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Hello do you take tattoo soulmate au requests? If so can I ask older Murasakibara and Midorima meeting their soulmate for the first time ?

Hi love! Thank you so much for this request! Lol, I actually don’t do scenarios but since you’re the first ever to ask me, I made an exception! Writing fiction isn’t my best ability but I hope you like it Anon-chan! 💚💜

MIDORIMA woke up in a cold sweat. His beeper sounded repeatedly as it vibrated against his bedside table. He looked to his right: the digital clock read 4:09 in red text. Dangling his legs to the side, he stood up and instinctively grabbed his glasses, watch, and smartphone from their designated places beside the clock. According to the several messages in his inbox, he was needed in the ER for a crucial cardiovascular surgery. The green-haired surgeon wore the wristwatch on his right hand, cursing under his breath from the slight pain made by the contact and walked over to the closet, immediately grabbing the nearest tee and pair of bottoms he can get his hands on. He ran down the stairs and went into the garage and hopped on to his Yamaha motorbike, a vehicle he personally did not prefer riding, but nevertheless kept just for critical situations like this.

As Midorima rode onto the night, he fought the urge to fall asleep. Not now. Of all times why tonight? He was needed by a patient and he had to focus on that. He had only finished his shift at around 10PM and as much as he tried to catch as many Z’s as he could, the pain he felt on his right wrist only grew. It was unusual, not just the tattoo of the word “Soul” itself, but the pain he felt emanating from it all day. He knew from a young age that the mark wasn’t something people usually had - his parents nor his sister did not have anything similar; And as a doctor, he knew that no medical condition explained the perfectly spelled marking on his skin. Today he truly felt off and it was not just because Cancer ranked 11th in Oha-Asa’s report. As unusual it may be, he brushed it off and prayed it would not get in the way of the mission for tonight: to save a person’s life.

When he arrived at the ER, the nurses swiftly helped him wear his lab coat and gave him the gist of the situation. Midorima finished the usual pre-operation procedures and proceeded inside the room. Inside were several doctors and nurses ready to assist the aspiring chief surgeon. As he walked over to the operating table, he noticed someone unfamiliar: another doctor in pink scrubs eagerly eyeing the patient as if it was prey. The said doctor was surrounded by two other residents who both just came in this morning. Interesting.

He proceeded with the operation. Throughout the first half hour, it went well and though the pain from the tattoo threatened to harm the procedure under his meager excuse for a coverup, he carried through. That’s when his hand slipped while holding the scalpel. Crap. Not now please.

The patient began bleeding profusely and Midorima panicked internally. “What do I do?” He asked himself. This wasn’t supposed to happen, he did everything right. “Shit.” He began listing down the things he ought to do when such a mistake occurs. “Doctor!” The resident he noticed was now beside him, carefully observing his face with concern. “You’re not alone in this,” they said with a reassuring smile. His fellow surgeon then grabbed the correct tool from the side and began performing the appropriate treatment. He stood there in awe, forgetting the pain for a good few minutes as he remembered that he had a whole team of doctors ready to help him when the situation needed be. The resident was right. He wasn’t alone. “How familiar…” He muttered under his breath.

“Dr. Midorima,” the surgeon in pink called and snapped him back to reality. He nodded and took over from then. With these two surgeons working in perfect sync, the seemingly hopeless operation was finished with no further complications and hence, the man’s life was saved. Midorima never felt so alive.

Outside the OR, Midorima took his gloves and watch off, exposing the fading tattoo on his wrist. “Wait, what’s happening nanodayo?” He said a little too loud. Beside him stood the surgeon in pink, whose cheeks were turning into a similar shade as the scrubs they were wearing while watching the superstitious shooting guard in quite a vulnerable position. “No wonder… So it’s you, the legendary Dr. Midorima huh,” the resident stated in almost a teasing tone as they raised her left wrist revealing the similarly fading word “Mate.” “Nice to meet you, I’m _____” they extend their hand. “One of the new residents here,” they added. As Midorima reached his hand out for a handshake, the tattoos that have been with them since birth burned away with a tingling sensation. “Thank you for the assistance, nanodayo,” he states whilst fixing his glasses. Throughout his life he’s never felt comfortable with anyone so quickly (not even with Takao), but right now, he felt right at home. After all, this was his soul mate we’re talking about. “There is a pastry shop nearby. I would like to formally thank you with a cup of coffee,” he states rather confidently. “That sounds lovely hehe,” the surgeon in pink smiled cheekily as Midorima’s heart skipped all too quickly.

Perhaps even Oha-Asa made mistakes since today was definitely a lucky one. But as lucky as he felt, when his soul mate sipped the drink from his cup by accident, he was quite unsure of how to respond and he turned into an unflattering blushing mess — which his fellow surgeon found adorable. ♥️

A little while after high school ended, MURASAKIBARA ATSUSHI, the colossal centre of Yosen decided he wanted to open a pastry shop. Furthermore, it was around that time when a strange mark around his right ring finger appeared. The aspirant chef couldn’t care less about the tattoo and though the characters seemed familiar, he didn’t think much of it at first. It was when Himuro noticed that the tattoo did in fact mean something in English did he start to become intrigued by it. Thus, he made sure that the word “Soul” that was carefully etched around his rather long finger was to be in sight at all times, at least for him.

If anything, Murasakibara always faced every situation with a careless and indolent attitude. However, when he found out that _____ was going to come for a visit, he felt a little flustered. Perhaps it was because the said person was a renowned food critic known throughout Japan. Honestly, he’s had several kinds of encounters with similar people in the past but none of them compared to this one.

“Muro-chin,” Murasakibara said in between bites on one end of the phone. He decided to call one of his closest friends Himuro Tatsuya, who was now working in America, in the hopes that his (former) fallow ace would help him calm down. “Atsushi, why don’t you just serve them that?” He says coolly, “Everyone who’s ever tasted that loved it,” he added. “But Muro-chin, I only make those during special occasions…” Murasakibara answered in the most monotonous tone he could manage. “Heh, I know, but think about it. I have to go now Atsushi. Good luck with the reviewer,” Himuro said to say before the line was finally cut.

During the day of _____’s visit, Murasakibara thanked the heavens for having such an attentive staff. Once the critic arrived at their doorstep. being one of the busiest streets in Tokyo; One attendant offered valet service to which the appraiser thanked greatly for.

As this was a crucial meeting for his bakery, Murasakibara decided to personally serve the critic tonight. He handed over the menu and watched as they study the book at hand. They sighed in disappointment. “Murasakibara-san,” they say rather politely, “do you happen to have the Soul Cake?” For a brief moment, the titan stood there is disbelief. “How do they even know it existed?” He thought to himself. He was a little annoyed to be honest as it took an extreme amount of effort to create the pastry. Nevertheless, he wasn’t going to disgruntle his chances of being featured now. He simply nodded and with large strides, proceeded to the kitchen.

As he was making the cake, he took quick glances toward the direction of the food critic. With the menu in hand, they sat there in silence, sometimes chatting with his staff but it was evident that they were eagerly waiting for the food to be served. The chef was never a man of words yet little did he know that the annoyance he initially felt slowly turned into a silent attraction to the person he’s been staring at.

He finally finished the cake and proceeded to the dining hall to serve it. It was beautiful, much more than he expected. It could have cooked better but this is Murasakibara we’re talking about, so whatever. As he served the plate onto _____’s table, the chef couldn’t help but notice how fast his heart was beating. It was almost as if he was playing basketball again yet only this time he was on the disadvantaged side. Without his snacks to calm him down, he began mindlessly fiddling with his fingers, constantly brushing over the dark marking on his printed finger.

The critic quickly took a bite and though ______ tried to hide it, the pleasure from the rich flavour was too much to hide their facial expressions. “Delicious,” ______ gasped a little louder than supposed. At that word, Murasakibara’s face lit up (lol as much as it can anyway), and he walked over to _____’s side.

“You know _____-chin, it would taste better if you mixed it with this,” he stated as he reached for a syrup bottle on the other end. Just as he was about to grab for it, _____’s hand extended for the condiment as well, revealing a similarly dark mark around one of their fingers that stole Murasakibara’s attention. “Mate…” He was too distracted to realise that their hands met and a warm sensation washed over both of them.

Unbeknownst to him is at that moment that the words on their skin were beginning to fade. More importantly, ______, the critic he’s only considered as someone who was giving him a hard time, would become a significant if not the most significant part of his life. And he’d have to thank a special recipe just for that.