hi! do you think you could maybe possible perhaps write a soulmate!au? pretty pretty please?? (if you do - thanks, and if you don't - thanks for all of your other fics)
i heard you were looking like the moon
a/n: i decided to go with the ‘you don’t see colour until your soulmate touches you’ au. thank you so much for this anon, and i hope you enjoy it
She’s seven when she decides that the colour she’s most excited to see is purple. She’s watching a documentary with Petunia, sprawled on the carpet in their mediocre, three-bedroom house, watching the TV, enthralled. There are a pair of pretty people, holding hands, gravitational, lovely, and utterly in love. They are describing colour with a glistening film swept across their eyes, tainted by disdain, this supercilious disposition that colour is some kind of buried treasure, open only to those who are a part of some exclusive club where partners and couples clutch at each others’ hands like an anchor dropped in a bed of sand. The delight of love in someone else. It makes her heart race. But it is not this that upsets her. It is Ethel, the near 70-year-old lady on the screen, who lost her husband. She had spent 50 years with colour. And then it was lost.