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the-chosen-fanfiction · 6 days ago

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Jesus | For I Have Redeemed You | Platonic

A dear friend from the past gets in touch to help you escape your ways with the help of the same Stranger Who saved her.

Requested by Juliaarwj

TW: Referenced/Implied prostitution

Inspecting your own reflection in the mirror, you slide a damp cloth over your face, but it doesn’t wash away the dread inside your gut that always lingers whenever you have seen another client. There are dark circles under your eyes — they have been there for a long time now — and your (e/c) irises appear dull and lifeless from months of not standing in genuine connection with reality. Behind you, the bed creaks as the stranger on it gets up with a grunt, his naked form visible in the reflection. You look away.

You swallow away the lingering nausea when the man searches around for his clothes with exasperating noises of effort, indicating his age. You clean yourself up further, rinsing away the evidence of your recent actions, but you don’t feel clean.

You haven’t felt clean in a long time and you doubt the filth will truly ever go away.

The coins in the pouch of money the man drops onto your nightstand clink together. The smile you give him doesn’t reach your eyes. “Thank you for your time, sir,” you say as you pull your robe back over your shoulders, “Come back any time.”

“Oh, I will,” he answers with a voice so raspy that it makes your skin crawl. Fully dressed now, he leaves the room without as much as another glance your way. With a sigh, you run a hand down your face, your vision blurring as you are all alone in the lingering guilt of your actions.

Your hand finds the satchel of denarii and you sit on the edge of the bed. When the urge to cry has subdued, you open it to look upon the fruit of your work — barely enough to afford the medicine. It seems that both you and Isaac will go to bed hungry, but at least he won’t be in pain.

After putting on your everyday clothes and tidying your room by sorting out the sheets and opening the curtains to get rid of the dank smell that hangs around the place, as well as lighting some incense to quicken the process, you slide your feet into your sandals and grab your bag. You lock the door tightly behind you and double-check if it’s really fully shut before stepping into the crowded streets of the Red Quarter. Hugging your arms tightly around yourself, you try to make yourself as small as you can, not wanting to draw any attention.

Looks of either disgust or pity are cast your way. It’s no secret what you do for a living nor is the reason for it. You have heard the whispers about you, be it either from men saying that you will never find a husband to women saying that they’d never have sold their bodies under any circumstance, ill family members or not. Others say that they feel for you, that they can see the desperation in your features and wonder where the young and carefree woman that you once were is. Needless to say, you are a shell of what you once were, and perhaps that’s for the better lest you feel the weight of your involuntary profession even more.

You find your way to a shady-looking building on the other side of the Red Quarter, a few streets away just near the outer walls of the village. Sliding through the thick, dark curtains that cover the entrance, you have to prevent yourself from coughing at the heavy scent of incense stronger than you ever dared to afford. The familiar eyes of the so-called physician fall on you as you approach the counter, his form already turning to the cupboard behind him to find the medicine you purchase every other day.

He puts the analgesic pills onto the counter whilst you take out the satchel of money you had just earned. Rummaging around the pouch, you sigh before shaking all of its contents onto the wooden counter top. A few coins roll away, causing you to quickly catch them with your palm. The alchemist sniffs and counts them with filthy fingers.

“This isn’t enough.”

Your eyes widen. “What do you mean? This is exactly the amount I always pay to—”

“—Prices have gone up. The supplier ran into a spat of trouble. The ingredients are more scarce, thus the medicine more expensive.”

Your heart sinks as you let out a shaky sigh. “Uh… Do you have anything else for me? Something similar?” The man lets his beady eyes drift over the denarii in front of you as he seems to calculate the amount inside his mind. “Hm…”

He turns away to look through the small jars and pots on the shelves behind him before grabbing a tiny vial filled with a mud-coloured, semi-translucent liquid. “Here. Mix this into his drink or soup.”

“Will it help him?”

“Not as much as the usual. Bring more money next time. You’re a pretty thing. I know you could ask more for your services.”

That comment makes your throat feel tight with newfound nausea. With a frustrated noise, you shove the money his way before grabbing the vial from his greasy fingers, and you pocket it. Once you step outside, you draw a deep breath, glad to be out of that stuffy place.

You slide your hand into your pocket to feel at the vial there. You wonder if it will ever end, this cycle of selling your body to afford the smallest amount of pain-killing concoctions for your brother. It’s heart-wrenching to see him in so much agony, but there is little else you can do.

As you head for your small, poky flat located not too far from the Red Quarter, you pass by the former place of an old friend of yours, Lillith — Mary, you remind yourself — and you momentarily consider paying her a visit before remembering she had left to follow a Jewish Preacher a while ago. Something tightens inside your chest. You aren’t sure if it is melancholy, envy or something else altogether. You wonder how she is doing, and consider the rumours regarding the Preacher Who had healed her.

You had been there when the Pharisee had visited her to aid her in getting rid of the spirits that tormented her. The Jewish man had been unsuccessful, but that hadn’t been the end of the story. A Stranger had made His way into The Hammer just to meet with her and had redeemed her with just an embrace and a whisper of her true name — Mary. You wonder if that Man could also do the same for Isaac, but you would never dare to approach Him about it, not when the feeling of shame weighed so heavy on you. You weren’t worthy of His presence nor His attention.

Suddenly, you find yourself standing in front of Mary’s door. While sunken away in thought, you must have ascended the small flight of stairs leading to it. Blinking a few times as you come to your senses, you look around if anyone has seen you. However, no one seems to be paying you any notice, and you let your gaze go to the doorknob. You wrap your hand around it and test it to see if it is unlocked.

It clicks open. You swallow hard and spy around one more time to check if you aren’t spotted. The last thing you need is to be charged for trespassing.

You step inside the dark space. Most of the furniture has been stolen, only a small table remaining in the corner of the room. Opening the small curtain, you allow in some light, memories flooding back on everything that had taken place here. A painful pang goes through your chest at the image of you finding your friend here, panicked and sobbing after being defiled by a Roman soldier. You had comforted her, but she had been left with trauma that you barely knew what to do with. You had discussed it with Rivka, but the older woman could only help out so much.

On the small table lays a scroll. Curiously, you walk towards it. Perhaps someone had left Mary a letter during her absence, unaware that she is gone from here, but when you read your own name on the parchment, you feel your heart skip a beat. Picking it up, you check the wax seal that lacks an imprint.

With shaky fingers, you break it and unfurl the scroll to see what’s been written down. It is Mary’s hand that has written a message just for your eyes.

“(Y/n), I don’t know when you will find this letter. It may be after days, weeks, perhaps even months. But when you find this, you can be sure that I am on my way to your brother’s house together with the Man Who redeemed me. The timing of God is impeccable, so I can say with confidence that I’ll be seeing you very soon, my friend. Please come home as fast as you can. Mary.”

With widening eyes, you re-read the entire thing over again to see if you are truly understanding it correctly, but Mary is quite clear in her wording. You trust what she is saying, causing you to drop the letter before rushing out of her old home towards your own.

A few strange glances are sent your way as you rush through the streets of Capernaum, but you don’t pay them any mind. With aching lungs, you reach for the key inside your bag and fumble with it as you put it inside the lock. However, when you turn it, you find it already open. With a hammering heart, you push the door further, stepping inside your own house.

“Isaac?” you call out, closing the door behind you.

“(Y/n)!” his voice sounds closer than expected and you quickly turn to face him, witnessing him stand in the door opening to his bedroom. A large smile has made its way onto his face as he hurries towards you to wrap you in an embrace. Instantly, you know that Whomever Mary had been speaking about must be the Messiah, for there is no other possible explanation as to why else Isaac is out of his bed without any pain. “You won’t believe it! I was just making myself some food when there was a knock on the door, and—”

“—Oh, I do believe it!” you breathe, “I found myself in Mary’s old home, where she left me a letter telling that she’d come here together with the Man Who redeemed her—”

Your voice hitches inside your throat as you see Mary appear from inside your brother’s room, as well as a Man with kind, sparkling eyes and a soft face. “You…” you whisper, your smile of awe, falling into uncertainty. “You shouldn’t be here, in my presence… I’m not worthy of it, if You knew what I’ve done…” You let out a strained sob.

“I know what you have resorted to in order to help your brother,” Jesus murmurs, a voice that warms you to the bone. Mary’s smile grows as she steps closer to you. Instinctively, you approach her, too, grabbing her arm gently. “Mary has told Me about your situation. The illness that Isaac suffered from.”

You cast your eyes down in shame, but Mary gently cups your face. “My friend, look at me. Look at Him.” With a watery gaze, you try to not cry as you lift your gaze. “His Name is Jesus of Nazareth. He is the Messiah.”

You let out a sound between a gasp and a sob. “He must be..” Immense guilt floods you, making your knees nearly give out underneath you. “I— Why are You here? I don’t deserve— I’ve sinned against Adonai with the very body He gave me—”

“Easy now,” Isaac puts a hand on your shoulder as Mary shushes you. “Maybe you should just go speak to Him whilst I make your brother some food. Jesus just healed him and the first thing he said was that he was craving soup.” You lightly laugh through your tears as you look at your younger brother, for it definitely sounds like him.

After briefly embracing both Mary and Isaac, you gingerly approach Jesus, Who is patiently waiting for your arrival. You halt in front of Him, locking eyes as your heartbeat picks up in speed. “Why did You agree to this, Rabbi?” you ask, “I am not worthy of Your presence.”

“A very concerned friend of yours was adamant on us going here,” says He, “And I am glad that she was. Mary never stopped caring for you and told Me about your situation.”

You swallow hard. “What I’ve done to myself,” you breathe, “The way I used my body, how the men I’ve been with cling to my soul as if they left a piece of themselves—”

“I know,” Jesus says with a brow furrowing into pity as He sees your increasing pain, “I know. They will not be bound to you any longer.”

Before you can ask about it, He cradles your face in one of His hands, the other one coming to rest on the top of your head for a moment, then over your heart. “I will redeem you the same way I have called Mary. The past will hold nothing against you anymore, because I am Lord over it, as I am over the present and the future. I will sever your bindings to what once was. Do you want that, My daughter?”

A choked sob leaves your lungs, for it had been a long while since someone called you their child. With a quivering bottom lip, you nod. “Yes… Yes, Rabbi. I want that.”

“Then follow Me.” Jesus says, “I will give you a renewed purpose, and your mind, body and soul are no longer tainted by the past, restored through Me.”

“I will,” you whisper, “I will follow You, my Lord.”

Jesus smiles gently. The moment you have said the words and the moment He gives you this kind look, something seems to shift within you. Warmth spreads through your chest, as if all the ties to the past are loosened one by one, until none remain. Without saying a word, you embrace Him, a comfortable feeling enveloping you as you stand in a kind of hug you have never experienced before.

Behind you, Mary and Isaac observe the scene with fond looks in their eyes.

“I am glad you thought of us.” Isaac tells your friend as they watch you stand close to Jesus. “That you haven’t forgotten us.”

“Of course,” Mary tells your brother, “(Y/n) has been on my mind a lot. I trusted in God’s timing to do the same for her, and here we are. God’s love is made perfect in our weakest, lowest moments.”

Isaac hums, agreeing to that.

As you stand there, holding onto Jesus whilst a feeling of belonging floods you for the first time in a long time, everything melts away. You have been called by name, and He has redeemed you.

#reader insert #the chosen #the chosen x reader #chosen x reader #platonic #jesus x reader #jonathan roumie #the chosen jesus

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 6 days ago

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The Chosen ABCs Of Romance | Little James

ABCs Master List

Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

After a long day on the road, Little James loves to soak his feet in a nearby creek and watch the sun set. You often join him in this, causing the deepest conversations to take place during these moments. It’s a great way of bonding, enjoying nature and relaxing at the same time.

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

He adores the way your eyes sparkle whenever you talk about Jesus. James can get lost in the way your face simply seems to glow with happiness, glad to have found someone with such strong faith.

Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Little James is a great comforter. He will just pull you into his arms and hold you, or give you advice when you need it. Something else that is great about him is that he will offer comfort before you even have to ask about it.

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He can totally picture the two of you settling down some day, perhaps starting a family. However, your ministry is currently your main goal in life. Following Jesus together with your betrothed is wonderful in and of itself.

Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Sometimes, you have to coax Little James out of his shell a bit. He can be a little passive due to his condition and often feels like a burden because of it. You always make sure to reassure him that he is anything but that and that you want to be with him no matter what. Still, he can be reluctant to take the lead, because he doesn’t want to mess up. Not that he would, of course.

Fight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Even after years of being together, the two of you never really argue about something. Of course there are the occasional disagreements on things, but due to clear communication and a preference to avoid conflict altogether, the two of you manage to traverse life together without any major fights.

Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

This man will stare at you multiple times a day and genuinely wonder why you picked him over anyone else. Especially when you’re surrounded by so many tall and handsome bachelors who are have fully able bodies. Your genuine nature whenever you tell him that you love him for who he is, and that nothing could ever change your mind about that, makes his heart swell inside his chest. He thanks God several times a day for you.

Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

James’ secrets have mainly to do with his self-doubt, but he feels like he is safe with you to share these burdens. You know everything about him, the good and the bad, and you still decide to be with him. Because of this, his confidence in the relationship grows with the day, in turn leading to him being even more open about things.

Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helping them overcome personal problems?

Truly, your way of seeing things is inspiring to him. You remain positive no matter what, even though Jesus has chosen to not heal him and even though the ministry is getting more and more dangerous. Your clear love for him also inspires him to become more certain of himself; that he is allowed to be present and that he is more than enough for you just the way he is.

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

As said before, James wonders why you chose him over others. Instead of getting envious, he gets self-conscious whenever you’re speaking to someone of the opposite sex. What if you’d suddenly realise that you can do better? Every so often, you’ll glance his way and give a soft smile or a wink, making sure that he knows that he is the only one your mind at all times.

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Precious Little James was so nervous when he was about to kiss you for the first time. He had been wanting to do it for a while but held back every single time because he wasn’t sure if you wanted it as well, but when you couldn’t stop looking down at his lips every few seconds whilst enjoying the sunset together, he took a deep breath and just went for it. He is a soft kisser, gentle in his nature and chaste in his movements.

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

It took him a flu to own up to his feelings. One day, he was bedridden with a horribly high fever. Of course it had to be on a day that Jesus had gone somewhere, but luckily you were there to look after him until the Messiah returned. Little James was delirious and simply told you how much he loved you in the height of his sickness, causing you to blush brightly. It made your head spin and his words didn’t leave your mind. After he was healed again, you asked him if he meant it. Embarrassed, James wished for the Earth to open up beneath him and swallow him whole. However, he knew that it was now or never, and he owned up to his feelings for you. Much to his surprise, you returned his feelings.

Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Truth be told, James wants to marry you but still struggles with his self-image of being a burden no matter how often you tell him that he’s not. He dreams of a domestic life with you, perhaps even having a few children some day, but he isn’t sure if he’d be a good father. However, you’re still here, and you’re absolutely certain that you want to be with him for the rest of your life, and that you want him to be the father of your children.

Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

Expect soft nicknames like ‘sunshine’ and ‘flower’ from him. In turn, you call him ‘my heart’ and ‘my other half’ to make sure that he is reminded just how much he means to you.

On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

This man is a daydreamer. Thaddeus had been well aware of his crush on you and had guessed that James’ daydreaming would become less once he became a couple with you, but the contrary is true. Ever since you confessed to one another, James’ moments of zoning out with a dopey grin on his face have increased tenfold. Not that Thad cares, for he is happy for his best friend.

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

He is so shy that it is adorable. Hold his hand in public and he’ll turn all red. If someone accidentally walks in you whilst you’re kissing, he won’t recover until the end of the day and not dare to look said person in the eye for a while. Whenever you cuddle into him by the fire at night, he eventually melts into it and dares to wrap his arms around you even in the presence of others.

Quirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Little James has so much faith that he loves to share with you. The two of you have started to pray together ever since learning the Lord’s Prayer and do so every night before going to bed.

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He claims it isn’t much whilst his cheeks are dusted pink, but this man has literally written a song for you. Whenever you’re feeling down, or sometimes just whilst you’re sitting together, he will softly sing it in your ear, making you melt.

Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Absolutely, this man believes in you. He is your biggest fan ever to begin with, which also extends to when it comes to supporting you in reaching your goals.

Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

The routine you’ve found in your relationship is comfortable for both of you. Trying new things usually means preparing a new recipe, but that’s about it. You like the comfort and security.

Understanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

James loves you more than anything and is definitely empathetic. He knows everything about you just as you know everything about him, and the more he learns, the deeper he falls in love with you.

Value - How important is the relationship to them? What is it worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Next to Jesus, Little James values you more than his own life, really. He’d give up everything if it means being with you. He cannot picture a life without you anymore and neither does he want to. Just the thought alone brings tears to his eyes and a tightening in his chest.

Wild Card - A random Fluff headcanon.

You find out that he’s very ticklish by pure coincidence, whilst sorting out his hair one day and accidentally grazing his neck with your fingertips, causing him to shrink and let out a yelp. It prompted you to find out where else he is ticklish, much to his dismay, but to be fair, he doesn’t mind the attention.

XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Little James is very cuddly whenever you’re alone. He hasn’t felt like this ever before in his life so he cherishes it incredibly much to snuggle up to you and feel your warmth against him. He’ll pepper light kisses over your face whenever you’re cuddled up together.

Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Oh, precious Little James is miserable without you. Before he was with you, he had already been missing you greatly whenever you weren’t around, but now that you are his woman, he is even worse whenever you’re not nearby. In spite of his aching back, he will keep pacing around restlessly until you’ve returned again. Once you are back, he will rush towards you, exhausted but with the biggest smile on his face.

Zeal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Your worth to him goes beyond all else. He’d take up all your pain if he could, even though he is suffering with his own ailments already. He’d do anything to keep you safe and happy.

#the chosen #reader insert #the chosen x reader #chosen x reader #little james #little james x reader #the chosen little james

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 6 days ago

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Gentile. | Chapter XXXXI

Jesus is back in Capernaum, where you witness yet another miracle. Quintus apologises during a rare moment of vulnerability.

Chapter list

Your tongue has been sticking to the roof of your mouth for the past hour no matter how much water you consume, your head spinning as the baby has been uncomfortably twisting and turning. A servant noticed the lower position of it whilst helping you tie your sandals earlier this morning, yet another cause of concern for you. Your due date approaches more rapidly than you can handle, having wanted a better world for your unborn child.

You allow yourself to grab a cloak to head out into the city without an escort at your side. You had considered trying to find Gaius but found Marcus at his post instead, who had given you an odd and judgemental look that consisted of a hard line in his brow that you figured wouldn’t leave his features any time soon. Instead, you had made sure to not appear too visible to the crowds by donning something less expensive although you doubted you didn’t stand out like a sore thumb, and led yourself through the roads of Capernaum without the safety of a chaperone at your side.

The streets are abuzz with something tense — a spark in the air, as if something big is about to happen. You munch on a light breakfast consisting of a handful of dried apricots and some nuts as you traverse the village where everyone seems to be too preoccupied to pay your hooded figure any mind, causing you to take a seat on a small wall just outside the synagogue, a part of town where you don’t often go to, to rest your sore back.

With a sigh, you caress your itching belly, trying to relieve some of the straining skin that has been killing you no matter how much oil you’ve been applying to it. Your dresses have risen up your body to the point that your ankles are visible now. You don’t mind the cool breeze it allows under to help you with the spells of profuse sweating you’ve been suffering through. It is clear Quintus doesn’t like this exposure of your legs, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Perhaps that he’s seeing reason for once, or he doesn’t want to order a dozen new outfits just for the final stretch of your condition.

You sit there for a while, drinking in the sunlight no matter what it might do to your skin. You enjoy the less familiar scenery, watching the people navigate the streets as they go about their day, but you keep your eyes peeled for Jesus nevertheless. Even though nobody seems to know where He is currently at, you are just as excited to catch a possible glimpse of Him.

After sitting in the sun for a while, flipping through a book that you’ve brought with you but finding little energy to actively read, you hear a familiar voice fly over the synagogue wall, belonging to someone you didn’t really expect to find there. Tucking your book back into the bag over your shoulder, you stand up and waddle over to the front gate of the synagogue, where the main yard is located.

There, Primi Gaius sits with one of Jesus’ main students, fixing the cistern. They seem to be in conversation and you don’t mean to impose, so you wait for a while, leaning a bit against the wall to support your stomach. Your current condition makes it so that not even the rabbis give you a weird look for using the gate for support, figuring you a heavily pregnant woman simply passing by and resting in spite of her surroundings.

“You have gods, festivals, no?” the Disciple of Jesus asks. If you recall correctly, his name is Simon. Quintus had mentioned him a few times and you had pieced two and two together with your few visits to Matthew’s booth back in the day. You can barely believe that these outings are nearly a year ago, now.

“Yeah, sure,” Gaius breathes. “But not anything like you. Just… Parties, auspices.”

The two men are busying themselves pushing mortar between heavy bricks.

“We have parties, too.”

Gaius scoffs and smiles a bit. “From what I can tell, they do not look as fun as ours.”

“Depends on the definition.” Simon finds, “Another thing we have is prophecies.”

“So I’m told,” says Gaius.

“I’m beginning to think I’m living in one.”

Gaius pauses in his actions. “What, with the Preacher?”

“No uh, this.” Simon gestures at the cistern in front of them, “Our prophet Jeremiah, he said ‘My people have committed two evils. They have forsaken Me, the fountain of living waters, and hewed out cisterns for themselves. Broken cisterns that can hold no water.’” Simon concludes with a little chuckle as he loads another bit of mortar onto his trowel. They continue working for a few seconds before Gaius looks up again, a frown on his features.

“That sounds like a riddle.”

“You know, you’d make a good Jew.” You have to stifle a laugh at Gaius’ expression. “We love riddles. We call those ones metaphors.” Being an avid reader and dabbling in writing from time to time, your interest is piqued; after all, you’re no stranger to the phenomenon of metaphor.

“So, have you?”

“What?” Simon questions.

Gaius clarifies. “I mean… Forsaken your god of water? It sounds like your god identifies as a source of water and the broken cisterns are a sign that you turned your back on him.”

You understand Gaius’ perspective. It is a common concept within your culture that if something goes wrong, it is likely because one of the many deities you worship is displeased about something.

“We only have one God. Of water, fire, wind and everything else.”

“That’s efficient,” Gaius mutters, “Maybe a little boring.”

“It’s a lot easier than a pantheon.” You can’t help but agree to that, you think to yourself as you consider letting your presence known to them. After all, you’d love to join in on the conversation to find out more just what exactly Gaius believes.

“They’re not that hard to keep track of. Jupiter, Juno, Mars, Mercury, Neptune, Venus, Apollo, Diana—”

“—All right, all right, stop. I’m exhausted already. What… Sacrifices to all of them?”

Gaius shrugs. “It depends on what you want. I mean, uh… Safe travel, Mercury. Victory in war, Mars. Fertility, Juno.”

The Primi continues working whilst Simon gives him a curious look. “A big catch of fish?”

“Neptune.” Gaius immediately knows.

Brief silence between the two of them. Before Simon can speak up again, as he is about to do so, you step forward. “Gaius? What are you doing here?”

The Primi, as if caught red-handed doing something he is not allowed to, stands up quickly, straightening out his back. “My lady.” You smile a bit as you look him up and down, not used to seeing him out of his usual set of armour. “What are you doing here?”

“I just asked you that same question. I was just out and about, taking a different route this time.”

Gaius clears his throat. “I’m helping this man fix the cistern, per your husband’s request.”

For a moment, you look at Simon, who gives you a wary look. You give a small smile in return. “I can see the two of you are making good progress. Are you working together well?”

“Of course, my lady.” Gaius says, “You can report back to Praetor Quintus that—”

“—I’m not here on Quintus’ behalf.”

A sigh of relief seems to flood him. It is almost as if he has forgotten about the careful friendship you’ve been trying to form with him.

“Good. Then what compelled you to take a detour this time? I don’t see an escort with you.”

You smile a bit half-heartedly, your gaze going to Simon, who is watching you with a suspicious narrowing of his eyes.

“My husband doesn’t have to know everything I do, nor my reasons behind my actions.” You turn to the former fisherman. “You’re Simon, right?”

He gives you a small nod. “Yeah?”

“Did you hear anything from my friend Joanna lately?”

“Joanna…?” Simon seems to turn over the name inside his mind a few times. “I know her… She’s a Roman, like you.”

“Roman, like me,” you parrot with a small smile. There is no judgement or anger in your voice, nor disdain or mistrust, which is odd to Simon. He tries to make sense of it, as well as of your confident stride into the yard of the synagogue, even though you aren’t really allowed here. Usually, Romans would turn from here at any given opportunity with a look of disgust on their face.

“Your friend, you said?”

You nod, smiling a bit. “Yes, she’s my friend. I was wondering if you know anything about any upcoming sermons so that I could inform her about them.” Frankly, the question is meant for yourself more than for her.

“How do you know that she—”

“—As I said, she is my friend.”

Simon’s jaw tenses a bit. “Look, how can I know that you aren’t just here because you are trying to get intel on her, hm? I know how you snivelling Romans can be—” he points at Gaius, “—Not you— but I can’t know for sure whether I can trust you. You’re Quintus’ wife, right?”

Gaius steps forward. “Simon, I know her better than you do. Lady (Y/n) has been displaying an interest in your Preacher for a while now, and—”

“—And she might be handing all that information right into the Praetor’s lap.”

You sigh and lower your gaze. “Look, I get it. I wouldn’t trust me, either, especially someone in a position like myself. But I have genuinely started to look forward to Jesus’ sermons, and—”

You are cut off as restlessness suddenly seems to swell over the city, the people rushing through the yard towards the streets.

“Woah, woah, woah, what’s going on?” Simon mutters, the three of you turning to a man stumbling by, who is leaned onto a walking stick.

“Where are you going?” Gaius calls out to him.

He halts and pivots towards you. “The Preacher! They say He’s going to do a miracle!” Simon instantly jumps to his feet as you feel your heart skip a beat at the mention of Jesus being back in town, “Even you should be there.” The man’s enthusiasm is contagious and you smile, supporting your tummy as you turn to Gaius. His expression is equally as puzzled.

Simon meets with two of his friends, fellow Disciples of the Messiah. ��James, John, what is this?” The more often you see them, the more names you learn.

“We don’t know more than you do,” the tallest of the two admits.

“Come on!” urges the other with a gesture of his arm.

“Primi,” you say when Simon speeds away and Gaius shrugs on sash over his tunic, “Will you bring me with you?”

A small smile spreads over his features. “Of course, my lady.” The two of you head right towards the commotion, both of you curious to catch a glimpse of the Rabbi.

A crowd has gathered around Him and your heart sinks upon realisation, knowing that you’ll hardly get a look at anything He will say or do. Amidst the chaos, one of His followers is pushed over and nearly trampled, quickly brought back onto his feet by Matthew. There is shouting, people desperately trying to reach out, vying for the Messiah’s attention.

You hadn’t been the only one waiting for His return.

“Look at them,” Gaius mutters, “They barely know what to do with themselves. Of course He won’t hear you better if you yell over all the other shouting…”

“I understand,” you admit, “After waiting for Him for so long, you’d be keen to see Him again too, no?”

Gaius nods and halts in his step underneath a small stone archway. “You wait here, my lady. Stay away from the masses. I need to see if I need to intervene or not… Duty calls.” You hum and lean against the wall, giving a small smile.

“I’ll find my own way back home later,” you tell him, and he gives a small nod.

“Just make sure to call for my aid if you need it.”

You nod and support your stomach as the Primi rushes off, the crowd drawing closer to you as Jesus moves through the streets of Capernaum. Two men and a woman pass by and halt in their tracks right in front of you. “What’s going on?” one of them asks as they worriedly gaze at the unfolding chaos.

“Simon’s house…” the other mutters.

After a moment of observation, the woman seems to catch a glimpse of Jesus’ face. “It’s Him. It’s your Rabbi!” There is a paleness on her face that makes you wonder if she is ill. She nervously looks at Jesus’ followers, who rush in His direction.

“Stay here,” the one wearing a yellow tunic says, leaving her behind for a moment.

For a few moments, she stands there, noticing your presence behind her and she offers you a wary look, which you answer with a small smile. Her eyes turn to your stomach, then back up to your face, realising you are no threat in spite of being Roman, and turns back to look at Jesus. “Teacher!” she suddenly calls out, her arm reaching over the crowd as if it would be long enough to touch Him, “Teacher!”

The group of people pushing and pulling one another draws closer, desperation on the woman’s face, the hollowness in her cheeks showing in her sorrow. “Teacher…!” she once again exclaims, defeat on her face as her lips part. The woman reaches for her lower abdomen, pressing her legs together. “No, no, no…” she whispers, “Please, no… Not now…” Stranger or not, you are inclined to comfort her, only held back by the fact that Gaius told you to stay here and not get closer to the crowd.

She then straightens her back. Taking a deep breath, she whispers something to herself and you resist the urge to step closer to hear what it is, until a bit of it carries in your direction through the wind: “Just the fringe. One touch.”

In the distance, you notice Gaius instructing the soldiers to keep their posts and not intervene just yet. Seeing him still out of his usual uniform, you feel some relief wash over you. The woman stands with her gaze suddenly fixed on the Rabbi, a line in her brow that resembles determination.

“Just the edge,” the Jewish woman in front of you mutters, “Only a thread!”

Suddenly, a man points accusingly at her, “You! I know you! Get away from Him!”

“No— No, stop it, please—”

The man tries to call out to one of the rabbis of Capernaum whilst the woman tries to stop him. “Rabbi Yussif! Rabbi Yussif!”

A Pharisee clad in black and white heads your way and you take a step back to stay out of sight, in spite of your instincts to comfort the woman being accused of something terrible.

“This woman bleeds. She is unclean. We removed her—”

“Please, I promise, I won’t touch Him, I just need—”

The Rabbi cuts her off. “—Woman, please, we can help, but not now.”

She shakes her head at Rabbi Yussif, not giving in just yet. Just at that moment, the Disciple dressed in yellow passes by the gate. “Sorry, we’ll try tomorrow,” he apologises.

“No, please, just a moment!” The Jewish woman is crying now, “Just His garment!”

Before she can be stopped, she rushes forward, and a gasp leaves your lips at the sight. She pushes her way through the crowd with an outstretched hand. For a moment, you lose sight of her in the crowd, just looking at the back of Jesus’ head, until He halts, shoulders and arms moving in a way as if all air is being pushed from Him.

Everyone draws to a stop around Him, His followers holding His arms to steady Him as Jesus holds onto their shoulders. “Back everyone!”

All shouting instantly ends as people wait with bated breath. Against Gaius’ wishes, you step closer to the crowd to hear what is going on. A circle forms around Jesus as He converses with His Disciples, one of them suddenly crying out: “Everybody, back!”

Slowly, Jesus turns around. “I asked a question. Who touched Me?” There is such authority in His voice that you nearly shrink in your position at the back of the masses surrounding Him. Silence as many gazes fall onto something — or rather someone — sitting on the ground next to Jesus. Simon leans closer to his Master and mutters something you don’t catch, but Jesus doesn’t agree with him.

“Someone touched Me. I felt that power went out of Me.” Now, His gaze also lowers. You walk past the back of the group of people, finding a small gap through which you can see the woman who had just been so desperately crying out for the Teacher seated on the sandy road, a small smile on her face, immediately seeming healthier than she did a minute before.

However, a feeling of guilt creeps over her face as she looks up at Jesus, Who steps closer to her. “Whoever touched Me, come forward.” He asks, even though it is obvious that He knows.

You flinch in slight discomfort as you feel a sharp kick to your ribs. You breathe away the sudden heartburn.

“Teacher…” Rabbi Yussif mutters, but Jesus simply gives him a small nod.

“It was me,” the woman admits. “Just the fringe of Your garment, only the edge, I promise. You are not unclean.”

Jesus bites His bottom lip for a moment before approaching her further. “Why My garment?”

“I’m sorry,” the dark-haired woman whispers, “I know I should have asked. But if You touched me, it would make you ritually unclean according to the law. I—I was sick. I was sick for twelve years… I bled and no one could stop it.” Your heart clenches at how much she must have been hurting all this time. “But I believed if I could just touch a piece of your garment…”

She suddenly laughs through her tears. “And I was right, I was right. Thank You.” Jesus smiles down at her, letting the silence hang a bit.

“Who told you I could heal?”

“A man from the Pool. And he was right,” she sobs, “The blood has ceased.”

Jesus crouches down in front of her, locking eyes with her. “My daughter.” He whispers, and the words go straight through you. Even though they are not directed towards you, they make your eyes water. Your heart thumps as He sits in front of her and you swallow the sudden lump lodged in your throat.

The woman shakes her head. “I’m no one’s daughter anymore.”

“Look up.”

Her eyes gingerly flicker up to meet His. “Yes you are,” He reassures her. She beams through her tears, smiling and crying at the same time. “Daughter... It wasn’t My piece of clothing that healed you.”

She confusedly shakes her head a bit. “But it was instant, I felt it right away.”

“I know, but it wasn’t this… It was your faith.” At that, she smiles broader, and you rest a hand over your hammering heart, your head spinning with emotions at the display taking place in front of you.

The rabbi from earlier, Yussif, speaks up. “Teacher, she was bleeding so long. We can take her—”

“—She is clean.” Jesus firmly states with a gesture of the hand, before looking at the ground for a moment, fighting His emotions before looking at her. “You have blessed Me today. And I know, My daughter, I know it has been a fight for you for so long. You must be…”

“Exhausted,” they then say in unison. Jesus looks at her for a moment.

“Go now in peace. Your faith has made you well.” She laughs at the words, her eyes sparkling with a happiness she hasn’t known for a long time. “I wish I could stay here longer. But I have business to attend to. Someone else has faith like yours.”

For a moment, they look at a man waiting patiently for the Messiah to come with him, and they smile at one another. He cups her face gently, making her instantly melt into the touch, for it had been long that someone had so affectionately acted towards her. “But I’m so glad that we found each other.” She puts her hand over His before he gently thumbs at her tears, then stands and addresses the crowd.

“Please, I promise, I will speak to all of you soon. And my students and I will take care for your needs. But right now, there’s something very important that I must do, and I kindly ask you to let Me go, so I can take care of this urgent issue. I promise, I will see you, but right now is not possible.” For a moment, His gaze falls on you, and your heart skips several beats inside your chest. At the moment, you don’t need more, already having been uplifted by witnessing this healing take place right in front of you. “Thank you for your understanding.”

The crowd dissolves as everyone leaves Jesus alone without any issues, the Messiah instructing a few of His followers to tend to the woman. You step away from the masses, thinking it best to head back to the safety of your home to rest, but you halt when you see Gaius still in the same spot, contemplating what he has witnessed just now. For a second, your gazes meet, and you smile, giving a small nod.

He mirrors it.

As fast as your swollen ankles can carry you, you rush back to the villa.

—-

Dinner at the residence is tense, the only sound being the cutlery against the plates and Quintus’ occasional sighs. Even though your entire system is buzzing with what you had witnessed this afternoon, you know you can’t speak to him about the miracle, no matter how much you want to pour out what your heart is overflowing with.

He glares at you as he takes a long sip of wine. You shrink in your seat as you pop another piece of beef into your mouth and chew it. It’s quite tough, but you refuse spitting it out, maintaining the awkward eye-contact across the table. “How was your afternoon?” he suddenly asks, his genuineness coming across as forced.

“It was fine. How was yours?”

“Honestly, not as good.” He lowers his gaze before standing up sharply.

There is tension in his shoulders as he briskly walks past you, his cologne stinging in your nose. He says no word and heads for his home study, leaving you to finish your meal in lonely silence. Not that you mind his absence at all. You don’t finish the rest of your steak.

The rest of the evening you spend in your sitting room, pouring your heart and soul into a few new poems about what you had witnessed today, and you explore the topic of daughterhood when it comes to God compared to what your own father had done to you throughout your life. There is hope and renewal in your words, with lingering yearning to have the same for yourself visible in your words. You wonder if you will ever be able to follow Jesus as openly as you want to. You imagine yourself in the place of the healed woman from today, picturing what it would feel like to have all your sorrows done away by a single touch of the Messiah.

The moment your candle is nearly fully out, you close your journal and stretch your sore limbs. With a sigh, you hide it inside the drawer and head for the bedroom, grabbing your nightgown as well as a towel, stepping into the adjacent bathroom.

Once you cross the threshold, you freeze in your spot, a small gasp escaping you as you see Quintus submerged into the soapy water, heat radiating into wisps of warmth floating above the surface. He opens one eye and hums.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to walk in on you.”

“That’s fine. Come join me.”

You turn back towards the door. “I’ll just take my own bath later—”

“—I said, come join me.” You realise it’s not a request, but rather a demand, and your heart sinks into your gut. “I need to speak to you.”

Thickly swallowing, you put down the items of clothing before starting to strip down. At least your husband has the decency to close his eyes again, the air heavy with the scent of thyme and camomile. You put up your hair lest it get wet. Quintus doesn’t look up again until you step into the tub, his gaze mapping out the expanse of your naked form, making you instantly feel nauseous. “You look beautiful.” A rare tone of affection directed towards you; or rather that he is attracted to your body at least. A fickle token of his love for you, no matter how shallow. You gulp visibly.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to have you,” he mutters as if he reads the fear right from your features, and he reaches out as you sink down into the hot water, a bit of water spilling over the edges with the added mass. The water brings comfort to your heavy stomach. “Come here.”

The water is so hot that it stings your skin. You hesitantly, reluctantly push yourself towards him. He wraps his arms around you, turning you so that your back is facing his front, and pulls you into his lap. Your body tenses as he rests his chin on your shoulder, hands coming to rest around your tummy. You swallow once again, trying to relax and not let your unwillingness shine through too heavily.

“How are you feeling, darling wife?”

You let out a small noise. “I’m fine. In pain, but it will pass.”

“Good. Is the baby well?”

You nod. “I think so.”

He hums into your neck, unpleasant goosebumps rising to your arms in spite of the scorching bath. “I needed to say something to you,” he mutters, his jaw tensing as a line forms in his brow for just a second. “I… Shouldn’t have yelled at you this afternoon.”

The furrowing of your eyebrows ceases for a second. But just when you were about to receive a sliver of an apology, or at least the very start of one, he bashes down that hope with just as much force. “…But you shouldn’t let yourself in with a Jew, especially one like Jesus of Nazareth. He’s popular because He preaches pretty words. Women, like yourself, are gullible.”

“I’m not gullible. I know what I’m talking—”

“—That’s what they all say.” Quintus hisses inside your ear, kissing the nape of your neck right after, a stark contrast between the two actions. The sharpness of his teeth grazes the skin, making you swallow hard and bite back a wince. “But trust me, darling, I’m just looking out for you. Those Jews would lynch you without a second thought just for being a Roman. Jesus may not appear that way, but I’m certain that His followers wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to kill you instantly if He gave them a sign.”

You turn a bit to face him, his eyes meeting yours way too closely for your liking, but his grip on you is vice-like. There are so many things you could tell him in protest, things that could make this bathtub your tomb, but you bite your tongue instead, wordlessly staring at the Praetor.

“I love you. You know that, right? I wouldn’t know what I would do without you,” he mutters, and for a moment, there is a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze. You are almost inclined to believe him for just that split second, no longer. “Do not waste your time on Jews, my love. Got it?”

He pulls you back into his shoulder so that the back of your head is resting on it. The essential oils in the water sting in your stretch marks, but you don’t shift. When you don’t respond, Quintus sighs, resting his chin on your shoulder as you sit like that until the suds of soap have vanished and the water has grown tepid.

---

Chapter list Next chapter (TBA)

#the chosen #reader insert #the chosen x reader #chosen x reader #atticus aemilius pulcher #atticus x reader #the chosen atticus #quintus x reader #gentile

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 7 days ago

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What are your favorite things about Andrew as a character? 😊 do you think he’d make a good husband?

I love how relatable he is! I recognise myself in both his trust and anxiety about things going on in the world at the same time. His unwavering faith in Jesus is also something I admire.

And I think he'd make a great spouse. I'm certain that his gentle nature would definitely be visible in how he'd treat his wife and children and would be the kind of man who teaches his kids that it is okay to cry and talk openly about how they feel. He'd make his family feel so appreciated and seen! Domestic fluff all the way!

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 8 days ago

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Judas | Own Up | Romantic

Feeling left out from the group, Judas isn’t certain whether you’d be interested in him, especially since a few of the Disciples seem to be adamant in discouraging him about it.

Requested by Livvy

A shriek unidentifiable fills the air across camp and has Judas make a wrong scratch on his parchment, a huff of exasperation leaving the keeper of the purse as he lifts his stylus and turns around to the source of the laughter now erupting from behind him, narrowing his blue eyes as he attempts to figure out what has gotten into you this time.

Running across camp with your arms around your own body to protect yourself, you are being pursued by both Simons as they chase after you with in their possession a bug that had apparently found itself inside your tent. Your question for one of them to remove it had turned into an impromptu and thoroughly unwanted session of exposure therapy, much to your dismay.

The men following you laugh as you hide behind Philip, who sheepishly chuckles at the display. “Now what is going on?”

“They’re trying to put a spider on me!”

“It’s not a spider, it’s a bug,” Zee clarifies, “And it’s not that big, look!”

You shrink behind Philip when he holds it up to show it. “Eek! Get it away from me!”

“This is not healthy for you, (Y/n),” Simon the son of Jonah teases, “You need to touch it in order to get over your irrational fears! Look at how cute it is wriggling! Aww—-”

“No! No-no-no!” you cry out, but there is a smile on your face and you giggle at the same time, evidence that you aren’t in actual distress in spite of your genuine disgust for the small insect inside Zee’s palm.

Judas’ narrowed gaze loosens a bit as sadness floods over his features instead. He can’t picture himself in such a situation where he’d be teasing you or anyone else, or being used as a safe haven in the way you’re holding onto Philip’s shoulders right now as you hide behind him. Every time moments like these take place in between mission trips and sermons, the banter as well as the playfulness that ensues in times of relaxation, Judas feels further away from the group than ever. He had been the last to join and perhaps that had been the main reason for it, he had thought to himself at first, but now he knows better.

Perhaps it’s because Judas is envisioning something different for the ministry that the others do not seem to understand. The grip on his stylus tightens before he dips it back into the ink. Attempting to focus on his work again, he fingers the loose coins on the log before him as he makes the calculations inside his mind, ignoring the way your laughter sounds behind him—

“—No! No, Big James! That’s so mean, why are you on their side?!” Judas pivots sharply and feels a strange sinking in his gut upon witnessing you thrown over James’ shoulder effortlessly as behind him the two Simons hold the bug in front of your face.

It’s not so much the fact that he is disturbed from properly doing his work now due to the noise. There is something else that causes this tightening inside of him, this sense of jealousy that goes beyond just belonging.

It is the way you are laughing with them. The gleeful glimmer inside your pretty (e/c) eyes has envy course through him. The manner in which you hammer your fists on James’ back in an attempt to get him to put you down, the kicking of your legs, the way you are so carefree and yet so graceful. Had they done this with Mary, or Ramah, or Tamar, he wouldn’t have minded as much. Matter of fact, Judas wouldn’t have minded at all.

“Hey, Nathanael,” he speaks up, turning to the former architect sitting at the fire, who is just feeding it another log that causes sparks to crackle. “Do you know who of Jesus’ followers is actually seeing someone?”

“You know that in our culture you don’t just see someone, Jude.”

“I know, I mean… Are there people other than Simon who are married? Betrothed? I— I don’t mean Thomas and Ramah, because they already met before that. I mean two people who… Who met here and then… You know.”

Nathanael turns to face Judas whilst pursing his lips, shaking his head. “I don’t think so. At least, Mary and Matthew seem to have a thing for each other but they’re just orbiting around one another at the moment. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, just… Curious.” He looks back at his work, not wanting to be caught staring at you. “Nothing more.”

“Most of us are focusing on the ministry now.”

“So, no hidden relationships going on somewhere? Unspoken feelings between people?”

Nathanael shrugs. “I don’t know that. I can’t exactly look into people’s heads, you know?”

Judas sighs. “I know. I was just asking.”

The architect hums and tosses some more wood into the fire. “Alright. How are the funds coming along?”

“They’re doing mediocre,” he mutters, leaning his chin on his hand as his elbow rests on the table. “I mean, we are making ends meet. Just… Not a lot left.”

“Is there enough for us to go to bed with full bellies?”

“Yeah.”

“So, what’s the issue? We have more than we need.”

Judas opens his mouth to speak. “But if we had more, we could expand even further. If we put it on the bank, we could raise—”

“—We have more than we need.” Nathanael repeats with emphasis, “So there is no problem with the funds. You’re doing great, Jude. No need to worry about not having enough.”

Once again established in his belief that he is an outsider compared to the others, since Nathanael doesn’t seem to catch onto his personal ideas for the group and doesn’t seem keen on hearing him out either. Judas averts his gaze back to his work and sighs once again. “Forget about it,” the businessman huffs, cutting the conversation short.

Another laugh from you reaches him, causing a sad, dark pit in his gut, as he attempts to block out the fact that you are having fun with others that aren’t him, and the fact that you, unlike himself, belong.

—

Still, Judas cannot keep you out of his head, replaying the way Nathanael had confirmed that you were very much available. For how long it will remain that way has yet to be determined. The keeper of the purse is absolutely certain that he cannot be the only one who has a thing for you, judging by how sweet you are.

One evening whilst most of the group sits at the fire safe from Zee, Jesus, Little James and you, Judas finds himself constantly trying to find your form somewhere between the tents, where you have withdrawn yourself in order to read for a bit. Judas sighs as he smiles softly, liking the fact that you’re taking pleasure in something like reading Scripture. You are quite intelligent, which he finds attractive.

“—Judas.” A rough push against his shoulder snaps him out of his thoughts. Thomas raises an eyebrow at him as the keeper of the purse gives him a strange look.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you wanted another refill.” Thomas holds up a jar of water. Judas gives a small shake of his head. “Are you alright? You seem distracted.”

“You were staring at (Y/n).” Simon the son of Jonah exposes.

“I was not—”

“Is that why you asked if she was seeing anyone?” Nathanael joins in.

Put on the spot, Judas gulps hard, running his hands over his tunic to get rid of their clamminess. “I— I’m not—”

“—You were suspiciously interested.”

“That’s not true and you know it. Sure, I was curious, but it was not like I was overly keen to know.”

Big James huffs and crosses his arms. “Well, you better keep your distance from her, then. Because we have known (Y/n) for way longer than you have and we know for sure that she wouldn’t like you in that way.”

“I...” Judas Iscariot rapidly blinks, feeling his heart tighten inside his chest. “What do you mean? Have you asked her what she thinks of me, or…”

“She hasn’t, but it would make sense for her to pick someone else over you. The two of you wouldn’t be good for one another.”

Feeling humiliated, Judas looks away, drawing a sharp breath. “How can you be so certain? If she has never explicitly said anything about it herself, why would you write it off like that?”

“I agree with James,” Simon intersects himself. “I don’t think you two would make a good match.”

“What makes you even think that?” Judas wants to know, but this only raises more suspicion.

“That’s interesting. If you didn’t like her in that way, why would it matter?” John mutters calmly.

Cornered, Judas sharply stands up. “Y-You act as if you like her!” he stutters. “Or—Or Big James, who are you into, huh? Why would it matter who (Y/n) likes?”

“Are you guys talking about me?” The mention of your name falling multiple times draws you to the fire.

Sharply pivoting to where you are standing, the man from Kerioth feels his breath hitch as all colour drains from his face. “I— Um— We were just… Just talking about…”

“—About the fact that some people find love within the group, like Thomas and Ramah, and others don’t, which is also fine.” Philip saves the day. You sigh as you plant your hands on your hips.

“Be as it may, I don’t like people talking about me behind my back. Especially when I’m trying to read and can follow their conversation just fine.” Judas’ heart rears as you look at him, a small smile on your lips. “If there is someone here who is into me, I’d rather just hear it from them personally, instead of orbiting around the topic for ages.”

“What if someone likes you and the others think they aren’t good for you?”

You blink in slight puzzlement at Big James’ question. “I think people can decide that for themselves, no?”

Without waiting for a reaction, you turn to head for your tent again, eager to continue your reading session. A brief silence falls over the group as they watch you walk off. “Well, that was awkward.” Nathanael quips, taking a loud sip of water. The other men chuckle a bit, turning back to whatever conversation they had been having earlier, as if you hadn’t been there at all, and as if they hadn’t just discouraged Judas from confessing his feelings for you just because they thought the two of you wouldn’t fit well together.

“(Y/n) has good judgement,” Philip muses, nearly causing the keeper of the purse to gasp in surprise at how close he is standing. Judas looks at him, a bit confused at the knowing smirk playing over the man’s lips. “Don’t let the others talk down on you. None of them would have the guts to admit it if they liked a woman, let alone tell her.”

“Oh, I’m not— (Y/n), she is…” Judas tries to find the right words and stumbles over them instead. “I— I mean… She…”

“…Might be glad to hear from you.” Philip finishes his sentence for him. “Trust me when I say that I know that a few of the men around this camp wish they had enough confidence to go and speak to her, and instead of owning up to their feelings, they decide to take it out on you instead.”

“Are you— Are you saying that Zee, Nathanael and Big James have a thing for her? And Simon? He’s married, that would be messed up!” Judas mutters in shock, causing Philip to chuckle lightly.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant. I don’t know what the men you mentioned feel, but I know they are protective over the women here. Try to take their words with a grain of salt and just do what the lady said you had to do if you happen to have feelings for her.”

“I— I don’t—” Judas’ words get stuck in his throat as Philip winks at him, stepping away to get himself another drink. For a few long moments, Judas stands a bit awkwardly with his arms at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching as he tries to decide what to do. When his gaze turns towards your tent, where he can see the shadow of your form reading in the candlelight, a look of determination comes over his features.

The others apart from Philip don’t pay him any mind as Judas walks towards your tent with deliberate steps, a wave of confidence hitting him. Outcast or not, he won’t let the others talk him out of confessing to what he feels for you anymore. He doesn’t want to suppress his feelings for you just because he is afraid of either judgement or rejection.

He halts in front of your tent and clears his throat, suddenly unsure of what to say. Judas realises he should have prepared this at least for a bit, but he’s already here and has made his presence known.

“Yes?”

“It’s Judas,” the man from Kerioth replies, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of your pleasant voice. “May I come in?”

“One moment,” you reply as you move to put on your veil, and as soon as it’s draped over your hair, you allow him entry. “Yes.”

He opens the flap to your tent and cold wind drifts into your room, causing the candle on the table you’re seated at to flicker dangerously. “Can I help you with something?”

“I’m… I’m here because of what you just said.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “Oh?”

“You said that if someone liked you, they would have to come over to you to tell you personally. So…”

“So…?” you muse, smiling softly as your heart hammers inside your chest, having an inkling where this is going, much to your delight.

Judas straightens his back as you stand up, walking over to him.

“So… Here I am. I— I know I’m not the tallest, or the strongest, but I’d do anything for you.”

You halt in front of him, drinking in the determined blue eyes of the keeper of the purse. The fact that he was here right now, in spite of how he felt about his position in the group, confident enough to tell you how he feels about you; it is admirable in and of itself.

“Here you are,” you whisper, “And I’m glad that you are.”

Judas feels his face heat up. “Really?” He lets his hands fiddle with one another in front of him, uncertain what he should say.

“Really.” You respond, your (e/c) glittering as you look at him, taking his hands in yours.

#the chosen #reader insert #the chosen x reader #chosen x reader #judas x reader #the chosen judas #luke dimyan

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 10 days ago

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Quintus | An Offer Utterly Unexpected | Platonic

Caught in the act of stealing from him, you are brought in front of Praetor Quintus to face his wrath, most likely to be executed for your crimes. However, he has different plans for you.

Requested by Sweetweasleygirl

You know exactly which floorboards to avoid as you traverse the small study, sneaking towards the painting hanging on the wall. You know the safe to be there; you have cleaned this room often enough to have found out all its secrets. On your tip-toes, you make your way over to the small sofa that it is located above, moving silently as you grab hold of the embellished frame, lifting it from the wall to find the gemstone-filled safe behind—

“—What do you think you’re doing?” A voice suddenly booms behind you, catching you red-handed. You release the frame, careful to not drop it to the floor as you swallow hard, your heart leaping inside your chest as you slowly turn towards the man standing in the opening of the door. The moment you hear the sound of a crying baby drift from somewhere behind him, you realise just exactly why you have been caught.

You draw a sharp breath, your motherly instinct taking over as you do a step in his direction — you had put your six-month-old on one of the plush seats to wait for you there, but an unattended fussy baby was of course suspicious enough for the guard in question to go investigate. “I asked you a question, what do you think you’re doing?!” There is even less patience in the centurion’s voice this time, a hard line in his brow as he steps towards you, grabbing your arm.

“I—I was just cleaning Dominus’ study—”

“—You expect me to believe that? Where are your cleaning supplies, then?”

You reach into your apron for a rag, a jar of tallow, anything, but he doesn’t buy it. “Were you stealing from Praetor Quintus? You know he could have put you to death for that, right? Stupid Jew.” A strong hand grabs the scruff of your neck and drags you away. “No—Wait—!” you protest, reaching out for your child still wailing on the sofa, and with an exasperated sigh, the guard allows you to grab hold of her. Cradling your daughter against your chest, you kiss her forehead in an attempt to calm her down, whilst the centurion once again grabs your arm to bring you to the Praetor.

Silent tears start rolling down your cheeks as the panic begins to grow. You had known the risks and yet went through with it. However, desperation leads people to deeds they wouldn’t normally perform under better circumstances, making it so that you actively pushed away your ability to discern things properly and found yourself stealing from the Praetor. After all, you didn’t have any income otherwise…

A rough push has you nearly stagger forward as you’re ushered into the office of the bald Praetor, who looks up disturbed in whatever conversation he’s having. “What’s the meaning of this interruption? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“I caught her rummaging around in your home study, Dominus.”

Praetor Quintus sighs and gives the man with him a look. “I’m sorry, Atticus, do you have a moment?”

The man in question nods and turns away. “Of course,” he confirms, folding his hands on his back as he starts looking over the brass decorations of the Praetor’s office.

Your throat runs dry as Quintus narrows his eyes at you, instinctively causing you to hold your wailing baby closer to yourself. For a moment, he observes you with a dangerous glint in his gaze before letting it go to the man who had brought you in. “What was she doing exactly?”

“She was about to crack open your safe, Dominus.”

“My safe?” Quintus’ jaw tenses. “How do you know about my safe, woman?”

You take a shaky breath before responding. “I… I usually clean your study, Dominus.”

“Plenty of people clean it. No one has found it ever before, not even my own men.”

Averting your gaze, you look at your own feet as you hold your daughter close. Quintus waves his hand at the centurion who had caught you in the act. “You’re dismissed, thank you Titus.”

The man gives a curtsy before releasing you at last, a small bit of relief washing over you as he does so.

“Who told you about the safe?”

“No one, Dominus. I found it on my own. My late husband, he… He taught me security measures.”

Quintus glares at the baby in your arms, for it hasn’t stopped crying yet. You try to shush it by rocking it back and forth in your arms. “Can’t you make it stop?”

“With all due respect, I’m trying to, Dominus.”

The bald man hums and falls silent for a thoughtful moment. “What’s your name, slave?”

“It’s (Y/n),” you reply softly, “Dominus.”

“And you’re one of the cleaners of my house, no?”

“I am, Dominus.”

He stands, a head taller than you, as he paces around the desk slowly. “The father of your child,” he says, “Does he work for me?”

“He did, Dominus.”

“He did? What happened to him?”

You feel your throat screw shut as Quintus observes you. Usually, such scrutiny does not mean something positive, especially coming from the unpredictable Roman in question. “He passed away, Dominus.”

“Good,” the bald Praetor huffs, “That way he can’t teach you to steal from me anymore.”

“He didn’t—”

“—Are you speaking out against me, Jew?”

Taking a sharp breath, you feel tears well up in your eyes again. They had dried before entering the office, but now they return without hesitation. “He— He was provider for our daughter, Dominus. I— Since I don’t make any money, he— he was the one who made sure we didn’t go hungry. Now I have to feed my baby on my own, and it’s been so hard on me, Dominus.”

Praetor Quintus rolls his eyes. “Life can be tough, (Y/n). All my slaves are given enough food, you included.”

“I— It’s difficult when I need to feed my baby as well,” you hiccup, not liking the fact that you are being so vulnerable in front of this tyrant of a man at all, but you cannot stop yourself from crying, “I need more than the usual rations. My body is shutting down on me, I— I need it, otherwise I will die, and I—”

“—If you keep making excuses, you will die regardless.” Quintus hisses through gritted teeth. “I could have your head for this. Your daughter wouldn’t make it out there on her own, so what exactly are you risking?!”

You stand in silence as heavy tension fills the room. The man earlier referred to as Atticus looks between you and the agitated Praetor, until Quintus glares his way, causing him to quickly go back to studying the map of the Roman Empire hanging on the wall. Your baby has exhaustedly started to calm down in your arms, a stark contrast to the anxiety coursing through your entire body right now.

“I do what I can, Dominus.”

“—Wait just one second,” Quintus suddenly mutters, pointing a finger at you, “You mentioned your husband working for me. How did he know about my safe being located behind the painting?”

“He…” you take a shaky breath, “He used to work in gemstones, Dominus. Knew everything about them, as well as how to keep them safely locked away.”

Something shifts in the bald Praetor’s gaze. Something you cannot quite place, since you aren’t very familiar with the Roman, and then again, the man is utterly fickle in his ways. “You were Dov’s wife, then.”

Feeling your heart skip a beat, you lift your eyes to lock with Quintus’, your lips parting at bit upon hearing your late husband’s name so strangely from the Praetor. “Yes, Dominus.”

A deep-set frown falls over his face, a hand coming up to rub at his chin thoughtfully as he momentarily turns towards the window. “He was one of my best advisors when it came to selecting and appraising my valuables. To this day, I haven’t found a proper replacement yet. He passed away due to an accident, no?”

“He… He was repairing the roof and slipped, yes,” you breathe, “He didn’t suffer.”

“So I’ve heard. That was nearly half a year ago now and I’ve been in need of someone to properly help me out here. Do you know if he has any colleagues somewhere around Judea who may be able to replace him?”

You open your mouth a bit, trying to figure out if Dov had indeed any acquaintances that are currently in need of a similar job. “If you know someone,” Quintus adds, “I might let you off the hook from trying to steal from me just this time. We’d be even.”

“I—I don’t know anyone, Dominus.”

Quintus sighs and rubs his chin. “Now that is a shame. I greatly respected that man, you know? He knew so much. Well, in that case—”

“—Dominus,” you cut him off, “I… He has taught me quite a few things. That goblet over there… It’s got amethyst in it.” Quintus looks down at his cup and observes the purple stone. “From the Eastern Desert in Egypt,” you clarify, “They differ just slightly from the ones in Persia, so I’m positive this one is from there.”

Something in his demeanour changes. His shoulders become less tense as he looks at you with a curious smile. “How can I be sure you’re not just having a lucky guess here?”

You inhale and hold your daughter a bit closer to you. “Give me something else to determine, Dominus, so I can prove myself to you.”

Quintus hums and looks around the room. “That round thing on Atticus’ cloak.” Atticus frowns a bit, turning to the conversation fully now. You observe the marshall’s decorative disc from a distance.

“Agate, sir.”

“Where from? Arabia or Yemen?” Atticus wants to know.

“Yem— No… No, that’s a trick question. This one is from India. I can tell by the colour of the outline.”

A smirk spreads over the face of the Cohortes Urbanae. “Impressive,” he muses, giving Quintus a small nod to indicate that you are right.

With a low hum coming from deep within his lungs, Quintus watches you for a long moment, narrowing his eyes as he steps closer to you, holding out his hand in your direction. “And this?” His ring shimmers a bit in the dim light of the office as you take it in.

Before you can respond, however, a tiny and curious hand wraps itself around his finger. Your daughter has a firm grip, a toothless grin on her face as she pulls on it playfully. Quintus’ face twists into something utterly estranged to what is going on until it turns more amused than anything. “How cute,” he mutters before withdrawing his finger from her hold. “But tell me what my ring is made of and tell me how much it cost me.”

“May I hold it, Dominus?”

A bit reluctant, the Praetor removes his ring and lays it inside your palm. You weigh it for a moment, estimating how heavy it is before you hold it against the light. Not only is the deep amber stone cut beautifully, the gold is also adorned with intricate blossoms. “Topaz,” you whisper, “Must come from Nubia.”

Quintus lets his gaze flick between the ring, you and the baby inquisitively reaching out for it. A huff that borderlines on a chuckle leaves him when you momentarily allow your daughter to hold it, cooing her as she inspects it closer. You are just in time to prevent her from putting it into her mouth. “That isn’t for eating, Giva,” you murmur softly as you look at the piece of jewellery again.

“Any estimate for me?” the Praetor asks, “Come on, I haven’t got all day.”

You hum and weigh it again. “This is not gold. It’s made from brass, merely coated in gold. I can tell due to its softness. About seven grams. Obviously made by a craftsman… I think this cost you about 120 denarii, but with the right sales pitch to anyone interested, you could sell it for about 150, but I wouldn’t necessarily ask more due to the fact that it might come to light if the surface of the ring is scratched, and that way there can hardly be grounds for fraud accusations—”

Your voice hitches and you lower your gaze as you notice Quintus’ gaze scrutinising you. Only now, you realise just how much you have been saying and how much you’ve adapted to the Praetor’s mindset already by telling him what he wants to hear instead of what would be morally right to do.

“That was… Scarily spot-on.” The bald man hums, smirking a bit. “Hades and Styx. I think I found a replacement for your husband.”

You tilt your head slightly in confusion. “Dominus?”

“You are hired for the exact same wages your husband received, so that you will no longer have to worry about caring for your daughter. You’ll start tomorrow. I expect you to see me in this office early in the morning so that you can appraise the jewellery I’ve been meaning to sell. Is that clear?”

Blinking rapidly, you clear your throat as you try to process what is happening. “I… Uh… Dominus, are you…”

“I am offering you a job, yes. And I’d suggest you take it, or I could still have your head for attempting to steal from me.” Although presented like a threat, there is a tone to his voice that ensures you that you aren’t in any danger, for it doesn’t sound like he means it this time around.

“Thank you, Dominus.” you whisper, giving him a small bow, “Would you… Would you be okay with it if I brought Giva with me?”

His gaze flickers over to the baby in your arms, something in his hard glare softening. “Fine.”

You curtsy once again, then at the other man with him in the room, before rushing out of the office to digest what exactly has just happened. Not only had you just escaped a death penalty, you had also received an actual paying job.

As you disappear behind the corner, Atticus lets out a chuckle.

“What?” Quintus snaps, gaze hardening again. “What are you laughing at?”

Atticus plants his hands on his hips and shrugs. “Nothing. I just never thought I’d see a soft side of yours. Who knew you actually had a heart, huh?”

“I’m not— Ah, forget it. I was just in need of a new assayer, nothing more.”

“Right, whatever helps you sleep at night,” Atticus says, thoroughly amused. With a tensing jaw, Quintus gestures at the seat in front of his desk so that the marshall will sit down again to continue their previously interrupted conversation about Jesus of Nazareth.

With a knowing grin on his features, Atticus sits nonchalantly in the chair, leaning back a bit.

No matter what Quintus will claim this display to be about, the cohortes urbanae will not let him hear the end of it, ever.

#the chosen #reader insert #the chosen x reader #chosen x reader #platonic #quintus x reader #brandon potter

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 13 days ago

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could finally add this!!! More of quintus daughter au, unfortunately without the sound and as a gif that had to be very compressed

(If u can’t see it, please let me know)

Oh wow, I love this so much! 🫶 Thank you so much for sending this to me, it must have taken ages to put together, I appreciate that greatly 🥹

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 13 days ago

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The Chosen ABCs Of Romance | Philip

ABCs Master List

Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

The relationship between you and Philip is unhurried and comfortable, making it so that long walks at wherever your camp is located are something both of you are very fond of. Quality time consists of talking about life and faith. Philip often shares what he found in God’s Word and teaches you a few passages to learn from the top of your head.

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

You adore his faithfulness to the Lord as well as his humility. He knows a lot about Scripture, but at the same time he never pretends to be better than anyone, like the Pharisees often do. It is one of the qualities you love most in him.

What he loves about you is how eager you are to learn more about God. You are everything he could ever wish for in a Godly woman, and then so much more. He sees you as the woman he has prayed for for so long.

Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Philip always remains calm and collected whenever you are not. He doesn’t ask questions and answers to your every beck and call until you are ready to speak to him about it. He is a beacon of strength in moments like these.

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Both of you are on fire for the Lord so you expect to travel together to spread the Gospel to the other ends of the Earth if you are compelled to do so. You have even discussed the possible outcome that you’ll never be able to start a family, and even though it might be bittersweet for both of you, you know your ministry is worth giving up any other dream for. God’s ways are not your ways.

Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

In your relationship, things are quite equal. Still, Philip tends to take the lead more easily than you, which you don’t mind. After all, he sees it as his duty to take proper care of you.

Fight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Philip and you rarely fight, and whenever you do it is because of a simple misunderstanding. Since you are both forgiving people who are spiritually mature, you know how to deal with conflict in a respectful way, resolving thinks quickly and fairly.

Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

This man prays for you and over you. Whenever you are praying together, he will always praise God for entrusting him with a woman such as yourself. It makes your heart swell with happiness and you thank God for Philip in turn.

Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

You two know everything about one another, which makes both of you extremely confident that your relationship will last.

Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helping them overcome personal problems?

As mentioned earlier, Philip often teaches you new passages. He is well-read when it comes to the Word of God and you are keen to learn. This trait of yours has taught Philip to always remain curious about God, since your eagerness is contagious.

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Philip doesn’t seem any other man as a threat, not by a long shot. He is totally fine with you conversing with other people of the opposite sex, but he knows when to stay nearby if he can sense that the man in question has ill intent. Still, he isn’t overly protective.

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Your first kiss, like all others you receive from him after, was kind and sweet. He is always a little careful, afraid that you might break at any given moment. He always keeps it gentle and chaste until you take the lead more boldly, to which he gladly responds.

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Philip’s love confession had been a process of sorts. He had been teaching you passages from Solomon’s poetry regarding love and connection, hoping that you would eventually catch onto the recurring theme of what he spoke to you about. When you figured it out, you suddenly realised it is the sweetest thing ever.

Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

If your ministry will ever allow it, the two of you would love to get married some day. Your marriage would be extremely fulfilling, because you genuinely think you are out of one another’s league, causing you to put in that extra effort to express your appreciation of each other.

Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

Philip usually calls you by a nickname that fits with your real name. Whenever you are in one of your teasing moods, you make sure to call him ‘Phil’, because you know he hates it. Whenever you are feeling sweet, you call him your ‘cuddly bear’ because of his facial hair, which makes him flustered.

On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

Due to how strongly established your relationship is, it didn’t take long for the novelty to wear off and instead turn into a deeper understanding of love. The butterflies made place for a strong connection, making for a secure and confident bond between you two. The others can see that the two of you are very much in love with each other, but you don’t have the lovey-dovey type of relationship.

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Because of the strength of your bond, both of you prefer to keep the affection between the two of you. Philip likes to hold your hand or wrap an arm around you while other people are nearby, but the kissing and cuddling only takes place in private.

Quirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Owing to Philip’s knowledge on Scripture, he has a way of complimenting you by using the Songs of Solomon at the most random moments of the day. It either makes you melt or it cracks you up, depending on the text he is reciting. Especially when he uses the ‘your hair is like a flock of goats appearing on Mount Gilead’ line on you.

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

His soft and peaceful nature makes Philip the thoughtful romantic who will totally pick you some flowers he found while taking a morning walk or bring you some fresh bread to your tent in the morning to see if you are awake yet.

Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

The two of you share the same goal of telling the nations about Jesus, so of course he supports you through and through. If you have other ambitions next to the ministry, Philip naturally stands with you.

Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Since your process of ‘being in love’ quickly turned into ‘loving one another’, your relationship doesn’t need a lot of thrill to remain interesting to you. You’re a strong team. Still, you manage to surprise one another pleasantly in many ways. For example, you find out that Philip knows how to dance and he finds out that you are very good at baking. Both of these skills make date nights a lot of fun.

Understanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

You are basically one soul, so of course he understands what you need through and through. It is sometimes frightening at how well he can sense what you need. At one point you genuinely have to ask if he is able to read your mind.

Value - How important is the relationship to them? What is it worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Philip sees you as a gift from God Himself to keep him grounded and grateful at the very same time. He tells you out loud and in all earnesty that he sees you as a reminder of God’s greatness, which reassures you in what you mean to him.

Wild Card - A random fluff headcanon.

Random acts of kindness are very much a staple in your relationship. It has happened more often than once that you both made a cup of tea for one another at the same time, or that you both brought the same pastry from the market to surprise the other, which makes for hilarious yet adorable moments between you two, constantly reminding you of how secure you two are.

XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Expect sleepy cuddles once you find yourself alone in the evening. He is usually the big spoon but he secretly likes to be the little spoon every so often. He kisses your temple and the crown of your head a lot while you sit in his lap.

Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Since you are so established in your relationship, both of you can cope very well with the other’s absence. Even though you miss each other a whole lot, you can still properly eat and sleep whenever you are apart.

Zeal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

You are a present from God that Philip is convinced he never deserved in the first place, so he is determined to keep and hold you close. He would do anything for you.

#reader insert #the chosen #chosen x reader #the chosen x reader #abcs of romance #the chosen abcs #philip x reader #the chosen philip #reza diako #yoshi barrigas

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 13 days ago

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No one mourns the wicked. No, one mourns the wicked or know, one mourns the wicked

Literally so cool the quintus daughter au

Like ugh Jesus feeling her pain:(

Yes! This would make for such good angst too. I mean, imagine the way Thomas would strongly dislike her at first just because of who her father is 👀 So much tension! And of course the lessons Jesus could teach about the situation, that your parents do not determine who you are as a person... So much potential for a series!

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 14 days ago

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ooo the quintus daughter is so like she loves her father as a father but no a man so it’s just when’s he’s arrested:

no one mourns the wicked

no, one mourns the wicked

That's such an interesting thought! Would be a great premise to explore... 👀

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 15 days ago

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Jesus | Stealing Salvation | Platonic

When you take an abandoned leather bag left on the street for yourself, you are left with a different kind of loot than what you had bargained for.

Requested by Finn

For the third time in five minutes, your stomach unpleasantly rumbles, as if the nagging feeling of emptiness hadn’t been enough of a sign that you’re in desperate need of some food. Clawing at your tummy for a moment in an attempt to keep down the irritating feeling of uneasiness, you swallow hard and squint against the bright sun, letting your gaze fall down onto the market down below.

It is two days before Shabbat and people are purchasing their wares to celebrate the day of rest. The streets are full with the hustle and bustle its preparations bring forth and a small smirk spreads over your face. The more unattended purses, the better.

In spite of feeling guilty about it, you don’t really have a choice but to pick pockets whenever you see a chance. Your gut grumbles once again as a reminder of that whilst you descend the small flight of stairs on the side of the house you had been scouting the premises from. You tuck your hands into your pockets, making yourself as small as you can. No one pays attention to a measly orphan roaming around the crowd.

You keep your eyes peeled for any pouches and satchels hanging from belts, your head low, away from prying eyes alike.

Suddenly, you collide with someone, a pained noise leaving you as you look up exasperatedly.

“Watch it!” a man snaps, causing another next to him to give him a look.

“Come on, now. It’s just a child, Simon.”

“One that isn’t looking where she’s walking, Andrew.”

“Hasn’t Jesus taught you anything?”

The two walk on without as much as another look your way, but your interest piques at the mention of the Name — Jesus. A Name you have been hearing pass through the streets quite often these past months. A Preacher from Nazareth Who has been telling about a Kingdom of heaven where the first will be the last and the last will be the first, where the ones beaten down by society are elevated. They have disappeared behind the corner before you can process the fact that you’d have followed them otherwise to see where they are going, and when you quickly rush to where they vanished, you can’t find them anymore. Your shoulders slump, for you had been curious to know more about this Jesus you have been hearing so much about.

After all, you hadn’t exactly lived a… Kosher life, so to speak. Ever since your parents passed away, you had been left to your own devices and had been forced to resort to stealing to get by.

Part of you has always considered yourself lucky that you hadn’t been older when your father passed away when you were only seven years old, leaving you an orphan. Had you been in your teens back then already, you’d have been found by thugs eager to sell you into slavery, or worse, prostitution.

In spite of petty theft being the lesser evil, you find yourself feeling ashamed about it nevertheless. You’ve never dared to get closer to Adonai, the burden of your sins weighing too heavy on you to allow yourself to ever step foot inside a synagogue. Not that they would let you enter in the first place, for many turned away with a sneer on their face whenever you came near.

A group of four men walks past you and snaps you from your drifting thoughts, headed in the general direction where the two others had walked towards earlier. Something draws you to one of them. Perhaps it’s the way that He carries Himself, or maybe it’s the large leather backpack around His shoulders. Whatever it is, you decide to shadow them, hands once again in your pockets as you tail them from a distance.

“Oh, what’s that smell? Are those cinnamon cakes?” one of the men sighs. As you take a whiff, your stomach rumbles once again. That is definitely cinnamon, and what you wouldn’t give…

“You and your cinnamon cakes, James,” a man with wavy hair responds, “You know these won’t be as good as eema’s, so I don’t know why you would even consider them.” Brothers, then.

“You know we’re a good long way from home, John,” says the man addressed as James, “And I bet the others are also peckish. We’ve walked for quite a bit, right guys?”

The other two nod; they look alike, but you don’t think they are related. Leaning against a wall, you watch how they come to an agreement. “Let’s get ourselves something small then,” the Man with the backpack suggests. “I’m just going to put this down for a second to rest my back.”

A small smirk plays over your lips. It looks heavy as He places it down. Perhaps there is something valuable in there, you wonder as the quartet starts walking away towards the stall selling baked goods, providing you with a perfect moment to strike.

You move with the crowd, trying to appear inconspicuous as you inch towards it step by step whilst your attention flickers from the taupe bag to the men busying themselves with purchasing baked goods. Seeing a window of opportunity, you snatch the leather bag before being about to sprint off, but you nearly collide into someone — with widened eyes, you look up, seeing the same man who had nearly knocked you off your feet only minutes earlier.

“Hey, you again—?! Wait! That bag doesn’t belong to you!”

Without another thought, you regain your senses and rush off as fast as you can, hearing footsteps behind you right away. Your smaller frame is quicker at first, more agile as you had been prepared to run from the moment you had picked up the backpack.

“Stop right there!”

You to turn left and instantly take a right. Knowing the streets like the back of your hand, you are familiar with all the little nooks and crannies of Jerusalem, hopping over a few crates, ducking under a few low-hanging lines full with wet laundry. You hope it will shake off the man pursuing you; you believe he had been referred to as Simon, but aren’t entirely certain anymore. Not that it matters.

Taking a moment to catch your breath, you come to a halt and feel adrenaline rush through your body as you look over your shoulder, only to come eye to eye with an agitated Simon. “You!” You’re instantly on the run again, your lungs burning inside your chest as your legs carry you as fast as they can.

Finding a ledge, you hop onto it, climbing expertly onto a roof by using a few bricks that are sticking out here and there, a skill gained from years of living on the streets. As soon as you reach the edge, you pull yourself onto it, resting your hands on your knees as you heave for air right after. Down below, you see your pursuer, equally as out of breath, glaring at you as he finds himself unable to continue after you.

A small victorious smirk finds its way over your lips before you can stop it. The man opens his mouth to speak, to call after you, but you’re already gone, rushing a fair bit over the roofs, hopping down a few and climbing onto others, scaling the premises of Jerusalem until you’re sure that you are a safe distance away from still being caught.

Exhausted, you make your way down onto the ground and find an abandoned alleyway to get a good look at your haul. You slide down with your back to the wall and draw a few deep breaths, your heartbeat easing as you open the flap of the bag.

You reach in. An extra tunic, which you do not mind, since your current one had started to wither away with irreparable holes that frayed further and further through wear and tear. A bag of pistachios. You crack open the shells of a handful by using your rusty pocket knife and start munching on them with a sigh as you happily fish out an apple to quench your thirst at the same time. Taking a large bite, you continue exploring the contents.

A small bridle. You frown at the sight of how worn it looks. The leather is far form supple anymore and seems as if it is about to fall apart. Guilt forms inside your gut. It must have some kind of sentimental value to the owner of the bag, otherwise He wouldn’t have bothered carrying it around on His travels. You sigh and put it aside for now, rummaging through the rest of the items inside.

A pair of worn sandals. You don’t pay those much attention. A few pretty rocks which you play around with in your palm for a few moments. You take another bite of the apple.

“I believe you have something that belongs to Me.”

A voice, non-accusatory yet touching you to the bone, reaches your ears and causes you to startle. Red hot shame claws at your throat.

“I…”

The Stranger approaches you, causing you to stagger to your feet with the bag in your hands. Embarrassed, you watch how the apple falls from your lap half-eaten and rolls until it halts right in front of Him. He looks at it for a moment before turning to you again.

“You’re hungry.”

“I’m sorry, I…” you swallow hard as you rub at your throat, feeling ashamed, especially since this Man is so kindly smiling at you, that He means no harm even though you’ve stolen from Him. “I am.”

“I know. I hope you’ve enjoyed the apple. I had put in an extra one just for the occasion.”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “I… What?”

“I didn’t put down My bag for no reason. Actually, I was counting on you to take it from Me, just so I could come here to speak to you. I even brought you some bread.”

You should know better than to accept food from strangers, but when the Man holds out the fresh rye loaf, you can’t help but wolf it down with ravenous intensity.

“Who are You?” you ask with a mouth full of food, taking another bite as you look up at the Man.

“My name is Jesus.” He comes to sit down next to you so both of you are with your back against the wall.

You nearly choke on your food, but gather yourself with a few coughs. Jesus hums and smiles kindly. “Easy there, my daughter. No one is taking it away from you. You have been living this kind of life for a long time, no?”

You nod and swallow your food. “For most of my life,” you admit.

“You’re very young. It must be rough for you.”

You pluck some soft bits from the centre of the bread to eat from it as Jesus offers you a water-skin. “I’m not proud of it, but I have no choice. It’s better than being a slave. At least I’ve still got my freedom now.”

Jesus looks at you for a thoughtful moment, allowing you some time to eat and drink before asking questions again. “What is your name?” He asks once you’ve eaten most of your fill. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and pry some bread from between your teeth with your tongue before responding.

“It’s (Y/n).” you say, “At least, I think that is what my parents called me, if I recall correctly.”

Jesus gives a gentle nod.

“Why are You being nice to me?” you ask, “I stole from You. There is no reason for You to be kind to me, and yet You are.”

“You know Who I am, don’t you?”

You nod, taking a sip of water. “I do, I’ve heard about You. Which makes me wonder it even more, why You are even willing to speak to me and buy me food. Someone Who is so close to God shouldn’t even want to be in my proximity. I’m a thief, a lowlife…”

“What matters to Me is your intention. You steal to survive, not because you want to. However, I need you to know this: The Lord provides for the birds of the air. Would He then not provide for you also? Is the body not more than food? Essential as food may be, stealing is not the solution to your problems. It only creates more of them.”

You lower your gaze, agreeing with the words. You have had your fair share of trouble along the way ever since you resorted to petty theft to get by. “This life you lead is not one I wish for you to lead,” Jesus tells you. “I have something way better to offer you, something everlasting.”

“But I’ve stolen things that don’t belong to me for so long… I’m not sure if I can live up to it. I don’t— I don’t deserve it.” you whisper.

“Forgiveness is not something you can earn through being a good person,” Jesus tells you, “But it is a gift you receive in spite of not deserving it.”

Mulling over the words, you take another swig of water.

“So what do You suggest I’d do, then? It’s not like I can afford a house, and no one wants to take me into their home since there are so many urchins already.”

“So… Follow Me.” Jesus suggests, a question that takes you so aback that you drop the remainder of the bread onto the dirty ground below. You are just starting to apologise since the action may be considered wasteful even if done so by accident, but Jesus smiles at you softly.

“I will give you a different kind of bread. You will not go hungry again. I will provide you with spiritual food, that will neither expire nor be taken away from you.”

“I don’t know what that means,” you must confess, smiling a bit sheepishly. “But if You’d have me…”

“I wouldn’t have asked you otherwise.” Jesus chuckles a bit. “You have much to learn, but you have time. My students will be glad to have you.”

You open your mouth to respond, but someone interrupts; the man who had been pursuing you earlier lets out an offended sound as he steps closer. “There you are, you little—” As soon as he sees the Messiah, his insult hitches in his throat. “Jesus.”

“Simon,” Jesus responds, smiling gently as He helps you up. “Meet My new student, (Y/n). She is in need of someone who can show her the ropes on her first few days with us and I think you would be a good fit to do that.”

The man sighs, but then nods in sudden determination. If Jesus wants you with the group, Simon will not oppose it. After all, he had done so when Matthew joined as well, and he learnt to trust Jesus whenever He asked His followers to join them. “Yes, Rabbi.”

Jesus squeezes your shoulder before taking up His bag, putting the bridle back in and leading you away.

“So, are you ready for your new life?” Simon asks you as you follow Jesus out of the alleyway.

“I am,” you say, “The one I used to lead was hardly a life at all.”

Simon hums in acknowledgement. “I think all of us feel like that, really,” he tells you. “That our lives before Jesus didn’t really matter all that much. But then again, our pasts do not define us. What matters now is who we are in Him.”

“I can’t wait for my new life to start,” you muse.

On that note, you head with them, approaching your destiny with newfound purpose.

#the chosen #reader insert #the chosen x reader #chosen x reader #platonic #the chosen jesus #jesus x reader #jonathan roumie

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 17 days ago

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Your most recent fic you’ve dropped is definitely one of my favorites! 🫶🏻 you have such a gift for writing, it’s all so good

Thank you so much, you have no idea how much that warms my heart ☺️🫶

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 17 days ago

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Andrew | With His Heart On His Sleeve, He Went | Romantic

Dialogue prompt : “Can’t you see? I’m in love with you!”

Simon urges his brother to finally tell you how he feels about you, but Andrew realises you need him to spell it out.

Requested by Anon & Eve

Oblivious to the pair of dark eyes lingering on your every move, you busy yourself setting up the stall you prepare every other day at Capernaum’s market, hanging your goods and wares from the beam overhead to display them to your potential customers. Andrew feels a heavy sigh leave his lungs as he watches you move gracefully, admiring the devoted way you hang your pieces of embroidery near the hand-drawn patterns that match them, drinking in the little sigh that relaxes your shoulders once you step back to admire your handiwork.

“You know, women generally don’t like being stared at.” Simon’s voice is so close to Andrew’s ear that he jumps out of his own skin, having to resist the sudden intense urge to turn and hook him right in the jaw. Not a violent type, however, Andrew manages to keep himself in check and takes a moment to gather himself before huffing in annoyance.

“I’m not staring.”

“Drooling, then.”

Andrew glares at his older brother as he drags a hand through his curls in frustration. “I just… You know how I feel about her, Si.”

“Oh yes, I’ve known that for a long time. You’ve been talking my ear off about it, too. Now come on, these fish won’t haul itself to the workshop to get them ready for sale.” With a huff, Andrew lifts the crate again, wondering why they couldn’t have gotten a barrel instead, for those are easier to transport.

“You know,” Simon starts, looking at his younger sibling over the wood of the heavy crate, some water spilling from the cracks with every step they take, “I don’t understand why you haven’t walked up to her yet to confess how you feel. I mean, you two have been friends for so long, there isn’t any way that she doesn’t feel something for you, right?”

Andrew sighs, almost flinching as he nearly twists his ankle on a particularly difficult turn towards another road. The workshop is just on the other end of the street so he’s glad the two of them are now in the home stretch. Ever since Zebedee’s cart broke down, getting fish from the docks to here was a hassle in and of itself, the two sons of Jonah hoping that it would be repaired soon so that they could borrow it from their fellow fisherman again.

“I don’t know,” Andrew doubts, “I mean, we have been friends ever since we were children. I mean, you even bullied her for a while, remember?”

Simon cringes at the sudden memory being brought to the forefront of his mind as a pang of regret goes through him. Before he knew Eden, he had liked you, and being in his early teens had caused him to tease you constantly just to get your attention. It hadn’t been until later that he found out that Andrew had been sweet on you since long before that.

“Ah, not my proudest moment in our childhood,” Simon admits, “But… I understand that it might be daunting to confess to her now.”

“Has she ever shown any signs that she’s into me?” Andrew asks as if his brother is the best at reading women. Still, Simon manages to maintain a happy marriage with Eden, so there is something he must be doing right in his way of approaching them.

“I don’t know,” he says, “Do you want me to ask, or would you like some ideas as to find out for yourself? Mind the step.”

Breathing a word of thanks for the warning, Andrew mulls over Simon’s suggestion as he descends the small flight of stairs leading into the workshop where the fish are meant to be cleaned. The employee responsible gestures to the place where they can put down the crate with the others and takes a pouch of money from the apron he is wearing, counting the current worth of such a catch. The momentary halt that has been put on their conversation allows Andrew some time to come up with an answer.

On one hand, he finds the idea of approaching you directly about it terrifying, so it would be great to have Simon help him out with the matter by doing it for him. On the other, he would rather hear it straight from you than through his brother in the case that you aren’t into him. That way, he would likely be able to process it better for the sake of closure.

Besides, Andrew loves every single opportunity he gets to speak to you. Simon could feed him some lines to try and find out if you saw the curly-haired fisherman in a romantic light. After being paid their wages, the sons of Jonah walk out of the workshop. Andrew halts and looks at his brother.

“I would like to ask her myself,” Andrew concludes, “But I could use some guidance as to what to say to her exactly.” Simon wraps an arm around his shoulders and squeezes.

“Let me tell you something. Women adore to receive compliments as well as gifts. What if you bought something nice for her to see how she’d react to it? And maybe tell her that she looks pretty.”

“I think she’d like flowers,” Andrew immediately knows, “And… Maybe something sweet. I could bring her cinnamon cakes or raisin rolls or rose-hip pastries—”

“See, you already know what she likes! Women love that, because it means you’re paying attention to her preferences. That’s a great start.”

Simon hands Andrew his cut of the money earned from their catch. “Go get her something and find her at the stall. She’s there until midday, no?”

“About halfway through the afternoon,” Andrew confirms, “She always leaves right before the sun hits her wares, because she’s afraid it will make the colours of her embroidery more pale overtime.”

The older son of Jonah pushes his tongue into his cheek as he chuckles. “My, you are really smitten, aren’t you? After all this time?”

Andrew runs a hand down the side of his face as he lets out a groan. “Do you think I’m a fool?”

“A fool in love? Absolutely. Decades of knowing each other and yet you’ve never even considered approaching her about it in the first place? You’re lucky no one else has asked for her hand yet!”

The curly-haired man’s eyes widen. “What do you mean, no one asked for her hand yet?!” There is a hint of panic in his voice.

Simon rolls his eyes and squeezes the shoulder of his brother as he ushers them down the road with him, towards the market. “Do you think you two are the only unmarried people in Capernaum? (Y/n) is a pretty woman, no doubt that someone else besides you must be pining after her.”

Andrew gulps and feels a sense of dread fill the pit of his gut at the idea. The sheer notion of you being betrothed to somebody else causes his anxiety to flare up and he takes a shaky breath to keep himself in check. “What do you think I should do? What if I’m too late? Oh, Simon, please tell me I’m not too late!”

“The best time you could have done this was yesterday, but no time like the present.” Simon pats Andrew’s hand that is still closed around the money he had been paid for today’s work, “You’ve got your wages here, no? Go get her a nice present and compliment her. Maybe you could even offer to help her out. Show her that you care, alright?”

Andrew takes a deep breath and smooths his free hand down his tunic. “How do I look?”

“You look fine, but your smell…” Simon waves his hand in front of his nose, causing Andrew to sniff himself, flinching at the musky scent of fish.

“Ah, a fresh set of clothes then.”

His older brother nods, then gives him a look. “I’ll walk you back to your place to make sure you don’t chicken out.”

A bit flustered, Andrew huffs and allows him to join on his way back home. Once there, he tosses his tunic into the hamper and rummages around his closet for another whilst Simon waits in the other room.

“You know,” Simon teases, “This house could really use a feminine touch. I bet (Y/n) would love to do some decorating around here.”

Andrew is happy that Simon cannot see the blush that creeps onto his cheeks at the idea of you living here with him. “Yeah.” he replies, a bit abashed as he shrugs another tunic over his shoulders before fixing his hair to his best ability. Years of being on the water almost daily has caused it to tangle in such a way that he’d require quite some time to get it fully sorted out.

“Way better,” the older son of Jonah compliments as his sibling steps out of the bedroom, “Now come on.”

The two walk back towards the market where they had passed your stall earlier today. Before rounding the corner, Simon halts Andrew and turns sharply to him. “Okay, she’s there. Straighten your back. Smile. Teeth?” When Andrew gives him a bit of a confused look, Simon grabs his chin and grimaces, causing him to mirror the expression, now realising that he wanted to see if he’s got anything stuck between them. “Good. Now go buy her a gift and be nice to her.”

Andrew feels the nerves shunt through him as he steps out around the corner, momentarily letting his gaze drift to you. A pang of both disappointment and relief when you’re in conversation with an elderly lady looking to buy your wares. He rushes over to one of the other stalls, wondering if you’d like something sweet to snack on.

After purchasing an apricot, he wonders if buying you a bunch of flowers would be convenient at all. Perhaps he is doubting it too much, since you’d have to put them in water and somehow get them home unscathed… Shaking his head, he opts for a few cinnamon cakes instead, slowing his step as he passes by a stall selling expensive perfumes. That would be a bit too much, he thinks to himself.

With the presents in hand, he takes a deep breath as he sees you rummaging around your own stock to put something on the empty spot of an item you just sold. He approaches you with slow, deliberate steps, repeating inside his mind to just be himself. The two of you had been friends for a long time after all. You’d see right through him if he acted any differently.

“Shalom sha—” Andrew’s voice cracks and he quickly clears his throat as you look up, “Uh, shalom shalom, (Y/n).”

The dazzling smile you show him causes his heart to skip a beat. “Hi Andrew, shalom! How do you do?”

“I’m doing wonderfully,” he breathes, “Ah… How are you?”

You plant your hands on your hips as you look down at your wares. “Well, the sales are going quite well. I have already sold a few patterns that I had been trying to get rid of for a while now since they’ve slowly started to get out of fashion, so that’s good. However, no one seems to be interested in my double-threaded—”

“I—I mean how are you?”

Blinking in slight surprise, you process the question inside your mind before feeling your face heat up a bit. Was Andrew truly asking about you as a person? You give him another smile, more shy this time around. “Oh, I’m… I’m doing well, thank you. How about yourself?”

“You’ve already asked that.” Your blush deepens in slight embarrassment.

“Of course.”

A moment of awkward silence follows. You barely dare to maintain eye-contact with your long-time crush out of fear of making a fool of yourself even further. For a moment, you play with the edge of your veil before readjusting your wares. “How may I help you today?”

Andrew blinks and takes a second to gather himself. “I… I was wondering if you’re hungry. After all, you’ve been working all morning and I thought I’d come bring you some food.”

Your eyes widen as you look at the apricot and cinnamon cakes in his hands.

“That’s awfully kind of you,” you murmur, “I… I brought my own lunch, but thank you so much.”

The dark-eyed fisherman swallows hard in embarrassment. Of course you had brought your own food with you, so you didn’t really need his gift. He still reaches out to you to hand the fruit and pastry to you. “I still want you to have them. Here.”

Your hands brush against his as you take it, a jolt going through you both. You quickly withdraw, trying to not blush. “Thank you,” you whisper, “What’s the occasion?”

“Well, I just…” Andrew rubs his neck, “Just wanted to make sure you’re eating well.”

“Oh, that’s very sweet of you. Don’t you worry, I’m properly taking my food every meal.”

“—Not that I think you don’t look healthy or anything. I just— Quite the contrary, you look very good, I— Ah… What I’m trying to say is…”

The two of you look at one another with equally as flustered cheeks. “Yes?”

“What I’m trying to say… I just wanted to make sure because I care about you.”

“You care about me?” you repeat. Andrew gives a small nod, barely trusting his voice as he embarrassedly picks at a loose thread on his tunic.

“Of course I do.”

You give a small smile. “I care about you, too, An. Thank you for checking up on me, that means a whole lot.”

Andrew feels his heart skip a beat at the way you’re looking at him, with a shy expression on your blushing cheeks, when he remembers what Simon had told him to do.

“You— You have a very pretty smile, you know that?” he compliments you, causing your flush to deepen even further.

“Oh, I… Thanks, I…” You bite your bottom lip to keep yourself from squirming as your heart rears inside your chest, countless butterflies coursing through you. Why must you always become at a loss for words whenever Andrew is around? After all, you have practically grown up together. There is no way that he likes you as more than just a friend, so there is no need to be such a mess about it. “That’s very sweet of you to say.”

Andrew sighs at your reaction, still not quite sure what is going on inside your mind now that he’s telling you all these things. It’s almost frustrating how adorable you are gazing at him like that, expectantly, as if waiting for him to say something.

“Are you available this afternoon? After— After work, I mean.”

Your lips part a bit in confusion as you blink a few times, trying to process what he’s trying to tell you. “I am, just… Why do you ask?”

“Great! I— Ah, I mean…” He takes a shaky breath. You wonder why he is so nervous, giving him a reassuring smile.

“Would you like to… To do something together?”

“Like what? Do you need help repairing your nets? Or do you need help cleaning fish?”

Andrew shakes his head. “No! No, I mean— No! I was just wondering if you’d like to go on a walk.”

You tilt your head a bit. “A walk? To where?”

“Just a walk.” Andrew tells you.

“Just a walk?”

He lets out a shaky breath and nods. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because walking is nice, and I thought we should spend more time together.”

Your heart flutters. “Really? You want to spend more time with me?” you whisper in shock.

Andrew takes you in, drinks in the innocent features of your face as he tries to figure out what is going on inside that pretty head of yours. The slight puzzlement visible in your (e/c) eyes is both adorable and infuriating, because you seem to be so confused that it hasn’t even dawned on you yet that he’s trying to confess here.

“Why do you want to spend more time with me?” That does it. The question, although meant to ask for clarification, annoys Andrew immensely to the point that it takes over from his anxiety. A nudge he perhaps needed, he realises a moment after blurting it out:

“Can’t you see? I’m in love with you!”

Time seems to freeze around you two as he says these heavy, definite words. A confession both long hidden and overdue, hanging between you as it waits for either approval or rejection from your side. Your knees feel weak as your mind seems to spin for a moment. Your fingers curl around the edge of the wooden table you’re standing at lest you lose your footing.

Andrew anxiously bites the inside of his cheek as he stares at you wide-eyed, terrified about your response.

“You’re in love with me?” you squeak, attempting to digest the proclamation whilst trying to confirm that you heard him loud and clear. Andrew swallows visibly and gives a small nod, his eyes glittering with fear as he is still left in the dark about what you feel for him in return. “Oh,” you simply murmur, “I didn’t know.”

Andrew sighs and averts his gaze, a feeling of rejection creeping over his cheeks and neck as his heart races inside his chest. Perhaps coming here was a mistake, he wonders when you suddenly step around your stall to approach him.

“So you really mean that? You’re not just pulling my leg?”

“I— I mean it,” Andrew admits, “I’ve been sweet on you for… For a long time, actually.”

You cannot fight the bright smile that spreads over your face and Andrew barely faints at seeing it so close to his. “Me, too.” you muse as soon as you’re absolutely certain that his words are genuine.

“Are you serious?”

You breathe a small laugh and nod, “I am. I was actually always convinced that you just saw me as a little sister since we go so far back… So I never dared to say anything.”

“I was also terrified that you didn’t see me as more than a friend.” Andrew adds onto that.

It turns out the two of you had been pining after one another whilst sharing the exact same fear. Both a little amused at the situation, you share a laugh whilst you look down, biting your bottom lip before gazing up at him again.

“So… Now that we know this about one another… Why don’t you pick me up after my shift this afternoon?”

Andrew grins and gives you a small nod before grabbing your hand, kissing the back of it gently. The gesture makes your cheeks flush darker.

“I will join you in tidying up by the time the sun almost hits your wares.”

A surprised look comes over your face. “You’ve noticed?”

“Of course I did.”

With a racing heart, you try to keep yourself from embracing him right then and there, deeming it inappropriate. Instead, you squeeze his hand that he’s still holding in his before stepping back without breaking eye-contact. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Andrew.”

“That’s a yes, then? You’ll go on a walk with me?”

“Gladly,” you breathe, “And we can enjoy the food you’ve brought together at the same time.”

This couldn’t have gone any better, Andrew thinks to himself as he watches you head back behind your stall, flashing him a sweet smile. “I’ll see you later, then,” he greets you.

“I’ll see you then, Andrew. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me, too. Shalom shalom.”

From a distance, Simon watches his little brother approach, a proud feeling swelling in his chest as he sees the grin covering Andrew’s face from ear to ear. The older son of Jonah doesn’t even need to ask and wraps an arm around his sibling’s shoulder as soon as he walks up to him.

“See? Now, let’s get you ready to meet with her again.”

As the two head back for Andrew’s place, the curly-haired fisherman looks over his shoulder one last time, locking eyes with you. Upon sharing a moment of meaningful eye-contact, you both smile.

The sun can’t reach the right point fast enough.

#the chosen #reader insert #the chosen x reader #chosen x reader #andrew x reader #the chosen andrew #the chosen andrew x reader #noah james

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