Oh my god, you really captured Aang's personality so well. Your writing is beautiful 💕 Perhaps you could write about Aang and the reader during their first solo journeys to retrieve items from the Air Nomads. Or about how the reader adapts to Aang's culture, trying new foods and clothing, and things like that, to show her love for him.
Thank you so much, sweetheart 💞... AND ABSOLUTELY YES.
tags; adult aang x female reader, established relationship, domestic fluff, cultural exchange, learning to meditate, cooking together, gift giving, emotional healing, soft aang.
One of the first things you noticed when you began your relationship with Aang was his immense desire to share. To belong.
Especially, to share with you.
Aang possessed a vast—though not flawless—knowledge of every nation’s culture from his journey to master the elements. But after a hundred years without other Air Nomads, the world had almost entirely forgotten that a vibrant culture had once existed. He was the sole representative of what used to be, the only proof of an entire people’s existence. The Last Airbender.
Aang wanted to know everything about you the moment you met. To him, love was sharing, and that was what he craved with you: a connection. Once trust grew, he didn't hold back. He told you how things were before the ice; he gifted you his life in the form of stories.
Through him, you met them all, and for a moment, they returned to meet you.
Part of falling in love was learning about each other's culture.
You could listen to him talk for hours about the things he loved, and then he would return that same devotion to you, giving you his undivided attention as he learned how you saw the world. No matter the subject, he remembered every word. If you mentioned home, he wanted to know it; if he saw you doing something important to you, he was eager to learn.
And you wanted to do the same.
Aang’s love was understanding, present in every shared moment not in an invasive way, but as if his arms were always open for you. He was a true gentleman, he would never impose anything on you or ask you to change to fit him.
But you wanted to love his culture just as he had learned to love yours, because it was an essential part of the man you fell in love with. You weren't trying to replace what he lost; you were cherishing what mattered to him, approaching his world with affection, simply by being yourself.
It was a path you traveled slowly, together, guided by care.
You told him he could share anything with you, and he gave you everything.
You didn't just try to belong; you took your time to understand. You knew what it meant to him.
From the start, it was a curiosity without pressure, a genuine desire.
On the occasions you felt brave enough to join him in meditation—he’d already assured you that you were welcome whenever you liked—you couldn't help but watch him. You noticed how his shoulders relaxed with every breath, how focused he looked. So, you began to ask small things.
"What do you think about when you meditate?"
"Everything. And nothing at all, all at once."
You didn't understand, but you wanted to.
The next time he invited you, you were determined. You sat beside him and imitated his posture, a bit clumsily at first, straightening your back and arranging your hands and legs. It was uncomfortable for the first thirty minutes; you felt more connected to the tension in your spine than to your spirituality, but you didn't give up. Aang was a patient teacher and you were a dedicated student. He assured you it wasn't about doing it right. You didn't seek perfection or control, and though your mind didn't go blank, you stayed by his side, sharing the space. At the very least, you managed to relax your back.
When you opened your eyes, he was already watching you. Not with expectation, but simply being there with you.
"It wasn't so terrible," you said after a moment.
A soft smile appeared on his face. "It’s a good start."
You smiled back, genuinely happy. His gaze softened. After a moment, you rested your head on his shoulder, and he rested his on yours. It wasn't a monumental moment, but it belonged to both of you. The wind calmed around you, and there was no need for words. It was enough.
That is to say, you already knew how to cook—both the traditional dishes of your nation and Aang’s vegetarian recipes. Although you didn't eat exactly the same things he did, you had managed to incorporate a few things you genuinely liked into your diet. And Aang was always more than willing to guide you.
But that day, you wanted to try something different, something the two of you could share.
Aang had just returned from a mission when the aroma wafting from the kitchen caught his attention. He stopped mid-stride, tilting his head slightly as if trying to catch more of that scent in the air. It didn't smell like anything he had ever known before. It smelled good—very good. And different. He followed the trail until he found you, and his heart skipped a beat at the sight.
You were standing before the stove, stirring something in a pot while murmuring to yourself. You looked so focused he didn't want to interrupt. Your movements were confident, likely because you knew the recipe, but he noticed your shoulders were slightly tense.
As if it mattered deeply to you that it turned out right.
He realized he was smiling as he silently approached. You nearly jumped when his hands settled on your waist, clearly not expecting him home so early. Your back pressed against his chest, and he rested his chin on your shoulder.
You let out a relieved sigh, your gaze returning to the pot.
"It’s something from home. Well, a version of it," you paused, stirring more gently. "I changed the recipe a bit."
"Yes, but not just for that," you looked down, feeling his eyes on you, steady but not pressuring. Suddenly, you felt a bit shy. "I wanted you to taste something of mine... without making it feel like you had to stop being who you are."
Aang watched you with such intentness that you felt the heat rise to your cheeks. I messed up, you thought. Maybe he doesn't want to try any of this. I shouldn't have assumed. A gentle squeeze at your waist pulled you from your thoughts. You turned your head, meeting his gaze. There was nothing but affection in his eyes.
"What is it?" he asked softly.
A nervous smile played on your lips.
"Normally it would have things you wouldn't eat, but this," you gestured vaguely to what was simmering over the low flame, "is the closest I could make it. To me, it doesn't taste half bad."
You scooped up a portion with a spoon. You blew on it carefully—even though he could have done it himself, and undoubtedly faster—before offering it to him, one hand held underneath just in case anything dripped.
"If you don't like it, that's okay."
Had your hearing been sharper, you would have heard his breath hitch for a split second, and how his heart had begun to race from the moment he stepped toward you. He tasted the food without hesitation—trusting you completely. The flavor was unlike anything he had ever eaten. Not in a bad way; in fact, it tasted great. As he chewed, he noticed you watching him intently, almost holding your breath.
He also saw the empty containers, the open cookbooks, the stains on your clothes, and the remnants of what looked like previous attempts. You had put so much effort into making something special. The warmth he felt in his chest had nothing to do with the flavor of the food.
"Does it taste... bad?" you asked, uncertain.
He shook his head. "Quite the opposite. It’s delicious."
You blinked, not expecting it to actually be that good. Then you beamed at him, and you could have replaced the sun in the sky.
"Really? That's—that's good. I’m so glad you like it."
A small silence fell, broken only by the soft crackle of the stove. Then Aang took another spoonful. And another. And another.
You let out a surprised laugh.
"I guess that means you really did like it."
"Very much," he replied between bites.
You felt a surge of pride in the successful dish. More importantly, you were happy because he had enjoyed it. You picked up a spoon as well, neither of you thinking to use a plate. It didn't matter. You had already tasted the food several times during the first attempts, but for some reason, it tasted even better while sharing it with him. At one point, Aang offered you a bite from his spoon, and you did the same for him. The kitchen was quickly filled with the sound of your laughter.
Then, he spoke again, licking his lips.
It was his turn to look shy.
"Yes," a pause. "Please?"
The sun would definitely start getting jealous of you.
It was the first time in a long while that Aang wasn't learning something as the Avatar. He wasn't trying to master anything. He was just there, with you, listening, understanding something that didn't come from his world. And he... he loved that. The fire crackled softly as you explained how to follow the recipe. Without realizing it, it was his turn to look at you as if he were discovering a new part of you.
One that he, too, wanted to learn how to cherish.
Slowly, you began to add small glimpses of him into yourself.
It started with simple things: a touch of yellow in your clothes, a band around your wrist, a small cloth pouch that was a gift. It wasn't just the color; it was wearing something that belonged to the person you loved.
Once, he handmade a pendant for you with the air symbol carved into it. The mere act of making it felt intimate to him. When he gave it to you, he could hardly look you in the eye, his ears red and his voice unusually soft.
"I made it for you," he stammered. "It’s something I wanted to share with you. Do you like it? If not, it’s—it’s okay. I get it, maybe it’s too much..."
"Aang," you interrupted gently, holding the necklace as if it were the most wonderful object in the world. "I like it. A lot. So much, actually."
The hope in his voice made your heart ache. You wanted to wrap your arms around him and protect him, even if he was the Avatar himself.
"Yes," you replied. "It’s beautiful."
You never took it off again.
You made an effort to return the gesture. You gave him something that took you all night to embroider, motivated by the wish for him to have something of yours. A small but meaningful gift. When it was your turn to give it to him, your hands shook so much you almost gave up.
Fortunately, he looked just as affected.
"It’s nothing special, just..." you stuttered. "I wanted to give you something."
You took his hand and wrapped the fabric around his wrist, tying it with a small knot. The material felt warm—made by you. He blinked a few times, his expression filling with emotion. Somehow, it felt as if you were closer.
"It’s not as pretty as yours," you hurried to say. "But I wanted you to wear it."
"Of course it is," he replied, meeting your eyes. "It’s yours. Thanks."
Instinctively, you touched the pendant at your neck. Sharing felt important, like giving a small piece of your world, trusting that he would cherish it. And you couldn't have chosen a better person. From then on, he never took off anything you gave him.
One day, you found yourself holding a traditional Air Nomad tunic.
You had seen it many times on Aang and in your mind as you shaped the stories he told you. You knew what it represented thanks to the memories he had shared, but what made this garment special was that it was made for you. To your measure.
A desire in the form of a selfless gesture, yet to you, it meant the world.
"You don't have to wear it," Aang’s voice was a whisper, but in the stillness of the room, it resonated with strength.
The two of you were alone. The wind drifted through the window, gently swaying the curtains. Aang sat on the edge of the bed, facing you. His eyes never left yours for a second, only occasionally darting down to the fabric in your hands. If he had ever tried to hide his longing, he failed utterly.
You shook your head slightly.
"I want to," you said, running your thumb over the cloth. "I just don't want to do it wrong."
"You could never do it wrong."
That pulled a smile from you despite yourself.
"Still... this is important."
There was no need to explain why. It wasn't just clothing; it was memory, it was everything left of a world that no longer existed. Until that moment, Aang was likely the only person who wore those clothes fully aware of their weight. To have you share that... you didn't want to make a mistake.
You didn't want to hurt him.
You looked back at the fabric and, slowly, began to put it on. The breeze caressed your skin as you adjusted it to your body. It slid over you like water, finding the right places; it felt like a soft embrace under Aang’s warm gaze. You felt the air ripple within the room. Your movements weren't clumsy, but careful—deliberating where to tighten or leave the fabric loose, just as you had seen him do.
"Like... this?" you hesitated, searching for any hint of disapproval in his eyes.
Aang’s expression was beyond description. His mouth, which had drifted open, snapped shut. He cleared his throat as if he had suddenly lost his voice.
"Almost," he replied huskily. "Just..."
Then he stood up and stepped toward you. His figure enveloped you completely, forcing you to look up into his eyes. You saw his fingers twitch before he raised a hand to your shoulder to carefully adjust the tunic. It wasn't a quick movement; it was slow, deliberate. The warmth of his touch seeped through the fabric to your skin.
"Here," he murmured. "It needs to hang looser."
You held your breath, fearing that any sound might break the moment. He was so gentle, so sweet, that you simply let him continue. You could tell how affected he was by the slight tremor in his hands, by the way his breath hitched before a deep inhalation, and by how he consumed you with his gaze. You didn't even notice when he tightened a knot; you only felt him. At one point, as he reached the hem of the tunic, he knelt.
You weren't sure if your heart was still beating.
When he finished, he didn't stand up immediately; he stayed there, looking up at you. His eyes were shimmering.
"If only you could see yourself the way I do..."
"And how do I look?" you whispered.
"Like something I don't deserve."
It was a beautiful experience. The colors were warm—new, but welcome. The fabric was kind, letting you adapt. You hadn't felt so secure in what you were wearing in a long time.
Aang made sure you were comfortable every step of the way and couldn't keep his hands off you. He wore a radiant smile, and your own face mirrored it without you even realizing. His hand never left yours. And throughout the day, whenever you found a moment alone, he would lean in to whisper words that warmed your heart, praising how beautiful you looked, how much this meant to him, and how grateful he was.
But what he repeated most, like a mantra, was I love you.
Your favorite part was the journeys you shared.
Aang left on missions regularly. Sometimes days would pass before Appa’s silhouette appeared among the clouds, announcing his return. You understood. After all, he was the Avatar, and he couldn't stay by your side in bed every morning, no matter how much he wished to.
But there were other trips that had nothing to do with his duty to the world. Or perhaps they did, but it was a commitment born of longing and the desire to preserve what was lost.
Aang often visited the ancient temples of the Air Nomads. Occasionally, he would return with a relic found among the ruins. You knew such objects were important by the way he held them. When you asked what they were, his voice would drop, carrying a hint of sadness, yet he was always willing to share their stories with you. You made sure every piece found a special place in the Republic City temple.
You knew he would be gone for a while when he took your face in his hands and kissed you. Slowly. His thumbs would brush your cheeks with tenderness as the pressure of his lips turned into a true kiss, until you sighed against his mouth. He always came back to you.
The first time he asked if you wanted to join him was while you lay embraced in bed, one of his hands tracing invisible patterns on your hip. You could have sworn he felt your heart skip a beat. Your 'yes' was immediate. Aang exhaled as if he had been holding his breath, and his smile was the brightest thing you had ever seen.
You took the mission very seriously.
The path quickly filled with questions. Aang was more than happy to talk, and even Appa let out a low rumble now and then to join the conversation as the clouds became an ocean of white cotton beneath you.
You were a dedicated explorer. Even in places abandoned for a hundred years, you moved with care, observing every carving, every inlay, and every vine that had grown to cover what was once the home of his people. Aang’s home. Up there, the air was different: colder, cleaner, and much... quieter.
Truth be told, everything you saw looked like a relic to you, though Aang had to explain—unable to hide his smile—that not everything you found was a millennial treasure. You had to leave a couple of things behind before your gaze became more analytical, though you still believed everything was worth safeguarding.
"I’m gonna keep asking," you warned as you climbed a stone staircase, your hand intertwined with his.
Aang let out a soft laugh. "I love that you do."
You moved together. Aang’s warm presence chased away the chill clinging to the walls, and your footsteps brought sound back to a place that had been silent for so long. You continued to watch everything, no longer with the initial intensity, but with a broader gaze, noticing the hidden details that were so obvious to him.
You stopped before a structure that looked significantly older and more important. This time, your voice was confident.
Aang nodded. "This is one."
You smiled, proud of yourself. "Good, I’m learning."
His hand gave yours an affectionate squeeze. "You’re doing great, love."
The wind swept between you, traveling through the corridors and fluttering the yellow sash tied at your waist. At the same time, your fingers brushed the embroidery around Aang’s wrist—the one he never took off.
"Thank you for bringing me," you said after a moment.
His other hand rose to cup your cheek, holding you with the same care you gave to the things you deemed valuable.
"I wanted you to see it," he murmured, his thumb tracing the line of your cheekbone. "For a long time... but I didn't know if you’d want to be here. You’ve already given me more than I could have ever asked for, and I..."
"I want to," you replied with absolute honesty. "I want to understand it. To understand you."
When he smiled at you, it wasn't the gesture that lit up a room by default. It was different, and completely yours.
Aang gave thanks every day that you had received with such love what he thought he would have to cherish alone forever. Now, there was someone who didn't just seek to learn, but to see it all through his eyes. Aang already loved the woman holding his hand without hesitation, and he would love her for all the days to come.
In that moment, he was certain he would never be alone again.
