Another Night Like This

Hello! This is a yurified yuri. Very lesbian. Very cool. The story follows two young girls (Violet and Hannah) who aren’t supposed to be together. I’ve written like 1 part so far so… we’ll see how this goes. My pronouns are she/they btw. For example, “Her blog is amazing!” or “Their blog is amazing.”

[yurified-yuri]

Part 3

(Hope you enjoy!)

I lie here awake, waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

I watch the clock on my ivory wall tick and tock back and forth. My eyes go round and round and tick and tock and back and forth.

What am I even waiting for?

Hannah’s not going to appear tonight, curls tied back as always, her hands melting my knees like butter. I wish she were to appear; I wish she were to confess her love to me as if I am her Aphrodite – although I am much less beautiful.  My hair hangs in pathetic streaks of strawberry blonde, resembling my mother, however my features are sharp, with a pointed nose and drooping eyes, more like my father’s. it pains me to say that I do equally look like both of my parents, but that’s never a compliment. My parents have always tried to make me act like them in the same manner I look like them. However, no matter how much religion this and religion that that they try to shove down my throat, I refuse to believe anything they tell me anymore. Ever since I fell in love with the one person they said I couldn’t – the one person they think God says I can’t, I detached myself from the leech that is their beliefs.

If there must be a God (or Goddess), it would be Hannah. I have seen the planets and the heavens with her by my side. She has made me see stars and moons and galaxies further from our reach than she feels to me right now.

I need to call her. The only problem is that I have no phone. I’ve never had one; I just don’t see the point! Why talk to somebody over a tiny screen when you can run down the road and shout them there? I carefully creep out of my room and head downstairs to call her on the landline in the kitchen. What if she doesn’t pick up? What if my parents hear me, or worse, see me? I take a couple of deep breaths to calm myself before finally stepping onto the cold, crisp, clean tiles of the kitchen.

 God, I love alliteration.

I reach for the dusty old landline and ring Hannah’s number (I still memorised it, despite not having a phone of my own to call her on).

07754974205

The phone does its crackly little ring for a while before a hoarse voice picks up.

“Hello? Who the fuck is calling me at this hour in the morning?” Hannah questions, clearly irritated.

“Your fault for always keeping your phone by your bed,” I tease back playfully. This is definitely the wrong time to be teasing her, but it’s a little late now.

“Violet? W-why are you calling me now? I mean, I expected it at some point, but now? At – what time is it – 2:45am?”

I bite my lip – maybe this is the wrong time to call Hannah.

“I just need to talk to you. You didn’t come over tonight and I couldn’t stop thinking about how horrible it must feel to have to hide yourself on someone else's terms! I mean, I guess I’m trying to apologise here and I really want to see you again because I love seeing you every day and-” it finally hits me.

“Hannah, I love you.”

The realisation knocks me over like lightning as my heart springs from inside my heavy chest, the weight of this world slightly lighter and the moonlight outside the frosted windows a bit brighter. I take no notice of the silence on the other end of the phone, caterpillars cycling into butterflies which are prancing about in my chest.

Suddenly, faint footsteps can be heard snaking down the carpeted hallway and down towards the kitchen.

“Hannah? I have to go, like, right now, but I’ll see you tomorrow – or, well, tonight. I love you, bye!” Before she has time to reply, I dart back out into the corridor before I am seen by whoever is there, waiting to pounce and catch me. Soon enough, I end up back up the stairs and into my warm bedroom. It feels so inviting knowing that Hannah has been here with me so many times before. I just have to hope she shows up again later. Otherwise, I’m coming to her (maybe in both ways - who knows?).

Note: Thank you so much for reading; I hope you enjoyed this! I've stopped proofreading my work at this point (primarily because I can't be bothered) so I apologise for any SPaG errors. I hope you found this story cool, too.

[yurified-yuri]

would you rather infinite Yuri but no femboys or infinite femboys but no Yuri?

I’d definitely choose infinite yuri without femboys! Although it would be hard to live without them, I don’t think I could survive without yuri. Have a great day my yuri lover!

[yurified-yuri]

Hello! Here is part 2, which I wrote this morning. I’ve had a bit of a writing block recently and I have absolutely no plan for how this story will go but I try to keep writing more.

WARNING: There is no warning. I don’t know what I could warn you about in this part; it’s just Violet and her thoughts.

Part 2

I lie awake in the centre of my double bed that restless night, replaying the earlier events. I wish things could work out differently, that we could be us.

I just can’t.

I can’t keep hurting Hannah either.

I reminisce to the first time we kissed, her orphic presence mesmerising, compelling me to think things I’d never thought before. I let my viridity get the best of me. I let it tie me up in knots and throw me off numerous cliffs.

Her first words to me always leave a saccharine tang in my mouth.

“You’re so… radiant. I’ve never met anyone like that before,” she whispered in my ear.

At first, I thought what she was saying was just sphallolalia.

Radiant my ass.

Despite this, she still managed to make me force down the mauerbauertraurigkeit festering inside me, keeping her close.

I pull out one of the poems Hannah had written for me from under my bed. I observe it for a minute, her cursive writing nearly illegible, yet striking with beauty, the curls of her letters forming perfect phrases. This one is titled Violet’s Love.

I bet you can’t guess who it’s about.

Violet in all her glorious glory,

Singing to the skies and to her thistle,

I would be her Lilly of the Valley waiting in any valley,

For I love her,

She is mine, all mine,

None to share.

 

Oh, how she could ever love a girl like me,

Her contraband,

Her soldier’s camera,

I am her bloom in sunny skies,

The lavender to her bees.

 

I’m sure she loves me,

Although her mother can’t see,

The sins she has committed,

By loving me.

 

The honeysuckle hangs from baskets above,

Above the clouds,

Above the golden hornets up by what they call ‘God’.

 

For Violet, I would go anywhere,

Where I come back and where I cannot,

We kiss and embrace,

In a place we don’t want to be,

A world where faith speaks all,

Demanding faculty,

We will not be controlled,

Plain girls like Violet and I.

 

“Keep me forever, my love,”,

She calls my illegitimate name,

Her unlawful words a cause of her mother’s tears,

She cries sweet lachrymose sugar as they take me,

As they take me,

Take me to the place I’d go for her,

I’d go anywhere,

Even when I can’t come back.

To say that I yearn for Hannah sounds much too delicate; whatever it is I go through is much more disgusting.

Note: Thank you again for reading! I do love a bit of yuri, don’t you?

I didn’t proofread this one, so we’ll see how it goes.

It’s also pride month soon, so happy early pride!

[yurified-yuri]

Hi! This story is called ‘Another Night Like This’ and I hope you enjoy it!

WARNING: This part of the story contains kissing and… that’s it, actually. That doesn’t take away from the fact that it’s a good story (at least in my opinion!).

Part 1

I run up to my room after dinner and reach under my bed to check that the typewriter I bought for Hannah is still there. Hannah loves to write. I have poems and songs and stories stuffed behind my bedframe that she has written about me before. I lie on my fresh sheets and start to run over the events of the day until I hear a deafening knock on my bedroom window. I open it up and allow Hannah to crawl through it. She stands, her eyes gleaming deep with mischief, the colour reminiscent of raw oak and her long, dark curly hair braided underneath her cap. “You look nice,” I say as her arms wrap around my waist, butterflies colliding as they flutter in my stomach. “I did my hair nice for you,” she smirks, her hands travelling further down to my hips as she brushes her lips against mine. I pull away quickly, pulling the typewriter out from under my bed. “I got this for you.” I hold it out to her in both hands. “D’you know what I’ll write on it first?” “What?” She takes a step forward and places her electric hands on my waist again. She looks me in the eye and says, “If I were to kiss you, then go to hell, I would. Only so then I can brag to the devils that I saw heaven without ever entering it.” I gaze into the mess of gorgeous chaos in her eyes and whisper, “Is that Shakespeare?” Soon, I am filled with an overwhelming sense of basorexia. Her breath hitches when my fingers brush her wrist, lightning, then fire, lips barely grazing as the world melts away. She presses me against my wall, leaning in harder this time as her hands slide down my body from my waist down to my thighs. I pull her even closer by her collar, yanking her down to my mouth as if nothing existed but the heat between us. Eventually, I push her away. “You should go,” I tell her, “It’s getting late.” She pouts, her lipstick smudged. “I never craved attention until I tasted yours.” “I know, but I just want…” You, I think. You. You. You. Say it. “I need you to go. We can’t be caught like this!” “You can’t keep treating this like a crime, Violet. You hold my hand in secret and kiss me when nobody is looking. They’ll find out eventually anyway, Vi. You need to stop hiding so many secrets.” Her placid façade is breaking and I can hear it in the depths of her voice. I attempt to turn away – and the moon and stars try their best – but I can’t look away from her. “I’m the luckiest girl, with a girl like you,” I say. I hope she knows that already. “Same here.” Hannah pauses, opening her mouth as if to say something, but all she says is, “I’ll go,” and she climbs back out of my window with the typewriter in her arms. Missing her comes in waves, and after she left, I was drowning. I just wish we could have another night like this.

Note: I really hope you enjoyed reading this, my yurified yuri lovers! I’ll try to add more parts to this, but I always forget! Again, thank you so much. Your support means everything!