Heyy Can I Request Gaius Comforting Daughter Reader With The Words Of Jesus Thatd Be So Fun.

heyy can I request Gaius comforting daughter reader with the words of Jesus that’d be so fun.

A Father’s Comfort

Word Count: 1185

Gaius x (Daughter) Reader

Note: If this is the same person making all of these Gaius requests, I have to tell you that it’s so incredible that you can come up with so many of these sweet ideas back-to-back. I love it! Keep them coming…

The sky outside was darkening, heavy with the weight of an approaching storm. The wind howled through the cracks in the window, and the scent of rain filled the small room where Gaius’s daughter sat, her knees drawn up to her chest as she stared blankly at the wall. [Y/N] had always been a strong girl, always quiet and thoughtful. But lately, something had shifted.

Gaius watched her from the doorway, his heart heavy with worry. As a Roman centurion, he had faced countless battles, navigated the harsh world of politics and violence, but none of that had prepared him for fatherhood—especially fatherhood without his wife, who had been his guiding light. Now, raising [Y/N] on his own, he often felt at a loss.

He had noticed the change in her over the past few weeks. She had become more withdrawn, her usual spark dulled by something she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—share with him. Gaius suspected it had to do with her recent fascination with the teachings of Jesus. Though he was still grappling with his own thoughts about the man from Nazareth, he couldn’t deny the pull that Jesus’s words had on him.

But for [Y/N], that pull seemed to have stirred something deeper—something that scared her.

He stepped into the room, his heavy boots barely making a sound on the worn floorboards. [Y/N] didn’t look up as he approached, her gaze fixed on the floor. Gaius sat down beside her on the edge of the bed, careful not to invade her space.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked gently, his deep voice softened by the concern he felt.

For a moment, [Y/N] didn’t respond. The wind rattled the shutters, and Gaius wondered if she would keep silent. But then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she spoke.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

Her words, though quiet, hit Gaius like a blow to the chest. He had sensed her struggle, but hearing it from her lips made it real. He turned to look at her, his strong features softened by the concern in his eyes.

“What do you mean?” he asked, keeping his tone as gentle as possible.

[Y/N] finally lifted her gaze, her eyes clouded with confusion and doubt. “I heard Jesus speak again today,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “He spoke about God’s love, about forgiveness and trust. It was… it was beautiful, Father. But…” Her voice trailed off, and she bit her lip, as if afraid to say more.

Gaius waited, sensing that she needed time to gather her thoughts. He wasn’t a man of many words, but he had learned to listen.

“But I’m afraid,” she finally admitted, her voice breaking. “What if… what if He’s wrong? What if it’s not true? What if we’re just… alone?” Her eyes filled with tears, and she quickly looked away, ashamed of her vulnerability.

Gaius felt a tightness in his chest. He had asked himself the same questions over and over since hearing Jesus speak. As a centurion, Gaius had always relied on his strength, his duty, and the orders given to him by Rome. But hearing Jesus… it had shaken something inside him too.

He reached out and placed a hand on [Y/N]’s shoulder, the gesture more tender than any words he could think to say. “I understand,” he said softly. “I’ve been wondering the same things.”

She looked up at him, surprised. Gaius wasn’t usually one to speak of doubt or fear. He had always been her rock, her protector. To hear that he, too, was questioning things made her feel a little less alone.

“But,” Gaius continued, his voice steady, “there’s something about His words. Something that feels… true. When He speaks, it’s like He’s reaching into the deepest parts of us—parts we’ve kept hidden for so long. Doesn’t it feel that way to you?”

[Y/N] nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “It does,” she whispered. “But it scares me.”

Gaius thought for a moment, searching for the right words to comfort her. He wasn’t a philosopher or a teacher, but something Jesus had said the last time Gaius had heard Him speak came to mind—words that had stuck with him ever since.

“Do you remember what He said about the sparrows?” Gaius asked softly, his voice gentle.

[Y/N] frowned slightly, thinking back to the speech. “Yes,” she said slowly. “He said… something about them not worrying because God takes care of them?”

Gaius nodded. “That’s right. He said, ‘Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care.’ And He told us that we are worth more than many sparrows.”

[Y/N] looked at him, her brow furrowed slightly. “But how do we know?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “How do we know that we’re worth that much to God?”

Gaius smiled gently. “I don’t have all the answers,” he admitted. “But when I heard Him say those words, I felt something change inside me. Maybe it’s not about knowing, but about trusting. Trusting that God sees us, even when we feel small, even when we’re afraid.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. “And maybe it’s about trusting that we don’t have to be alone in this.”

[Y/N] blinked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears once more, but this time they were tears of something else—something softer than fear.

“But what if I’m not ready to believe?” she asked quietly. “What if I’m still afraid?”

Gaius squeezed her shoulder gently. “Then be afraid,” he said, his voice filled with quiet strength. “It’s okay to be afraid. But don’t let that stop you from listening to Him. Don’t let that stop you from seeking the truth.”

He looked into her eyes, his gaze steady and reassuring. “I’ve lived my life obeying orders, following commands without question. But for the first time, I feel like there’s something more—something bigger than all of this. And I don’t want to miss it because I was too afraid.”

[Y/N] was silent for a long moment, her mind turning over his words. The storm outside raged on, but inside, something had shifted. The fear was still there, the uncertainty still lingered, but there was also a glimmer of something else—something she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Hope.

Gaius pulled her into a gentle hug, his large arms wrapping around her protectively. “We’ll figure this out together,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You don’t have to face this alone.”

As the rain began to fall, pattering softly against the window, [Y/N] rested her head against her father’s chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Scripture References:

Matthew 10:29-31 (NIV) - "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows."

Jesus | Eyes On Me | Platonic

Dialogue prompt: “The only thing that matters is who you are in Me.”

Requested: Yes

You have always felt like an outcast amongst Jesus’ followers. Jesus reassures you that it does not matter what others think of you, and that perfection is the last thing He requires.

Note: I’m not on the spectrum myself but tried my very best to display it respectfully. If there is anything you think I should change, please let me know!

Laughter reaches you across camp, but you remain in your tent, hunched over your bowl of beads. The necklace you’ve started stringing ever since daybreak is long past its required length and could be looped over five, six, seven times, but you don’t feel like stopping. The familiar wooden texture is comforting to you, and even though you do not see the colours anymore in the low light of the few torches around camp, which causes everything to be a blur of grey and black at this point, you have settled upon a pattern in shape – one big bead, then three small ones, a medium sized one, three small ones again, and another big one. 

You continue like that for a while, the bowl becoming more and more empty as you work in silence. Every so often, talking and laughter streams from the fire towards your place, but you do not pay it any mind.

Joining them would make you feel uncomfortable. They already seem to have a great time without you, so you reckon they weren’t missing you to begin with. You’ve learnt to have peace with it. You maintain your distance, not seeing yourself in any position within that group. 

Everyone has a close friend they hang out with often. The brothers of Thunder have one another, Simon and Andrew, Nathanael and Thaddeus. Even Matthew has managed to grow close to Philip, despite his social anxiety. 

And you? Where does that leave you? 

You know that you’re different from them. You’ve always heard it from the children in your village. You’ve always heard it from your parents, from your father, who had you help out in his shop from a young age. And when he passed away and your mother couldn’t keep it up and running, eventually forced to shut it down, you fell into a dark pit, feeling utterly lost within society and within life.

Somewhere in the distance, Andrew barks a laugh as Simon Zee shouts something, earning a cheer from Philip in turn. You jolt at the unexpected sound. With a heavy sigh, you halt in your actions.

Will you ever belong?

A knock on the frame of your tent nearly makes you jump out of your skin. “(Y/n)?” a familiar voice sounds close to the opening flap. It contains no pressure nor hurry, yet Jesus’ voice is always so disarming and warm that you can’t do anything else but respond.

“Yeah?”

“May I come in?”

You are silent for a second. “Yes.” you then say, even though you were more than content in your loneliness this evening. If there was anyone to come and keep you company, you are glad that it is Him.

He moves aside the flap and light streams inside from the fire and the lantern that He is holding in front of His face, a kind smile on his features. “I was already wondering where you were.” He muses, stepping in and closing the tent again to give the two of you some privacy. “Are you alright?”

You shrug and twirl the necklace you’ve been working on around your fingers, fiddling with it so that you don’t need to look Him in the eye. Jesus patiently sits next to you, placing down the lantern before clearing His throat. 

“So, I missed you during dinner and now you’re sitting here whilst the rest is at the fire. Is there anything you’d like to talk about?”

With a small shake of your head, you sigh. “I… I’m not much of a talker.”

“Oh, I know. But sometimes it is necessary to get to the root of things.”

Brow furrowing, you tilt your head slightly to the side so that you can see Jesus from the corner of your eye. “What do You mean by that?”

Jesus hums and takes a moment to formulate a reply. “Something is weighing heavy on your heart. Do not be afraid to share that burden with Me.”

Nothing ever stays hidden from Jesus, you are fully aware of that, and you do not like lying, especially to Him, so you swallow thickly and open your mouth to speak, better to reveal it now than to delay the inevitable.

“I don’t think the others miss me.” The words sounds alarmingly cool.

“Hm. What makes you think that way?”

“Because I’m… Different.”

“Different how?”

Turning your head, you finally dare to look at Jesus, who is giving you an expectant look.

“I think You know that,” you say with a tone that remains respectful. “That I’m different.”

Suddenly, tears sting behind your eyes. You have never cried about this. You never cry in the first place. But Jesus is smiling so understandingly that it almost lures said reaction from you. You avert your gaze, rubbing your neck. A few tears slip out regardless of your battle against them.

“Different how?” Jesus repeats. It is not that He hasn’t heard you, or that He hasn’t understood you. He wants another response than the one you had just given Him.

You think over your answer for a moment. “My mind works in another way,” you state, “They don’t understand me and I don’t understand them. It’s like… We’re speaking different languages. As if we’re not from the same country. I-It’s nothing new, even my mum has just… Given up on me? She doesn’t say it outright, but I know that… That I’m just… I feel like a burden.”

Silently crying, you find Jesus’ gaze.

“And how does that make you feel?” His question stings, for you’re not fond of talking about such emotions. With a dry sob, you take up the necklace you had draped into the bowl and start playing with it again, wrapping and unwrapping it around your fingers, the thin fishing line you had found amongst the supplies digging into your skin. 

“It makes me feel sad,” you say through the blur of your tears, “I-I don’t like to talk about it. Can we talk about something else?” You rapidly blink to force back your tears. 

Jesus is quiet and stares at you for a minute or so, making you squirm on your spot under his scrutiny. You sniffle.

“I think it is good that you empty your heart to Me. You’re being very brave, (Y/n). I’m going to put my hand on your shoulder, okay?” He queries. You nod, but flinch anyways, although you relax after a moment. “How much do you think this matters in the Kingdom of God?”

Puzzled, you frown, your cheeks feeling raw. “What do You mean, Rabbi?”

“Let me tell you something. Everyone has different talents, different things they are good at. For example… What is Philip good at?”

You bite the inside of your cheek and rub your runny nose on your sleeve. “Hm… He’s good at reciting Scripture. He’s very well-read, very knowledgeable.”

“Right. How about Nathanael?”

You shrug but can’t fight the watery smile. “He’s always brutally honest. It does get him in trouble from time to time, though.” Jesus chuckles at that.

“Right. And Simon?”

“He’s a good leader.” you reply.

Jesus smiles. “And you ?”

Silence. Fresh tears well up in your eyes.

“Do you trust Me, (Y/n)?” Jesus asks.

“Of course I do, Rabbi,” you immediately tell Him without an ounce of doubt in your being. Your voice quivers. “More than anyone.”

He gives a friendly nod. “I know, my Daughter. You know very well who you are in Me. So, I will ask you again. What are you good at?”

“I…” you squint, shoulders slumping. “I… Don’t know.”

“Do you want to know what I see?” 

You nod meekly, rubbing your raw cheeks with the back of your hand. Jesus cups your face carefully and inhales. “I see someone who focuses on the differences compared to the others in the group, but that is not what determines who you are. I know you struggle to find a true connection to the others in the group. Trust me when I say that these people will become your friends, but you should first see your own worth. The Kingdom of God requires many different people. If they were all the same, how uninspiring would that be? It would be but a shell of what love could be. No, the Father can use anyone, no matter the circumstances.”

His words make you emotional, so your voice wavers when you ask for clarification: “But what does that have to do with me ?”

There is never reprimand behind His eyes yet you shrink. He thumbs away your tears.

“You’re someone who is unswervingly loyal to Me.” Jesus says, “Your faith is so strong that it will withstand any storm. You are also very honest. That is very admirable about you. ”

Your cheeks turn red and you look at your lap, where your hands are still wrapped up in the necklace. 

“What matters is not who you are as an individual, (Y/n),” Jesus says. The words sound odd and you’re about to ask what He means with that, when you realise there is another part to that sentence: “ The only thing that matters is who you are in Me. You find your identity in Me, as do the others. That is what connects you, what brings you together. Try to hold onto that when you go out there to speak to them. You may not understand it yet, but a firm foundation built on Me will bring people together, no matter their differences.” 

“I still don’t completely understand,” you say in all fairness.

“That’s okay,” Jesus replies. “The Spirit will eventually guide you there. You will understand with time. You always belong if you trust in Me - you belong to the Kingdom of Heaven. Even if you don’t always feel like it, I will never forsake you. Do not forget that.” 

You smile at Him, a bit more at ease. Your fingers relax and the necklace slips back into the bowl of beads. 

“Thank you, Rabbi,” you state. “That was very kind of You to say.”

Jesus laughs and opens His arms. “May I give you a hug?”

You accept Jesus’ embrace without hesitation, burying your face into the crook of His neck, whilst He smiles softly. You weep, shoulders shaking, and He holds you through it as you let your pent up sorrow go. It makes place for hope, patience and trust, for it relieves your heart. Jesus doesn’t pressure you and holds you for as long as He needs to, not letting go. 

You are the first one to pull away and wipe your face dry, sniffling a few times. “I feel so much better already. I really needed that.”

When Jesus smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkle up slightly.

“Now, on that note, shall we both head to the fire? I believe that Mary has kept some fruits apart for you and Thomas wanted to show you a trick he has learnt.”

Your eyes widen. “They’ve asked about me? I-I mean, okay.”

Jesus stands and takes the lantern before holding out His hand to you so that He can help you up. You follow Him out of the tent, towards the fire, where warmth and careful company welcome you.

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