#kitty x reader

The first time you realize you like Kitty Song Covey, it’s not dramatic.

It’s quiet.

She’s sitting cross-legged on her bed, rambling about something—some plan, some idea, something chaotic and completely her—and you’re not even fully listening. Not because you don’t care, but because you’re too focused on the way her eyes light up when she talks. The way she gestures with her hands. The way she feels everything so openly.

You think, distantly, oh.

And then, oh no.

Because there’s no going back from that.

———————————————

You try to ignore it at first.

You tell yourself it’s just admiration. That everyone loves Kitty, in one way or another. That it’s normal to feel drawn to her energy.

But then she grabs your hand one day without thinking, pulling you along to show you something, and your heart stutters so hard it’s embarrassing.

And that’s when you know.

———————————————

What you don’t expect is this:

“You like her.”

You nearly choke on your drink.

You turn slowly to look at Minho, who’s leaning against the railing beside you, watching you with that knowing expression you’ve come to both hate and… strangely trust.

“I—what?” you say, far too quickly.

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re not subtle.”

“I am subtle,” you argue.

“You stare at her like she hung the moon.”

Your face burns. “I do not.”

He doesn’t even respond—just gives you a look.

You groan, dropping your head into your hands. “Oh my god.”

There’s a pause.

Then, quieter—

“So do you.”

You peek up at him.

He’s not looking at you anymore.

He’s looking at her.

Kitty, across the courtyard, laughing at something someone said, completely unaware.

Something shifts.

“You like her,” you repeat.

He exhales softly, like he didn’t mean to let that slip. “Yeah.”

You stare at him.

This is… unexpected.

Minho isn’t exactly the type to admit things like that. Not easily. Not without a layer of sarcasm or deflection.

But right now, he looks… honest.

A little unsure.

And that throws you more than anything.

———————————————

It becomes a thing after that.

Not official. Not spoken about directly.

But you and Minho—somehow—you start orbiting the same secret.

You notice things.

The way he softens around her, even if he pretends not to.

The way you both end up in the same places, watching her, helping her, being pulled into her chaos.

Sometimes your eyes meet across a room, and there’s this silent understanding.

Yeah. Me too.

And weirdly… it brings you closer.

———————————————

It starts small.

Late-night conversations.

Accidental lingering.

You’re sitting side by side one evening, waiting for Kitty who’s, unsurprisingly, late, when Minho nudges your shoulder lightly.

“You’re thinking about her again.”

You sigh. “Am I that obvious?”

“To me? Yeah.”

You glance at him. “You are too, you know.”

He huffs a quiet laugh. “Great.”

There’s a pause.

Then—

“Do you think she’d ever… like us back?”

The question hangs in the air.

You hesitate. “I don’t know.”

He nods slightly, like he expected that answer.

But neither of you moves away.

———————————————

Somewhere along the way, something changes.

It’s subtle at first.

You start noticing him more.

The way he leans closer when you talk.

The way he remembers little things you say.

The way he’s softer with you when no one else is around.

It catches you off guard.

One night, you’re both sitting on the floor of his room, sharing snacks and half-watching something on his laptop.

Kitty had been there earlier, all laughter and energy, before leaving with a quick hug and a promise to see you tomorrow.

Now it’s just the two of you.

Quieter.

Slower.

“You’re staring,” he says without looking away from the screen.

You blink. “I’m not.”

He turns his head slightly, catching you immediately. “You are.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart’s beating faster than it should be. “Maybe I was just thinking.”

“About her?”

The question is automatic.

But something about it feels different.

You hesitate.

“…Not just her.”

That gets his attention.

He turns fully now, studying your face. “What does that mean?”

You shrug, suddenly nervous. “Nothing.”

“Don’t do that,” he says quietly.

“Do what?”

“Say something and then pretend you didn’t.”

You look at him.

Really look at him.

And for a second, everything feels too close.

Too real.

“I think…” you start, then stop.

He waits.

You swallow. “I think maybe I don’t just like her anymore.”

Silence.

His expression shifts, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “What?”

“I don’t know,” you rush out. “It’s confusing, okay? I still like her, obviously, but—”

“But?”

You exhale shakily. “But I think I might… like you too.”

The words feel heavier once they’re out.

Final.

You expect him to pull away. To laugh it off. To make a joke.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he just stares at you.

Processing.

“…Oh,” he says finally.

“Yeah,” you mumble.

Another pause.

And then—

“I think I like you too.”

Your head snaps up. “What?”

He lets out a small, almost disbelieving laugh. “This is… complicated.”

“You’re telling me.”

“But I still like her,” he adds quickly.

“I know. Me too.”

You both fall quiet.

Because now what?

———————————————

The answer comes sooner than expected.

It’s Kitty.

Of course it is.

She notices everything.

Maybe not right away, but eventually—inevitably—she puts the pieces together.

The looks.

The tension.

The way you and Minho have been acting lately.

One evening, she corners both of you at once, hands on her hips, eyes narrowed.

“Okay,” she says. “Something is going on.”

You and Minho exchange a glance.

“Nothing’s going on,” he says.

“Don’t lie to me,” she shoots back. “You’re both being weird.”

“We’re not—”

“You are,” she insists. Then she points between the two of you. “And it’s not just you two. It’s… everything.”

Your heart starts racing.

Minho shifts beside you. “Kitty—”

“No,” she says, softer now. “Just… tell me. Please.”

You look at him.

He looks at you.

And somehow, without saying anything, you both decide at the same time.

Honesty.

“I like you,” you say.

“I like you too,” Minho adds.

Kitty blinks.

Then blinks again.

“…Okay,” she says slowly. “That part I kind of guessed.”

You hesitate. “There’s more.”

Her eyes flick between you.

“We…” you start, then falter.

Minho picks it up. “We also… like each other.”

Silence.

You brace yourself.

For confusion. For rejection. For everything to fall apart.

Instead—

Kitty laughs.

Not mockingly.

Not awkwardly.

Just… surprised.

“Wait,” she says, a smile breaking across her face. “So you both like me… and each other?”

You nod, feeling your face heat up. “Yeah.”

She looks between you again, something soft and thoughtful settling in her expression.

“That’s… kind of amazing,” she admits.

You blink. “It is?”

“I mean—” she gestures vaguely. “Why does it have to be complicated?”

Minho frowns slightly. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs, stepping closer. “I like you too.”

Both of you freeze.

“What?” you and Minho say at the same time.

She grins. “Yeah. I like you. And you.” She points at each of you. “So if we all like each other… why are we acting like we have to choose?”

The words hit you like a wave.

You glance at Minho.

He looks just as stunned.

“Kitty,” he says slowly, “that’s not… how this usually works.”

“Maybe it should be,” she counters.

You laugh nervously. “You’re serious?”

“Completely.”

She steps even closer now, taking your hand in one of hers and Minho’s in the other.

Your heart is racing so fast you’re not sure you can think straight.

“I don’t want to choose,” she says softly. “I like both of you. And you like each other too, which is kind of perfect, actually.”

Minho looks at you.

You look at him.

And for the first time, this doesn’t feel impossible.

It feels… right.

“…Are we really considering this?” you ask quietly.

He lets out a breath, then gives you a small, almost shy smile. “I think we are.”

Kitty beams. “So?”

You squeeze her hand.

Then his.

“…So we don’t choose,” you say.

Minho nods. “We don’t choose.”

Kitty grins. “Good. Because I really didn’t want to.”

———————————————

It’s not perfect.

It’s not simple.

But it works.

Because it’s you.

All of you.

There are moments—soft, quiet, shared between two or all three of you.

Kitty’s laughter filling the space between you.

Minho’s hand brushing yours, steady and grounding.

Your head on Kitty’s shoulder while Minho leans against you both.

It’s different.

But it’s real.

And for the first time, nothing feels confusing anymore.

Because you didn’t have to choose.

The water reflects light on your legs, on that sparkly dress you are wearing tonight. Short, flamboyant, stunning. Arturo lights his smoke, watching your boyfriend screaming back this time, his finger pointing and piercing the skin of your chest with each word. He can see the disbelief on your face from here, the audacity of the man.

‘’ If it was such a problem, maybe you should have taken your cojones, Diego, and told me yourself, instead of going around and fucking about! ‘’

‘’ Fucking about? You’re the one walking around looking like a whore. ‘’

This one stings, deep in his bone, piercing his chest. All the way over here, he feels angry for you, cheeks hot and red burning his face. You don’t answer back after this, stunned or embarrassed, he can’t tell. He does see how flushed your chest is, how your jaw sets, tense with unspoken words. This is it. The last straw. He won’t allow Diego to insult you any further.

He calls out your name as he walks closer to the side of the pool, it’s more like a statement than a question, a greeting. I’m here, you’re good.

‘’ You’re all good here, mami? ‘’

He knows you heard him, even though you don’t turn to acknowledge him. He is surprised that your boyfriend does, scoffing as he looks him up and down. He is audacious, Arturo has to give him that. Does he think he’s safe in this house? Doesn’t he know who your friends are, who’s been paying for his drinks since he got here? Diego’s finger is pointing at him now, laugh dry and mocking. As if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

‘’ Him? ‘’ he says, ‘’ Him? ‘’

Arturo knows what he is implying, as if Diego wasn’t the one that was in the wrong, the one that had been fucking half the town behind your back. They had their suspicions in the beginning when you had started to run out of reasons for him not showing up to gatherings and birthdays. He knew he was right when Ramón told him you had given them five dollars for gas money and a few dozen eggs to throw at Diego’s apartment. He couldn’t believe it when he saw you with him the following week, acting as if nothing had happened.

Arturo’s attention turns back to you when you don’t answer, don’t bite into it like he thought you would. He can take a better look at you now that he is closer, inches away from the ledge. He sees the tears dancing on your lash line, your nails digging inside your palms, and he decides he hates it. He hates him. It must be horrible really, giving so much to someone so pathetic, having your words twisted back against you.

He tries to ignore how much Diego’s finger pointed at him bothers him. It is like a stab in the chest, a provocation, like he is making it personal. In a way, it is, he made sure of it the second he decided to belittle you like this in front of him. The thoughts of gripping his hand in his, crushing his joints- He blinks once, twice to shake the images out, and then he says your name again, an invitation now. Let’s leave this. Leave him.

‘’ You should leave. ‘’

Both sets of eyes turn to you as you speak up. Finally, he thinks. You are not asking, you are demanding, telling Diego his time here is over. Diego’s eyes twitch between you and Arturo’s side of the pool, he has to know he will lose if he tries to fight him. From the look of it, he is most likely smaller than him, unarmed. Arturo knows he only hangs out with them for the coke, maybe the small possibility of being one of them too, and then having you back in his bed after the parties. It breaks his heart to know you didn’t catch on to his bullshit before tonight. It is hot in his chest, a deep burn he can’t shake off, maybe it is jealousy.

Diego turns to you, as if your words meant nothing, like you didn’t just ask him to leave. His hand wrapping around your forearm as if you would follow him. The pool is the only thing keeping Arturo from jumping in between you two and sliding his hands around his throat.

‘’ Come on, let’s do this somewhere else. ‘’

‘’ Don’t touch me, Diego- ‘’

He can’t stand it, having to watch this asshole pretend he is still the one in control. Your upper arm is white from Diego’s grip and he can’t help how fast his hand goes to his back, feeling the gun tucked in his waistband with his fingertips. A reassurance that he could end this, here, right now. He will shoot him, he doesn’t care, five times if needed, as many times it would take for this idiot not to have a face anymore.

‘’ Are we gonna have a problem here? ‘’

He doesn’t stutter. It is a warning, his first and final one, spoken clearly in the open space between them.

‘’ Shut the fuck up, pendejo, can’t you read a room?! ‘’

‘’ Kitty… ‘’

You finally catch his eyes across the pool. Your voice is a warning, almost scolding him like a child, telling him to let you handle it, that you can take care of this. Can you? Should you? He notices the sparkles on your eyelids, the same color as your dress, the dried tears on your cheeks. He can’t be stopped, he doesn’t want to, he is too invested in this. Pendejo. Arturo doesn’t remember when he started moving, following the tiles around the ledge, opting to close his fists and take care of this naturally instead. If Diego wanted to play the tough guy, he would show him what it looked like.

He is halfway around the pool when you start moving, twisting in your heels. You grab Diego by the hair, using the momentum and his hold on your arm to push him into the pool. He is taken aback for a moment, stopping dead in his tracks, scared Diego’s grip on your arm will bring you into the water with him. But it doesn’t and you are tiptoeing around the edge, hands in the air, unmoving, like you just dropped something you shouldn’t have.

You yelp when the water splashes back on you, the bottom of your dress, your shoes. It shakes you out of it and you step back from the puddle of water at your feet. When Diego surfaces out from the deep, he is heaving, breathing through his nose, paddling around with both arms. A well-deserved swim, if he could say so himself, but Arturo is not even looking at him. He doesn’t matter, you do, and he only has eyes for you. He is not sure what to do now, he is surely not going to jump in the pool to finish this, who knows what chlorine would do to his Ralph Lauren shirt.

‘’ You’re a fucking bitch, Diego. ‘’

You laugh and it is music to his ears, loud, genuine. You are waving your hands around like you can’t believe this, free at last.

‘’ Stay the fuck away from me from now on, or he’ll shoot you. ‘’

You are pointing at him now, passing the eventual dirty work to him. Arturo knows you have never held a gun in your life, how you can barely accept those that are tucked in your friends’ jeans, but he would do it if you asked him, in a heartbeat, no questions needed. You push at the water on your thighs, probably wishing it would take the chemicals and the water out of the fabric. You turn to him, head thrown back, fists closed, like a child.

‘’ Look what he did to my shoes, Arturo. ‘’

You are whining and he is trying to pretend that his name coming out of your mouth didn’t make his knees buckle for a second. Eat him up and chew him out. You turn back to Diego.

‘’ They’re Versace you fucking bitch. ‘’

Your voice quivers on the last word, a small crack in an otherwise strong façade. Arturo’s hand moves from behind his shirt, leaving the comfort of the handle of metal at his back, motioning for you to come over. It is too cold tonight for you to stand outside, legs out for days, and a drenched skirt stuck to your thighs.

‘’ I’ll buy you new ones, mami. Let’s move before the fish comes out of his tank, yeah? ‘’

He is trying to be funny, but he can hear you sniff, see your hand raise from your side to wipe at your nose. He can understand how it’s too much, too fast now, adrenaline coming down, the cold seeping in.

When you turn his way and brush past him, his first instinct is to try and grab you, to be able to drape a warm arm around your shoulders, protect you when Diego couldn’t. It hurts him when you duck from his grasp, continuing your way to the door, but he swallows it and pushes down whatever angry, sad feeling is bubbling up in his throat. He chooses to follow you inside, follow what his guts tell him, and not take any of this personally. Easier said than done, but Arturo decides to focus on the sound of your heels against the tiles instead, to breathe in your perfume when he skips before you so he can open the sliding door for you.

You make a line for the kitchen and he is thankful no one stops you to ask what happened. Arturo follows your step, tall and burning behind you. You are holding back your tears, he can tell. He doesn’t know why he feels like he has to make sure you are alright. Diego might be an ass, but he wouldn’t dare enter the sharks’ enclosure after that. If this was his house, he would turn around and drown the fucker with his own hands. Nothing he hasn’t done before.

‘’ I’m not crying. ‘’

It’s the first thing you tell him when you enter the kitchen with him, your new shadow, still hot on your heel. You are, and it’s okay, he understands, right? You are alone in the room, just you, him, the marble countertop between you as you turn and pace. You are rummaging through shelves, one hand whipping at your cheek while the other chooses a glass.

‘’ It’s not- this isn’t because of him. I’m not crying- ‘’

A sob leaves your throat as you open the refrigerator door. He feels bad now, his heart squeezing at the thought of your makeup sliding down your cheeks. Arturo leans on the door frame and he looks as you pull out juice from the open door, the other hand grabbing a bottle of tequila left on the counter. The amount you pour into your cup makes his eyebrows frown.

‘’ It’s alright. ‘’

‘’ It’s the shoes. I’m not crying. ‘’

The tears on your face do tell him that you are, that it is about Diego. He doesn’t deal with heartbreaks often, he usually never stays around long enough to feel it. He is a grown man, he never cries, he shouldn’t care, but he does feel better when you open the juice jug, pouring enough that he is not too concerned about how it would taste in the end. He speaks up again.

‘’ It’s alright if it’s not just the shoes you know. ‘’

‘’ You would really buy me new ones? ‘’

He raises his eyebrows at that and you are now pushing yourself up on the counter in front of him, crossing your legs, glass in hand. Your eyes are dry and red, but the glitter on your lids is still pressed to the skin, unmoved. He likes it, he decides, the shimmer suits you, it reminds him of the diamonds he has on a watch at home. You are looking at him, waiting for an answer. Like it would fix everything. Your Versace heels, he would buy you new ones if you asked, the same pair if you wished, an even more expensive one if you begged him to.

‘’ Por supuesto, mami. ‘’

I would shoot him too, let’s keep our word. He doesn’t tell you that, but the thought crosses his mind, throbbing inside his ribcage. The things he would do for you. Something changed tonight, inside of him, changed how he looks at you, how he really looks at you. You laugh at this and he is thankful, happy to hear the sound again. He hopes it means he is doing something good, something to make you feel better.

‘’ I’m just messing. They will dry, I was just being dramatic. ‘’

Rightly so, he wants to tell you, that he would have done worst for less, but he doesn’t, he laughs it off with you.

‘’ All good, mami, I go crazy for less. ‘’

You haven’t touched your drink yet, playing with the rim and the ridges on the side. It is a good sign to him, that whatever he is doing is working, heart being fixed, tears kept at bay. He feels awkward, standing there and looking at you, trying to keep his eyes away from tracing the curve of your legs, the idea of your nails wrapped around his neck-

‘’ You like shopping? ‘’

It’s quick, out of his mouth before he even processes it, anything to keep the silence from going on any longer.

‘’ What? ‘’

‘’ Well, I- ‘’ he stuttered, he never does. Tongue rolling in his mouth, words knocking his front teeth on the way out. Of course you like shopping, ranking bills for days, and matching your shoes with your tops, who wouldn’t? Right?

‘’ Well, because I do. ‘’ He feels like the dumbest person in the house. ‘’ I mean- I mostly look, I don’t always buy. It gotta fit with the rest, you know? ‘’

You hum, nodding with the sound. Your lips touch the rim of the glass, bringing silence back to the kitchen, and he feels like he fucked up. He had to open his big mouth and spill out some none sense. Maybe you don’t like shopping. Maybe you think he is taking too much space, that he should leave you alone-

‘’ Let me tell you a secret. ‘’ Your hands are back on your lap, playing with the side of the glass once again. There is a glint in your eyes as you lean towards him, like you are sharing a secret. Lips pursed, you are not whispering, but he feels like you are. A secret for him, only for him.

‘’ Sometimes it doesn’t even match, but I still buy it, I can’t help myself. ‘’

You have glitter on your fingers from when you wiped your tears off and he can’t take his eyes off yours, you are pulling him in and he takes a step closer as you continue.

‘’ I always think I can make it work, but after a while, I send it to my primas, so it’s not really a loss, you know? ‘’

‘’ You’re free Friday? ‘’

You hesitate a moment, barely a second, but it’s enough to make him self-conscious again. ‘’ Why? ‘’

‘’ Let me take you out. ‘’ Let me make this right. Make you forget him. ‘’ We can go en el centro. I don’t think they got Versace there, but they got nice options. ‘’

He shrugs his shoulders, already pretending that he is going to be okay if you reject him. He knows he won’t, that everything, every minute spent with you until today wasn’t a random twist of fate. He can feel it, feel you deep in his bones, there has to be something there. He can’t be wrong, you have to say yes.

Your fingers move in the space between the two of you and, since he is closer now, you can reach and hook a finger around one of his longer chains, moving the golden cross around so it catches the light.

‘’ Is Thursday too early for you? ‘’

He is flushed when you look back up at him, too stunned to speak, too hot and too cold at the same time. He has asked people out before, multiple times even, but right now, with you, he can’t get a grip, he can’t get himself to breathe and not be putty in your hands.