David Bowie And The Coffee Shop

643 17 44
                                    


[THIN WHITE DUKE ERA BOWIE]

[A/N: Mild smut in this one :) Enjoy though

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

[A/N: Mild smut in this one :) Enjoy though... I'll put a warning closer to the time too.]

I was going about my daily work at the bar at the coffee shop where I worked in Denmark Street as if it were another normal day. That was until I saw barrages of what looked like photographers bundling in through the door, bombarding a particular customer. I felt the need to intervene so the person could at least walk into the shop without being trodden on every few seconds. "Excuse me, would you like to follow me to a booth?" I asked, putting myself between the stranger and the thousands of clicking cameras. They nodded, pulling their hood further over their head. I weaved my way through the tables until I found an empty booth for this person to sit in while I attempted to shoo off the people with the cameras.

"Please could you all step outside... It's disturbing the other customers." I stated, looking around at the mildly perturbed people who were trying to enjoy a coffee. The photographers all protested but complied as I threatened to phone the police as they were causing civil unrest. I sighed as I closed the wooden door after them, brushing my hands on my apron and producing my notebook so that I could continue taking orders.

I went over to the newest table to ask for the person's order and much to my surprise sat one of my biggest idols. David Bowie. He looked stressed yet managed to maintain his elegance as he ran his thin fingers through his spectacularly orange hair. "What can I get you?" I managed to squeak whilst still trying not to completely lose my composure. He looked up from his newspaper at me, smiled and then closed the sheets of the paper.

"I'll have a black coffee please." He replied, rummaging in a bag for his wallet. I jotted down the order and told him where the sugar and milk were should he want them.

"That'll be £1.70 please," I replied, searching for the change bag wrapped around my waist somewhere. He handed me the coins and then proceeded to bury his head in the paper again. I heard a 'thank you' as I walked over to the bar to make said coffee.

My colleague, Emma, gaped at me from across the counter as I smiled to myself. She slid next to me, leaning in close to my ear. "So! Who was that and why are you so happy? It's just a black coffee..." She whispered, jabbing me in the side. I shook my head, brushing off the comment whilst putting the coffee, alongside a spoon and a few sugars onto a saucer and then my serving tray. She sighed at me as I fixed my hair and apron and proceeded to serve the coffee.

I arrived at the table, setting the cup and saucer on the table in front of him. "Thank you," he began, searching my apron for my nametag. I chuckled, knowing I had taken it off because my boss had spelt my name wrong.

"Y/N," I responded, holding out my hand for a handshake. He smiled and shook my hand in response.

"David. David Bowie." He replied, sighing slightly. I only smiled reassuringly, making him feel a little more comfortable.

David Bowie x Y/N imaginesWhere stories live. Discover now