𐙚 one shot fluff : greenhouse : fem!reader x gaara
𐙚 context: Gaara spent months building a gift for you, the woman he loves. You thought the library was the gift, but it wasn’t.
𐙚 word count: ~4903
𐙚 authors notes: Enjoy this beautiful gaara one shot. this doesn’t have smut, since I was not in the mood to write it (I’m horrible writing smut, I’m really good at reading them, but not writing). Also, Reader and Gaara are in their 30’s. Love you guys, have a good read.
If someone had told you years ago that you would marry the same creepy boy who tried to kill you back when you were kids, you would never have believed them, perhaps you would’ve gone as far as calling them insane and showing them your broken arm and the six fractured ribs he gave you. But life is a wild ride; twenty years later, you are walking side by side with that boy—now a grown man who held your heart in the palm of his hands—while holding hands as he guides you around the glass greenhouse.
The red-haired man stopped you in your tracks every few feet to show and explain each new flower he has added to the collection; some smaller than others, some brighter than others, but regardless, all adorable in their own way and so well taken care of. You didn’t know the first thing about flowers, unfortunately this was not a hobby of your own; not for the lack of interest or effort, but both you and your husband figured out pretty early that patience was not a seed easily planted in you as it was in him, but nonetheless you loved with every piece of your heart how Gaara dedicated his time to this with such tenderness and shared this piece of him with you.
Gaara let your hand go, kneeling down to pick up a medium-sized pot from the floor with bright golden flowers blooming like little suns. His usual neutral expression settled on his face, but his eyes now carried a gentle warmth as his fingertips brushed over the petals without hurry. His touch carried a reverent care, barely bending them beneath his touch. For a fleeting moment, he simply admired them as you admired the man in front of you.
Only then did he lift the pot toward you. There was no urgency in his movements, or in the way that his eyes invited you, waiting for you to experience them the way he did.
“It feels soft,” he said, his voice as soothing as ever. You took the petal between your thumb and index finger, feeling the softness of the petal and the dampness left from watering.
“It feels so velvety…” you said, tilting your head slightly, your eyes taking in every detail of the flower. You could feel Gaara’s eyes watching you, but what you couldn’t tell was how his heart skipped a beat whenever he saw your expression softened at the plant, knowing you were enjoying something he nurtured with his hands, the same hands that once destroyed. Using your other hand, you lowered it beneath the pot to help him hold it, your fingers settling against his. “What is this flower called?”
“These are desert marigolds. They don’t live for long, but they’re quite resilient to the heat and barely need any water. Earlier today was the first time I watered them in months,” your husband explained. He spoke about the flowers with the same quiet patience he gave to everything he loved. There weren’t many, but you were one among them. You had heard him speak before to villagers, council members, shinobi, yet there was something different whenever he was here. Every word spoken was not to impress you, but simply because he wanted the two things he cherished the most to exist in the same moment. Somehow, that was your favorite part of Gaara. “They don’t really have a strong scent, but if you breathe slowly you might be able to smell it.”
So you did just as Gaara said. The smell was faint, but it was there, an herbal scent. A sun-warmed smell that, for some reason, made you think of a quiet afternoon, reading books and drinking green tea.
It wasn’t long before the two of you were back on track once again, Gaara gently guiding you inside the greenhouse while his hand intertwined with yours, keeping you so close to him like you could be taken away from him any second; an involuntary habit that he didn’t realize he had himself, because of his past that nowadays it was like a faint smell of a memory.
In the beginning of your relationship with him, a little while after The Fourth War had ended and you both found yourselves working together with orphaned shinobi children who had lost their parents during the war. You, as a grown woman and shinobi, knew the feeling of losing your parents to a vile catastrophe, how hard it felt for each child whose parents didn’t come home. And for Gaara personally, it was an unknown feeling: the grief of losing a parent since he was never loved like a son, never cared for as more than a weapon. He understood his role not only as their Kazekage, but as a child who never felt that love; he wanted to show those children that he cared for them; they weren’t expected to fill their parents’ shoes as shinobis one day. They weren’t weapons to be wielded at the cost of their lives.
Back then, the trust and affection you tried to show were hard for him to accept, it was hard to see himself deemed worthy, but after all these years, he did learn to let himself be loved—it had taken a long time, a lot of deep conversations, putting emotions on the table, and being vulnerable, and as the years went by, the easier it became for you two to deal with these situations. He saw you as his safe place where he could show his other sides. But even to this day, your husband would still get visits from his past self; the nightmares and memories of the pain he caused not only to his villagers, but also to his friends.
“Darling,” Gaara called you softly, using his favorite nickname. He didn’t look back at you when he called you, but his fingers curled more firmly around yours. “There’s something I wanna show you. Something special I’ve been meaning to give you.”
With the words caught in your throat, you found yourself unable to form an answer right away. Your cheeks warmed into a crimson blush before you could stop yourself, biting back your lip at the same time. Even after all these years, he still had this quiet way of catching you off guard and making you feel like a little girl around your crush.
Your husband wasn’t a man of too many words, but what he didn’t do in words he compensated with actions; acts of service were his love language. Sometimes, when his mouth didn’t speak, his eyes softened around the edges, and the green within them seemed to brighten whenever something genuinely excited him, whenever you kissed him, hugged him, or even just held his arm in public. The times the two of you walked around Suna, he loved to see how attentive you always were when somebody came to talk to you both, you being the chatty one between the two of you. You were kind and generous to everyone, and because of it he could see how much they admired you, almost as he did. His young self would’ve never thought he would have someone to walk beside him, much less that it would be the girl he had once tried to kill because she wasn’t scared to put him back in his place.
That girl would’ve become the woman that showed him what love in its purest form was and what daily partnership was. Every now and then, your husband would glance back over his shoulder, watching you look around with curious eyes.
He remembered that, when he became Kazekage, the villagers and council members didn’t take much of a liking to him. But you weren’t among them; you could’ve hated his guts, but you were the first one to show him respect and forgiveness for all the pain he had caused you. You were the first person to believe in him, in his change of heart and attitude when everyone else—except his siblings—didn’t. You were the first one to defend his name among your peers.
Before Gaara, you never had many thoughts about marriage. Before the war, you were always bound by shinobi duty and never had the time for this sort of thing. During the war, you weren’t even sure if you were going to survive it. So many of your comrades had fallen in battle that all you ever thought about was protecting the ones beside you. So the idea of marriage never crossed your mind until he came along—even then, both of you had to learn together what marriage was all about.
Once both of you made your way through most of the greenhouse with a comforting silence that followed—you understood why Gaara loved to be here all the time; it was quiet and peaceful, far from his duties as Kazekage and expectations—he stopped both of you in front of a white locked door. Watching the man unlock it with a key, you lifted your hand, smoothing the back of his hair. You loved running your fingers gently through it, always lingering there for a moment, feeling how soft it was and remembering the time you and he shared your first kiss, how your fingers went straight up to the back of his neck, your fingertips playing with his short hair. But nowadays the strands were a little longer, the redness of his hair had deepened over the years, giving him a more mature look, leaving behind the traits of the teenager who led thousands of people in war to the full man standing right in front of you.
As soon as the lock opened, Gaara turned to you. Your hand slipped from his hair as you noticed the way the shape of his eyes softened. His expression carried a quiet brightness that only a person who spent every day with him would recognize, and the vivid green now lit up just as it always did whenever something genuinely excited him.
Loving Gaara was overwhelming, not in a negative way, if anything it was the other way around. All these years together, and you still wondered how it was possible to keep falling in love with the same person over and over again. Each time he kissed you with a hunger that took over his body, kissed you in pure love and had his senses overtaken, you fell hard for him. Each time he hugged you when you were worried about your son, Shinki, each time he sat with you while you read a book, both content to sit in each other’s quiet presence, each time Gaara told you he loved you in his own words or just by the way he gazed at you with such comforting looks.
Within the same second, your brain traveled back to the memories of when you and Gaara became friends, two young people devoting their time to helping Suna’s orphanage, both finding strength in each other to help each child in need. Then, two friends found a seed of love between them, both confused by unfamiliar feelings and a kiss that changed everything. Then you both exchanged rings, certain that you wanted to spend the rest of your lives together. Then came the day the two of you adopted Shinki; Gaara kneeling before the three-year-old boy and telling him he now had a home, not a house, but an actual home. Then Shinki laughing at Gaara after he fell down a whole flight of stairs, and every moment you found yourself looking at Gaara not only as your husband but also as a father despite the weight of his past. For a second, you realized you’d been holding back tears. You closed your eyes, trying to hide them behind a fond smile that found its way onto your lips. “I love you,” you said simply, but truly, your heart beating faster with every passing second as that same warmth from earlier returned.
When you opened your eyes again, a single tear slid down your cheek, only to be met by a serene smile spreading across Gaara's face as he looked down at you, standing a foot taller than you while his hand found your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away the tear. Gaara knew you better than you knew yourself, and that was simply a fact. He learned very early the difference between happy tears and sad ones, and right now he could tell by the way one corner of your lips lifted and by the soft blinks of your eyes that those were happy tears. “I hope what’s behind this door shows you how much I love you,” he replied. Gaara leaned forward as his sand shield parted on its own around his face and hands making room for you. He cupped your face between his palms as his lips brushed yours with unhurried tenderness that only belonged to him. He tasted like green tea and honey. His breath was warm, as always, his bare skin was soft compared to the roughness of the sand around him.
“You spoil me too much, Gaara,” you sighed softly against his lips, your hand gently squeezing his cheek once you both had a few inches apart.
He chuckled, taking the hand that just squeezed his face and lifting it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles before the sand shield quietly settled back into place. “I’m your husband. It’s my job making sure my wife has the best of what I can offer.” he replied, the familiar roughness of his voice carrying a warmth that appeared only when the two of you were alone.
You glanced at him funny. You scrunched your nose, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips. “Well, your wife thinks you do a great job.”
“I’m glad. It means the books I’ve been reading for the last fifteen years have paid off.” Gaara took one step back, his hand settling on the handle of the door as you tilted your head back, a soft laugh escaped you.
His eyes scanned you and the door at the same time, the quiet excitement in his expression as he extended his free hand to you and brought you closer. “I hope you like it.”
Stepping inside, your eyes widened as you took everything in. In front of you lay a couple of shelves lining the walls, holding every single book you owned or you’d mentioned wanting to read over for the past year. In the far right corner, a large window overlooked Gaara’s garden. Beside it sat a wooden cushioned rocking chair. Resting on a small wooden stand next to it was a bell-shaped glass dome protecting the single red bud of an unfamiliar flower.
“Gaa—” your voice broke. You wandered around the room, feeling Gaara's eyes on you as he stood there with his arms crossed over his chest. You brushed your fingers over every detail: the carved flowers decorating the white shelves, book covers and titles, walls painted in a warm beige color.
You looked back at your husband, before closing your eyes and running into his arms, letting yourself melt into his strong, lean frame. “Baby…I—” cupping the back of his neck, you hugged him so tightly.
One of his hands settled around your waist, while the other rested gently against the back of your head, keeping you tucked against his chest. His fingers disappeared into your hair as you melted into him. A gentle curve formed on his lips, filled with satisfaction and fondness. He placed a kiss on the top of your head, he lingered there a little longer, feeling your breath be taken away by the surprise.
“I'll take that as you like it.” You didn’t see the relief settling into his gaze. His shoulders relaxed as he realized he hadn’t gone overboard. He silently thanked the gods he hadn’t listened to Shinki, who had insisted, ‘Mom is Suna’s First Lady, Dad. You need to give her something big that matches the title’.
“Like it?” You finally lift your head, looking at him with amused disbelief. “Love it. That’s the right word.”
“Well, I’m glad you love it, but there’s one more gift.” You could hardly believe his words. You looked at him in shock. What else could he possibly give you, you wondered. Wasn’t a private reading room enough?
Reluctantly pulling away from the embrace, Gaara took your hand and guided you towards the chair. Your eyes were still wandering around the room, completely unable to believe he’d done all of this right under your nose without you ever noticing. Gaara set his sand gourd sitting on the floor before taking a seat in the rocking chair, gently pulling you onto his lap. The two of you now faced the garden he had built with so much love and care. It was a beautiful view for sure, reading there would definitely become one of your favorite parts of the day, plus you would be so close to Gaara when both of you were enjoying your own hobbies.
Lost in your own thoughts, you didn’t realize how far your mind had drifted until Gaara carefully placed the cool glass dome into your hands, drawing your gaze to the medium-sized glass dome protecting a single red bud you didn’t recognize. Looking at Gaara, your head tilting to the side, confusion lingering in your expression. Every flower he’d given you had already bloomed, letting you admire every petal from the beginning. Whatever this flower was, it was unlike anything he’d given you before, that was for sure.
“Why is it not blooming?” You asked, your voice expressing the same amount of confusion shown in your face. “Isn’t the season for this one?”
Gaara lifted the lid, putting it on the floor, while the bud lay there. “This is a new flower that was discovered recently by the Nara clan in their territory.” The red-haired man stated, as taking the flower and giving it to you. “There’s only a few of them. I was able to get this one with Shikamaru. I wanted to give it to you.”
You nodded slowly, paying attention to his words. Trying to find any meaning to why is still a bud. Gaara knew gardening and plants aren’t your forte. “You want me to plant it somewhere?” You asked, holding the flower by the no so vivid green stem. Your eyes carefully watched the exterior of the petals, but it genuinely looked like a normal sad red flower.
“No,” he answered simply before taking the flower into his hand. “The Nara clan discovered that this flower only blooms when it’s infused with chakra.” Your eyes widened for the second time today. You had never heard of such a flower. “After months of studying it, they discovered that once someone’s chakra is infused into the flower, it never dies.” He fell silent, his gaze meeting with yours. You could tell his eyes were different than normal. There was a longing in them, something deeper than affection.
“Are you serious? This is incredible,” you said, excitement taking over your voice. You’d always loved discovering things you’d never seen before.
“Our anniversary is coming soon. I was supposed to only give you this then, but I couldn’t help myself.” Gaara’s voice dropped, carrying the faint disappointment of someone who’d failed to keep a secret before settling back to his normal. Holding the flower carefully in his left palm, he raised his index finger and middle finger, without hesitation channeling his chakra. A thin stream of pale blue chakra stretched from his fingertips to the flower.
It didn't take long for the flower to begin blooming, its stem becoming greener and stronger, the pale blue chakra enveloping the petals deepening the red in each petal until, little by little, the flower came to a bloom. The flower bloomed into a deep crimson, delicate white lines tracing each petal like strokes across painted canvas. So different from before. So alive.
“In this Shinobi world, death is certain and it can come in different ways; some good and some bad,” he said, his naturally rough voice lower than before, each word measured as though he wanted you to understand every one of them. The moment those words left his mouth, your eyes found his again. “But even if one day I’m gone, a part of me will always remain with you.”
You held the flower in your hand, your eyes moving between it and Gaara, its thick stem a subtle testament to how resilient the flower truly was. How strong was your love. You understood what he meant. As a shinobi yourself, you knew the risks of the world you both lived in, you had survived the war just as he had. You had grown up in an era where it was an eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. You felt it as a mother of a young man who is a shinobi himself. You two understood that no matter how many years passed, how peaceful is danger would always remain. Gaara was the first line of defense of Suna. He wasn’t invincible. No shinobi was. Sometimes, all it took was one person with enough hatred and enough power.
You look at your husband, really looked at him. You set the flower in between the two of you as you leaned toward him. Your forehead rested against his as your hands made their way to his face. “Not even death could tear us apart, Gaara. You’re my husband and I’m your wife. The day one of us is gone, our hearts will always belong to each other and we’ll meet again in the next life.”
Gaara’s gaze lingered on your face, as though finally taking in what you’ve said, his eyes slowly drifted to your slightly parted lips. The hand resting against your back drew you just a little closer, until there wasn’t enough space for anything but the warmth of each other’s breath. His thumb brushed slowly along your cheek before coming to rest beneath your jaw, his gaze never leaving yours. For the briefest moment, he simply admired you. Years together, and somehow you still managed to steal every thought from his mind with only a handful of words. His eyes softened in that familiar way only you knew how to recognize before he finally closed the remaining distance between you.
His lips met yours with the same certainty that had always belonged to him, slow and unhurried as though he wanted to savor every piece of you. His hand beneath your jaw lingered there only a moment before slowly sliding to the back of your neck, his fingers disappearing into your hair while the arm around your waist pulled you impossibly closer. You answered him without hesitation, your hands finding his face once more, your fingertips tracing the familiar lines of his jaw before dropping your hands into his shoulders. As the kiss deepened, you could taste his tongue on yours, soft and hesitant at first, before giving into a sudden, deep necessity. For Gaara, it was as if with every passing second he wanted to lose his breath, as long as he could drown in you, in your mouth, in every whisper that escaped your lips.
Outside, night began to fall and darkness took over the room, with only the red flower glowing in a crimson flux that cast shadows on the wall. Gaara was a man of extreme restraint in the outside world, known for his discreet and guarded nature, but within these walls he allowed himself to feel a sense of freedom. He kissed you without fear, there weren’t any judgments from you on how he liked to love you and praise you. He didn’t hold back his touches. Sliding his large hand down your curves, he rested his touch on your ass; his fingers firmly gripped one of your cheeks, squeezing the area and making you moan against his lips. Your hands gripped the man’s shoulders hard enough for him to understand that he had permission to proceed exactly as he wished.
Gaara’s hand started to move quickly to unbutton your dress, but the sound of firm footsteps echoing through the greenhouse pulled you both out of your bubble.
“Mother? Father?” Shinki's voice came loud, carrying the same calm demeanor from Gaara. “Are you guys here?”
The young man’s figure appeared in the doorway while you and Gaara stood by the window, looking over the garden covered my the moon. You turned to face the red painted boy with a welcoming smile. “Hey sweetheart, your father was just showing me his surprise. Isn’t it amazing?!” You said, looking at your son, who, at barely fourteen years old stood taller than you. Beside you, Gaara had already returned to his usual calm.
“You liked it?” Shinki’s eyes moved around the simple, but beautiful room, as though silently judging his father’s decoration taste. “I told father to go a little…fancier, but I guess he went the other way.”
Shinki was a perfect mix of you and Gaara. At least in personality. He was always too adult for his age, too serious and stoic. Very much like how Gaara always was, but you still could see the traits of the little man that used to sneak to your bed and sleep with you at night.
“Oh, I loved it so much. Everything.” You smiled sweetly, resting one hand on Gaara's shoulder while the other held the flower to your body. “Thank you so much, dear.”
Gaara smiled at you, taking your hand in his. “Of course, darling.” His gaze then shifted to his son. “Also, Shinki, how was the mission? I wasn’t expecting your team back until tomorrow.” If you didn't know your husband as well as you did, you would’ve missed the faint annoyance beneath his otherwise calm voice.
“Yeah, Uncle Kankuro chose to stay in the village tonight,” Shinki said, his voice level and steady. He didn't look tired at all, standing tall while his heavy coat of black sand rested quietly over his shoulders. “I left a clone behind to keep watch. The rogue ninja moved on to the next town, but his pace has slowed down. He won't get away.” Your son and your husband were definitely two peas in a pod for sure. They shared that exact same unshakeable way of speaking. “We will be moving out at dawn to finish the mission,” Shinki added, looking between you and Gaara. “The target isn't much of a threat. We will have the report on your desk tomorrow night.”
Gaara gave a single nod, satisfied with the answer. He knew how hard Shinki worked to be the perfect heir. As much as Gaara felt proud of his son's accomplishments at such a young age he also could see how hard Shinki was on himself. “Good. Please don’t take unnecessary risks. A rogue ninja is never worth more than the life of one of our own.”
“I know, father.” Shinki replied, his expression remaining steady and serious, though his tone softened as he looked at the two of you. “You only told me that… what? A thousand times?”
“A thousand and one now,” Gaara replied without missing a beat. You couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped your lips.
“Well,” Shinki continued, folding his arms over his chest. “Since I apparently interrupted something…” His gaze swept across the room before a knowing judgmental look settled on his face. “I’ll pretend I didn’t see anything.”
“Shinki!” Your face immediately warmed, a deep crimson blush rushing up your cheeks. You wanted the floor to swallow you whole.
“What?” he said, his voice as flat as a paper. “It’s not my fault. The door was open. You guys should’ve been more careful.”
Gaara let out the quietest sigh, the faint annoyance from earlier returning to his expression for only a brief second before disappearing just as quickly. “I’ll remember to lock it next time,” he said with complete seriousness.
The room felt silent. You and Shinki looked at the man who was standing in a perfect posture. If your face was once a crimson blush, now you have no face at all to look your son in the eye, who looked at Gaara with an unbelievable expression.
“Gaara…” that’s all you were able to say before hiding your red face in your palms. You had an unshamable husband that was for sure.
Shinki shook his head, his face settling into an expression carved in pure disbelief. “I can’t believe you actually admitted that, father.” The boy let out a long, defeated sigh.
Gaara looked at his son completely unfazed. “We’re leaving.” Gaara laced his fingers through yours, gently pulling you closer as you kept your head lowered, too embarrassed still to look at either your son and your husband.
“Yes, sir,” Shinki answered as seriously as ever, though the faint amusement in his voice betrayed him.
The three of you left the room together as Gaara gently guided you out. Your eyes drifted over your shoulder taking one last look at the room before leaving it behind. A smile formed onto your lips as soon as you noticed Gaara watching you with the corner of his mouth lifting into the faintest smile.
“Come on,” you said, giving Gaara’s hand a gentle squeeze and finally being able to meet your son’s eyes. “Let’s go have dinner as a family.”
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author notes: Hii I hope you liked, I loved writing this one shot with my second hubby gaara. If you liked, please don’t forget to like, comment or repost that will help tons!! ily I’ll see you soon!
