#I need to draw Cloudberry again

[dissembledthyme]

Low quality Rich Honey and Pure Vanilla things LMAO They're a bit in love

[marmosa]

it takes two.

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: a little 18+ humor at a point, but it’s pretty low-key. 

A/N: this had some anti-olives discourse and i’m not sorry about it olives r fcking nasty. also [y/n]’s smell is daisy love by marc jacobs for reference, it’s a perfume i really like but i was like there is no way anyone knows what a fucking cloudberry is, so next time you’re at sephora or sumthin go get a whiff of it, it’s lovely. anywho hope you guys like it, i had tons of fun writing the banter in this one, hope it turned out as nice as i thought :) p.s i didn’t proof read this so sorry in advance <3

***

[y/n] hated potions. She hated it more than anything else on this planet and that was saying something considering olives were literally out there existing. Potions shouldn’t have been such a hard class for her, not when she had no problem in her other classes, and certainly not when all it included was following a damned recipe.

Which explained why she wanted to drive a dagger through her skull when Professor Snape announced they’d be spending the next few days preparing to brew amortentia. Not only was the romantic part of it so nerve wracking it made the entire class nauseous, but the prospect of messing it up and not smelling anything at all was even worse (for those who cared, at least).

“You’re dismissed. Make sure to study up on the potion before hand or you’ll sorely regret it,” Snape called out to the class in that tone of his voice that sounded like rancid milk. Was it mentioned that [y/n] also hated Snape? Yeah that too.

As [y/n] packed up her things, she felt a tap on her shoulder, “Speak of the devil.”

“I’m not the devil, I know you lot think ginger’s are evil, but I can assure you I am no devil,” Fred shook his head displeasingly, crossing his arms and leaning back against her desk, “Also, what a way to great someone, sheesh woman, you’d think you’d be more excited to see me.”

“Okay, firstly, there was no need for that whole spiel,” [y/n] held her hands up defensively, “Secondly, I only said that because I was just thinking about you before you arrived.”

Fred rolled his eyes at her back-tracking, but smiled smugly none-the-less, “Aww you were thinking of me? Nothing too naughty I hope,” he winked.

[y/n] flipped her bag shut and looked up at him with a deadpan expression, reaching up and punching his shoulder, “you wish, Weasley. The only naughty thing I’d be caught doing with you is tying you up to turn you in to the police.”

“Tying me up? Didn’t take you as the type for that sort of thing,” Fred grinned, biting back another remark as he watched her groan in annoyance but refuse to make eye contact with him, “but honestly, what were you thinking about?”

“Well,” [y/n] began, pulling at his sleeve to get him to follow her out of class, “You know we have this amortentia potion coming up and I’m doing shit in this class, but I was thinking you could help me study since you have a track record of being good in this class?”

“Hmm,” Fred pondered the offer, shrugging, “what’s in it for me?”

“You get to spend time with me?” [y/n] smiled sweetly, batting her eyelashes dramatically to emphasize the effect.

“That’s a shit deal,” Fred chuckled, raising his brows with a small grin at [y/n]’s frown.

“Yeah, it is,” [y/n] sighed, an idea popping into her head, “but if I brewed it successfully you’d get to find out who I fancy, I know you���ve been poking around there because you’re an nosy git who won’t leave me alone about it.”

Fred scoffed in mock offense, tilting his head to the side, “Rude, but not false. Y’know, that does spice up the offer, but what’s stopping me from just finding out by having you smell someone else’s brew? And who’s to say I’m gonna know who smells like that anyway?”

“You’re so difficult,” [y/n] groaned, sinking her shoulders, “you know what, just forget it. I’ll go bother George or something, y’know the better twin.”

Fred’s smile fell as he screwed his features together, ”Excuse me? You’ve got some nerve you little-,”

“I don’t-woah!” [y/n] yelped as Fred tackled her to the side of the empty hall, trapping her against the wall, his hand planted to the side of her head and his other arm situated above her head.

“Take it back,” Fred demanded, giving her a once over, amused at the way she silently reeled over the position she’d just been put into.

“And why should I?” [y/n] snapped back, staring right back at him as soon as she’d gotten her bearings.

“Take it back,” Fred repeated simply, his voice low as he tried to coax his desired response out of her.

“Again, why should I?” [y/n] hummed, relaxing against the wall and looking at him with a sly smile.

Fred rolled his eyes and straightened himself back up, pushing his hair out of his face with one hand, “you’re no fun, you know exactly why.”

“No I don’t,” [y/n] continued, chimed in amusement, “do you think George isn’t as good as you?”

“Now don’t you go putting words in my mouth,” Fred snipped, “you know just as well as I do that’s not true.”

“I don’t know, maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,” [y/n] shrugged, biting back a laugh at Fred’s less than amused expression, “I’ll cut you a deal. You help me with potions and I don’t tell George your dirty little secret.”

“That’s not-,” Fred groaned, his argumentative spirit draining out of his body as his will to spend time with her won out, “Fine. But if you ever tell a lie like that to George, I’ll feel no remorse telling everyone and their mother that you like being tied up for fun.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” [y/n] hissed, narrowing her eyes at him.

“What? It’s not like it’s true,” Fred teased, his smirk falling when she remained silent, “No way, [y/n] that’s got to be a lie.”

“So what if it isn’t? You’ll never know,” [y/n] giggled, biting back a smile.

“Now wait a minute-,” Fred began, startled at this random piece of questionable information, but was cut off as they arrived at [y/n]’s class.

“It was lovely chatting with you, but I will have to see you later,” [y/n] hummed playfully, giving him a quick hug before darting into her classroom leaving a shocked Fred to himself, “bye Freddie!”

***

“Do you think Fred likes me?” [y/n] rolled onto her stomach and looked over at her friend expectantly, bumping her ankles together to distract her from the rapid beating of her heart.

Nadya tossed her books to the side and slid her legs off the side of her bed, leaning forward to try and be level with [y/n], “Are you really asking me that right now?”

“What!” [y/n] scoffed, pouting, “it’s an honest question!”

“Of all things holy,” Nadya groaned, burying her face in her hands, “Of course he likes you? You really asked him to be your homework helper and he said yes. Who in their right mind willingly studies for potions?”

[y/n] chewed on the inside of her cheek, nodding along, “You are absolutely correct. But like, if he doesn’t, isn’t it going to backfire on me when he realizes I smell him in the amortentia potion?”

“Bold of you to assume that any man knows what he smells like,” Nadya chuckled, “Remember in grade school when the boys would wear that atrocious body spray? It was ghastly.”

“Again, you’re absolutely correct. But Fred has like a distinct smell, it’s like camp fires, caramel, and fire-whiskey,” [y/n] sighed, letting herself bask in the though of how lovely he was, “it’s wonderful.”

“Kinda creepy that you know how specific it is,” Nadya pursed her lips and titled her head to the side to avoid [y/n]’s flat glare.

“Oh yeah because yesterday you totally weren’t telling me about Sam’s ‘absolutely magical eyes’, your words not mine,” [y/n] hummed, a smug smile drawing itself across her lips.

“You’re a twat,” Nadya snapped back, rolling her eyes, “back to you, aren’t you suppose to meet him in the library in like 5 minutes?”

[y/n] glanced over at the clock on her nightstand and nearly feel onto the floor running to get her stuff, “Shit! Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“Because you were too busy talking about what Fred smelled like,” Nadya deadpanned, taking her turn to smile smugly.

“I would wipe that stupid look off your face if I wasn’t running late,” [y/n] narrowed her eyes teasingly, grabbing her textbooks, “see you at dinner?”

“See you at dinner,” Nadya affirmed, waving goodbye.

***

“Took you long enough,” Fred lulled, leaning back in his seat.

“I’m surprised you were here on time, especially for something as boring as homework,” [y/n] replied, setting all her stuff down and sliding into the seat across from him.

Fred looked at her dumbly, wanting to snap back but not knowing how to without admitting he was just excited to see her, “Shut up. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you were the one who asked for my help?”

[y/n] leaned her cheek onto her balled up fist and exhaled deeply, “Touché. You’re a handful Weasley.”

“You love it though,” He hummed, wiggling his eyebrows.

“That I do,” [y/n] chuckled, kicking his ankles playfully under the table.

“Well, if you need my help it’s counter productive to do it across from me isn’t it? You don’t want to be swinging a book around over and over again,” Fred mentioned while flipping through his own textbook to find the lesson.

“That’s a good point,” [y/n] shrugged, pushing all her stuff to the other side of the table and switching her seat, glancing over at his book to note the page number, “Y’know, I actually really appreciate you helping me out.”

“Hey, it’s no problem, volunteer work is important after all,” Fred teased, quickly back-tracking when she stared back at him blankly, “Kidding! You know I’ll always make time for you,” he mumbled, reaching over and squeezing her shoulder reassuringly.

[y/n] rolled her eyes and pretended to fish around her bag so he wouldn’t notice the embarrassed look on her face, “Thanks. Same for you.”

Fred chuckled softly, leaning his cheek onto his fist to watch her silently, admiring the way she looked out of uniform in her favorite sweater and pair of jeans. She practically glowed in the low light of the library, her hands constantly pushing a fly away of hair out of her face, her face screwing up in an adorable sort of annoyance. He was smitten, no doubt about it, and honestly- he was okay with that.

“What’re you looking at?” [y/n] muttered, catching his unwavering stare.

“Nothing, you’ve just got an eyelash on your face,” Fred played it off nonchalantly, reaching forward and brushing off the imaginary eyelash.

[y/n] tried her absolute best not to combust right then and there, thanking him quietly before redirecting his attention to the work, “So, what do you say we start here? The measurements are rather odd, wouldn’t you say?”

Fred bit back a smile and nodded, amused at the loss of her fiery attitude, his heart thumping loudly against his chest.

“Yeah, they are.”

***

“Fuck!”

Nadya glanced up from the journal sitting in her lap, the pair of eyes she was sketching seemingly following along with her as she located [y/n] standing in front of the mirror, looking ready to fall apart.

“What’s all this about then?” Nadya inquired, cocking her head to the side.

“We’re making the potions today and it didn’t seem like a big deal two days ago but the anxiety has finally caught up to me and I feel truly sick,” [y/n] shuddered, jumping up and down in place to try and shake out her prickling nerves.

“I know you’re worried, but what are the chances of anyone knowing what that smell is? By the way you described it, it’s so painfully specific that only someone who’s known him for ages would know,” Nadya reassured her panicking friend, smiling softly.

“I know, but what if-,”

“If you keep talking yourself into believing it you’re gonna be miserable. Just breath, go do your best, and have fun. Nothing will go wrong,” Nadya explained calmly, knowing just how much of a busy-brain [y/n] could get.

“Ah, you’re right, I’m only gonna make myself feel worse. I’ll stop, thanks Nadya,” [y/n] padded over and gave her a quick hug, “see you at lunch?”

“See you at lunch,” Nadya nodded, waving her goodbye.

***

“You’ve all finished brewing your amortentia I presume,” Snape spoke in that nasally tone of his, glowering at the class.

The class replied with a cacophony of “yes’s”, the anxiety of each person literally rolling off the walls in waves. People who had a fancy in that class practically had a neon sign above their heads that said so, while those who didn’t sat back and relaxed in peace as they pondered their grade.

[y/n] glanced over at Fred who caught her gaze, passing her an enthusiastic thumbs up, which she returned happily despite the knots forming in her stomach.

“Well then, if you’re done, get into your groups and test it out. Remember if you smell nothing that it doesn’t mean you failed the potion, you must reference the check list of properties before coming to a conclusion,” Snape explained, folding his hands behind his back, “is that clear?”

The class responded with “yes’s” once more and in an instant the room was bustling as the groups got to smelling their potions to test out the initial effects. [y/n]’s group agreed that they’d go clock-wise, leaving her last to test out the potion.

“It smells like honey, baked goods, and lavender,” Charlie spoke up, his cheeks tinging red as he probably registered quite who the scent was probably related to.  

“That’s a lovely combination,” Dina nodded, leaning forward and taking a whiff of their own brew, “truly I can’t smell much but there is a faint note of citrus,” they shrugged.

[y/n] and Timothy exchanged knowing glances, a fancy probably developing in Dina’s life that they hadn’t quite registered yet.

“My turn,” Timothy exhaled, nodding stiffly as if to reassure himself as he smelled the potion. His eyes nearly popped out his head as he took a step back fanning his face slightly, “that has got to be the strongest smell of herbs I’ve ever smelled- he’s probably been spending extra time in the Green Room, that twat.”

The group broke into laughter as he gracefully excused himself to go stand outside to let the smell filter out of his nose. As soon as he’d left, the group look at [y/n] expectantly, all excited to hear what she smelled.

[y/n] swallowed thickly and leaned over her pot, her nerves finally spiking as she took a whiff of the brew. Her heart nearly stopped in her chest when she finally registered the smell, her face growing hot, as an embarrassed expression pulled itself onto her features- of course it was him.

“So, what did you smell?” Dina chirped enthusiastically, leaning against the table.

“Yeah [y/n], what did you smell?”

[y/n] felt her heart drop to her feet, her eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets and into the pot in front of her. Of course he was going to ask.

“You did promise you’d tell me,” Fred smirked, leaning against the table, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“That I did,” [y/n] chuckled awkwardly.

“I’ll cut you a deal this time. You tell me what you smelled and I’ll tell you what I did,” Fred offered, raising his brows to emphasize his tantalizing offer.

“Deal,” [y/n] nodded, rolling her shoulder a few times, “I smelled a camp fire, caramel, and fire whiskey.”

Charlie and Dina exchanged wide eyed glances, quietly agreeing that the smell was certainly unique and equally lovely before excusing themselves to go get a final grade from Snape.

“What a unique smell,” Fred hummed, eyeing her groupmates oddly “Guess I have to hold up my end of the bargain then. I couldn’t really tell you the specifics, but definitely berries, daisies, and driftwood.”

“That’s even more unique than mine, whoever you smelled sure does have a refined palette,” [y/n] giggled, calming down as she realized Fred had no clue who she was talking about with her own smell.

“She sure does. I think it’s her perfume or something, she wears it everyday so I recognized it almost immediately,” Fred chuckled, shrugging, “But fire whiskey, I truly wonder who that could be, you wouldn’t happen to be willing to tell me? Would you?” he bat his eyelashes innocently.

“In your dreams Weasley,” [y/n] huffed, shoving him playfully.

“Ouch, tough crowd,” Fred pouted, turning so his elbows were leaned onto the table behind him.

“You know I’m only keeping it from you for my own sanity,” [y/n] chuckled, reaching over and shaking his shoulder softly.

Fred chewed his bottom lip between his teeth, glancing in the opposite direction from her, his mind clouded with doubt, wondering who this mystery person could possibly be- praying to everything holy that there was even a possibility of it being him.

Unbeknownst to him,  [y/n]’s internal dialogue was practically doing the same thing trying desperately to put a person to the smell he describe but coming up empty, her heart sinking slightly while she admonished herself for getting her hopes up too fast.    

“Well, you know I’m not gonna give up until I find out. I’ll sniff everyone in our year if it means getting my answer,” Fred teased, winking at her.

“That’s so creepy, you’ll be lucky if you can even get close enough to smell your own brother,” [y/n] laughed, letting her head roll forward slightly.

“Whatever you say,” Fred hummed, shimmying his shoulders to a silent tune, “better go get that grade of yours then, we didn’t do all that studying for nothing.”

“We might’ve since you couldn’t tell who I smelled,” [y/n] bit back a laugh when Fred glared back at her.

“You’re a twat.”

“I know.”

***

“Nadya! My dearest darling companion to ever to walk this planet, do you happen to know anyone who smells like caramel and fire whiskey?” Fred asked, throwing his arms around the two girls.

Nadya nearly spilled her drink at Fred’s sudden appearance, which didn’t particularly go down well with her, “Fred if you scare us like that again I’m going to hex you so severely you’ll be stuck in the infirmary trying to figure out how to get your wand out of your arse.”

Fred’s face drained of all it’s color (if that was even possible, being as pale as he already was), “Sorry Nadya, my bad.”

[y/n] stifled a laugh, continuing to munch on her piece of chicken, ignoring Nadya’s side eye that practically screamed “handle your own boyfriend”.

“But back to your question, I can’t say that I do, who do you have in mind so far?” Nadya humored him, trying her best to give leeway to both her best friend and her best friend’s crush.

“Well, as [y/n] so wisely said, it’s too creepy to go around and sniff people, so I’m just going off of hunches. Oliver seems like a likely candidate and so does Casper, but I’m still not sure,” Fred sighed, obviously already impatient in his search.

Nadya glanced over at [y/n] who was all to comfortable pretending she wasn’t a part of the conversation, happily sipping at her cider.

“I’m not gonna say anything, you can search for as long as you’d like, I’m not budging,” [y/n] shook her head, smiling all too amused, patting Fred’s head patronizingly.  

“You’re no fun,” Fred pouted, huffing and standing back straight, dusting off the invisible dust on his robes, “Well since I’m not gonna get an answer out of either you, I’ll take my search elsewhere, see you around.”

“Bye Freddie,” [y/n] chirped, waving goodbye to him, “So you were right.”

Nadya broke into laughter, elbowing [y/n] playfully, “I told you! You got so worked up and he hasn’t even gotten close to an answer.”

“Casper, he really thinks I’d like Casper? He’s lovely and all but imagine having to sit through him telling you about how handsome he is? That sounds absolutely awful,” [y/n] shook her head, giggling at the thought.

“I truly think he’s just lying to himself at this point, there’s no way he’d be that dumb,” Nadya claimed, refiling her cup.

“I think so too, you know Fred though, he love’s a good challenge,” [y/n] shrugged, taking another bite of her chicken, “well have to see.”

***

“Okay, I think I’ve figured it out!”

[y/n] groaned and pressed her palms into her eyes, sinking as far as she could into the couch that she thought was tucked at the very back corner of the library, “please, it’s been nearly two days! You haven’t given it up yet?”

“Not at all, it’s fun, irritating, but fun,” Fred beamed, skipping over and plopping down next to her on the couch, “See I think I’ve narrowed the search down to these three guys.”

[y/n] glanced down at the small sheet of paper he held out to her and then back at him, a tired sag in her eyes as she felt guilt start to push against her chest. Maybe she was in the wrong for letting him run around and play a fruitless guessing game that she knew he would probably never get the answer to.

“I’m thinking if you give me another clue, I could zero it down to-,”

“It’s not them Fred.”

Fred fell quiet as [y/n] pushed his hand down, taking the paper and tossing it on the small table to her side, pushing his fingers into a small fist that she held gingerly, “It’s not anyone you’ve guessed.”

[y/n] sighed and swallowed her nerves, deciding it was now or never, that if she didn’t say something now she would be tormented by regret and Fred’s relentless guesses for the rest of her life.

“It’s no one you know because,” [y/n] looked away, literally incapable of meeting the wide inviting look he was giving her right then, “it’s you Fred. I like you.”

When she was met with silence, the rock finally started to settle at the pit of her stomach, her brows knitting together as she bit back her bubbling emotions. She tried to pull her hand back but had it quickly snatched back by Fred who had threaded their fingers together.

“I knew it,” He grinned, cupping her face with one hand and pulling her to him, his lips pressing against hers extremely gentle for how abrupt the kiss had been.

[y/n]’s eyes went wide before sinking shut, her free hand wrapping around the back of his neck and pulling him impossibly closer. They sat like that for a while, the quite chatter of the other students background noise to the gentle kisses they passed between one another, the pent up impatience and nervousness draining out of them with each and every kiss.

The two of them finally pulled away, a red hue fanned over Fred’s face, his freckles even more noticeable now that she was up this close.

“Shit, I didn’t ask permission to kiss you, did I?” Fred mumbled bumping his forehead against hers, squeezing their still intertwined hands.

“It’s okay, at least I kissed back, yeah?” [y/n] whispered, thumbing over the small scar on his cheek, probably from a quidditch match.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll be better about it though,” Fred promised, tilting his head to the side to press a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Me too,” [y/n] smiled, adoration practically rolling off of her in waves, “wait- what did you mean you knew it?”

Fred pulled back and sat up straight, his lips pressed together so tightly he was practically forcing all the blood out of them, “Well, I kind of already knew from the time your tablemates sort of left us alone in potions. I just wanted to hear you admit it.”

[y/n] felt her face fall, her mouth getting stuck open in an o shape, as she stared at him dumbly, “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Unfortunately no,” Fred giggled, placing both of his hands on the sides of her face, “don’t be mad at me?”

“I’m not mad, just disappointed in myself, that shit’s embarrassing for me!” [y/n] groaned, placing her hands on top of his.

“Well it all worked out in the end didn’t it?” Fred chimed, his lips stretching out into a grin.

“I suppose it did,” [y/n] hummed thoughtfully.

“Now the real question is how you didn’t know what your own perfume smelled like,” Fred quipped, immediately bouncing back to teasing her.

“Oh for god’s sake, do I look like I research perfume scents in my free time?” [y/n] scoffed.

“A little bit,” Fred muttered.

“You know what never mind, don’t you ever try to kiss me again,” [y/n] shoved him off her playfully, scooting all the way to the opposite end of the couch.

“Now don’t be like that,” Fred groaned, crawling over to her.

“Nuh uh, nope,” [y/n] shook her head, sticking out her legs in a feeble attempt to stop his advance.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, too late, come here.”

“I said no- fine! Fine, goodness gracious.”  

“Mhm, that’s what I thought, now give me another kiss before you have to go back to doing boring homework.”

“Fine.”  

[author-morgan]

Helloo! Could i ask for an engage day with Eivor where the whole village knew that he would do it anyway, but act they are not predict anything? ☺☺

Hi nonny, hope you like it!

m!Eivor x fem!Reader

EIVOR WOLFSMAL WAITS until he is sure you have left for the day before he knocks on the wooden door of your home. This moment has been a long time coming and one he has put off for nigh a year, but with the courage provided by a cup of ale and the insistent croaking of Sýnin at his ear, Eivor decides now is the time to act. Despite his breadth and stature, he feels small under the scrutinizing stare of your father, Vígmaðr —a reputable warrior in his own right.

This is not an unfamiliar situation, though, hardly three springs ago Eivor sat on the same bench at the small wooden table and petitioned for the lifelong friendship between him and you to be able to grow into something more through courtship. Now, Eivor asks for Vígmaðr’s daughter’s hand in marriage, laying his heart bare.

Guðríðr, your mother, smiles and rests a hand on her husband’s shoulder. Eivor is a good man and as parents, they could not ask for a better man to marry you. He explains his intention to surprise you by asking after the harvest feast by the week’s end —when the agreement is made Eivor takes his leave and lets out a long sigh as the wooden door shuts behind him.

Stepping back onto the main road in the village, he looks up at the overcast sky and smiles, laughing softly to himself as he makes his way into the heart of the seaside village. Sýnin’s low croak is the only warning Eivor has before you fall into stride at his side, carrying a basket of root vegetables and grain. The raven jumps onto your shoulder, ruffling his blue-black feathers and nuzzling against your cheek and temple —more affectionate than normal. Reaching up, you scritch the feathers on Sýnin’s belly. “What’s got you in such a good mood?” You ask, the question directed both to Eivor and the raven perched on your shoulder.

“Thinking about the hunt for the celebration,” Eivor replies, hoping his answer will be enough to stave your curiosity for now. It seems to work as you don’t doubt it —it’d been well over a month since he last went on a true hunt. “You’re busy,” he remarks, eyeing the basket in your arms, not wanting to hinder you. The elder healer of the village had tasked you with running errands to some of the sick, a break from your usual routine of making poultices and tonics. Eivor leans down, placing a quick kiss to your check before carrying on his way.

Sýnin lingers on your shoulder, the raven cocks his head to the side, watching Eivor leave. You eye Sýnin, meeting his dark, beady eyes. “He’s up to something, isn’t he?” Sýnin turns his head this way and that, then hops from foot-to-foot. “Mischief,” the raven croaks, “mischief.”

AFTER TWO DAYS since encountering Eivor in the street, you start to notice something odd about the way your parents are acting. Vígmaðr and Guðríðr both assure you it is nothing to worry about, but you know they are hiding something. Taking a small breakfast of smashed cloudberries on brown bread, you try to goad your mother into telling you anything about her and Vígmaðr’s odd behavior. She does not relent, but your suspicions increase tenfold when you venture to the small market. “I heard the good news!” The merchant smiles, accepting the trade of goat tallow for a bundle of mugwort.

“Always knew you and Eivor were a match made by the gods,” someone else says, one of your mother’s close friends and fellow shieldmaidens. You take the few items from the market and what had been foraged from the forest the day prior back to the healer, finding even she is acting strange —giving you the rest of the day for yourself. Drawing up your cloak’s hood, you set out back into the summer rain and towards Eivor’s small house at the edge of the forest.

“Eivor?” You call after knocking, but there is no answer. Pushing open the door, you step inside out of the rain and look around. The hearth is cold, and his bow is gone from its place on the wall. Thrown over the back of his chair is a scarlet tunic with a rip in the sleeve and side —folding it into your basket, you set back toward your home. Eivor’s tunic is not the only thing in need of mending. Your mother wields a sword and shield, but you have always wielded a needle with more efficacy than any sword or axe. Sitting by the fire, you start patching the small pile of clothing at your side, humming the tune to a song Vígmaðr used to sing to you at night.

The next day, Eivor returns with a stag nigh twelve hands high draped over his shoulders. A fine beast for the night’s feast. You accept his soft kiss and return his repaired tunic as he sets off to wash up now that the hunt has ended. Shortly before the festivities begin, Eivor appears at your door —wearing the scarlet tunic beneath a dark leather jerkin— with Sýnin on his shoulder.

For much of the feast, you cannot shake the number of eyes lingering on you and Eivor, as though they are aware of something you are not. Eivor does not leave your side, not even when talk of battle and raids arise among the warriors gathered at one table —their stories drowning out most of the other conversations. He draws you into his side on the bench when barrels of mead and ale are rolled to the center of the hall, his arm tightening around your waist. “I have something to show you,” Eivor breathes, pressing his lips against your temple. You raise your brow in question, and he nods toward the doors, pulling you up to your feet and guiding you by the hand. You hardly notice the mead hall has grown silent with everyone watching as the two of you leave.

He leads you toward the tree line and past a winding trail into the dark depths that you know well from foraging herbs and berries. Sýnin darts through the canopy —you can just make out his dark shadow in the moonlight. Eivor’s foot catches on an upturned root and he stumbles, nearly dragging you to the ground before steadying himself against a tree trunk. He laughs at the folly continues on another path, one that is less traveled. “Where are we going?” You ask, fighting back a laugh. It’s been quite some time since you’ve seen Eivor so giddy about something.

“You’ll see,” he remarks, looking to his side with a bright smile. A little way up on the trail, the forest gives away to a hill overlooking the harbor and village. All the stars in the heavens above are looking down at the two of you standing atop the small bald. The faint beginnings of the autumn and winter lights are visible against the dark backdrop of the sky —dancing ribbons of blue and green.

Between the night sky and the glittering reflection of the moon off the water, you are entranced by the serenity of the night. “Eivor?” You question, softly, noting that he had not taken his gaze off you since coming to a stop. He only smiles in response as Sýnin circles above, letting a two talonfuls of mountain avens rain down.

Eivor stoops down, picking up one of the flowers and tucks it behind your ear —cupping your cheek. His clear blue eyes are sparkling in the moon and starlight. “Ek ann þér,” he breathes, his rough thumb ghosting across your lips. You smile, meaning to return the sentiment, though before you can speak Eivor continues, clearing his throat. “And I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” For as long as Eivor could remember, you were always there —his closest friend and the person he loved most in all nine realms. Your brows furrow, but then your eyes widen in understanding as everyone’s odd behavior for the past comes to make sense. “Marry me?” Eivor asks, smiling with love written in eyes and on his expression.

You break into a wide smile and leap up onto your toes, wrapping your arms around Eivor’s neck and find his lips with yours. He wraps his arms around your middle, pulling you flush against him, and leans into the kiss —pouring his heart and soul into it. Eivor pulls away, still smiling as you comb your fingers through his golden beard. “I hope that means yes,” he laughs, taking the flower from behind your ear and threading it into a small braid near the crown of your head.

“Of course, it does,” you assure him, lips kinked into a smile, “I love you, Eivor.” He pulls your close again, dipping his head down to seal the space between your lips again as Sýnin flies overhead, happily croaking.  

@fjor-ok-skadi  @withered-poppies @ananriel @britishhotassassin i feel like i always forget people, so if you want to be tagged in Eivor fics, just send me an ask or drop me a message

[floraexplorer]

28 Things You’ll Learn on an East Coast Canada Road Trip

I’d never been to the east coast of Canada before I road-tripped through it.

In fact, I’d never visited Canada at all – but I’d always wanted to. Up until a few weeks ago, Canada still existed in my mind as a maple-syrup-soaked land of giant moose and friendly locals: essentially, a stereotypical dream. And when the plan of road tripping along Canada’s east coast emerged, I envisioned a highway dotted with Tim Hortons, ice rinks and, again, giant moose.

But over the course of a fortnight, my photographer friend Kim and I drove along the open highways of Nova Scotia and Newfoundland & Labrador, searching for every story we could find – and the stereotypes fell away in favour of something better.

Our search for stories led us to riding ATVs through tall grass and foraging for cloudberries in soggy marshland. To jigging for cod on a tiny fishing boat, wrapped inside a blanket of fog. To kayaking in the Atlantic ocean alongside the bobbing heads of sleek-bodied seals. To walking with ghosts in darkened cemeteries with lost German names inscribed on slabs of broken slate. To rising earlier than the light and hiking past stone stacks at sunrise. To drinking tea from china cups beside beach bonfires and toasting each other with homemade scones and jam.

And then there were the people: a seemingly never-ending stream of Nova Scotians and Newfoundlanders who are, truly, some of the most immediately friendly strangers I’ve ever met.

But the road was the central thread of this journey: following those painted strips of yellow line vanishing beneath our car tyres, the constant banks of trees broken up by a succession of unfamiliar names on roadsigns, and an ever-present stretch of asphalt winding out like a ribbon before us. And it also acting like a framework, allowing us to get to grips with Atlantic Canada from a fascinating perspective.

Here’s what we learned from a two week road trip across east coast Canada.

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Atlantic Canada will remind you of a dozen different places.

The east coast of Canada is comprised of four provinces: Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island (PEI), New Brunswick and Newfoundland & Labrador. Those first three are also called the Maritime provinces – the easternmost province of Newfoundland & Labrador only joined Canada in 1949, so it’s not included in that grouping.

These Atlantic provinces are clearly influenced by the different cultures of people who settled here – Scottish, Irish, English and French – along with the First Nations who have always called this part of Canada home. You’ll see these different cultures reflected in people’s accents, surnames, and names of locations: like the Irish brogue of Newfoundlanders, or the signs to places like Lower Shoal Highway, Little Heart’s Ease and Bear Nation River.

The landscapes are like Ireland and Scotland…

In Nova Scotia, we often mentioned we’d be visiting Newfoundland & Labrador next – and everyone said the same thing: that Newfoundland was exactly like Ireland.

This island province has the most stunning landscapes: wide sweeps of coastal cliffs, deep stretches of pockmarked earth, and sudden forests under vast expanses of sky. Fascinatingly, Newfoundland & Labrador is home to some of the oldest fossils on the planet, thanks to its history as a place where the continental plates collided.

… But the buildings look like they’re lifted from northern Norway.

Every time we passed one of the tiny fishing huts (called ‘stages’) which are dotted along Atlantic Canada’s coastline, I continually thought of the similar little red-roofed buildings in northern Norway.

It always makes me happy to draw parallels between two different parts of the world – and it makes sense in this case. Both Atlantic Canada and Arctic Norway rely heavily on fishing, hence why they position their buildings right above the water.

There aren’t many cars, and the road is often empty.

For long stretches of our driving days in both Nova Scotia and Newfoundland, we were treated to virtually empty roads. On the plus side, this meant maximum views of the surrounding landscape – but on the downside, we couldn’t play as many car games prompted by the vehicles around us (a firm favourite of mine is guessing what kind of person is driving based on their numberplate letters).

Luckily, Kim was treated to my second-favourite car game: the alphabet-based “I went to the supermarket” – except with a Canadian theme. This game pulled us through about two hours of driving at the end of our trip, along with a serious case of hysteria…

Your car snacks will all include maple in some form.

All good road trips need an assortment of local snacks for munching on. Keep a box of maple biscuits in the car for emergencies (along with some maple butter cereal bars for real emergencies).

The weather can change in an instant (especially in Newfoundland!)

Dressing for weather in the Maritime provinces is an education. We had constant blue skies and bright sunshine in Nova Scotia, but on arrival in Newfoundland our plane touched down in a thick soup of heavy fog.

Newfoundland is famed for its quick-to-change weather, thanks to the contrast with sea and air temperatures. The fog comes out of nowhere – but it can also fade away again pretty quickly.

Sadly, there’s a fair amount of roadkill.

In Nova Scotia, there were multiple occasions when I suddenly shouted, “Raccoon!” “Possum!” “Ohh… it’s a porcupine..!”

Seeing a little pile of upended quills perhaps isn’t the best way to see my first ever porcupine in the wild: unfortunately the highway is a dangerous spot for many Canadian animals, and it’s often the last resting place for the aforementioned critters – along with snakes, groundhogs and skunks.

Thankfully I was much happier in Newfoundland, as there’s barely any roadkill to be seen.

Luckily there’s also plenty of Canadian wildlife that’s alive and well!

It’s extremely tantalising to know that the forests on either side of the road could be filled with brown bears and moose (even if they’re hiding from view whenever you look). But there’s lots of other animals happily enjoying life in Atlantic Canada.

On our kayaking adventures in Blue Rocks, Nova Scotia, we watched the seals swim, surface and dunk themselves beneath the water again, and during a boat tour in New Bonaventure, Newfoundland, I saw my first ever bald eagle sat in the top of a far-off tree – which then took off in flight right in front of us. All my photos are way too blurry but I was so happy!

But the best wildlife sighting has to be in Elliston, NL, where an entire rock’s surface is covered in puffins. We sat on the rain-soaked grass and time seemed to stop as we watched these adorable little birds zoom around – and eventually a pair decided to land right in front of us. At the same moment, there were three or four whales in the ocean just beyond, their bodies and bursts of bubbles repeatedly appearing above the water’s surface.

I could have sat there all day long.

You’ll want to see moose – but also you DON’T want to see moose.

My not-so-secret predominant wish for our Canada trip was to see a moose casually mooching along the highway as we drove past. Kim, who was coincidentally doing all the driving, was not so keen. Particularly when I showed her this viral video of a moose in Alaska.

We didn’t end up seeing any moose in the end – and I’m actually quite grateful, because these guys are no joke.

Searching for coffee shops with espresso machines can lead you to some adorable cafes…

On a roadtrip, a caffeine hit in the mornings is basically mandatory – so Kim and I made it our mission to sample good coffee wherever we went. We’ve both spent our adulthoods drinking espresso coffee, but in the more rural parts of Atlantic Canada (particularly in Newfoundland) it proved quite difficult to find coffee shops which served cappuccinos and lattes.

Don’t give up the search though! Our need for caffeine often led us to some lovely places – like The Two Whales Coffee Shop in Port Rexton, NL, the Laughing Whale Coffee Roasters in Lunenberg, NS, and T.A.N. Coffee in Windsor, part of an alternative coffee shop chain in Nova Scotia.

… But you will inevitably find yourself inside a Tim Hortons.

Tim Hortons is a quintessentially Canadian chain and there are thousands of Tim Hortons stores across Canada. We automatically tried to avoid them in pursuit of the aforementioned independent coffee shops – but one foggy morning it was the only place serving coffee for miles around.

I’m glad we ended up there, because it turns out the coffee is pretty damn good. And the Timbits (delicious bite-sized doughnut holes in all kinds of flavours) aren’t to be sniffed at, either.

Sampling Canada’s fast food chains is a worthy endeavour.

If you’re going to try the Timbits from Tim Hortons, then you also need to try Canada’s other fast food offerings.

On our first day in Halifax we went straight to a poutine shop, sharing a box filled with chips smothered in cheese curds, pulled pork and gravy. It was sinfully delicious – and within 24 hours we’d also made our way to BeaverTails.

Inspired by Canada’s unofficial mascot animal, this pastry shop makes Canadian doughnuts and pastries, including their hand-stretched doughy namesake. I sampled a beavertail-wrapped hot dog while walking along the Halifax waterfront and it was way too tasty for its own good.

You could feasibly eat fresh lobster for every meal…

When dinnertime rolls around in Atlantic Canada, there’s always lobster in some format on the menu. Lobster poutine, lobster mac & cheese, lobster rolls, the infamous ‘Lunenburger’ (a beef burger topped with lobster and a scallop, served in its namesake town of Lunenburg, NS), lobster tagliatelle, or the pièce de résistance — an entire lobster.

If you have lunch at Hall’s Harbour Lobster Pound in the Bay of Fundy you’ll get the chance to meet Lowell, who gives you a behind-the-scenes tour of the lobster pound and regales you with fascinating lobster facts while wearing beautifully themed lobster socks.

Lowell will also introduce you to the biggest (live) lobster you’ve ever seen: he’s called Albert, and his claw is bigger than Lowell’s foot.

Or you can just stuff yourself with seafood.

I’ve spent the last few years trying to give up most meat, but I still fail miserably at avoiding seafood. Being pescatarian feels more acceptable when you’re right beside the ocean – so I full-on indulged. After two weeks of delicious seafood at every meal, I don’t think I can eat mussels, scallops, or chowder again for a while…

In Atlantic Canada, the word ‘fish’ always means ‘cod’.

The importance of cod in Canada’s history cannot be overstated. Once the most-fished-for fish in the country because it was so plentiful, decades of over-fishing eventually led to a ‘cod moratorium’ in 1992, which banned cod fishing throughout Canada.

It was the biggest fisheries collapse in world history: it put over 40,000 people out of work overnight, decimated hundreds of coastal communities and irreparably changed the social landscape of east coast Canada, particularly in Newfoundland.

Almost thirty years later, Atlantic cod isn’t extinct but it’s still officially vulnerable. The government have now allowed the recreational fishing of cod but the fishery as an industry remains closed.

If you visit Newfoundland & Labrador, prepare to kiss the cod. Seriously. 

This province have taken their love of cod to a whole new level: it’s a crucial part of a tradition called the ‘Screech-in’ which welcomes visitors to the island.

On our third night in St John’s (and after a number of pints at the Yellowbelly Brewery), our blogger friend Candice took us to George Street for our official screech-in ceremony. We stood in a circle amongst a bunch of other visitors while a giant of a man dressed in fisherman’s gear slapped a huge wooden paddle against his flattened palm and shouted out lines of a poem, which we had to shout back in repetition.

One by one we kneeled down, then kissed a frozen cod held in front of us – which was swiftly followed by downing a shot of Screech rum. And just like that, we were honorary Newfoundlanders!

There are huge lighthouses all along the coast…

If you love lighthouses, you’re in luck. Atlantic Canada is famed for its lighthouses, and there’s even an easily-followable lighthouse route along the Nova Scotia coastline.

We stopped in at a fair few lighthouses during our trip, including the famed Peggy’s Point Lighthouse at Peggy’s Cove, just outside of Halifax. The Nova Scotia Lighthouse Preservation Society has a comprehensive list of which lighthouses are open to the public (including a few where you can spend the night!)

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…and you’ll see much smaller lighthouses too.

Miniature lighthouses seemed to be a typically Canadian thing which I didn’t quite understand, but was nonetheless totally happy about (particularly when I asked Google, “‘why does Canada love lawn lighthouses’ and found this guy).

We passed multiple houses with tiny lighthouse statues set on their front lawns – and when they also featured Canadian flags it was even better.

You’ll see the same outdoor deckchairs everywhere you look.

Adirondack chairs are perhaps my favourite discovery from the east coast of Canada. When I first spotted them along the Halifax waterfront I assumed they were only a city-wide thing, but we quickly realised that these wide colourful deckchairs are all over the place.

I’ve tried to learn their origin and why Canada loves them so much, but the best info I could come up with was this: to celebrate Canada’s 150th anniversary in 2017, Parks Canada placed 150 all-weather Adirondack chairs across the country in an effort to connect Canadians with nature.

Adirondack chairs are usually in pairs of two or groups of three. We saw them on the front porches of hotels and private homes, at the ends of docks and beside lakes – even on hiking trails – and the ultimate reward was scoring a pair of chairs at Halifax airport on our five hour layover before flying back to London!

There’s a maritime museum in almost every town…

The east coast of Canada has a rich maritime history, and they’re doing a great job of informing visitors about it.

If you’re anything like me, you’ll love wandering through rooms filled with old anchors, paddle boats, buoys and dinghies, fascinating metallic artefacts made from metal and material and wood, along with dozens of crinkled photographs depicting sailors and captains from days gone by.

My favourites were the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic in Halifax, which had an entire floor dedicated to artefacts from the Titanic sinking (Halifax was the closest port to the sinking so many of the victims were brought here for burial) and the Provincial Seaman’s Museum in Grand Banks, Newfoundland, which featured a dozen different hearses on sledge blades – used when the water froze over in the 1800s.

… And there are even more cemeteries…

Atlantic Canada’s relationship to death is prominent, which makes sense when you think how many generations of fishing and sailing families have lost their loved ones to the sea. That prominence is reflected in where they choose to bury their dead, with cemeteries placed in centralised locations in pretty much every place we visited.

When we spoke to Pat Redgrave, the owner of The Garrison Inn in Annapolis Royal, NS – which sits opposite one of Canada’s oldest cemeteries with headstones dating back to 1720 – he said that in a part of the world where young fishermen often die, it’s not really possible to ignore death. As a result, the prevailing attitude of Nova Scotians and Newfoundlanders towards death seems pretty accepting.

…Which means there are ghosts (and ghost stories) everywhere.

The folklore and legends of Atlantic Canada are well-renowned – perhaps because this part of Canada has more decades of documented history than most of North America, but also because rich oral traditions are commonplace here.

Ghost walks, cemetery tours, spooky tales of hotel hauntings and faded old photos will all do their best to creep you out. I absolutely love this stuff. Kim? Not quite so much. Just outside a cemetery on our late night ghost walk through Lunenburg, NS, I made her scream when I sidled up to her to whisper, “There’s a man in that car…”

Turned out the creepy figure sat in the driver’s seat was a real human man just there to use the free outdoor wifi. It was still hilarious.

You’ll find yourself following local superstitions.

After hearing enough tales of century-old traditions and superstitious behaviour, it’s likely you’ll start following along with some of it.

During our ghost tour in Lunenburg, we learned that generations of Lunenburgers have spat on the ground when they see a single crow (which indicates bad luck) in order to beckon in a second crow (which lifts that bad luck). The next day while driving, we saw our third single crow of the day…. and both rolled down our windows to spit.

You don’t want to tempt bad luck, after all…!

If you’ve got a question, just look for the question marks.

There’s a lot of questions you can ask in eastern Canada – and thankfully the provinces are prepared for it. That’s why they’ve marked out their tourist offices with giant question marks, along with question-marked highway signs indicating you’re about to get the chance to ask some questions!

The first time we saw a question mark sign we erupted into laughter. But that could also have been roadtrip-related hysteria.

You can enjoy a rather tasty glass of local wine in Nova Scotia.

People told us that the vineyards in Nova Scotia produce wine that can rival France and California! Apparently the province’s soil and climate are perfect for growing grapes – and with more than eighteen wineries and vineyards dotted throughout Nova Scotia (particularly in Annapolis Valley), it’s becoming a burgeoning industry.

We sampled a few different red wines during our week in Nova Scotia and loved them. My favourite? The ‘Great Big Friggin’ Red’, complete with a label which reminded me of the circus.

Craft beer in Atlantic Canada is pretty fantastic too.

Aside from wine production, they’re also pretty hot on their craft beer in Atlantic Canada. There are dozens of craft breweries which made this IPA drinker very happy – I particularly liked the Garrison Tall Ship IPA and the Quidi Vidi ‘Day Boil’ Session IPA.

We spent time sampling beers at the Yellowbelly Brewery in St Johns and the nearby Quidi Vidi Brewery, but our favourite discovery was a brand-new bar set inside an old church in Wolfville, Nova Scotia (aptly named ‘Church’) with an ever-changing menu of locally brewed craft beer.

The sunrises are stunning – if you manage to wake up early enough.

The east coast of Canada is privy to some spectacular sunrises, which you’ll often vow to see. Unfortunately, you’ll often miss them because you were having too much fun the night before! But when you finally manage it (on the last morning of your trip..!) it’ll be beautiful.

We roused ourselves from a peaceful slumber in the insanely comfy beds at The Fisher’s Loft Inn in Port Rexton, Newfoundland, to head out on the Skerwink Trail at 5am. With fresh dew on the leaves and skittering bugs around us, we walked along the cliff edge beside the sea stacks and watched the sky change colour with the rising sun.

The best part of an east coast Canada road trip? Everyone will make friends with you.

Perhaps my favourite part of Atlantic Canada was making friends with people. It was absurdly easy, and yet still felt so special.

We struck up conversation with a woman and her family while queuing for our rental car at Halifax airport, then spent the early hours of the morning with a group of twenty-somethings that night at a local bar. An elderly married couple approached us at dinner with recommendations of where to visit in Nova Scotia; a young wife talked with me at length about Canada’s indigenous history while we went fishing; and a random woman tied my plastic bib behind my neck before showing me how to eat the lobster on the table in front of me!

There is no doubt that I’ll come back to Canada. There are two more Atlantic provinces I’ve yet to explore – and a hundred more stories to hear and to tell…

Would you go on an east coast Canada road trip? Are there any typical road trip lessons I’ve missed out? 

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Disclaimer: This trip was in collaboration with Tourism Nova Scotia and Newfoundland & Labrador, who hosted Kim and I – but the opinions about Canadian superstitions, giant moose and Adirondack deckchairs are all my own. 

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