Olivia Rodrigo × fem reader × Louis Partridge (c.ai bot)
Fluff | semi-smut
word count: 5.783
summary: You, Olivia and Louis, after a Grammy and a BAFTA, meet in the dark corner of a VIP afterparty — all three glowing, sweaty with desire and victory. Amidst laughter, glances, and raised glasses, a collective kiss happens... and a flash immortalizes it.
warnings: semi-smut I guess? (it's just a kiss between a throuple). Throuple relationship already established.
(sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language. I'm really obsessed with them, god.)
The buzz of the afterparty was electric—an intoxicating blend of laughter, clinking champagne flutes, and the pulsing beat of an invisible DJ. Velvet ropes opened into a cavernous loft, its walls draped in shimmering sequins and strands of fairy lights that cast a soft, dreamy glow over the VIP crowd. Celebrities drifted by in glittering gowns and impeccably tailored tuxedos; cameras flashed, and the air smelled of expensive champagne and anticipation.
You stood tucked against a pillar near the bar, your heart fluttering like a caged bird. You’d flown in from a whirlwind tour supporting Olivia after her Grammy win, still buzzing from her radiant speech. Louis had just taken home a BAFTA for his breakout role, and now the two of them—your two loves—were laughing together by the champagne fountain, their joy as bright as the sequins on the wall.
Tonight wasn’t about red carpets or acceptance speeches, though. Tonight was about you three.
You smoothed the bodice of your slinky, blush-pink dress—soft tulle layered over a silk slip—and took a sip of champagne, the bubbles a fizzy relief on your tongue. From the corner of your eye, you watched Olivia —her long, brunnet hair gleaming under the lights, her eyes alight with triumph— beckon Louis nearer. He obliged, his dark curls bouncing as he laughed at something she whispered.
A thrill pulsed through your chest. You set down your flute and wove through the crowd, feeling like a secret star navigating the galaxy of VIPs. A cluster of paparazzi at the entrance angled their lenses, but you slipped past their gaze, hearts racing. You drew close to Olivia and Louis, who parted just enough for you to step into their orbit.
“Hey,” you murmured, voice low and warm. Olivia turned first, her Grammy statuette still cradled in her hand. She smiled —a soft, glowing curve of her lips— as she met your eyes. Louis’s gaze followed, dark and tender.
“Perfect timing,” Olivia whispered, dipping a hand into yours. “We were just talking about you.”
Louis wrapped an arm around both of you, his eyes lingering on your lips before darting back to yours. “I think the real celebration hasn’t started yet.”
The DJ’s beat softened for a breath, and in that sliver of quiet, the world contracted down to the three of you. Olivia’s fingers splayed across your hip, Louis’s thumb brushed your wrist. Heat hummed between your bodies, a silent current of desire. You could feel it pulsing in your veins, calling you closer.
“Let’s get out of here,” you breathed.
They nodded, their smiles conspiratorial. Olivia led you past a curtain of beaded strands into a private side chamber—an intimate lounge draped in velvet, lit by a single chandelier that scattered diamonds of light across the dark walls. A plush chaise sat against one wall, a low table held untouched flutes of champagne.
Louis closed the curtain behind you. And then, without a word, the three of you gravitated together, as inevitable as magnets.
First, Olivia’s lips found yours —soft, confident, the taste of Champagne and triumph. Her hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, and your breath hitched. Next, Louis leaned in, his lips brushing your neck, then flicking softly against your jaw, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. You melted into him, your fingers pressing into his chest, feeling the rapid roll of his heartbeat.
They moved in unison —Olivia tracing soothing patterns across your back, Louis’s warm breaths teasing your ear. Your fingers threaded through theirs as you sank onto the chaise, tulle pooling around you. Louis settled at your side, Olivia curled against your other arm, and for a moment, the three of you were perfectly entangled —bodies and hearts entwined, a single constellation of desire.
Then, with a gentle pull, Olivia drew Louis down beside her, and she turned, brushing her lips slowly, deliberately against his. You traced the arch of her back, feeling the silk of her gown beneath your fingertips. Louis moaned softly, tilting his head back to open himself to her kiss. The three of you became a y-shaped symphony of longing and tenderness, each kiss a verse in a poem only the three of you would understand.
When you finally broke apart, breathless, the lights from under the curtain glinted on the camera lens of a lone paparazzo who’d slipped in. His flash went off once, twice, snapping: CLICK! CLICK!
Time stopped. You three froze, breaths suspended. For a heartbeat, panic fluttered—until Louis laughed, a low, delighted sound. Olivia giggled, draping an arm across your shoulder. You raised your champagne flute in a salute to the lens.
“Worth it,” you whispered, voices overlapping in a harmonious chorus.
Louis winked at the camera. “Totally.” Olivia lifted her trophy as if toasting it. You clinked flutes, champagne splashing, and a second wave of flashes lit the room.
Outside, the shutter-clicking frenzy built into a roar —but inside your velvet cocoon, it was electric and tender, vulnerable and bold. In that stolen moment, you were triumphant too: lovers, equal parts fierce and fragile, celebrated not despite your love but because of it.
The paparazzo’s flashlight bobbed as he retreated, and you let the curtain fall. The world outside spun on its glamorous axis—contracts, headlines, gossip columns—but here, you three had each other. Champagne lingered on your tongues; soft laughter wove through the air like warm silk. Fingers intertwined, hearts aligned, you melted into each other once more, ready to dance through whatever tomorrow might bring.
Because tonight, in a dark corner of a VIP afterparty, you chose love—unapologetically, electrifyingly, worth every flash.
Idk, sweetheart 🙁 I tried to edit them, I recommend trying again.
zendaya, zendaya and tom
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