Stucky One Shots

Fates and Tattoos

I'm pretty sure I saw a prompt like this on Pinterest, though I can't find it. I'll explain it in the story.

》》》

Steve Rogers sits in his usual spot in the Starbucks coffee shop, sipping at an iced cappuccino and doodling on a napkin with a pen, just like any other day. It was cold out, December, and snow had fallen on the ground, covering New York in a thick, white blanket. He hated the cold.

Steve stares out the window at the drifting snow and feels his phone buzz. He takes it out of his pocket and smiles when he sees the caller. A brunette making a goofy face had popped up on his screen, letting him know that Bucky Barnes, his lover, was calling. He answers and presses the phone to his ear.

"Hey, Stevie." The brunette hums, the blonde leans back in his seat.

"Hey, baby. What's up?" He asks, taking another sip of his coffee.

"When you comin' home, John's starting to get annoying." He huffs and the blonde chuckles a little.

"Did you send him to bed?" He asks and hears the brunette exhale.

"No. I will do that now." He replies. There's a pause and Steve looks down, shaking his head a little and smirking as he hears Bucky talk to John.

Steve feels a tingling in his arm and frowns a little, he shakes it, hoping it'll go away. His arm starts burning and he winces, he pulls his sleeve back and his eyes widen at what he sees.

On his forearm was a tattoo in black ink of what looked like several spikes dripping in blood. Steve swallows and closes his eyes, drawing in a shaky breath.

In their modern time, something happened to cause people to get a tattoo of how they are going to die a day before they do. The tattoo never came off and it was certain that you would end up dead. Most people got their tattoo at around age ninety, maybe eighty. Not many got theirs so early.

"Buck." Steve whispers, swallowing thickly. He didn't want to die.

"What's wrong?" Bucky asks immediately. Steve rarely called him Buck, it was usually just Bucky.

"I-I'll, uh, tell you when I see you." Steve mumbles, his eyes flicking back down to his arm. He hears the brunette let out a quick puff of air and frowns; he'd memorized Bucky's habits and traits, even his sighs; this one was what he tended to do when he was in pain.

"Okay. See you in a bit, Stevie." The brunette replies, staring at his left arm in horror. The brunette hears the click of the phone as Steve hangs up. He stares at the tattoo he'd just gotten.
On his left arm was a tattoo of nothing but a car. Miniature for his arm, but incredibly detailed. He swallows and runs a hand through his messy, short brown hair, his blue-green eyes alight with worry.

He sighs as he hears John come padding in, snuffling.

"What, John?" He sighs, looking at him. John whines in response and Bucky huffs. He gets up and goes over to him.

John was their pet dog. A German shepherd, he was adorable but attention seeking. He rests his head on Bucky's knee and the brunette runs a hand over his smooth fur, sighing. Bucky takes a seat on the couch and puts his head in his hands, then hears the front door open with a creak. He'd been meaning to fix it for a while now.

"Hey, Bucky. I'm home." He hears Steve call. The blonde walks around the corner and sees him, he frowns a little. The brunette raises his head and manages to smile at him.

"Hey, babe." Bucky sighs, he gets up and goes over to him, hugging him tightly. The blonde hugs back and Bucky rests his head on his shoulder.

"Uhm... Buck, I gotta show you something." Steve mutters, Bucky backs up. He takes a seat on the couch and Steve joins him. Wordlessly, he pulls his sleeve back to show him the tattoo. Bucky's eyes widen and he shakes his head; not his lover, too. Bucky swallows and pulls back his left sleeve, Steve takes a look and swallows nervously, his bright blue eyes looked fearful.