down at once into a strange concoction of grief and heartbreak about something that you had so desperately wanted but never was. 

“I’m sorry— If I had known…” Simon sounds deflated, as if he has just been hit with a truth that had been in front of him all along, and he takes a moment to collect his thoughts. “Honestly, (Y/n), I don’t know what to say, or do. All that I know that I should have realised all of this way before I joined the Zealots, and… Well, now that we follow Jesus… That changes everything, doesn’t it?” 

You wipe your tears on your sleeve as you overthink his words. You let your eyes focus back on his facial features since it had become blurred by your tears. There is a certain softness in his features that you have never seen before — not even in your childhood — and you wonder if meeting Jesus has had anything to do with it. You’re know that ever since Jesus, nothing has ever been the same for you, either. 

“It does.” you mutter, your pain ebbing away slowly. “Everything that matters now is Him.” 

“Would things have been different if I hadn’t left?” Simon wonders out loud.

“Do you really need to ask?” 

Simon sighs. He already knows the answer. 

“What we should be wondering instead…” you whisper, “Would it have led us both to Jesus, had things been different back then? Had you remained, would Jesse have gone to Jerusalem and met with the Messiah? Would you have believed, Simon, if not for all of that?” 

A brief silence follows as he lets the words hang in the air. 

“Maybe. Maybe not. The circumstances put me in Jerusalem, about to assassinate a Roman senator, right where I witnessed Jesse standing on his own feet after decades of being paralysed. I can’t say for certain what would have happened if I had not joined the Zealots. Not to condone it, of course. I… In my note, to Jesse… I said that I would know that if I saw him standing on his feet again, I’d know that the Messiah had come… Lo and behold… I had to keep my word. Jesse needed to be there to meet Jesus, and I needed to be there to meet Jesse.” 

You can’t help a shiver of a smile from spreading over your lips.

“You know what, Si?” you mutter, “Perhaps we would have reached this point right here and now even under different conditions, but still… God has turned both our paths in His direction, and Jesus has called us by name to follow Him. We are right here, right now, right where we are supposed to be.” 

“I hope and pray you can forgive me, (Y/n). I understand if not, that I’ve hurt you too much to deserve such a thing, and that I—” 

“I do. I already have.” you whisper. Grabbing his hand, you squeeze it softly. He returns the gesture before releasing it. The same thrill you always felt while he was near in your youth is still there. That never changed. “Jesus wants you here. He asked you the most important question of your life and you answered positively. That means that I want you here, too. Regardless of what you did in the past.”

Your genuine smile has Simon sigh in relief. He opens his mouth, as if wanting to say something, but he decides against it. When you urge him on by giving him a look, he gives you a smile that is almost rueful, his eyes shimmering with something you can’t quite place. 

“It’s too early to ask. Unfair, too.” 

Your heart stutters. “To ask what?” 

Simon lets out a shaky breath. “I… Seeing you again after such a long time, it’s like… It feels like we’ve never been apart. I’ve… I’ve missed you a whole lot while I was gone, and I never expected to meet with you again, but here we are… And… Well, I feel… I feel that suddenly, everything makes a lot more sense in life. Not only with Jesus, but also that I’m finally face to face with you again.” 

He seems a bit abashed upon admitting it, “Back in the day, I was very sweet on you. I just never gathered the courage to confront my own feelings and discuss them with you. I guess that what I’m trying to get is, is that… Do you think, that after all this time, and I understand if not… Do we still have a chance? That things… May work out between us, despite all of this?” 

“Despite all of this?” you parrot, “Really? I’d say… I’d say especially because of this, Simon. I think we are both here for a reason, that we meet again under these new circumstances that neither of us expected. That God made us wait. For here. For now. But…” 

Something anxious crosses his gaze — an expression you’ve hardly ever seen on him — so you quickly give Simon a reassuring smile. “But now, we should focus on Jesus first and foremost. We will still wait for God’s timing when it comes to a potential marriage.” 

Simon exhales, agreeing with your words. “I… Yes, that should be our main goal. And whatever else may come of it, it will come once the time is right.” 

You hum and smile, something akin to amusement glittering in your eyes, and Simon gives you a curious look. “What, what’s so funny?” 

“Well, I’ve waited for decades. I think I can wait for a few more years if necessary.” 

At that, Simon chuckles, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder. 

This day and age, here and now. Both of you are right where you are supposed to be.  

[imnotkosmic]

Moments from "The Chosen" that live rent free in my head:

• Season two: John the Baptist excitingly screaming "yeah!" when Jesus cast a demon from Caleb.

• Season two: "The Son of Man- that's Me, btw."

• Season two: Simon P and Andrew's argument ("My little brother whom I love very much?")

• Season two: Phillip's introduction was the best.

• Season three: BIG AND LITTLE JAMES HUGGED ON THEIR 2 BY 2 MISSION AND BIG JAMES HAD TO PICK LIL' JAMES UP BECAUSE HE'S SO SMALL.

• Season three: Angry Phillip.

• Season three: When the man broke into Andrew's flat. ("Knock next time!")

• Season three: When Simon P told Nathaniel and Z to be quite.

• Season three: The Sons of Thunder being jealous of each other because of Thomas.

• Season two/three: Thomas asked Ramah to marry him???

• Season one: "I'm not exactly jumping of out my sandals because Creepy John pointed at someone!"

• Season one: When Andrew got that huge coat for Jesus ("I think I could fit all of you in here with Me.")

• Season two/three: Jesus telling John (and Little James I'm pretty sure?) that He loved them.

• Seasons two and three: Jesus calling His disciples by their nicknames.

• Season two: Simon P introducing the others to Simon Z ("That's Nathaniel, he says what first comes to his mind, so don't be offended.")

• Season two: The Son's of Thunder and the Son's of Jonah competing to see who goes fishing. (Sore loser Andrew lol)

[dragongguk]

ok but zee's initial reaction to being paired with matthew!!! the way he's so confused as to why everyone reacted like that bc matthew is (definitely) so endearing to him

[ghostsmp3]

Matthew 5:3-12a (NIV): Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven.

[getting-used-to-different]

The Zealots: This year, we lost our dear friend, Simon Z

Simon Z: Quit telling everyone I'm dead!

The Zealots: Sometimes I can still hear his voice...

[28appleteeth]

Simon Zee oneshot in the works because I love him dearly!! His characterization in The Chosen is so very interesting to me, and he definitely falls under the kind of “human weapon” category of character and he’s learning to deconstruct that and the ideals taught to him and OUGHHH I love him

[fattened-goose]

Stargazing | Philip, Simon the Zealot, and Big James.

A/N: I realize some of these aren’t really under the brim of stargazing, but I couldn’t think of something else that would fit for a title ‘cause I’m not that creative. 😅 these are my first preferences on this blog, and I’d like to thank my dear friend @multifandomsofficial for helping me out with them.

Warnings: possible bad writing and punctuation.

From the first day you’d started to follow Jesus you’d caught his eye. The memory of your first day brought the corners of his lips into an upturned U shape. You looked lovely that day too, but following Jesus had made you even lovelier. You never seemed to pay him any mind though, always spending your time learning scripture with Mary M and Matthew.

Sure, you’d greet Philip in passing but you never seemed drawn to him. He was drawn to you though, which is what made him approach you even though he was nervous. Wiping his palms against his tunic, he approached you, a small grin twisting his lips upward when you greeted him with a smile.

“Shalom, Philip.” The words left you gently and quietly, the small nod of your head that accompanied them boosting his moral.

“Shalom, Y/N, may I join you?”

He fidgeted slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a hopeful glint as he waited for your reply. Heart warming at his inquiry, you nodded quickly before patting the blanket beside you.

“Of course!”

With a widening smile, his skin crinkled around his eyes a bit as he sat down. Scooting so there was a respectful space between you, his fingers brushed against yours lightly in the process, bringing a red tint to his cheeks as well as your own. You, however, failed to notice the blush that covered his cheeks as you gazed up at the stars that blanketed the sky.

Beautiful, dazzling orbs of milky crystal that twinkled brightly around the perfectly full moon. The sounds of the crickets chirping and the wood crackling on the fire only adding to the peaceful delight. The ambience of it all bringing a grin to your face which Philip hadn’t failed to notice, all the more adding to his own grin.

Where you had failed earlier to notice his blush when his fingers brushed yours, you didn’t fail to pick up on him glancing at you from the corner of your eye. It was now your turn to blush, a gentle laugh escaping from your lips at the attention. The sound making him chuckle gently, the two of you breaking the comfortable silence you’d been in.

Daring to look over at him, your eyes landed on his kind dark ones, twinkling in the fire light. A shy smile covered your lips before looking back at the sky.

“Do you like stargazing?” The question breaking the comfortable silence you both had been resting in.

“Yes, but I don’t know enough about it to even know what I’m looking at…” you admitted, eyes drifting back over to his, “I’m a novice.”

“We all have to start somewhere, huh?” Tone light as he winked at you before motioning back up to the sky, his hand sweeping in an arc over it, “would you like to learn some constellations?”

“Only if you’d like to teach me some.” You beamed at him, the sight making his stomach as well as your own flutter.

“Sure, it’s one of my talents; being able to recite Torah at the drop of a hat and pointing out constellations.” His good natured bragging followed by a chuckle and a smile.

“Surely, you have more than two talents.” You teased back, eyes meeting his again as you worked up courage to be a little bolder. Your nerves relaxing a bit due to his kind and goofy demeanor.

“Well, nobody wants to be around a braggart.” He joked, “besides, if I tell you everything I’ll have nothing left to impress you with.” With this he shrugged slightly, pointing back up to the sky and tracing an imaginary line to explain a constellation.

Giving him your full attention, a smile painted its way over your lips, as you listened to him intently. Little did he know, he never really had to do much to impress you.

(Also, if anyone could teach me how to slow gifs down I’d be very thankful.)

~*~

You tossed restlessly in your bedroll, everyone around you in the women’s tent experiencing the most peaceful sleep, except for you of course. It’s not that you weren’t tired, you were of course, it had to be well past midnight after all. You just were having trouble quieting your mind, rolling flat onto your back you sighed deeply. Staring at the darkness that blanketed the inside of the tent.

Sitting up you looked around, making sure everyone was asleep before quietly tiptoeing out of the tent. Looking back one last time you shut the entrance flap, before making your way to the log that sat on the other side of the camp.

The cool air causing goosebumps to rise on your skin and the hair on the back of your neck to stand up. Instantly you wished you’d thought to bring your shawl or your blanket with you in order to stave off the cold. Daring to perch on an end of the log, you let out a gasp of surprise when it turned out to be wet. The sound echoing through the quiet atmosphere, making you hold your breath for a minute before standing back up.

A grimace covered your face before a quiet laugh escaped your throat at the ridiculousness of the situation. You shook your head, moving over to the glowing embers that were now the remnants of the once roaring fire that had danced in the makeshift pit situated in middle of the camp. Figuring it would still be somewhat warm you squatted down, settling on the edge of the pit.

It wasn’t as warm as it could be but it would suffice until you went back to the women’s tent. Staring softly at the orange and red embers your mind soon slowed down. Slowed down as much as possible before you were startled by someone coming up behind you. You barely heard them, had it not been so quiet you wouldn’t have heard them at all.

What if it’s a Roman?

Panicking, you stood and turned a bit too quickly, stumbling backward as you rocked abruptly on your heels, the only saving grace being the person’s hand grabbing onto your shoulder in order to steady you.

“Y/N, are you ok?”

Taking a minute to get your bearings, you rocked forward slightly on your toes before steadying yourself. You were embarrassed to say the least, especially after you saw that it was Simon. Your cheeks pink due to the epic blunder you’d just subjected him too. Exhaling, you nodded quickly as you smiled up at him, “I’m glad it’s you!”

The expression rushing out before you’d fully formulated what you wanted to say making your cheeks grow even redder and butterflies start up in your stomach. Simon on the other hand looked at you with slightly widened eyes for a second, smiling at you gently before squeezing your shoulder lightly. Your breath catching in your throat slightly, at this point he had to know how you felt about him. He was too perceptive not to.

“Let’s sit down.” Releasing your shoulder, he removed his cloak with a flourish, laying it on the ground for you to sit on. The chivalrous act making your heart melt slightly as he studied you carefully.

“You’re cold.” He mumbled, stoking the embers to get the fire going again, your eyes drawn to his muscles that moved in perfect sync under the sleeves of his tunic. Your face grew hot and you forced yourself to look away, thankful that you did before he turned around again. Fixing you with a friendly grin, he reached out to pluck a leaf out of your hair with gentle precision.

“It should start getting warmer now.” motioning to the fire in front of the two of you.

“How’d you know it was me out here?” Your eyebrows raising slightly in bewilderment as the question rolled off your tongue. His head cocked while he surveyed you, lips poised in a warm smile, “I heard someone moving around out here, so, I looked out the tent and saw that it was you.”

This surprised you even more, you’d tried to be quiet but you’d failed, with your mouth agape you gawked at him, eyes wide and unblinking causing a chuckle to leave his throat, “don’t worry, you weren’t being loud.”

“How’d you hear me then?”

“I have very keen senses.” He smiled at you, the affectionate look causing your stomach to drop and your cheeks to heat up.

“So, keen in fact…” he paused, his finger drawing an imaginary line across the sky, the line following a glistening silver streak, making your eyes light up as you gazed after it.

“It’s a shooting star.” He stated, watching you look at it with amazement still glistening in your eyes, “make a wish.”

“Simon, it’s beautiful.” The words a whisper, your eyes following it until it disappeared from view. Turning to see him grinning at you, you grinned back, “I wish I knew how you spot stuff so quickly.”

“Time and practice.” His voice almost lower than a whisper now and laced with embarrassment, “I’ve spent a lot of time outside at night…”

He was no doubt referring to his former days, too embarrassed to meet your eyes, a sight that made you frown a bit.

“But, that’s all behind you now, Jesus said that we’re no longer what we once were.” The words comforting him enough that he shot you a shy smile. You both sat in comfortable silence for a few seconds, hugging your knees to your chest and resting your chin on them. While he looked to be in thought, laughing at the yawn that left you.

“I think I’ll head in now.”

Nodding at you, he stood and offered you his hand to pull you up off the ground, your stomach dropping at the contact of his calloused palm against your skin. He smiled at you, watching as you walked a few steps toward the tent before whispering, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Simon.” The tired smile you gave him melting his heart as you entered the tent. Smiling softly to himself, he walked back to his own tent. Fingers laced behind his head as went, hoping one day he’d be able to work up the courage to tell you about his feelings for you.

Laying with your head on your husband’s arm that was positioned behind you, you both gazed up at the stars.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” You asked, cuddling up closer to James only to have his arm wrap around you tightly in an effort to shield you from the cold. His lips pressed gently onto your temple, the scruffiness of his beard tickling you slightly.

A laugh rose from your throat at the sensation, your head turned toward his, giving him a return peck on the cheek. His eyebrows raising at you slightly, before smiling over at you, his fingers tangling in your hair.

“Not as beautiful as you, my heart.”

“James…” his name left your lips with a giggle, the soft blush that covered your cheeks melting his heart and making his smile widen as you snuggled closer to him. The sounds of the others laughing and joking around the fire just barely audible as the wind carried their voices toward you.

“I’m glad we were able to sneak away for a bit even though it’s cold, you’re a far better companion for looking at stars than John is.”

The shiver that raced its way through your body causing James to pull you even closer. Turning onto your stomach, you rested your chin on James’ chest, a coy grin making its way to your lips. The sight making him release a breathy laugh, “what?”

His fingers gently separating strands of your hair, while his dark eyes drank in the sight of you, obviously pleased with the jest that was poised on your lips.

“You did a lot of stargazing with John, did you?”

At this his brow furrowed slightly at you, as he fought off a smile, “In a manner of speaking.”

The mischievous glimmer in your eye forcing the smile onto his face, a throaty laugh escaping past his lips as he elaborated, “the stars are still out in the morning if you get up early enough, although, I don’t snuggle up to John like this.”

His arms giving you a tender squeeze in an effort to emphasize the word snuggle, eyes meeting yours with a warm affection glinting in them. Smiling at him, your fingers traced along the neck of his tunic before teasing, “you don’t snuggle up to Andrew or Simon either do you?”

A sour look crossed his face for a second, only to be replaced by a gentle smile as a playful tut left his lips, “especially not to them, not even for all the silver in the world.”

You laughed quietly, as his fingers tangled in the ends of you hair, “how fortunate for me to get all your cuddles.”

“How fortunate indeed.” He quipped, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose, his heart swelling with tenderness and warmth as you curled into him more, your eyes looking back up at the sky with admiration as he glanced at you with equal parts love and awe.

[nobrain-onlysteven]

forget zodiac signs… who’s your favorite disciple from The Chosen?

[stuff-the-chosen-didnt-say]

Zee: Get kidnapped. You’ll find out who your real friends are, I promise you that. 

Judas: I feel like there are probably steps you could take before that one

[straynoahide]

“The Lord has need of it” - The Chosen 4x08 'Humble'

Simon the Zealot quickly understood the given task and actually said nothing, Matthew asked many questions as to why they’re stealing a donkey. Simon later on referenced a prophecy of the coming of Israel’s King, humbly riding a donkey.

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Simon the Zealot | Carry You Home | Platonic

Requested: Yes

Your legs can’t carry you any further, but Simon can. It does, however, mean a dent in his tough-guy image.

Every step feels heavier than the previous one as you plod your way through the plains of Judea, your shins feeling like they are on fire ever since passing Jericho. Trailing behind far enough as is, you sigh in defeat as you let your eyes go to the horizon again, where Philip and Jesus are waiting for you. 

“Sorry that I’m keeping you behind,” Little James says next to you upon hearing the sound leaving your lungs, and it genuinely causes you to pull a face. 

“What? No!” you quip back, reassuring him, “You’re not a burden at all. My feet feel like they’re falling off. That sigh was not directed towards you.” 

James lets out a relieved noise and smiles a bit. “Well, at least I’m not lonely now.” You chuckle and look at him from the corner of your eye. 

“I wouldn't have left you alone regardless of my own feet, James.”

A pleasant silence befalls you two as you continue walking towards Jesus and Philip, who wear patient smiles on their faces. “Apologies for holding up the group.” you say, but the two men shake their heads. 

“Neither of you is doing such a thing,” Jesus tells you, smiling. “We cannot just leave you behind here, though. The others will go ahead and set up camp, so we can join them later.”

Feeling immediately a tad guilty for having the others do the heavy lifting, you open your mouth to protest: “But Teacher, we cannot let the rest do our hard manual labour for us! I’d feel so burdened if someone had to set up my tent all by himself!”

Putting a hand on your shoulder, Jesus gently squeezes it. “Stop worrying so much, (Y/n). I love you, but don’t talk yourself down about matters you cannot do anything about. It has been a long day and those who set up camp know very well that you’re exhausted, so don’t mention it, okay? And we both know you’d do the same for them if the roles had been reversed.”

You dutifully nod, knowing better than to question Jesus’ judgement, and lean on the long stick you had found on the side of the road earlier, which supports you on your walk. Still, your feet feel like they might fall off soon.

For a moment, you wonder if it would be strange to ask Jesus to alleviate your hurt, but when you look at Little James walking beside you, you realise that you would feel ashamed to complain about your temporary pain, whereas your friend has been in this discomfort all his life and never so much as complained. 

On the horizon, someone runs your way – it is your good friend Simon, who seems to be in a bit of a hurry. “Master,” he gasps, slightly out of breath upon arriving in front of the four of you, his sandals leaving a trail of dust in their wake. “The boys in the front are bickering again, they’re having trouble picking a place to sleep and they have all agreed that they will only let You pick a spot to camp now.”

Jesus lets out a chuckle and rolls His eyes playfully. “Oh, why am I not surprised? Very well,” He quips with humour in His voice, “Simon, can you stay with Little James and (Y/n)? Philip, you come with Me to settle this little argument in the front. We will see you later, okay? Take your time, don't worry about us setting up your places to sleep or not having food, we will make sure that things are alright.”

“Can’t Philip stay with them, Master?” Simon suggests, gesturing at you and James, “Of course they are my friends, but I was hoping to get in some exercise before sundown, and…” 

The rest of his words trail off when he sees Jesus smile knowingly at him. “You will get your exercise Simon, trust Me. If I didn’t want you to stay with them, I wouldn’t have asked. And then, you’re always running around, doing heavy labour. Sometimes it is better to slow down for a bit, too.”

The bunch of you nod in agreement, but Simon seems less keen to stay behind. When Jesus and Philip are a fair bit away, the former Zealot sighs next to you with a slight pout over his features.

“What, not happy with babysitting duty?” you jest, and Simon snorts a laugh. 

“That’s not it,” he says, “It’s just not in my nature to walk so slowly.”

You chuckle lightly. “We know, Si.”

James pipes up: “At least now we’ve got someone very strong at our side in case something happens to us. If we happened to be robbed right now, we wouldn’t have to hand over our bags.”

“Not that there is a lot in there in the first place.” you murmur, earning an amused hum from him.

Simon folds his hands on his back as he walks next to the two of you in silence, eyes focused upon the distance. “Where do you think we’ll sleep tonight? Do you reckon we’ll have to walk for much longer?” 

You shrug. “I don’t know, it entirely depends on what Jesus– Gah!” 

The sudden dent in the road goes unnoticed by you and you strangely twist through your ankle, feeling it shift to the side. A wave of nausea hits you in the gut as you fall to the ground, a searing pain shunting through your form. 

“(Y/n)!” James cries out, “Are you okay?”

“Are you hurt?” Simon crouches down next to you and reaches for your elbow, his gaze focused on your ankle that is throbbing with white hot pain. Inhaling sharply, you nearly choke on your own tongue as you try to gather the air to speak, throwing back your head in discomfort, your teeth grinding together as you grip at your foot, letting out a strained sound. 

“Oh, Hades!” you manage to hiss, having picked up the term from Philip, “That hurts!” Tears spring into your eyes at the sensation.

Little James puts a concerned hand on your arm. “Can you walk?”

You exhale deeply through your nose as you try to move around your ankle, pain ripping through your heel and shunting up all through your calf. “I–I don’t know!” you stutter, your heart beating loudly against your chest. “Simon, can you help me up?”

The former Zealot shakes his head, and you frown in confusion, until he clarifies: 

“Properly sit down for a second, okay? I need to investigate it first.”

You shift yourself to sit on the road, Simon gently taking hold of your leg to stretch it out in front of you, taking your foot into his lap as he kneels down. “I’m going to remove your sandal, is that okay?” You nod, pursing your lips as he undoes the straps and carefully takes it off, holding your foot at the heel, unfazed by the sand between your toes. 

“It feels warm already,” he says, concerned. “It should be compressed for a bit, at least until we reach camp, just to keep it from swelling too much.”

Simon reaches into the bag on his hip and takes out a knife, your eyes widening at the sight. When he sees James’ and your responses at the fact that he carries a weapon on him, he smiles a bit. “It’s meant to cut fruits, don’t worry about it.”

Sighing in relief, you watch how he takes a few scraps of fabric from his bag, selects one and stuffs the others back in. Simon slices a strip clean off, and another, and another, before positioning your foot into his lap properly. You whimper in pain and he mutters a soft apology as he begins binding your ankle.

James holds out his hand for you to squeeze into and you gladly take it, smiling gratefully at him. With practised ease, Simon wraps the strips of fabric around your ankle, your heel, tightly strapping it into a certain position so that you have no choice but to keep it in a straight angle. “Just tell me if it is too tight,” Simon says upon a pained sound that leaves you, but you shake your head. 

“I’ll be fine. Thank you.” 

“Any time,” Simon tells you, putting away his items before helping you put your sandal back on, securing it. “Let’s see if you can walk. Luckily, you have a stick on you already.”

Upon standing, Simon helps you to your feet. However, the moment you slowly set it down, you lift your leg immediately to not put any pressure on the ankle. James hands you the walking stick and you lean into it, hoping for it to take away some of the agony. 

“I feel so silly for spraining my ankle now,” you sigh, “Sorry to keep you guys back even more.”

“You can’t help it, (Y/n), so no need to apologise.” James says. 

Simon supports your elbow as you attempt to make a step forward, but in spite of the assistance you’re receiving, tears blur your vision. “Oh, that is awful!” you whimper, distressed. “I don’t think I can walk.”

The three of you fall silent, your gaze going to the horizon, your heart sinking inside your chest. “Who knows how far we might be away from camp, still? For all we know, it’s miles away.”

“Pessimism will get us nowhere.” Simon reminds you, and you sigh, knowing that you’d indeed spend that time better by thinking of a solution. 

James suddenly pipes up. “Simon, can’t you carry her?”

The former Zealot frowns. “What?”

“Carry her on your back.”

He lets out a small noise and almost flusters at the suggestion. “As (Y/n) just said, camp could be miles away. Can’t we look for another solution?”

“Well, what do you suggest?” 

Brief silence as Simon overthinks it, visibly pondering for a few seconds before admitting to it. “Fine,” he sighs, “I can carry you. But don’t tell the others, otherwise people will request me to carry them just because they don’t feel like walking.” 

You chuckle at the mental image of Big James asking Simon for such a thing and wonder if this would mean a scratch onto his pride, but then, Jesus Himself had said he would get his exercise today. 

“Thank you, Simon.” you earnestly say, smiling kindly. “That means a lot, actually.”

He hums, reluctantly lowering himself so that you can put your arms around his shoulders and wrap your bad leg around his waist so that you can kick yourself off the ground with the other, and he grabs a hold of the back of your knees, lifting you up with a slight grunt. 

“See, that’s not too bad, is it?” James says with amusement in his voice, “If I ever trail back again or feel tired, I know just who to turn to, now.”

Simon lets out a sound and rolls his eyes, but cannot fight the smile. “See, there’s the kind of trouble I was fearing. Are you comfortable, (Y/n)?”

You tighten your grip around his shoulders and shift a little against his back before humming in agreement. “I am now,” you say, “As much as the pain allows me to be.”

When Simon starts to walk, you tightly grab onto him, sudden pain shunting through your ankle at the shocks that go through your body at every step. You rest your head against Simon’s back, grunting in pain. “Sorry,” you squeak, “Every movement just hurts.”

“Jesus will fix it,” Simon tells you, “And if not, it will only hurt for a few days.”

You manage to relax, trying to not focus too much on the pain. “Hm, would you carry me for several days, then?”

Simon clicks his tongue. “In your dreams, (Y/n). I’d drag you through the sand at a certain point.”

Both you and James laugh and you feel yourself becoming drowsy at the feeling of the lowering sun warming your back, the even pad of Simon’s feet lulling you into a state of content. 

“Falling asleep back there, (Y/n)?” James muses upon seeing your closed eyes, and you smile sleepily. 

“Maybe…” you hum, and Simon grabs a firmer hold on you as your body begins to slightly slouch forward against him. “Is it too heavy, Si?”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he mutters, “Just close your eyes and try to rest while you can. After all, we don’t know how far off it is, and the more you sleep, the more energy you’ll have for your ankle to heal, and it means that your pain isn’t too bad at this very moment.”

You hum. “That’s right,” you say. “Thank you again for doing this.”

“Hey, don’t mention it.” Simon says, “Seriously thought, don’t mention it.” 

Laughing lightly, you pat his shoulder. “You grump.”

Simon’s eyebrows shoot up and he looks at you over his shoulder, giving you a challenging look. “I could drop you right here and now, you know?”

“You could, but you wouldn’t.”

The three of you travel onwards slowly albeit surely, hoping to find the rest of the followers somewhere soon. “Wake me up when you see camp,” you muse, closing your eyes again. 

Simon ignores the amused laughter of James.

“What a sight, though. Who knew that you were such a soft and caring person under all that tough-guy stuff?” Little James comments. You sleepily giggle.

In spite of his request, the former Zealot realises that he might not hear the end of this any time soon.

[imnotkosmic]

just watched season 2 ep 5 today with my family (we watch at least two/three episodes each Sunday) and throght I'd share my favourite moments:

• Matthew: "you get very illogical when your emotional!" Thomas: :o

• Matthew again, but with time with the SPOON.

• Matthew AGAIN (last one with Matthew I promise) he watched Thomas squeeze the lemon on the cucumbers and copyed him, which was adorable.

• John's yell when Jesus cast the demon from Caleb "yeah!!"

• John screaming and scaring Jesus and company.

• Jesus and John's little talk on the log.

• "I'll stop you there. Your *both* Simons"

• Zee just standing there like: 😬 when Jesus and John say goodbye

• Jesus *yeeting* Zee's daggers into the lake.

• Simon P introducing Simon Zee to the others

• and ATTICAS (or whatever his name is lol) COMING OUT OF NOWHERE and picking up the dagger.

• Jesse!! ❤️

[dragongguk]

3x02 — "Two by Two"

"I am confident that the two of you will do and say great things because of your pasts"

[hi-there-buddies]

Guys I’m sorry. I try not to talk about religion or politics on my blog but I just have to say

I’ve been watching The Chosen and the fact that they’re setting up Gaius to be the centurion that asks Jesus to heal his servant is making me BAWL

[getting-used-to-different]

i had a feeling this would happen but i still felt Matthew's panic

[angedemystere]

The first time I saw Simon Z climb up the wall in the new season of The Chosen I thought “someone put this man in an Assassin’s Creed game”