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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 7 days ago

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New Beginnings | Yandere Animal Town

You'll want to read Only Human Series | Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

The smell of a hearty meal brings a warmth greater than the heavy comforter you're curled up in–-a ray of light from the open curtains beaming on your face. Your body started to rise before you fully registered that someone had to be the cause of such a heavenly scent and you were pretty sure you’d taken back all the keys from your former roommate. Slipping into your slippers and wrapping a robe around yourself you made your way down the creaky steps of your late grandmother's home. Running your fingers over the aged wooden walls, tracing the frames of the art and pictures that were still hung. It brought back memories of her entering your life, your original apprehension, and the slow realization that you loved her just as much as your grandfather. Smiling at the frame you had hung just before the staircase.

"Morning Poppop, Mam! I made it another year without burning the place down...please wish me well."

The words spilled out earnestly devoid of the filters preparing in your head. Seeing as you had revoked Eudora's key a week earlier after the incident with your bedroom your whole being was readying to scold whoever had found themselves in your home.

"Happy New Years, Hun! Decided to start the year with a good meal. Pull up a chair and take yer time; I will warn you though you'll be having company in a few. I tried to stop them but you know how these nosy neighbors of ours tend to be."

The motherly canine hounded on about each of their pleas; all of it all too familiar. letting her voice fade into the background you tried to remind yourself that this was reality. The space connecting the kitchen room was spotless. Wooden floors glisten and windows let in clear rays of light without a speck of dirt to darken it. Your couch known for its crotchety, dusty presence was abnormally bright for its beige color, and when you pressed a finger into the cushion it plumped up as you pulled away. As if its stuffing wasn't devoured by mites. The carpet and curtains shared the same treatment, smelling of lemon cleaning products. At the center of your transformed living room were the other two canines wagging their tails happily.

"So do you like it (Y/n)?"

The small voice of Titan woke you up. Memories of when you first met the pup all teary-eyed and worried for his mother. It was a stark reminder as to why the years to come would likely never be quiet again.

" How did you guys get in? You didn't break my other door did you?"

The child giggled before rocketing himself into your thigh. Despite this being a regular occurrence you still doubled over to nurse the bruised spot; leaving your neck perfectly exposed to tiny, grabby arms. The little hybrid hung onto you waiting for the rest of your body to accept his impromptu hug.

"Didn't have to this time with that new mini-door I finished installing for ya!"

Tank cheered from the floor behind the couch, popping up to reveal his typical attire of worn and tattered overalls hanging off his bulging pecks. Its single good strap hanging on for dear life over his tanned chest which was puffed up with pride as he watched you examine only his his and his brother's work.

" Thanks you guys...oh uh Happy New Year."

The family returned the saying before ushering you to your seat to eat. All of them seemed more than certain you wouldn't be alone much longer. With one sip of orange juice and three bites into your toast, you no longer were. Mama Tiffany had the decency not to groan exasperated at the knocking on the door. While you knew dog hybrids had more intense senses than humans and likely told them who exactly was at the door, you had the impression it didn't matter who it was. Just that they were interrupting a quiet New Year's Day with you.

"Darling I've brought the champagne. Since we missed each other New Years Eve i say we drink it now and finish the bottle before lunch!"

It was Eudora the cow-woman you helped get back on her feet (hooves?) rocking her usual cow-print designer brand jumpsuit with champagne wrapped in her hand and two caps of wine bottles sticking out of her matching bag.

"AHEM."

In an instant Tank and Tiffany were behind you. Arms crossed and sporting a sneer, one hidden well and one not, Eudora was forced to realize she wasn't your only visitor.

"Fine. I'll share but I'm not going to like it."

Tiffany hummed," Sorry dear but while a child is about we all can't be...under the influence."

Shrugging you had to agree. Titan for as independent and rambunctious of a child he was still one and it was in bad taste to be indulging with him so close by.

"Sorry, Dor maybe another time."

The cow-woman whined latching onto you to fake-cry into your chest. Being sure to nuzzle indulgently.

"Every time I come over you’re surrounded by that brat! How ever will we get to be alone?!"

Her dramatic plea made Tank roll his eyes, slipping around her to grab the neck of a wine bottle from her purse. Immediately jumping away she chased after the scampering dog hybrid as best as she could in her speckled pumps. Tank and Titan were snickering as they weaved around passing the bottle between the two as she struggled, slipping onto the newly shined wooden floor.

"Give that back you have no idea, how important that is!"

Above her head, Tank dangled the bottle mockingly as he chuckled.

"Oh, I don't?"

"Noo! You don't! A farmer dog would never understand the kind of luxuries I earned to get--"

"You mean you earned by selling this milk" Titan had mysteriously slid the bag off her arm rummaging through it to pull out a jar of milk with a label on top which he so dutifully began to read,"(Y/n)'s spe-speshul milk?"

Eudora blushed, gasping in horror abandoning the laughing Tank to snatch the jar from Titan's hand. Cradling it to her chest she glared at the dog boy hoping he'd shiver and tuck that tail of his. Alas he didn't. He was smiling devilishly at the cow-woman, who was too distracted by him to stop Mama Tiffany from snatching the jar from her manicured hands.

"Hm good readin' Titan," her boy proudly wags his tail. Eudora dives for the jar but misses on account of the mother canine easily dodging her and heading straight for the kitchen her victorious smile seen by only Eudora , "Anyway if you made this for (Y/n) I might as well use it to make some more french toast. What d'ya say Hon?"

"Wait—"

"Sounds good to me!"

"H-hold on!"

"Great I'll get started on 'em right away," she popped the lid open giving it a good sniff before recoiling something fierce. Tank shivered and fought the urge to gag as he picked up the scent. Titan retched and ran into your side doing his best to shove his wet little nose as deep as he could into your skin. Eudora was appalled watching Tiffany dump her creation down the sink, turning to her with a sorrowful hostile look she sighed.

"Ah that's too bad seems like this batch is spoilt. Betta check the rest of the batch if you plan to take that to market."

Eudora looked furious as though Tiffany had curdled it herself. On a warpath, she stomps over with her painted finger stabbing it into Tiffany’s chest. From where you were standing you couldn’t tell exactly but you were certain her face was contorted with an unbecoming snarl. On instinct Tank and Titan stood alert ears pinned back and the faint grumble of a growl in their throats.

It would be best to diffuse this. Separate them both before Tiffany lost that already twitching smile and Eudora did something with her pointed finger. Thankfully someone else has knocked on the door.

“Ack-! Tiffany could you maybe get the door for me I’m still in my PJs?”

“Sure thing, Hun be quick now.”

She shoved Eudora out the way, shouting that ‘she was comin’’ to whoever was at the door. You had your guesses but you figured whoever it was you better be properly dressed. In your absence the guests congregated with whispers spat through their teeth. Tank was the first to speak.

“You’re disgusting, cow.”

She stuck a specific finger in his direction, that had him hurriedly cover his younger brother’s eyes. Much to Titan’s unhappiness he could hear the air whipping with some other unspoken gestures of hatred. A shame he only saw the one.

Tiffany opened the door with a smile on her face, her nails barely chipping at the latest coat of paint on the door. At the very least this nuisance wasn’t as…troublesome.

“Stein. A real surprise. Didn’t know you were invited to celebrate the New Year.”

The librarian snake-hybrid shuffled his feet as his hands wobbled, making an irritating clacking of the platter he brought. Tiffany shut her eyes. Couldn’t wish to scratch his hands off if she couldn’t see him. Stein’s tail was at attention curling and twisting behind him with the nerves he was still battling. He had originally felt encouraged not only by his newly found meditation breathing but because his…group of devvotees had assured him.

“Great Stein they’ll be so happy you’re there!” They said and they promised,” Excalibur will certainly compliment you for your new scales.”

Which was what he had predicted would happen especially since he’d practiced the scenario so many times in his head. But how could this be if the one he wanted needed+ wasn’t answering the door?! Still he wasn’t too discouraged…he could tell there was someone moving upstairs; the thermal signature reminiscent of his one and only human.

“W-w-well we’d been s-speaking about plans and they said I could–”

“I’m not accusing, (Y/n)’s a real sweetheart to those decent enough.”

“I–yes they are!”

Stein happily followed Tiffany inside, unsurprised at seeing her children and the peeved cow woman. It was already confirmed by many of his devotees that they were incredibly adamant about guarding you. Of course their theories ranged from their own obsessions to their secret plots to control the world with (Y/n) as their tool. It really was absurd but Stein would never complain for he had so many slashed tires to thank them for. Those ‘little gifts’ were incredibly nice when he had extra time to speak with them.

“Hey Stein! Happy you’re here! And look at that, do you think the new shed goes nicely?”

He nodded returning the hug. The seconds spent in (Y/n)’s arms felt all so incredibly right for Stein. The small amounts of contact through clothes regrettably brought a heat he wasn’t expecting, a heat felt a sliver of when he was with them.

“Uh, are you hibernating?”

The small voice calling out to him and the silence calling for an answer. He hurriedly straightened himself out but he still couldn’t get his arms or his tail to fully un-intertwine from the human. Still he made the effort of tilting his head hovering just above his human (Y/n)’s shoulder.

“Excuse me?”

Titan sighed like children did. In the whiney strangely annoyed way they did. He’d like to have a clutch with you.

“Y’know! Are’ya fallin’ asleep on ‘em or what?”

Stein laughed joylessly. He wasn’t the best at speaking but the pinched brow of the little dog hybrid said this wasn’t an innocent question but a tempered reaction from an annoyed predator. Stein would have no way of knowing but minutes before Titan had done the best work that he could to scent his favorite human. He knew his puppy dog face and his irresistible charisma could get him so far with all these adults coming over he had to make his mark….and yet when his human returned it was gone.

“No little one I’m just–,” Stein let himself release the human only up to their hands keeping his fingers in between their own. The only reason he could get his tail to naturally release was because he wanted to see his human’s smiling face. Stein internally swooned but settled for a warm smile,” Happy to see my friend and kindred spirit.”

Your heart warmed at the thought—’ kindred spirit.’ Half a year ago it would have been bizarre to know anyone was willing to give this human in a hybrid-only town a chance. A feeling of gratitude washes over, making your cheeks warm and your heart full.

Here. These were your people, your friends, and despite their odd violent, creepy, invasive behavior they cared about you and are likely the reason you wouldn’t be alone from now on.

“Happy New Year you guys! Let’s make this one count!”

Titan howled in agreement, while Tank and Tiffany cheered! Eudora let her pout cease…for long enough to crack open the champagne. With a successful poignant pop, the wooden peg shot faster than you could catch. However, there was something fast, a black shadow that whipped across Stein’s face. But looking at the hybrid’s tail it was swaying casually below him; the only thing different was the slight curl at its end almost like it was holding something—-

“(Yyyy/nnnn)!!!! The cow is making me drink this horrible adult juice.”

“NO! I’M NOT! Tiffany come get your pup before I skewer him!”

“Ah (Y/n) I–I noticed you were looking at my t-tail and I just th-thought I’d offer if you’d like to touc–”

“Shut it, worm. (Y/n) I wanted to remind you about some of the new piping I fixed for you. Just a minor fix but I can personally show you now.”

“Oh, Hon he did such a good job~ You two should check it out! But not before you give Mama’s pies a taste!”

This Year would not be quiet, not with these guys around and with many more to come.

____________________________________________________

Sneak Peak:

Knock Knock

“More people? So soon?”

The question wasn’t for anyone in particular but you were already walking away from the squabbling hybrids at your dining table. Looking discreetly over your shoulder to see Titan successfully nip at Stein’s tail and nearly avoid its constricting, you worked hard to hold your laughter. Depending on your latest guest they might not take lightly to your troublesome attendees. Swinging the door open you realized your assessment was spot on…at least for one of your new arrivals.

“Morning (Y/n).”

“Mr. Mayor! G-glad to see you!”

You really wish you’d looked at yourself in the mirror again.

“I didn’t realize so many others were invited to this function.”

“Sorry if I was misleading, you don’t have to join if you don’t–”

“No please (Y/n). I deal with the citizens of this town every day. This will be no different.”

“Then uh welcome,” you move to the side allowing the pristine presence to grace your newly renovated living room. Watching the slight twitch of his nose you wrestled with the same feelings of anxiety when you do see it. The tell was either one of annoyance or great excitement, you could only hope it was the latter,” we were all just about to play a board game if you’d like to join.”

The mayor gave a smile over his shoulder before he claimed a seat at the table. With no time to follow up, you focused on inviting the rest of your guests.

“Look at you rolling out the red carpet for that sucker!”

“Before the both of us, the working class really is overlooked.”

You shook your head at the duo before entering the hugs their arms were already opened for. Of course, this wasn’t as simple as giving a one-armed hug to both of them at the same time. They demanded a full hug to each of them by wrenching you in their direction when you thought the hug was over. How pleasant.

“Duke, Sher welcome we haven’t started yet so we can deal you in.”

Sher smiled, his little tail likely wiggling with pride as he let himself in.

“Good you really shouldn’t have even started the New Year without me but as long as you let me win I’ll forgive you.”

You opened your mouth to correct him now, if only to avoid a tantrum later but Duke stopped you with a hand to your shoulder. With a blush he had you come closer so he could whisper–it must have something to do with eggs.

“I did bring the years first eggs with me but I didn’t want to draw attention by bringing it to the door.”

“That’s fine Duke! I’ll make an excuse so I can grab them.”

“M-maybe you should include me so that I can help it’s a lot.”

“Wow, if it’s that much you’re giving to me you must’ve had a real good New Years Party.”

Duke’s blush deepened and his dark eyes trailed away from your face; it made you wonder what exactly was so embarrassing about his ‘party’ by himself. You tried to ask only for him to shake his head again, more of his face taking on the redness originally on his cheeks. Worried he might pass out you let him stumble into your home and nervously wave at the rest of the group. With a satisfied clap of your hands and a look down the road, you were pretty sure that was it for guests willing to spend their precious New Year with the only human in town. That is until the skirting sound of rubber burning on the roads carved through the rural area with an engine obnoxiously humming the loudest it could have arrived. Unlike your friends, it had stopped on the road instead of parking on the filled driveway. Outstepped the source of too much of your grief with being harassed for simply existing—Margarine.

Stepping out of her iconic reddish-orange car was the fox hybrid responsible for your continuously outcasted status. So naturally you were far from pleased. Nonetheless, she stepped out smiling cruelly with her camera in hand.

“Don’t cry ape-breath, I’m just getting the first shot of the human for the new year. The papers are going to love this.”

You were going to retort, thinking about setting a hose on her or something, until you felt the presence of one of your guests at your back. One of your freakishly tall guests with his intimidatingly large pointed smile.

“Hi there, Margory. Do we have a problem here?”

It felt good to see her scramble, waving nervously as she returned to her car. Struggling for a little while to start it, when she finally got it she sped off. Thankfully saving her other nasty remarks for later, when your house wasn’t filled with six different people who would actively tear her in half.

“Thanks Sykes!”

“No problem, I only hope you remember this kind act of mine if I ever need some extra cards in this game of ours.”

Shaking your head you closed the door and let him pull you back to a bustling table filled with all the new friends you’d made. A group who truly didn’t mind that you were the only human.

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First post of the year and it's hopefully holding everyone over for this series. Thanks everyone for the response to this one. I don't know what this year holds but I've got big ideas. Thanks to everyone here and Happy New Year! 🖤🖤🖤🖤

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shopthefloorstore · 5 months ago

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blogport · 6 months ago

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btreebrands · 7 months ago

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floorsforless1 · 1 year ago

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jbaileyfansite · 1 month ago

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Interview with British Vogue (2025)

Jonathan Bailey has always flatly refused to pose topless on a shoot. For Vogue, he relented. How come? “There was this pair of Loewe trousers and I thought, ‘Fucking hell, what an incredible silhouette.’ No one suggested it, I just knew it was right.” He pauses. “But please don’t mention I said I’m always asked to take my top off.” I plead with him. “OK,” he replies. “It’s the truth.”

But why all the prudishness? Didn’t he reveal his naked bum in season one of Netflix’s phenomenally successful Regency romp, Bridgerton? It was quite the performance, I say. Has it been nominated for any awards? “Not yet,” he replies, rolling his eyes.

We are lounging on a velvet sofa in an anteroom at the Theatre Royal Drury Lane, the location a nod to the Brit’s imminent, post-stratosphere-hitting return to the West End. He was last on the London stage in 2022, in Mike Bartlett’s Cock at the Ambassadors Theatre, already a star, and yet the 36-year-old’s wattage has continued to grow and grow. Any attempt on my part to observe him dispassionately disappears quickly. His dark-haired and unshaven beauty is too intoxicating, as is his style. He is male-model catwalk-ready in pale blue Levi’s, an ivory Sunspel rib-knit short-sleeved polo shirt, off-white slip-on suede Birkenstocks and beige socks. M&S? “Uniqlo – they’re my favourite holey socks,” he answers, raising a tanned, muscular arm (an Omega De Ville watch dangles from his wrist) to scratch his head. His biceps look like they’ve done time in the gym. “I did that on purpose so you’d notice,” he says cheekily. “I’ve got real gunnage.”

Bailey has managed to achieve what was once thought impossible in Hollywood. He is among a new guard of out actors to be lusted over by men and women (the latter tag him their “internet boyfriend”) while also evading falling into a gender pigeonhole, snagging roles of every persuasion. Tragedy, comedy, singing, dancing, stage, big screen, small screen, fashion week, fan mobbings… he can do it all. Scarlett Johansson, his costar in next year’s looming instalment of the Jurassic Park franchise, recently gushed on the red carpet: “I adore absolutely every single thing about that man.”

Bailey, who despite a tightly honed skill set never attended drama school, has been acting since the age of seven, when he was scouted by the Royal Shakespeare Company to star in its production of A Christmas Carol at the Barbican Theatre. But it was in 2020 that he became swarmed-in-the-streets famous, following his performance as Lord Anthony Bridgerton (the second series, in which his character, a viscount, took centre stage, became the most-watched English language series on Netflix). Hollywood beckoned. Now, he’s riding a wave of Wicked mania, his career having been taken to a whole new level thanks to his turn as the fleet-footed, high note-hitting, dashing male lead, Fiyero, opposite Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande in the big-screen musical, not to mention the accompanying press tour to end all press tours. Next year, he’ll go on to star in the aforementioned Jurassic World Rebirth. True blockbuster fare.

Theatre, though, has been his foundation. A run of television hits (he has starred on the small screen in W1A, Bramwell, Broadchurch, Heartstopper, Fellow Travelers and Leonardo, among others) has been built from, and woven through with, a long career on stage – notable roles in the past decade, aside from Cock, include Company, King Lear, The York Realist and Othello. He has a shelf full of shiny hardware, with awards including an Olivier for best actor in a supporting role in a musical, for playing panicked groom-to-be Jamie in Marianne Elliott’s 2018 production of Stephen Sondheim’s Company, and a Critics Choice Award for best supporting actor in a limited series or movie made for television in Fellow Travelers earlier this year. On balance, he loves the protection of being on stage – how immersive it feels, how he feeds off the reactions of an audience. “There’s security in the theatre community,” he says.

And so, he is ready to make a return to live performance. His next role feels like a career zenith. In February, he will appear as Richard II in director Nicholas Hytner’s production at the Bridge Theatre. It is his most high-profile Shakespearean role to date, his second with Hytner, who first cast him as Cassio in Othello at the National Theatre in 2013. “People talk about fame and Bridgerton, but the one moment where I really thought I’d made it was when Nicholas cast me as Cassio 10 years ago,” says Bailey. “He gave me the biggest break. He’s been an incredible mentor. With Richard II, I am returning not just to a play, but to a theatre director. He’s seen me freak out in the rehearsal room. He’s seen me sobbing.”

On Bailey’s far-reaching talent, Hytner tells me: “Jonny is eloquent, mercurial, intelligent and transparent.” The star director is giving little away ahead of the production, only to comment it will reveal: “a feudal world on the cusp of modernity”. He recalls: “As Cassio in Othello – and later as Edgar to Ian McKellen’s King Lear, which I didn’t direct – he had the rare ability to speak Shakespeare as if it’s his first language. His imagination is vivid enough to put himself directly in the position of characters… It becomes completely natural in his hands.” Doubtless he will lean heavily on Bailey’s gifts for precision wit, dark charm and petulance for the flawed, weak Richard. “What do you do when a ruler is absolutely inadequate?” Hytner wonders. “How do you get rid of the rightful leader?”

In person, Bailey’s flair is plain as day. He’s not just stylish – he is friends with Loewe creative director Jonathan Anderson, who dressed him for 2024’s Met Gala (and whom he designed a T-shirt with for the LGBTQ+ initiative he recently founded, The Shameless Fund), has worn Givenchy on the red carpet and modelled Emporio Armani eyewear in its latest campaign – but also intoxicatingly charismatic. He laughs readily and expansively, gesticulating often, occasionally jumping up like a young Rudolf Nureyev about to leap, before crashing back down and curling his legs underneath him. The writer and actor Phoebe Waller-Bridge, whom he costarred with in her 2016 miniseries Crashing (a precursor to Fleabag), once described him as “a meteorite of fun”. I can see why.

“There’s a big wonderful tribe of friends in London to which we both belong,” longtime friend and actor Andrew Scott tells me. “As well as being the most charismatic and gifted performer, he’s always struck me as someone who adores and prioritises his friends and family and loved ones. That counts for so much in my book. It’s so wonderful to watch Jonny soar.”

So too is he eloquent and honest, especially when we veer to the more personal, such as what it was like growing up questioning his sexuality and how he only came out as gay to his family and close friends in his early 20s. Did he have a sense of his sexuality from a young age? He indicates it was more of a gradual realisation, mentioning how he went out with a girl for two years in his early 20s. “It’s interesting with the binary,” he says, “where you’re perceived to be either this or that. That’s how I saw it at the time, but there are so many nuances to it. My experience of that relationship was not that I was in the shadows. She remains one of my best friends.”

“I think other people understood my sexuality before I was even aware of it,” he continues. As a young boy, he remembers rummaging through the family’s dressing-up box, jumping around and being flamboyant, and entertaining his grannies by singing and dancing whenever he stayed with them. He sounds like Billy Elliot. “A bit, but really Shirley Temple, if I’m honest.” He credits his parents with encouraging him to take up ballet. “I remember looking through the window at these girls at school in their tutus. They were doing, like, first position, second position, and I knew I just wanted to be in there.”

One night at a sleepover with primary school friends he remembers excitedly asking them: “‘Guys, guys, who else thinks they’re gay? Do you? I do. I do.’ It was a conversation I really, really wanted to have, to see if everyone else was on the same page,” he says. “But everyone went quiet.” Then a teacher called him out in front of the whole class. “I was having trouble with my work and he said, ‘Well, if you weren’t so busy being a fairy you’d understand.’��

More recently, and in addition to his work with The Shameless Fund, he became a patron for the charity Just Like Us, which aims to ensure young LGBTQ+ people in school and beyond can thrive. He is keenly aware of the challenges that still exist, even in the everyday. “I’ve always been a confident hand-holder in relationships,” he says. “I had a boyfriend who wasn’t experienced at holding hands in public. We got heckled in London. But that kind of behaviour is now outweighed by the smiles you get.” Is he currently in a relationship? “Not discussing that,” he answers, sharply.

We talk instead about how he deals with the nature of fame. “It felt quite hard-hitting after Bridgerton came out,” he says. “I really struggled initially; I was overwhelmed by it. But the people in your life have to adapt too. That’s the hardest thing: you see them struggling before you see it in yourself, someone pushing past your dear mum and dad to get a picture. I’m really good now at saying no to photos.” Does he think he might become too big for his boots? “Let’s see,” he says. “It would be good if you could keep your eye on me as we go through the next few years, tell me if I’m doing well or I’ve fallen down the [fame] hole.”

Friends like Andrew Scott will no doubt help keep him grounded. “The search for us to be in the right thing together is on,” says Scott. “Bert and Ernie the movie is the frontrunner, it just depends on who’s willing to shave off their eyebrows.”

Bailey was brought up in Wallingford, Oxfordshire, along with three older sisters, and later attended The Oratory School. His mother was an audiologist and his father, a one-time DJ who played in Sloopy’s, a ’70s nightclub just off Piccadilly Circus, would go on to become the managing director of Rowse Honey. “Every time I see an easy-squeezy bottle of honey I think my dad was an absolute legend.”

He was five when his grandmother took him to see Oliver! in the West End. He knew at that moment he had found his calling. His first acting role was at school, where he played a raindrop in Noah’s Ark. A year after starring in A Christmas Carol at the Barbican, he landed the role of Gavroche in the West End production of Les Misérables.

In 2017, he appeared in King Lear at the Chichester Festival Theatre, as Edgar, opposite McKellen in the title role. “We had amazing conversations,” he says of his costar. “I was like: ‘Tell me everything. Tell me what it was like back in the day.’ I assumed everyone would have been happily expressing themselves, fucking in the wings, all the things you’d hoped. And he said, ‘No, no. No one knew, not even in the most creative pockets.’”

But liberation can be found on stage too. Cock, as its title suggests, focused on some of the thornier realities of gay romance and proved life-changing for Bailey. “I was able to mine and explore and have this experience on stage which felt like everything I would want for my life. It was all about a boy coming out and falling in love at school, and somehow by experiencing it within someone else’s story, you can dress-rehearse your own life.”

We discuss his most recently released film, Wicked (a two-part adaptation of the hit musical, the second instalment of which will drop towards the end of 2025). “What did you think of it? Did you like it?” he asks nervously. I tell him I’m not usually a fan of musicals, but it took me by surprise and I found it emotionally touching. He breathes a sigh of relief. “Isn’t it lovely, isn’t it special, isn’t it actually!” he says, bouncing on his knees like an excitable teenager. “You’re the first person I’ve spoken to who’s seen it. When I watched it, I sobbed. I think it’s a masterpiece.”

For now, having just finished filming the latest season of Bridgerton, he’s finally taking a break. “Everything else is on pause until Richard II opens.” He admits finding it difficult going between roles and his everyday life in Brighton, where he moved in 2020 so he could be close both to the sea, which he loves, and his mother’s side of the family who live there. “It can be a hard, cold transition, so I get back to friends as soon as possible or I go travelling. I love Salento in Italy – I try and go every year.” Is he tempted to move to the US? “No. That’s a hard no,” he says. “I love New York theatre, so maybe, but it would be led by work.”

He says that, more than anything, he yearns for quiet. He spends time in nature, either walking, paddleboarding or mountaineering (in 2018, he hiked to Everest base camp and a year later climbed Ben Nevis, Snowdon and Scafell Pike in 24 hours in aid of a motor neurone disease charity), as well as cold-swimming in the sea and cycling (he has competed in marathons and triathlons). He likes the calm those activities bring him but always takes his noise-cancelling headphones wherever he goes. “I feel naked if I forget them.” What does he listen to? “I go through phases, most recently ’60s and ’70s California rock, and The Beatles.” But surely he parties too? “I love a dirty martini,” he says. “The dirtier the better. But really I’m obsessed with breakfast, especially oats. Sometimes I make my own granola. I just love a seed.”

While he might not tell me if he’s in a relationship, he is surprisingly candid when I ask him if he wants children. “Yes, it’s such a privilege for a man,” he says. “But I can’t bring children into my lifestyle now.” Because he is so busy? “Yes,” he answers. I tell him it’s never a good time. “I want to make sure I’m going to be present. I’m reading books on adoption. I might coparent with a woman, but I’m thinking it will be with a man.”

Just as we’re about to say goodbye, he squeals, holding up his phone. “Andrew Scott has just texted me! He calls me ‘J-Bads’. I told him I was doing a Vogue shoot, with the total self-awareness of what that sounds like.” He slips on his Birkenstocks. “You know I’ve got them in Parma violet too,” he says, as he slinks out of the door, headphones on.

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#jonathan bailey #jonny bailey #interviews #interviews:2025 #british vogue #british vogue interview 2025 #NEW!

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zedif-y · 9 months ago

Text

“Before you yell at me,” Impulse says. “I want to at least say that I know this was a bad idea.”

On the other side of the room, Bdubs shifts in bed, sniffling as he battles a runny nose. Pearl sighs.

“You see how that actually makes it worse, right?” She replies. There’s a faint crackle on her end, her breath picked up by the phone– “Impulse, you need to leave.”

Impulse grimaces. He feels Bdubs’ stare against his back, “I…”

“You know why you can’t stay there,” Pearl tells him. Her voice is even, but the words drag him down like weights. “Impulse–”

He bites the inside of his cheek, “I can’t.”

Pearl goes quiet for a moment.

Impulse can almost picture her expression– jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowed in worry. A quiet sadness in her eyes as she takes him in. Not a hint of judgement– yet somehow that almost chokes him even more.

Then, “Why not?”

Impulse swallows. He shifts on his feet, focuses on the feel of the soft carpet. (It’s old, the color mostly faded. Impulse remembers installing it– a hot summer day, around two years ago. It feels like a lifetime has passed since.) “It’s just…”

(Bdubs’ voice, raspy and weak, “Can you come over?”)

“He’s sick,” Impulse whispers, eyes downcast. “Nothing too bad, I think, but it’s– he called me, and he said he needed me and I… You know that I…”

(Impulse had just gotten home, then, exhaustion burning in his bones. But even then he takes a peek out the window, looks on as the pale grey of the afternoon seeps into night. His mouth thins into a line.)

(“Bdubs, I–”)

(“Please,” Comes the hoarse reply. “I miss you.”)

Impulse’s chest constricts. You know I can’t say no to that, he wants to say, the words burning like acid on his throat. I can’t. I want to, I need to, but I can’t.

(There’s a beat, a heavy pause. Impulse tries to remember how to breathe.)

(“…Give me a few hours.”)

Not when it’s him.

Impulse drags a hand down his face, his voice hushed as he speaks into his phone. “Pearl, I know you’re trying to help, but…” He turns to look at Bdubs. Reddened eyes stare back at him, just that little bit hazy. Impulse bites the inside of his cheek. “I need to be here. I need to stay.”

“You don’t need to do anything,” Pearl replies. “You said you wouldn't…"

I know, “…Yeah, I did," Impulse sits down next to Bdubs, the bed dipping under his weight. He places the back of his hand on Bdubs' forehead, feeling the heat seep instantly into his skin. He tsks under his breath.

Bdubs lets out a small sigh, his eyes fluttering shut. Impulse tries to ignore how his heart squeezes at that, licks his lips as he heads back out of the room. The door clicks shut behind him.

"...Impulse?" Pearl asks, "You still there?"

He breathes in, breathes out.

"Still here," He mutters.

At his silence, Pearl speaks up.

“Impulse,” She says, voice soft. “Are you okay?”

Impulse looks out at the living room, the windows casting light over the worn sofa. His things packed neatly in a bag. His own knick knacks strewn about the shelves. There's a lump in Impulse's throat, and it won't go away.

“I don’t know,” He tells her, the truth of it aching. “I don’t know, Pearl.”

There’s rustling on the other end, a faint hum of music in the background. Impulse doesn’t know how long it’s been playing.

“Do you want me to pick you up?” Pearl asks, and Impulse knows she means it. Knows that he could say yes, and she would be here within the hour, providing company despite her hectic schedule. Impulse knows.

(And yet.)

For a few moments, Impulse doesn’t say anything. He moves closer to the windows, feels the warmth of the sunlight on the back of his hand.

Not for the first time, his gaze drifts to his finger– a small band of lightened skin, a whisper of a ring.

"I'll leave when he's recovered," Impulse says at last. "I promise."

Even to his own ears, it sounds like a lie.

—

“Bein’ shick is the worst,” Bdubs groans. He grabs his handkerchief, blows his nose loud– “Guh, good grief.”

“Drink your water, Bdubs!” Impulse calls out from the kitchen. The bedroom door, now open, gives Bdubs a decent view of him, chopping up… Somethin’, and then adding them to a pot. Bdubs makes a noise in response, half grumble half yeah, yeah, I know.

He mutters under his breath, “Can’t even smell the food…”

His hands are clammy as he reaches for his water bottle, drinking in greedy mouthfuls as the liquid soothes his throat a little. He sniffs, again, another groan on his lips as his head swims– like he’s swaying even if he’s just sitting down, a godawful heat just under his skin. His blanket, already shoved to the side, is kicked away even further.

Bdubs breathes out through his mouth, his throat raspy and dry even though he just–

“I hate this,” He seethes, eyes shut tight and head spinning and nose running, goodness sakes– “I…”

A wave of nausea rolls over him like the tide. Bile rushes into his throat, his muscles seizing as he rasps out, “Impulse!”

There’s some clattering from the kitchen, the click of a stove. “What?” Impulse asks, rushing into the room. He’s still wearing his apron. “What’s wrong?”

Worry shines on his face, etched into the lines of it. If Bdubs weren’t about to puke his guts out, he’d be starin’ a lot more–

“Bathroom,” Bdubs rasps out, acid burning his throat, his eyes stinging with tears–

Impulse heaves him out of bed with a grunt. Bdubs goes limp in his grasp, fighting head-swimming nausea that makes his vision all weird as Impulse rushes him to the bathroom, gently sets him on the floor–

“Hurgk!”

Bdubs’ eyes sting as he hurls, his chest heaving as he’s hunched over the rim of the toilet. A burning sourness coats his tongue, scratching against his throat. His knees protest against the cool tiles. Everything in him aches as he coughs violently, his hands shaking as he balances himself–

Big, gentle hands push his hair away from his face, soothing his trembling back. Bdubs sobs, spit dripping from his lips as everything hits him all at once, every pinprick of pain and the shivering cold and mind-numbing heat–

“I’ve got you,” He hears Impulse say, the words drifting just at the edge of his mind. “I’ve got you, Bdubs.”

Always.

Bdubs coughs, shakes like a leaf as he heaves over the bowl. His mind feels fuzzy, face damp with tears and sweat. Something desperate claws at his chest, comes bubbling out as a real sob as he says, “Yer too good to me,” He sniffles, feels the hands adjusting in his hair. “You’re too…”

His muscles seize, another surge of bile. Bdubs grips the edge of the bowl, eyes shut tight through the roiling pain, and he forgets whatever the hell it was that he was going to say.

He doesn’t notice Impulse going quiet. He doesn’t notice the faraway look in his eyes, the way his jaw clenches as he looks at Bdubs’ face.

He doesn’t notice the way Impulse looks like he agrees.

#impdubs angst be upon ye . sorry . KSJGDHS this was just sitting in my drafts so might as well post it. never finishing this one . peace #impulsesv #bdoubleo #bdouble0 #bdoubleo100 #pearlescentmoon #mcyt #mcytblr #hermitcraft #hermitblr #hermitship #hermitshipping #cw emetophobia #cw vomiting #sickfic #ryan's writing #hermitfic

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