Anonymous
10/15/2025, 12:40:37 PM
No.24802573
Here’s the opening of a 4000-5000-word short story. Don't hold back; harsh critiques are absolutely welcome.
The glass clinked as Liam slammed it back onto the counter.
“…Pff. Weak, huh? I’ll show them weak…”
He sat half-slumped on the stool, hoodie slipping off one shoulder.
The skin-tight suit peeked out underneath, like he couldn’t even bother hiding it properly.
Liam was absurdly pale and cute, with a petite frame, slender legs that curved into the most delicious set of hips, and a pert little ass that jiggled with every step. The skin-tight suit hugged him a little too well.
He tugged at the suit, cheeks flushing pink.
“…Ugh. Why does it always squeeze around there… Tch. Not my fault I’m built like this…”
The bartender raised an eyebrow, polishing a glass.
“Rough night, kid?” he asked, eyebrow up.
“Night? Tch. More like a rough life.” Liam puffed his cheeks, glaring at the empty glass like it personally offended him.
“My squad ditched me. Said I was too soft… too fragile.” He jabbed a finger into his chest, wobbling slightly on the stool.
The bartender slid another drink across without waiting for permission.
“Ha! I’m the brains! The genius! I don’t need muscle-heads anyway.” Liam wined
“And yet you’re here, whining in my bar, broke as hell.” His voice was dry, amused.
Liam froze, lips parting then snapping shut. His ears went a delicate shade of red.
“…S-Shut up. It’s… temporary. Totally temporary…” he muttered.
The man leaned in, voice low and just a little dangerous.
“Heard you’re about to get kicked out. No money, no team. That true?”
Liam chewed the inside of his cheek, eyes flicking to the dingy window where the city burned neon.
“…Maybe.”
he said softly, like that single word could be blamed on someone else.
A smirk. The bartender rubbed the rim of the glass and set it down with a soft clack.
“Well. I might have something for you. Simple job. Museum uptown. Necklace, old legend, big payout. Easy in and out, if you’re sharp.”
Liam’s fingers tightened around the glass.
“…A heist? Alone?” For half a breath, he felt it, the small, cold tick of doubt. ‘Can I actually do this?’
The bartender’s grin widened, teeth flashing under the bar lights.
“Unless you’re too weak for it.” He tapped the counter for emphasis.
‘Wha-?!’ Liam shot upright so fast his stool squeaked.
“Weak?! Me?! I’ll show you weak! I can handle it alone!” His bravado wavered halfway through; he sounded equal parts indignant and thrilled.
“Good.” The bartender pushed a folded note toward him. “Blueprints. Schedule. Your golden ticket.”
Liam snatched it with hands that trembled just a little. Pride flared.
The glass clinked as Liam slammed it back onto the counter.
“…Pff. Weak, huh? I’ll show them weak…”
He sat half-slumped on the stool, hoodie slipping off one shoulder.
The skin-tight suit peeked out underneath, like he couldn’t even bother hiding it properly.
Liam was absurdly pale and cute, with a petite frame, slender legs that curved into the most delicious set of hips, and a pert little ass that jiggled with every step. The skin-tight suit hugged him a little too well.
He tugged at the suit, cheeks flushing pink.
“…Ugh. Why does it always squeeze around there… Tch. Not my fault I’m built like this…”
The bartender raised an eyebrow, polishing a glass.
“Rough night, kid?” he asked, eyebrow up.
“Night? Tch. More like a rough life.” Liam puffed his cheeks, glaring at the empty glass like it personally offended him.
“My squad ditched me. Said I was too soft… too fragile.” He jabbed a finger into his chest, wobbling slightly on the stool.
The bartender slid another drink across without waiting for permission.
“Ha! I’m the brains! The genius! I don’t need muscle-heads anyway.” Liam wined
“And yet you’re here, whining in my bar, broke as hell.” His voice was dry, amused.
Liam froze, lips parting then snapping shut. His ears went a delicate shade of red.
“…S-Shut up. It’s… temporary. Totally temporary…” he muttered.
The man leaned in, voice low and just a little dangerous.
“Heard you’re about to get kicked out. No money, no team. That true?”
Liam chewed the inside of his cheek, eyes flicking to the dingy window where the city burned neon.
“…Maybe.”
he said softly, like that single word could be blamed on someone else.
A smirk. The bartender rubbed the rim of the glass and set it down with a soft clack.
“Well. I might have something for you. Simple job. Museum uptown. Necklace, old legend, big payout. Easy in and out, if you’re sharp.”
Liam’s fingers tightened around the glass.
“…A heist? Alone?” For half a breath, he felt it, the small, cold tick of doubt. ‘Can I actually do this?’
The bartender’s grin widened, teeth flashing under the bar lights.
“Unless you’re too weak for it.” He tapped the counter for emphasis.
‘Wha-?!’ Liam shot upright so fast his stool squeaked.
“Weak?! Me?! I’ll show you weak! I can handle it alone!” His bravado wavered halfway through; he sounded equal parts indignant and thrilled.
“Good.” The bartender pushed a folded note toward him. “Blueprints. Schedule. Your golden ticket.”
Liam snatched it with hands that trembled just a little. Pride flared.