Every Sound Your Heart Makes
I’m so excited to share my secret Santa gift for @headcanonheadcase! This fic started with an idea for what I like to call “reverse Gilmore Girls” — with a grumpy single dad and a chatty, diner owner. So you can expect the Gwynriel we know and love in a cozy, heartfelt small town setting. I hope it’s everything you want for Christmas, and more!
Summary: It’s been six years since Azriel came back to his hometown, with his newborn daughter in tow. Six years since Gwyn moved away from whatever heartbreak she’d left behind in her previous life and opened up a diner in Starlight Grove.
Now, unable to resist the urge to help Gwyn, Azriel volunteers to design sets for their town’s Christmas musical. But what happens when the town grump and the woman he’s fallen for can no longer hold back from the inevitable?
Chapter 1: Coffee, Please
Read here on AO3
Read a snippet below:
Even steps lead him to where he finds himself most mornings for the simple reason that his days aren’t quite right without a cup of coffee… and his daily dose of Gwyn. Once he reaches her diner, he pushes the door open with a gentle shove. His gaze briefly lingers on the cursive that spells out her name against frosted glass—four simple letters he wants to trace, followed by an apostrophe and an ‘S’. Then, just as the scent of peppermint and hot cocoa washes over his senses, his attention shifts.
He sees her immediately—the owner herself flitting from table to table, pouring coffee into half-empty mugs. The sight of Gwyn alone is enough to have him transfixed. To leave him frozen right there, in the doorway.
It’s almost unnerving, how still he is, when the diner is packed with townspeople. There’s a distinct liveliness to the place, one Azriel knows is only found at Gwyn’s. He’s come here every day for years, and he has yet to find another place where the warmth of the air envelops him the same way.
It’s in the details—he knows—at least for most people, this feeling of home. As much as the shop belongs to Gwyn, it belongs to their entire town. From initials carved into tables on first dates to small tears in fabric cushions covered with scraps of tape, to the sticky residue to sweet syrup that never seems to be scrubbed away from the tiles.
For him, it’s not the details that make him love this place. Not the coffee, nor the assortment of desserts.
It’s Gwyn.
That’s precisely the reason why he stands where he is, unable to take in the diner he’s been coming to for years. Why he doesn’t even see the rest of the room.
All he sees is her.
And then, her teal eyes flicker up, and she sees him, too.
“Good morning,” he says—croaks really. His voice is rough, perhaps with the lingering effects of his interrupted sleep. The greeting is all he can find in himself to say, but it is a good morning. Very good.
The sentiment only grows when Gwyn bites back a smile.
“You’re letting out all the warm air,” she huffs, playing at being annoyed. It must be the heat of the room, but Azriel swears he sees the slopes of her cheeks flush a lovely shade of red. In response, he can only take a step forward, allowing the gravitational force between them to draw him towards her and leave the door falling closed with a soft whoosh behind him.
“What? You’re not going to say ‘good morning’ back?” He crosses his arms across the expanse of his chest, fixing Gwyn with a look. He’s always found immense pleasure in teasing her, so he continues. “That’s awfully rude. I thought we were better friends than that, Gwyn.”
Now, it’s her turn to cross her arms. She sets her pot of coffee on a nearby table before doing so, then tilts her head back to glare at him. “We are, but you’re not the one paying the electricity bill.”
“You’re worried about your electricity bill?” He almost laughs at the irony.
Purposefully, he drags his gaze from Gwyn, instead turning to study the strings of light she’d put up overnight. At least they’re not the multicoloured variety, but a soft white that makes the interior of the diner glow from where they cover nearly every available surface. Precisely three Christmas trees are decorated in a similar, maximalist fashion, and Azriel can’t help but wonder how the diner hasn’t blown a fuse since she’d put the decorations up.
He arches a brow when he looks at her again, trying to hide his amusement. “Really?”
Taglist (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @foundress0fnothing @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @trashforazriel @sv0430 @sunshinebingo @shadowsxgwynriel @thelovelymadone @damedechance
For the @acotargiftexchange
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What class and romance interests are your Warden, Hawke and Inquisitor?
omg thank you for giving me an excuse to talk about them
warden: matila amell is a blood mage / failed arcane warrior (bad at holding a sword), morally she's very good but interpersonally she's blunt and everyone is SO scared of her. she romances leliana but it's not actually super serious so she breaks up with her in a letter like a week after they agree to go long distance. she was also a little bit in love with morrigan though and will never actually get over it.
hawke: marcus hawke is a warrior and reaver, he only gets one specialisation because neither of the other two really make sense for him. he's very abrasive and rude and rivals everyone except isabela and the mages; he and varric have this really weird relationship where varric is obviously in love with him and marcus is trying to ignore it. and ofc he romances anders and they run off into the sunset to have a surprisingly normal relationship after the explosion.
inquisitor: mary trevelyan is a rogue archer. i think she's also a tempest but the rogue specialisations are weird in inq. she romances cullen because her family are very religious and she pretty much always assumed she was going to have to marry someone templar-related anyway. playing her is the only way i can feel bad for cullen because he's SO nice to her and she's just not feeling it at all. she absolutely leaves him the second she disbands the inquisition. sorry cullen.
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Every Sound Your Heart Makes
Here’s chapter 2 of my secret Santa gift for @headcanonheadcase! It’s been so fun creating this for you, and I hope you enjoy this next part.
Summary: It’s been six years since Azriel came back to his hometown, with his newborn daughter in tow. Six years since Gwyn moved away from whatever heartbreak she’d left behind in her previous life and opened up a diner in Starlight Grove.
Now, unable to resist the urge to help Gwyn, Azriel volunteers to design sets for their town’s Christmas musical. But what happens when the town grump and the woman he’s fallen for can no longer hold back from the inevitable?
Chapter 2: Follow Where You Lead
Read on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
Read a snippet below:
It’s just him. Until he feels someone step out behind him.
There’s a note of surprise, evident in the tensing of Azriel’s shoulders. Even without turning around, he knows who it is: Gwyn, who surely should still be inside, engaged in conversation with the other townspeople. That’s what she does most Thursday nights—he knows this because he often finds himself blinking at the ‘Be Back Soon’ sign settled atop the door of her diner. It seems that even with her limited time in Starlight Grove, she’d already engrained herself enough into the community that people didn't seem to remember a time without her.
Azriel does—remember, that is. Before Gwyn, there had been few things he’d looked forward to in their small town. Yet, ever since he’d met her six years ago, her very presence had reshaped the way he saw this place. The Archeron’s bakery was no longer known for the best pies, but it was where Gwyn giggled in delight as she took bite after bite of what was supposed to be Azriel’s slice. Where she had whipped cream on the tip of her nose, that he gladly wiped off with the pad of his thumb. The town’s bookstore was no longer a place to get books, but where Gwyn had dragged him between shelves, stacking romance novels into his outstretched arms. Where she blushed when he’d settled them on a nearby table, picked one, and read a scene aloud.
And, somehow, Starlight Grove was not only where he’d grown up, but where he’d grown into this new version of himself—one marked with heartbreak and pain and, despite it all, love. He feels it, stirring in his chest, when he holds his daughter, and when he laughs with his mother as the two of them cook dinner. He feels it when he teases Nesta and Emerie, and when he has his annual snowball fight with his chosen brothers. He feels it now, when he recognizes Gwyn from the sound of her footsteps and the feel of her fingers as she wraps a hand around his wrist.
“Come on,” she says simply, using her hold to pull him along. She moves easily across the sidewalk, and even as Azriel presses his heels into the ground, there’s not much force behind it.
He lets her guide him. Of course, he does.
Turning towards Gwyn, he sees that she’s wearing her blue hat again. The material covers the tips of her ears, and, from this close, he can see every stitch in the knitted pattern. Her gloves, however, are absent now, so he can feel the cold press of her fingertips against his skin.
It draws a shiver up his spine, for more reasons than one.
“Where are we going?” he asks, the words strung together in a single breath.
Her response is short—curt. “To the theatre.”
To talk more about their plans for the musical, he’s sure. That’s what Gwyn had told him the week before, but there’s an urgency to her movements that prompts him to shift more of his weight onto his heels. To push back.
“What’s the hurry?”
Gwyn huffs, using her other hand to tighten her grip on him. She puts all her strength into trying to move him, and when he doesn’t budge—not even an inch—she turns narrowed eyes at him.
“I don’t want anyone to see us leaving together,” she admits, her tone more accusatory than anything.
Azriel blinks at her. He wonders if she can see the surprise in his expression as his gaze darts over her features, searching for more of an explanation to make sense of her words. When he doesn’t find it, he can only ask “Why?”
“They’ll talk.”
He laughs. And maybe it’s the lingering effect of the wine, maybe it’s the sight of colour rushing to Gwyn’s cheeks, but the sound is deep—uncontrolled in a way that leaves him nearly breathless.
Taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed): @foundressofnothing @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @trashforazriel @sv0430 @sunshinebingo @shadowsxgwynriel @thelovelymadone @damedechance @talons-and-teeth
For the @acotargiftexchange
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