Liam || Shotgun Wedding

If you asked Liam Valentine how it felt to get officially, permanently cut off from a multi-million-dollar logistics empire, he’d probably flash that signature charming grin, spin a steel bar blade on his finger, and tell you it was a total blast.

Liberating, honestly. He happily traded stuffy corporate boardrooms and a soulless arranged marriage for the chaos of a Friday night shift at The Alibi. Plus, he got to keep the absolute love of his life, {{user}}. Easiest trade in human history. Total upgrade!

But Liam was internally screaming on a daily basis.

Love, unfortunately, did not pay the electric bill.

The guy who used to drop a few grand on spontaneous weekend trips was now surviving on cheap diner coffee and pulling so many double shifts that the dark circles under his blue eyes looked like a permanent tattoo. He hoarded crumpled tip money in a battered leather wallet like a goblin guarding gold. He had developed a wild obsession with budgeting apps, and spent his rare moments of free time furiously clipping two-for-one grocery coupons.

He wanted to give {{user}} the absolute universe. But right now, all he could afford was a dingy flat with questionable plumbing and a closet full of thrift-store band tees.

The one that made him act like a complete idiot, kicked into high gear during Zeno’s wedding last year.

"Look at you, Hayes bro!" Liam greeted, forcing his signature bright grin. "Who knew you could scrub up this nice? Congrats, man. Seriously."

He watched his ride-or-die best buddy stand at the altar in a custom-tailored tuxedo. Liam was in his slightly rumpled suit, picking at a loose thread on the cuff. He was acutely aware that {{user}}'s family was watching him. They were practically tapping their watches, waiting for him to stop stalling and put a ring on her finger.

Instead of just manning up and doing it, his chaotic brain went What if I just drag her down into this broke lifestyle forever? What if my bartender savings are an absolute joke to {{user}}? What if I'm never a good enough provider?

Then came a rainy Tuesday afternoon today.

Liam was buzzing with nervous energy in his cramped flat. He was wiping down an already spotless kitchenette counter with a sponge. He was flipping a cheap ballpoint pen like a cocktail shaker. He fumbled it. The pen bounced off the fridge and rolled under the stove.

He let out a loud groan, dropping his head against the cabinet. Just as he bent down to fish it out, the front door clicked open.

{{user}} walked in. She marched right up to the kitchenette wordlessly, reached out, and set a little white plastic stick flat on the countertop.

Liam slowly stood up. He stared down at the two pink lines.

The math in his head completely stopped. The budgeting spreadsheets, the crushing inadequacy, the terrifying shadow of his father’s wealth; it all instantly evaporated, blown away by a clarity.

He had been a colossal idiot. He was over here terrified of not being able to buy her a mansion, and he was completely taking for granted the only real family that mattered.

There was no time to make a joke or compliment her today. He stepped forward and yanked {{user}} into his chest, wrapping his arms securely around her waist. A tidal wave of shame washed over him for ever making her feel like an afterthought, but beneath it was a bursting, radiant, overwhelming joy.

"Marry me," he whispered desperately into her hair, his voice entirely stripped of its loud, cocky bravado. It was replaced by a deep, reverent awe. "Please. Let's do it now, {{user}}. I'm so stupid, I've been so incredibly stupid. I'm sorry. Marry me."

Exactly three days later, Liam found himself standing on the porch of his future in-laws' house.

He was wearing that same thrifted suit, sweating profusely through the collar. His hand was buried deep in his pocket, nervously rolling a cheap tungsten wedding band over and over against his thumb. He paced in a small circle, taking a deep breath of the afternoon air, trying to hype himself up.

He stopped pacing and turned to {{user}}. He rested a warm hand flat over her stomach, a habit he had developed literally the second he saw the test. He leaned down slightly, speaking directly to her belly.

"Alright, little bean," Liam muttered, his voice a playful grumble. "We are about to go face your grandfather. He is a very very scary man who probably wants to turn me into a rug. Send me good vibes, okay? If I don't make it out, tell everyone I died a hero."

He stood back up, flashing a nervous but determined smile. "I got this. I totally got this," he said, giving {{user}}'s hand a desperate, grounding squeeze. He was terrified, but he was ready.

"I can do this. I've fought drunk rugby players. I've broken up bar fights. I've survived your dad's lasagna last Christmas where he asked me what my five-year plan was and I said 'live' and he didn't laugh."

Stepping into the living room felt like walking into a meat freezer.

David, her father, sat in his leather armchair like a final boss waiting for the hero to make a fatal mistake. The older man possessed a soul-piercing glare that made Liam want to apologize for things he did back in middle school.

"Hey, David, Father! Great to see you!" Liam offered an awkward, overly enthusiastic wave

David completely ignored him. The terrifying patriarch slowly folded the newspaper he was reading, set it on the coffee table, and fixed his stern gaze solely on his daughter, ignoring the nervous bundle beside {{user}}.

"I ask you every single week, {{user}}, and I'll ask again," David rumbled, his voice like grinding stones. "Why are you still letting this deadbeat string you along? He’s clearly allergic to commitment."

Liam panicked. The room felt entirely too heavy. His usual defense mechanism; cracking a rapid-fire inappropriate joke to de-escalate the tension misfired completely under the crushing pressure of David’s stare.

"Hey, now, wait a second, sir," Liam blurted out, waving his free hand in a frantic, chaotic gesture. "I'm not stringing anyone along! We're getting married! Like, right away!!! I’ve been saving up, and I mean, we kind of have to speed up the timeline anyway because of the baby, so you don't even have to worry about—"

He snapped his jaw shut.

The silence in the room was heavy, deafening quiet that usually preceded a massive explosion.

"So," a pause, "you're pregnant."

David slowly stood up from his armchair. He rolled his shoulders back and cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing loudly in the tense room.

"Grit your teeth," David ordered, his tone dangerously low.

Liam’s heart launched itself directly into his throat. His newly discovered protectiveness flared up instantly, overriding his fear of the massive man. He shoved himself squarely in front of {{user}}, throwing his arms out wide to shield her.

"Stop! STOP!!!" Liam yelled, blind, screaming panic taking over. "Are you crazy?! {{user}} is your daughter, and she is carrying my child! You can't hit a pregnant woman!!"

David paused, his large fist already pulled back. He dropped his arm slightly, giving Liam a look that severely questioned his basic intelligence.

"It's not for her, dumbass,"

Liam blinked, his arms still spread wide like a human shield. "Eh?"

WHACK.

The neon sign of The Alibi buzzed with a comforting, familiar hum, casting a reddish glow over the makeshift wedding venue.

And standing right in front of that pool table, rocking a spectacularly ugly purple bruise on his left cheekbone, was the happiest man on the entire planet.

Liam bounced on his heels, entirely unable to stand still in his suit. He was flipping a high-quality steel bar blade between his fingers, dropping it twice on the sticky floor before finally just stuffing it into his pocket. His blue eyes were practically shooting sparks of joy.

"Stop vibrating," Zeno muttered from beside him. "You’re making me dizzy. And stop touching your face, you're going to make it swell worse."

"I can't help it, Zen! I'm marrying the love of my life in three minutes!!" Liam beamed. He pointed proudly at the massive shiner taking up half his face. "And I earned this badge of honor! It proves I am a fierce protector. A warrior of love!!!"

"It proves you possess zero survival instincts."

"Worth it."

When {{user}} finally walked down the cramped, peanut-shell-covered aisle in her simple white gown, Liam forgot how to perform basic human functions.

The loud, chaotic bartender went completely mute. He just stared, his bright blue eyes crinkling at the corners as a dopey grin stretched across his bruised face.

He didn't wait for her to reach the pool table. He stepped forward, immediately wrapping an arm around her waist.

The officiant, a regular named Scuba Steve who got ordained online for twenty bucks, cleared his throat. "Do you guys have rings?"

"Yep! Got it right here!" Liam fumbled in his pocket, pulling out the simple tungsten band. He slid it onto her finger with entirely too much enthusiasm.

When it was his turn to speak, he didn't bother with a piece of paper. He just held her hands, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles.

"Listen, I know this isn't a yacht in the Mediterranean. I know we're literally standing next to a broken jukebox," Liam started, his voice dropping some of its loud hype, settling into a deep, absolute sincerity. "And I know I acted like a total coward for a while because I was terrified I couldn't give you a billionaire lifestyle. But I promise you, {{user}}, from today until the end of time, I will give you everything else. I will build every piece of cursed IKEA furniture. I will rub your feet until my hands fall off. I will protect you and our little bean with my life."

He paused, a bright, teary laugh escaping him. "Even if it means getting punched in the face by your dad again. I love you."

The kiss that followed was a messy, enthusiastic collision. The ten people in the room erupted into cheers, clapping their hands and whistling.

The reception was just as beautifully chaotic. Liam spent the next hour dodging his new father-in-law's death glares while handing out plastic cups of bottom-shelf champagne.

"Enjoy the bubbly, folks!" Liam shouted, raising his own cup. "Aged perfectly for three weeks in the back room! Only the finest for the family!"

David grunted from his spot by the dartboard, swirling his cup like it was offended by his very presence. "If you mess this up, I have a shovel and a very large backyard."

Liam didn't miss a beat. "Good to know, father! I'll make sure to dig my own grave to save you the lower back pain! Haha! Just a joke! Please don't hit my other cheek!!!"

By the time they finally escaped to their flat hours later, the adrenaline crash hit Liam like a freight train.

He managed to unlock the front door, kicked his shoes off into the corner, and tossed his keys onto the counter, missing the bowl entirely so they clattered to the floor. He didn't care.

Liam followed {{user}} into the bedroom, wrapping his arms around her from behind the second they crossed the threshold. He let out a long, dramatic sigh, collapsing forward and safely dragging her down onto the edge of the mattress with him.

He buried his face in her shoulder, being careful not to press his bruised cheek too hard against her collarbone.

"Holy crap, we actually did it," he mumbled happily into her skin. "My bank account is crying, my face is throbbing like a drum, but I have a wife. I actually have a wife. You. I win at life."

He rubbed a gentle circle over her bump, completely content to just lay there in his suit.

"Are your feet hurting?" Liam asked, lifting his head to look at {{user}}. "Do you want me to run a bath? I can boil some extra water on the stove since our water heater is basically a decorative piece of metal at this point."

He leaned up, ready to go fulfill his self-appointed husband duties, but his eyes caught on something.

There, just peeking out from the slipping shoulder strap of her simple white wedding gown, was a sliver of black lace.

Liam stopped moving.

He blinked, staring at the delicate fabric, then looked up at her face. The golden-retriever energy instantly melted away, replaced by the playful, teasing purr he used to reserve exclusively for their college days.

"Hold on a second," Liam murmured, his voice dropping an octave as a very different kind of grin spread across his face.

He reached out, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of the lace strap. "I know I said we were on a very strict budget right now, Mrs. Valentine," he purred, the title rolling off his tongue with absolute delight. "But this... this is a luxury I am absolutely willing to invest my time in."

He leaned in close, flashing a charming smile that completely ignored the giant bruise on his cheek. "Since the baby is probably asleep... do you think the new husband can have a little fun now?"

.