Hi everyone!

So, recently I have noticed certain posts and stuff on other fandoms, and found out that there is this thing about "Soulmates AU". It has definitely made me curious, although I couldn't exactly wrap my mind around the ideas that depicted characters that had the name of their soulmate or the first line spoken to each other tattoed somewhere on their body. It just seemed too "physical" considering that the whole soulmate concept is, in fact, basically spiritual... So I came up with this idea about dreams because, well, when we are dreaming we are kind of floating in between two worlds.

I honestly have no idea if this concept I had has already been explored before or even if something similar has been done about Vauseman. The few brief posts I have read described soulmates with markings or where the characters heard the other sing in their head.

So when I had this idea a few days ago, I decided to give it a go even if I am still not very convinced about it given that for me is a completely new territory.

I was thinking about a two-shot, but first I would really like to know what you think about this introductive chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own Orange Is The New Black

I apologize for eventual grammar errors, english is not my first language.

I also apologize for the lack of dialogues in this first chapter.

Now I'll leave you to this attempt of mine :)

Enjoy

There isn't a specific age, a determined period of life, or the reaching of a certain maturity that triggers the dreams everyone longs to have when slumber claims them at night.

The beginning of the dreams that link you directly to the one person you are meant to be with, starts completely casually, adding that dose of mystical and magic into a phenomenon that no one seems yet able to explain or fully understand.

A phenomenon that is equally spiritual and cosmic.

Bound to the Universe itself, and to that unique rich force that makes the stars burning bright in the sky.

You have always been fascinated by the mystery wrapped around all of it.

You still remember when your dad used to tell you stories when you were little and you listened completely mesmerized, in pure awe, at the tales of lovers meeting each other in their dreams, breaking through the thin veil of the living reality and leading to a realm which rules the waking world could not fathom.

"When will I start dreaming about them?" You remember asking excitedly over and over again whenever the tale was over and your dad was tucking you into bed.

He always chuckled, kissing your forehead and whispering to you the same answer every time. "When it is time for you to meet them, sweetheart."

Little did you know then that it would take a very lot of patience and that when the dreams would have started you wouldn't have realized it right away. But you always went to bed with an excited smile, hopeful that one night, you would have started dreaming of the person with whom, according to the universe, you were meant to be, the one who held the other half of you as you held the matching other half of them.

Eventually, the romantic bright pink magic of it all slides away a little at the time with the greyer colors of life, like it always does as years pass and you grow up.

The childhood fairy tales about soulmates become stories that you see and hear happening everyday around you, and the reality of it takes another turn that is less magic and more... ordinary.

You don't know if it gives you comfort knowing that sooner or later you'll find that person meant for you, or if the lack of that spark that you have always found so enchanting when you were little makes the whole soulmate thing appear less glowing in your eyes now.

You don't dwell much on it, but the thought is always there poking at the edge of your mind.

. . .

During your first year in high school, a couple of your classmates find their soulmate within the institution. It's pretty common actually, considering all the new acquaintances, but it's certainly not a rule. It is proven by the fact that your dreams, as well as those of many, many others haven't started yet.

You remember the words your father used to tell you as a reassurance when you were just a little girl. "Whenever it is time for you to meet them, Piper" echoes in your head like a mantra when you get invited to the soulmate celebrating event of some friend, and a wistful smile twitches on your lips at the sight of the happy couple gazing loving at each other.

During such occasions, it is inevitable to end up thinking about your own dreams and about the lack of substantial content in them for any kind of clue.

And as you find a nice quiet corner away from all the music dancing and chatting of the celebration, you gaze down at the cider punch in your cup as if the amber liquid holds all the answers the universe is still holding back from you in that matter.

Sighing in mild frustration you remember once again your dad's words.

Whenever it is time for you to meet them.

You take a sip of your cider, finding comfort in the sweet spiced drink and an encouraging surge of patience in your father's words, and when your gaze returns to the happy couple who has been so lucky to find themselves so young, your smile is a little more cheerful.

. . .

It is only when you are at your last year of high school and are taking in consideration different near colleges that would be happy to have you that the first dream comes to you, although, just like the majority of people, you'll only realize that later.

When you wake up in the morning you blame the weird, confused dream you had on all those colleges letters and brochures and general ideas that have filled your head about how going to college would be like. About all the new people that you would meet there, the classes that you would like to follow, and, of course, about the occasional campus parties that you would like to attend to.

So yes, at first you don't think much about that strange product of your mind, and you blame its rather puzzling content on your general excitement about college, because otherwise, you wouldn't have had any reason to dream about some sort of hard rock/heavy metal concert, booze and people getting inked.

It is only when a couple of weeks later you do the exact same dream for two nights in a row that realization finally sinks into you.

You can barely hold your excitement when you wake up. Reveling in the feeling of what this means as you think about the dream, replaying it in your head over and over again in search for something more.

The hard rock music and concert-like atmosphere was always present, so was the crowd jumping at the rhythm. You remember the feeling of the basses rumbling in your chest, the half-empty bottles of booze abandoned everywhere, and the glimpse of someone getting inked in a corner.

But besides the main scene that feels already kind of familiar to you, there are indeed more details presents. New elements that shine like a beacon in your memory.

And it is probably the contrasting nature of those new elements against the rest of the content of the dream that makes them so relevant to you, because the last thing that you would have ever expected to find in a setting like that, are random piles of books, and... Roses.

Velvety petals of red roses scattered on the floor.

For how much you force yourself to, you can't remember anything else, but the development certainly intrigues you, and as the dreams keep coming to visit you almost on a regular basis, with few added hints here and there, it is impossible to hold back your imagination about the main setting and start wondering things like,

Is my soulmate the musician of some band? A tattoo artist? Or maybe just someone who likes to party a lot?

It is still pretty generic, especially the atmosphere, especially around this age, but you spend hours fantasizing about it nonetheless, just like everyone does when you start to flip over the pieces of that wide mysterious puzzle, and as you do, you also wonder what it is that your soulmate dreams about you. What the pieces the have been given them are currently showing...

. . .

You know that when you were a little girl your dad was been reassuring, optimistic even, when he said to you that the dreams would have started when you were about to meet your soulmate. But now that you are older you know, and have seen, that besides a few rare exception, it could take more time for people to put the pieces together, and maybe even longer before they met that person, or vice versa.

All of that meant more dreams in the meantime, hopefully, more progression in them, more clues to help you out, and a lot of more patience.

It can get pretty frustrating sometimes. And in those occasions, even if you don't approve of such methods, you kind of understand why there is a whole cult all around the world about people that abuse of potentially dangerous substances to induce a rather long, deep sleep that will produce pretty vivid dreams; fanatics determined until the end and at any cost to find any clue about their other half in their dreams, ignoring the common knowledge that for those specific dreams to come to you, you have to live and explore the waking world around you, as it is the one that shapes the dreams themselves on your experiences.

You can search Morpheus' realm all you want, get lost in its uncharted depths in some vain attempt to hunt down those dreams, but recurring dreams about soulmates are, by definition, always a casual, sporadic event. There is no way of knowing when the next one will come.

It happens that people don't dream for months sometimes. And when it happens...

Well...

Having no dreams is usually not a good sign.

It happens to you too.

A week without having the faintest flash of a concert in your sleep is nothing uncommon. Neither is two.

But when two weeks turns into three, and then three into a full month, you start to worry.

Now you understand why there is a whole bunch of crazy people who would do anything to sleep all day even if it means receive back just the tiniest clue about their soulmate.

At the fifth consecutive dreamless week you almost lose it. You find yourself going to bed earlier and sleeping in a few minutes longer in the morning, eager for those extra moments that you can get in the infinite land of dreams, because those dreams that have kept you company at night are no longer coming to visit you.

You swallow thickly at the thought. Refusing to surrender to the tears that have pricked your eyes for weeks now. Because you know what the sudden lack of those specific dreams could mean...

No.

You don't even dare to think about it.

Because you don't know what you would do if that is the case. If, like you have heard has already tragically happened, it really means that your soulmate is no longer in this world and you would never meet them, would never know how it feels like being complete, being loved, being reunited with the someone that is supposed to always finds you in every world, every life, where time and space don't affect the eternal bond you share.

The thought alone is distressing, to say the least. It has you on a thin, dangerously sharp edge for weeks.

You are seriously taking in consideration the idea of talking to someone about these concerns of yours, when one day, during a lesson of modern history, you fall asleep on your desk.

You really didn't mean to.

Even in your incredibly anxious state you still love going to class, listening to what has been in the lost times and taking notes helps you get distracted, but you are just so exhausted by those persistent thoughts that have gotten you so worried lately, that your mind gives into your emotional turmoil, making you fall into a brief but surprisingly deep nap.

It starts like any other time.

Loud music that you know you'll forget the rhythm as soon as you wake up, a crowd bouncing up and down singing along words you can't quite make out. You dream again of flesh and ink, of booze and a party atmosphere that smells of sweat and feels muggy on your skin, and then just as you were taking in the various books and scattered rose petals, for the first time since the dreams have started, you notice a blurred figure standing beside you.

Try to make out the profile is impossible in the haze of the dream, but you surely do register the unexpected distinctive sensation of a hand slipping into yours.

You wake up with a start. Knocking the books from your desk and into the floor with a thud that echoes loudly all around and makes the entire class turn to stare at you.

The silence is extremely awkward, you however, as you regain control of your still buzzing half asleep body, can barely contain the grin on your face, gathering your things and running out of class in a rush of relief and immeasurable joy, with only one thing in your mind.

Because this means that they are still out there somewhere. And they are safe.

You couldn't have asked for a more comforting proof, and you would have never, ever hoped to receive it like this. With a touch. So simple, yet so intimate in its innocence.

An unspoken "I'm still here."

Because, somehow, you know that that person from your dream wasn't just a random figure like the ones in the crowd.

For how brief, in that split second of connection, something has stirred in you. And it felt like having a second heartbeat.

Your hand still tingles at the memory, and the smile never leaves your lips for the rest of the day.

. . .

You have never planned to preserve yourself, in that way, for your soulmate. Never decided what to do about your sexual life in general in the meantime actually, too taken by other things or simply not captivated enough by other people.

The idea of waiting till you would have met them seemed quite romantic actually when you were younger.

However...

Your hormones end up getting the better of you.

You don't exactly regret the bunch of one night stands that you have had during your first years in college with a few guys you barely knew. But honestly, even now you keep wondering what all the fuss about sex was about.

It's not like it isn't enjoyable, but you have to admit that you have found much deeper satisfaction with your own hand in your single bed.

It doesn't stop you from occasionally sleeping with someone though, giving in to the desire of another warm body pressed against yours for some time during a lonely evening more than for the sex itself.

You feel weak for giving in, especially with such pitiful excuses.

There are people that consider it cheating; sleeping around before meeting your soulmate.

You don't.

Because hell, you may be tied to someone in a cosmic way till the end of the times, but you still have free will, and you have decided that it can't possibly be cheating if you still don't know who your other half is. You don't feel obligated to do or don't do something, and many think about it this way too, but still, doesn't matter what you tell yourself, you still feel a little bad at the end of the day whenever you end up in bed with someone you know you would never share that deep, unique emotional connection.

It is after yet another disappointing sexual encounter - the last one, you have promised to yourself given the very poor outcome and frustrating lack of release - after you make it back into your dorm that things change in a way you would have never, ever imagined they were going to.

You take a shower to get rid of the sensation that makes you feel somehow dirty more than because you need it, and then you go right to bed, exhausted and annoyed for so many reasons, included the familiar need that is still swirling in your lower abdomen.

Just as you consider taking care of yourself, you fall asleep, your hand halfway down your panties.

The loud music greets you in a scenery that you know like the back of your hand by now.

It is strange, however, how the surrounding is always the same and yet coming here still manages to feel new every time. You can't quite understand the feeling, but usually, at this point, you know you are dreaming, doesn't matter how incredibly realistic everything appears. How impossibly authentic and true everything feels.

You swim through the crowd with an ease that would be impossible in reality, and once you surface on the other side you are immediately drawn to the lone figure that seems to be there waiting for you.

This kind of turns is all very new, so much that you consider if you are really sleeping or if it is just your imagination running wild.

You don't care. Whatever it is, you just let it flow as a wild spark of excitement that gets ignited and fueled when that figure takes you by your hand once again, only this time it doesn't stop there. Oh no... This time, as you catch the glimpse of petals and even tiny blossoms of roses and piles of books, you get lead into a new more secluded area, away from everything. Some sort of private room you think, where the music barely reaches you.

The vibe of the dream changes with the unknown setting as well, into something resembling anticipation growing in your chest, and at the first chance you have to glance around the room, there is almost too much to take in so suddenly.

Foldable maps, a compass, vinyl records, dozens of beautiful red roses seem to cover every surface along with a few more books piled up on a table, and... a pair of black rimmed glasses sitting on top.

You are so taken aback by the presence of all those new details that you almost forget about the other presence there with you, until you get pulled towards them, that's it, because then...

Your head starts spinning and it takes you a moment to realize that it's because of the feeling of a pair of lips pressed gently against yours. Whatever remnant of the laws of physics that had followed into this domain stop to exists as your knees buckle under your own weight and your entire body melts from the inside at the gloriously dizzy sensation.

And God...

When people use the phrase "never in my wildest dreams" they really still have no idea what they are talking about if they don't experience something at least half as vivid and intense as this.

The tip of a tongue traces your lower lip, and you find yourself parting your lips eagerly. Because there is something so tender in it, but also passionate, scorching. Wanting but not demanding. Sensations and emotions are heightened in dreams, but this...

Your moan dies in your throat as you get pulled into another kiss, a much deeper one, sweetly bruising. And you are so that you almost don't register the hand that slides further down your body with purpose, going lower and cupping your center, putting pressure right where you need it the most. But it's not quite enough. And your companion seems to realize that too.

Because suddenly you find yourself on your back on one of the couches, completely naked it seems, since and all you can focus on is the feeling of soft lips leaving a trail of kisses and teasing bites along your neck and collarbone.

Despite your desire to want to look down and see if you can catch a glimpse of the face of this... person... your eyes flutter shut as the assault of tenderly hungry lips continues lower on your chest, and roll into the back of your head when a hand cup gently yet firmly your breast and your nipple gets sucked into an inviting warm mouth.

Your body feels stuck, heavy, too heavy even to breathe properly, held down by the desperate need to just feel. Try to move is an inconceivable thought. You want to reach down and pull them up to but you get something even better instead when that same warmth runs lower down your body and gets wrapped around where you are throbbing with need.

For a few infinite seconds you feel like drowning, breathing the unmistakable smell of your arousal. Only able to feel the pleasure coursing and burning like a drug through your veins and skyrocketing in the moment you register a gentle pressure parting you, just beneath the lips sucking you so languidly, and making its way past your entrance as the skilled tongue of before starts swirling expertly around you with the only purpose to make you feel everything.

You don't know what happens next.

All you know is that you desperately search for something to hold onto, trying to get your body to respond to your commands, and a heartbeat later it finally does. Jerking violently.

You wake up with the first devastating wave of your orgasm. A broken moan rumbling in the back of your throat as your body shudders with the heart-stopping pleasure you have just received in another dimension and dragged forcefully into this.

Hands gripping the sheets. Toes curling. Head tossed back as the tight knot in your lower abdomen unfurls so deliciously in an unexpected flood of wet warmth.

The disorientation is so overwhelming that everytime awareness seems to have a grasp on you, you slip away once again, feeling somehow trapped between two worlds with different laws, panting for air. Eyes wide. Still unable to wrap your mind around what just happened although even in your bewildered state you know exactly what happened.

It still doesn't lessen your shock however, especially not when you realize in mild horror that your underwear as well as a nice portion of the sheets of your bed, are completely soaked in your release. Waves of aftershock still crashing into you for what seems to be entire minutes, until you are reduced into a shuddering, panting mess and collapse boneless onto your bed in between occasional twitches.

Fuck.

Whoever your soulmate is, you think as you struggle to recover, they surely know what they were doing.

As you take in the mess on your bed you look around the dorm and are suddenly immeasurably grateful that your roommate wasn't here.

You feel drained, chest heaving with each breath you force in, but your entire body hums in a way it has never done before.

Satisfied.

Sated.

Exhaustion takes over even above the mild shock and utter puzzlement, managing to fall asleep again in just a matter of minutes before you can do something about the damp sheets, unable to shake off the sudden loneliness that you feel wrapped around you against the contrasting feeling of contentment that fills your chest.

. . .

You never have sex with anyone else after that. You had already promised that to yourself, but after such event, you really don't think you could even if you wanted to.

The memory is too beautiful, too perfect and too precious to be tainted by meaningless, disappointing sex with someone you'd barely remember the name after and that you'd surely end up regretting.

But you do crave for that caring, accurate touch.

You cherish that experience, losing count of how many times your hand slips into your underwear as you replay that tape in your head over and over again. And the more you play it, recalling all the details you can about that rather intimate encounter, the more an idea starts taking form and making sense in the back of your mind.

You hate the fact that, just after a couple of weeks, a few details are starting to fade, but you still cling onto those that you still remember vividly, and pieces keep falling into place, at least in that department, which is still a big improvement you think, as your first suspicion turns slowly into a possible, more conscious reality.

. . .

"I think my soulmate is a woman."

It is after your graduation, when you are in your new apartment with your best friend, curled up in the couch with pizza and beer and an abandoned documentary about swans playing quietly in the background on the tv, that you finally voice, for the first time out loud, the idea that has formed in your mind in the past couple of months.

You didn't even mean to say that actually. But there is no sudden surprise or striking realization in your tone when those words finally leave your lips, in fact it sounded pretty much like you were pondering about getting another slice of pizza or ice cream. Although the reaction that such revelation has on your best friend is not just as... casual.

You should have probably been more present, you think, snapping from your brooding state at the unmistikable sputtered noise of your friend chocking on her beer.

The priceless look of surprise on her face, however, makes it very hard for you to hold back a laugh or even regret the bluntness of your unplanned... announcement, that almost made her choke.

"Why?" She asks at last in between adjusting coughs that don't certainly mask her curiosity as she recovers. "What makes you think so?"

She is not shocked at the news. You have always been unconcernedly fluid about your sexuality even if you haven't had the chance to experiment it fully... Yet.

And same-sex soulmates are hardly rare. But dreams about soulmates are extremely personal, and usually, they are rarely shared if not with very close, very trusted friends or family members. It's not the kind of conversation that people decides to initiate over coffee out of the blue. And although you trust Polly and she knows about the general setting of your dreams as you know about hers, you are still somehow reluctant to share details about them. Especially the latest very explicit details of the latest ones.

So no, you don't tell your best friend that you might, possibly, have had sex with your soulmate in your dreams. It still sounds crazy enough to you, and you certainly don't need Polly to look at you with the same stubborn skepticism that keeps lingering in your mind despite your convictions.

But at her question, the same one that you have asked to yourself lately many times, you start thinking about what planted that suspicion in your mind in the first place.

You close your eyes briefly, recalling that rather vivid dream.

Remembering the passion without urgency.

The gentle, almost teasing possessiveness of touches and kisses and pleasantly stinging bites.

...the tender fullness inside you.

So different than the one you were used to feel.

So accurate and focused.

So... perfect.

The whole perception that your dream-lover seemed to have towards you, to what you needed, seeming to know exactly how to touch you...

Dreams also reflect our desires, but still... That one wasn't just the product of your sexual need.

You squirm on the spot at the memory, legs pressed together to contain that light throb, your eyes fluttering open to see your best friend giving you a certain look of intrigue and an amused arched eyebrow, waiting patiently for an answer.

"It's... Just a feeling." You shrug nonchalantly after a second of hesitation.

Polly doesn't insist, thankfully, but you can feel her gaze and her knowing smirk on you as realization sinks in on her while your mind starts to wander again towards places you can't seem to stop visiting and that always manage to shape an almost shy smile on your lips.

. . .

Your relatively new, shiny double major, for how hard-earned, doesn't make finding a job any easier like you first thought it would be, and the ones that you find are not exactly the kind you have studied your ass off for, or that even require a college degree actually.

But you surely do need a job.

Moving to the city seemed like you could have more possibilities offered to you than waiting tables, but as you walk into yet another bar with that only one thought that keeps you company these days and receive yet another disappointment at your seemingly endless and desperate search for an employment, you think that maybe coming to New York was not such a great idea after all.

Or... maybe not.

Catching the movement at your side with the corner of your eye, your gaze shifts automatically to the tall figure that is approaching you at the counter.

And for a moment, for a broken second, as your eyes land on probably the most intriguing woman you have ever seen, you are assaulted by an overwhelming sense of something awfully similar to a deja vu.

A heartbeat later is already gone.

You blink regaining focus, but all you can see is long dark hair, perfect alabaster skin, a deep red smirk, and curves that you can make out through a dress that is enough to make your mouth water.

Her beauty is ridiculous, really.

You must have said hi at some point, because now she is talking to you. And when she speaks, all you can think about is how her voice feels like dark refined velvet, that catches at the edges when she laughs. A sound deep and rich. Its slightly raspy quality makes you wish you could touch it.

You don't even care so much about the fact that she is innocently teasing you, but you flush in mild embarrassment anyway.

You just will your astonishment to remain contained, your voice to remain steady and your heart to not leap right out of your chest. But as you talk with her, the rest of your being, your entire body, and that something that swells so beautifully in your chest, produces a feeling, a thought, that you haven't have listened for some time as you get lost into bright, stunning emerald pools. The traces of gold in there standing out with a glint of mischief and amusement when you, utterly mesmerized don't even realize asking her "Who are you?"

Her smile is more in her playfully narrowed eyes than on those generous slightly curled red lips when she answers you with an impish yet confident "My name is Alex."

Your mind, just as all your senses, is too crowded by amazement to go there and even just dare to touch that specific thought right now, but some part hidden inside you, the part living proudly in your heartbeat and in the pure essence of your being in a level that goes beyond consciousness and purely physicality, does.

You just don't realize how its effect on you is echoed by the glorious fluttering feeling in your chest.

Once again it came out way longer than what I wanted and the whole idea is probably a bit silly, but the concept for this story was kind of persistent, lol, so... Here it is. If you are still interested however there is the whole "realizing she is your actual soulmate" part to come :)