Bucky Barnes Knives Novels & Stories

BLADE 3. Pain. It was all I felt when I shot my eyes opened. I felt so sore and tired. The memories of how Lorenzo plunged deeper into me last night filled my mind. He was so cruel to me. I didn't find any enjoyment in it at all. I tried lifting my hands and I was happy It was back to functioning. My tit hurts too as a result of the sucking he did last night.

I blinked up at him. “Not very.” He tilted his head. “But?” I shrugged slightly. “I bought a couple knives when Mel took me to Aetherion.” His brow lifted. “Did you.” I felt my face heat slightly. “They looked useful.” Bastian chuckled softly. “That’s one way to decide.” He pulled two short training knives from the rack and walked back toward the mats. “Show me.” I stood and took one of them. The blade was dull steel, designed for practice, but it still felt strange holding it.

He raised his two hands up, showing some form of surrender, but I knew better, I wasn't stupid to take his lack of weapon for his surrender or weakness. He cocked his head sideways grinning like an idiot which I know he isn't. “What will you do dear Lora. Fillet me like salmon.” “I'm serious” “So am I.” He gave me a cocky smile that twisted my stomach. And continued. “That knife is Henckels. Eight inch chef’s knife. Sharp enough to cut through bone if you knew what you were doing.” He took one more step closer and my breath hitched, it felt like I was slowly closing the lid to my own coffin.

It was packed with all kinds of knives. Small paring blades with wicked curves. Longer serrated ones for sawing. Thin filleting knives that could split skin like paper. A heavy cleaver at the end, more for weight than precision. “What… what are you gonna do with those?”He asked. I pulled on the black nitrile gloves. “You Stupid piece of horse sh!t,” I said, almost conversationally. “You should know too well by now. Billie isn’t to be touched. Isn’t to be taken. Not by anyone other than us.”

The workshop resonated with the rhythmic clinks of metal, as Elliot poured his heart and soul into his craft. As the days turned into weeks, Elliot's workshop transformed into a sanctuary of blades. Knives of various shapes and sizes adorned the walls, a testament to his unwavering dedication. The gleaming steel reflected his commitment to the pack's defense, ensuring that each member would be equipped with a weapon tailored to their individual needs.

He replied while pointing at the knives they're holding each. Klyde chuckles and shook his head. "Sorry, Baxter but we decided not to give you our knife, not unless we see you kill someone for us. Instead..." He hand his a wrench with a size of an adult's arm. "... here you go, this thing is enough to kill." Baxter accepted it and almost drop it on the floor. "It's heavy." He commented and earn a group of laugh from them. "I'll give you an award if you got a kill from that family." The Asian nods his head like he's encouraging him.

"Who were those people? Why did you take out your knife?" "Nothing." Gwen sneered and glanced in the direction Denise left. "Some ignorant people." How dare she say Luke's knife was a fake? Luke's knife was given to him by Luke's adoptive parents, and it was the only one in this world. Even if there was a fabricated version of this knife, the fabricated one should be the one that the woman's brother had. Yannie saw Gwen deliberately helping her to hide the fact that she just got bullied. She curled up her lips into a smile and looked at Luna while diverting the topic. "Luna, how's your progress?"

These rifles were more than mere tools; they were a blend of artistry and functionality. Simon stopped beside a display of knives, their blades gleaming under the warehouse lights. Drake's eyes were drawn to the array of shapes and sizes—daggers, combat knives, and tactical blades. Each one seemed to possess a distinct personality, a weapon of choice for various situations. The knives were sharp, their edges reflecting the harsh realities they were meant to face. "Precision and skill," Simon murmured, his voice carrying a sense of respect for these deadly instruments. Drake's fingers brushed against the handle of a knife, feeling the weight and balance. The blade's edge was razor-sharp, a te

Bucky repeated. "Hmph!" The infuriated Jonathan was originally unbothered to pay any attention to Bucky since the latter was no match against him, but then he said, "I'll oblige you then. Prepare to die!” Jonathan laughed maniacally as he slashed out with his sword, thinking Bucky would realize his power and grovel for mercy. Yet, his smile quickly froze. Not only was Bucky unharmed, but he was also skillfully brandishing a dagger. Bucky's dagger came very close to stabbing Jonathan in the chest.

She used to have a giant drawer full of that stuff in The Academy, but all of her things were put into storage when she passed away. When I peered inside I watched as my eyes widened. 13 year old me pulled out a beautiful silver knife, with a mother of pearl handle. Engraved on the side was my name, ‘Snow’. It was the very knife I had in my holster right now. The very knife I slept with, and kept with me always. The very knife that had almost 400 kills under its belt. The very knife that I had come to know and love.