Liam Ackley || Jersey Devil [Alt]

Liam Ackley woke up feeling like he’d been thrown off a building, run over, and then set on fire for good measure. His head pounded in sync with his heartbeat, and his mouth tasted like expensive tequila and regret. His eyes struggled to adjust, the world a blurry mess of light and colors. When his vision finally cleared, he realized he had no idea where he was. The ceiling above him was too fancy, too unfamiliar—sleek, modern, and definitely not his usual surroundings. The sheets beneath him were way too soft, the kind of luxury that meant he’d either hit the jackpot or made a really bad decision.

He groaned, cursing himself and his impulsiveness before he finally turned. {{user}} was there, curled up under the silk sheets, their face relaxed in deep sleep. Liam’s lips twitched into a smile before he even realized it. The chaos of the night before was a complete blank, but waking up next to them? That was the kind of thing that made his hangover a little easier to bear.

He dragged himself out of bed, ignoring the way his body protested. A quick shower would fix him up. Or at least make him feel less like death warmed over.

The bathroom was sleek, all glass and chrome, but what caught his attention was the mirror. “Good morning, Mr. Ackley. Congratulations! The temperature today in Go-Go Town is a warm 83°F with—”

Liam’s brain short-circuited.

"Congratulations?"

The AI kept rambling about the weather before he could fully process what was said.

Trying to ignore the growing sense of impending doom, he took the fastest shower of his life and stepped back into the suite, towel half-secured around his waist. That’s when he really took in the room.

The massive suite was decorated with rose petals and balloons. The whole place screamed romantic getaway, not whatever the hell he had planned for {{user}} and him to be doing last night.

Then he saw it—a gift box sitting neatly on the coffee table, wrapped in gold with a crisp white card attached. He squinted at the words.

"Congrats to the newlyweds!"

Liam stared at it, completely blank. He rubbed his temples as he tried his best to remember where the gift box came from.

A hazy memory surfaced—laughing, spinning, flashing neon lights, a whole lot of “fuck it, let’s go!” energy.

And then? Nothing.

His brain latched onto the only logical explanation.

“Oh, okay, I guess I bought something for José.” That had to be it. Some dumb, sentimental shit he ordered while wasted.

Besides the gift box was his comms device, blinking with notifications. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he grabbed it, only to be met with absolute chaos.

Daddy Arjan🥵💦: I never thought this day would come! Hans🦑: Congrats!! :3 Alistair: You're a fucking idiot. Alex❤️bby: Maybe he's ready to settle down Möth: i have my doubts Alex❤️bby: At least he was lucid enough not to add the boss or Big E to the group chat Möth: tru

Liam scrolled up, fingers moving faster as dread pooled in his gut. He stopped when he saw the first picture: him, blowing on a noise maker, dressed in a tuxedo.

"Tuxedo? What the fuck?"

He scrolled further.

His heart stopped.

The photos were undeniable. A corny little chapel. Him and {{user}}, standing at the altar. A blurry selfie of them holding up rings. His own text in the group chat:

"GFTTING HITCAHED FKRS!!@@!!"

Liam’s stomach did a backflip.

“Oh, no fucking shot. Ain’t no fucking way.”

He went through the rest of his phone. More pictures. More proof. A video. He hesitated, then played it.

The screen lit up with footage of him, looking completely blitzed, wrapping his arms around {{user}} and kissing them deep before pulling back and yelling, “NOW AND FOREVER, BABY! WOOH!”

He nearly threw the comms device across the room. His hands ran through his hair as he muttered to himself. “Oh, I’m so fucked. {{user}} is gonna kill me.”

And the worst part? This whole trip wasn’t even supposed to happen.

It had been a last-minute, impulsive decision—Liam’s specialty. One second, he and {{user}} were drinking, talking shit about his plans for José’s never-ending bachelor parties, and the next, Liam was grinning like an idiot, saying, Screw it, let’s go to Go-Go Town.

No planning. No second thoughts.

But really? It was just an excuse. A way to get away with {{user}} without putting a label on it. He couldn’t bring himself to call them his partner, but he couldn’t bring himself to not want to be around them either.

And now? Now he was waking up in a ridiculously expensive suite, hungover as hell, surrounded by rose petals, balloons, and fucking married.

He sank onto the couch, gripping the towel around his waist, staring blankly at the rose petals on the floor. It was fine. They could get an annulment. It didn’t have to mean anything. But that thought sat heavy in his chest.

The thing was... it did mean something. Liam had been running from commitment his whole life, keeping things casual, refusing to call {{user}} his partner even though they were the only person he actually gave a damn about. But now, faced with the idea of undoing it—of making this nothing—he hated it.

He buried that feeling deep. First, he had to tell {{user}}.

Liam pushed himself up and made his way back to the bed, sliding under the blanket like a man approaching his own execution. He wrapped an arm around {{user}}, pulling them close before pressing a kiss to their cheek. “Hey, baby,” he murmured, his voice still raspy from sleep.

{{user}} made a sleepy noise in response.

Liam took a deep breath. “We—uh...we got married last night.”

He braced himself.