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・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・
People always ask you how long you've been a witch, which is obviously a stupid question since you're born a witch, but it's still asked. Usually, it's other supernaturals, but when you moved to Mystic Falls and a girl point blank asked you where your coven was, you were alarmed. You didn't know whether to kill her, tell her, or run away. You hadn't been outside of your little coven long enough to know what to do in that situation, but you soon found out that she knew about the supernatural world and, was in fact, romantically involved with a vampire.
You were only passing through, so you didn't see the harm in telling them how new to all of this you were.
"I broke away about two months," you'd answered. The girl and her vampire boyfriend were quick to offer help in adjusting, and at first you'd refused. You wanted to suffer alone and live or die as fate willed it, but they convinced you that being independent wasn't the worst thing in the world. You said you'd stay for a few months.
That was almost a year ago.
Unfortunately, Stefan, who you'd become particularly close to, ran off with Klaus in order to save Damon's life, and Elena has been relentlessly hunting for clues to his whereabouts ever since. You've tried to help, but you're about as useless as a witch as you would have been were you strictly human.
So, you're reduced to aimlessly wandering around the Salvatore Boarding House where you've taken up residence until you can earn enough money to get your own place, though Damon suggests just stealing the money. As you cook some eggs, someone walks into the kitchen. You turn around, ready to offer some eggs to who you assume is Elena, but stop when you come face to face with a gorgeous blonde.
"Uh, hi. Want some eggs?" you ask, unsure of what else to say.
"Who the bloody hell are you?" she demands, her British accent thick.
"(Y/N)," you reply, unfazed. In the year you'd been here, there's not much that could faze you. "Who are you?" The blonde looks shocked at the question.
"Rebekah Mikaelson," she introduces. The pieces fall into place and you nod.
"Klaus's sister," you confirm.
"Unfortunately."
"Sorry about that. Want eggs?" you ask again.
"Are you not afraid?" Rebekah questions.
"I find fear a hindering emotion. If I let everything that should scare me do so, I'd never leave the house," you explain, making her some eggs.
"Do you have no survival instincts?"
"You know, I get asked that a lot. I usually leave it up for interpretation." You hear her chuckle as she sits at the kitchen island. You finish the scrambled eggs and set them in front of her.
"You do know vampires don't eat, right?"
"I know you don't need to, but your taste buds aren't altered even though you're dead," you reply, "so I figured you still eat for the hell of it." Rebekah is silent for a moment before eating the eggs. "Coffee? Tea? Orange juice?"
"Tea."
"Flavor?"
"Hibiscus. You're being oddly hospitable."
"Oddly? You don't know me well enough to know whether or not I'm always like this."
"True. I'm just not used to pleasant company."
"Well, I am unbiased toward you at the moment. You brother, not so much, but you? Different story."
"What are you?" she asks.
"Witch. I would ask you what you are, but that's a stupid question," you joke. Rebekah grins and stands, washing the plate in the sink. You glance over at her, and a weird, domestic feeling passes over you.
You freeze at the foreign feeling, unsure of where it came from and even more unsure of how to deal with it.
"Are you okay?" Rebekah asks, putting the dish away. You nod wordlessly and finish cleaning the pan, thinking.
You're not into girls. At least, you don't have a history of it. Sure, you'd thought they were pretty, but you'd never been interested in girls.
"Odd question," you blurt. Rebekah looks at you. "Are you into women?" Rebekah looks taken aback by the question before a sly grin crosses her face.
"Why? Interested?" You're about to deny it, but pause.
"I don't know," you admit. She steps closer to you, and your heart beats wildly.
"I can hear your heartbeat," she grins.
"Yeah? So can I."
Without another word, she kisses you.
It was unlike kissing a man. Men can be rough and messy, but Rebekah's kiss is soft but sure. Addicting, yet safe.
She pulls away, searching your eyes, which are wide with wonder.
"Interested?" she breathes. You open your mouth to respond, but you can't find the words. You take a moment to compose yourself before a smile takes over your lips.
"Maybe another one will help me decide," you reply cheekily.
