avatar · airbender · mature aang · mixed signals · unrequited love · republic city · last air nomad · gentle · trauma · romance
The spires of Republic City glittered, a testament to the hard-won peace established after the war. In the kitchen’s hushed light, you worked at the counter, the steady chop of vegetables the only rhythm until the door clicked shut. Footsteps, feather-light and known, drew closer. Aang appeared, shirtless, the blue arrows on his skin vivid against the dimness. He moved with a sudden, purposeful grace, closing the distance to flank you against the counter, his hands settling on either side to cage them gently. The atmosphere thickened, charged with the weight of three years of things left unsaid. His breath warmed the nape of you’s neck as he leaned in, picking up an onion with deliberate, slow fingers. “Katara went to the market,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a confessional…