David Bowie X Y/n - Tumblr Posts

David Bowie: Sun Rays to Rainy Days

Imagine not liking David Bowie, and running into him during your stay in New York:

David Bowie, an amazing musician and actor, but also my worst enemy.

Why? Let's just say he said some not so flattering things about me to the press and wrote a not so flattering song that criticized pretty much my entire life. We haven't even met in real life, so I'm not sure where he gets off on the idea that anything he says about me holds meaning or truth.

I just really want to ask him what prompted him to write and say such cruel things about me, but I'm getting ahead of myself. My name is Y/N L/N, and I'm an American musician, my genres include hard rock, punk, alternative rock, and art rock; I would say I'm a fairly famous musician in the US and across Europe.

———————

The sky was unrealistically blue this early New York morning, like God had woken up and decided that only the bluest of blue would do today.

Most people enjoy blue skies, but being raised in California makes you either adore or detest them with an undying passion. I personally love rainy weather, so this day is already starting off on the wrong foot.

Checking the clock I sigh in wariness, already feeling tired even though I just woke up. I've been feeling anxious every time I wake up, this only started earlier this year due to the fact that a certain idol of mine has been voicing their negative opinion on me.

I'd normally brush it off and say 'fuck them', but this is David Bowie we're talking about. I love his music, I love his story, most importantly how he went through so many hardships yet still pushed forward.

Now I just regret ever thinking any of this was a good idea, sure all the money is nice, but all my relationships fell through. They started expecting me to pay for everything, wanting me to take them on expensive vacations and get them expensive gifts; now my idol feels the need to hate me as well? Just great.

I'm shook from my thoughts by the stern but smooth voice of my manager. He's a nice man, kind of reminds me of my father in his overall outward aura of professionalism, but a sharp streak of eccentricity shows when you really get to know him.

"Y/N, you've got an interview at 5, that should give you a couple of hours to wander around. Please keep your disguise on this time, I don't need a repeat of London." My manager exclaims with a humorous smile, my face burning in embarrassment at the memory of London. I had been wandering the streets and stupidly decided that it was late enough that no one would be able to recognize me, also being naive and believing I wasn't famous enough to be recognized yet ... Oh how wrong I was. The crowd that formed filled up the streets, I was newly famous, so I didn't expect anyone to recognize me, but the world felt the need to prove me wrong.

"No need to worry, I learned my lesson." I smile sheepishly, he softly pats my shoulder before leaving my hotel room.

Glancing in the mirror I swiftly start fixing my hair and checking my outfit, my mind wandering to my plans. I'm meeting an interviewer today, he's supposed to be a bit of an aggressive one, a little rude from what I've seen, and no questions are out of bounds.

To say I'm a little nervous is an understatement, this is the first interview I've accepted in my 3 years of stardom, so I'm sure he'll be extra aggressive in order to get as many details as possible. I just hope he doesn't bring up the conflict with Bowie, because I really don't have a reason as to how that even started.

———————

My day hasn't actually been that bad, no one has recognized me, so I just got to spend the day as a normal person. I moseyed along the sidewalks, just taking in the hectic environment that is New York. I've been walking around for quite a bit now, stopping in some stores and looking for interesting books to read in my off-time.

I've just bought a sketchbook and some pens when I notice some people that set me on edge. They're about 10 feet away from me, and they're giving me the "is that who I think it is" look. I gulp stiffly as a nervous chill passes down my spine, quickly thanking the cashier as I grab my things and stumble out of the store.

Looking back I can see them follow me, one of them shouting out to me.

"Are you Y/N L/N?" My throat tightens up, I look around frantically, and my fears seem to be coming true. The people on the crowded sidewalks immediately turn their heads at hearing my name. I can see some look for a little, clearly being confused before seeing through my disguise and noticing that it is me.

People start rushing forward, holding out things and excitedly asking for an autograph, something that I usually oblige to, but I am currently in a New York street with no security and no cellphone.

I'm being surrounded, some people are grabbing my shoulders, some pulling on the sleeves of my jacket in the hopes of gaining my attention. All it does is make me frightened, the London event gave me a permanent fear of crowds. I can feel myself start to hyperventilate, all the shouts are turning into one sound, it's so loud yet so quiet at the same time.

My mind is so distorted that I don't even notice I've been running, shoving my way out and being dreadfully aware of how they chase me. Camera flashes are coming from every direction, as are new people fanatically asking for an autograph or a picture; it's all so scary. Why do these people chase me? Why do they swarm around me to get some ink lines on a piece of paper? Why?

I turn a corner in hopes of slickly escaping, but suddenly find myself on the floor, having run into a rather solid chest. I exclaim an apology as I messily stand up, trying to make a run for it, but the person already has a hold on my arms to stop my escape.

"Hold on darling, what are you running from?" I recognize that voice, I look up and want to gasp in both surprise and fear, but the reappearance of the crowd stops me.

"That." I state, staring at the crowd and beginning to hyperventilate again, but I'm stopped when I find myself being swiftly dragged away. I have a hard time keeping up, he is about 5 inches taller than me after all, so he's like one step to every two of mine.

I don't know where he's taking me at first, but when I see the awaiting limo I find myself rushing forward in a burst of speed; dragging him next to me.

He does slap my hand away from the door before opening it and ushering me in before entering.

"Hello John, can you get us out of here." His accented tone is stressed, but still maintains an air of control. I used to love that voice, but now it makes me uncomfortable being so close to him and having to hear him in real life.

I move away from him, pushing myself up against the opposite door and looking at anything but him. The crowd was about 3 yards away when the limo screeched forward, my body finally releasing some of its rigidity as I see them disappear the longer we drive.

I close my eyes, leaning back in my seat as the exhaustion sweeps through me. I rest my hand against my forehead in frustration, in the next hour, all of New York will know I was spotted here and come looking for me. How am I supposed to get in contact with my manager, I don't have a cell, and I can't go asking strangers to borrow theirs.

My mind wants to continue its frustrated tirade, but I am startled out of it by a large hand softly tapping my shoulder. I look over and see a curious David Bowie, offering me a sheepish smile at having distracted me.

"Allo luv." His lovely voice politely rings through the car, I almost want to ask him if he'll write a song with me, but then the harsh reality of everything he's said smacks me in the face.

"Don't call me that." I didn't snap, but my voice was stern, letting him know that this is going to be a tense conversation. His smile falters, clearly not used to being met with such disdain.

"Well... What did you do to get that crowd chasing you?" He brushes off our tense beginning, clearly still curious as to why I was being chased. I glance into his calming eyes and realize he doesn't recognize me, or at least that's what I'm assuming. If he did recognize me, I doubt he would've ushered me into his limo so quickly.

"I don't think we've been formally introduced. My name is Y/N L/N." He raises his eyebrows in surprise at my sudden words, but his face is now cautious, looking at me as though I've just lied straight to his face. Sighing in irritation I pull off my gray fedora and sunglasses before gently removing my wig to show my short hair. He sits back in shock, facing away from me as his eyes fall to his hands.

"... Oh." The car falls back into silence, he clearly doesn't know how to respond. I roll my eyes as I shove the wig into my handbag, hooking the glasses to my shirt before replacing the hat back upon my head. I feel slightly flustered at being saved by him, I should at least thank him, but I think that can wait until I get out of the car.

"...Um. Where would you like me to go, sir?" David looks startled from his haze, quickly glancing to me before back to his driver. He's about to speak when a loud noise startles everyone in the car, closely followed by the sharp hits of water on the windshield. I immediately look out the window, being met with the unexpected view of storm clouds completely filling the once blue sky. I want to smile, I love rain and thunder, but I have no idea what my address is, and I am certainly not dressed for the rain.

"What? Don't like rain Mrs.L/N?" David's irritatingly attractive voice grabs my attention. I look over to him before back to the rain.

"No.. I actually love the rain, and it's Miss, not Mrs." I respond, watching as the rain drops drizzle down the windows. The people on the streets hurriedly running for cover, seemingly as surprised by the rain as I am.

"Drop me off on that street corner, I'll find my way home from there." I say, not looking at David or the driver.

"What do you mean you'll find your way home? Don't you know your address?" David's voice is clearly distressed at the thought of just dropping me off on the corner of a random street. It's my turn to sheepishly smile, scratching the back of my head as I shake my head 'no'. The driver pulls the car over, coming to halt on a quiet street.

I reach my hand over to the handle, but I'm interrupted by David grabbing arm, his grasp gently but firm. His looks so concerned that I almost pity him.

"Don't go, at least let me drop you off at a restaurant or something... " His sentence drops off at the end, clearly hoping I'll give in, but I am in no mood to deal with any of this today. I pull myself from his grasp, opening the door and stepping out; the cold rain sends a refreshing chill down my spine. I turn away, readjusting my hat and bag, much too busy to notice David getting out after me.

"It's much too cold for you out here darling. Let me drop you somewhere safer than this at least." I can tell he's getting desperate at this point, but it really only makes me angry. How dare he say these things to me after bad mouthing me.

"How dare you act like you care about me." My words are unexpected to both of us, I didn't mean to speak my thoughts, but I guess I can't stop now. I turn around and face him, having to look up at his face due to the unfair height difference.

"You say the most awful things about me to the press, you make fun of my music, then you make fun of my life choices? Now you stand here acting all worried about my well-being?" My voice is equally as distressed as his expression, he clearly wasn't expecting my aggressive response. I take a step forward into his personal space, poking my pointer finger harshly against his chest as I glare into his eyes.

"You were one of the people I looked up to. We had never even met when I randomly heard you say I was some whore who somehow worked her way up to the top." My words are slurring, and my eyes are burning a bit. I don't know why I'm getting so emotional, maybe it's because I was so heartbroken at hearing him kick dirt on my name, or maybe it's because I stupidly gave his opinion a place in my mind.

I didn't even notice that my tears had escaped my eyes and were carving paths down my face until he brought his hands up to cup my jaw. His touch was so gentle as he wiped away my tears, so excessively tender I started to think I was made of thin glass that could be snapped in half.

"I was scared... I was scared, okay? And I know that's not an excuse, and I am sorry." His tone feels rushed yet hesitant, like he doesn't want me to even think about running off. I look straight into his eyes, finally seeing the guilt coursing through them in waves.

"Scared? Of what?" I'm so confused, why would he ever be scared of me? I was only barely a celebrity when he said those remarks, I was no threat.

"You... God, I was scared of you Y/N. You and your lovely young face, with your beautiful voice." He smiles, almost as though finally coming to a realization. I want to speak, but he continues.

"You came out of nowhere and took the world for a spin, I know you don't think you're very famous, but the entire world knows your name darling. You did that in such a small amount of time, I couldn't help but feel I would be forgotten. I know that it is a selfish thing to do, but I promise I'll make it right." I still feel unsure,

"How can I ever trust you, I admired you and you shoved that in my face." I back up and away from him, my arms wrapping around my body in search of both comfort and warmth.

"Well, I guess you'll only know if you give me the chance." His expression is so vulnerable and honest, his hair falling slightly into his face as he tilts his head down towards mine.

"Please, darling... Come with me, let me show you I'm not the awful prick you think I am." His surprisingly warm hands enclose around mine, their warmth causing the rest of my body to shiver, finally acknowledging the fact that we've been letting the rain drench our bodies for about 7 minutes now.

All I can do is nod my head as he brings an arm around my shoulders, quickly leading me back to the awaiting car. Helping me first before following after. I shiver weakly, David notices and has our driver turn the heat up, but we both know it'll do very little.

"Oh I'm sorry darling, let me take you back to mine and we'll get you a fresh change of clothes." I don't know why I'm suddenly so quiet, but all I can really do in response is nod my head. I take my wet hat off, tossing it down near my feet before once again wrapping my arms around myself.

———————

David Bowie's POV:

Oh, she looks so small all hunched over and wrapped in herself. I still feel guilty about what I'd said about her, I had no right making any of those claims, it was disgustingly immature what I did. All I know is that I need to make it up to her.

I must admit that I didn't expect to meet her today, I didn't even know she lived in New York.

"Do you live here Y/N? Maybe we could go to yours instead if you prefer?"

"No, I've been in a hotel, only got here 2 days ago and never made the effort to remember it's name." Ah, well, that's good to know. Looking back over to her I see her still shivering, clearly the heater is doing nothing for her. I shrug off my wet coat and shove it to the side before shifting closer to her and wrapping her up in my arms. Her body stiffens at the contact, but I can tell my body warmth is attractive to her from the way she pushes into me.

"Is this alright, love?" I don't know why I keep calling her these pet names, maybe it's because I like making her flustered. I feel her nod her head 'yes', I smile as I rest my head lightly atop hers. We stay like that until we stop in front of my hotel.

Grabbing my jacket I quickly wrap it around her small form, she opens her mouth to protest, but I silence her with my stern gaze. I swipe her hat from her hands and carefully place it atop her head, giving her a gentle smile before hopping out of the car helping her out.

We rush through the rain, laughing as we go, I hold the door open and usher her inside. We look so messy and out of place in this fancy hotel, but I ignore the looks we get, instead opting to gaze adoringly at this spit-fire of a woman I have on my arm. As we get in the elevator and wait for my floor she starts to shrug off my coat, but I quickly grab it and pull it back onto her shoulders.

"Don't, it looks better on you anyways." She drops her head down as she blushes, I can't believe I somehow got her to go from hating me to blushing at my compliments, all I know is that I want to compliment and make her blush for the rest of my life.

I step back from her as the elevator doors open, resting my hand on Y/N's back as I walk her in the direction of my room. The poor girl is still shivering, I hope she finds my clothes to be to her liking.

———————

Y/N's POV:

I'm still trying to wrap my head around how this man, this man who made me feel like absolute shit, now offers me his jacket and compliments that make my face blush a deep rose. I hope this is real, I don't think I can go back to hating him after all of this.

I'm dragged out of my thoughts by him gently pulling me into his room. Carefully slipping off the thick wet coat and hanging it up before turning back to me.

"Alright luv, I'll take you to my room and you can pick the clothes." His voice, God, his voice. I hate to admit it, but hearing his accent in-person just makes him even more attractive. All I can offer him is a gentle nod, his lips turning up into a sweet smile and he grabs my hand, leading me to his room. Opening the closet I see a wide array of clothes, ranging from incredibly posh to walk-out-of-bed to get a glass of milk clothes, I can't help but blush at the thought of him just lazily getting out of bed in the middle of the night for a midnight snack.

"What are you blushing at?" His tone is teasing as he gives me a humorous grin, his shoulder playfully bumping against my own. I can only shake my head in embarrassment as I glance away from him and back to the wardrobe.

"Oh, I can't pick... You choose." I suddenly state, backing up and softly pushing him forward. He seems generally surprised by what I say, but shakes it off as he now thinks about his new task. He rests against the wall and looks at me for a minute or so, just running his eyes across me in an oddly calculating way. He sharply turns away from me and starts rifling through his closet, searching for the perfect clothes, but suddenly stops and turns back to me.

"Don't you have an interview today?" My eyes widened in shock, how could I have forgotten. I glance towards the clock on his bedside table, my interview is in 30 minutes.

"It's in 30 minutes! What am I supposed to do?" I want to cry, this interview is very important publicity for my upcoming album. My eyes burn with tears of frustration, but I find myself distracted by the warm embrace of David, it's oddly comforting.

"Now don't you worry about the clothes, I'll pick something out while you go call your manager and get the address for your interview." He states, pulling back and looking at me reassuringly.

"What do you mean? My manager will never let me go on unless everything is perfect." I don't mean to argue, but I know my manager is a perfectionist, and will surely yell my ear off for putting myself in this position.

"Darling, either you go with what you have, or you miss the interview." I open my mouth in a weak attempt to argue, but I stop, knowing he's right. I nod my head and rush to the phone, hoping David chooses those clothes quickly.

I messily dial up my manager, and as soon as they pick up, I can sense their rush of concern.

"Honey where have you been? Your interview is in less than 30 minutes!" His usually calm tone is higher as he clearly has been worried about my whereabouts.

"I know I know, and I'm so sorry I didn't call sooner. I just... I was out, and people recognized m-" I get cut off before I can finish my sentence.

"They what! Did you take off your disguise?" He sounds so worried, I feel really guilty at making him feel this way, but I would rather I tell him than have him find out via the news.

"No, people saw through it!"

"Well, are you okay? I know how you get in crowds, did you make it out alright?" The worry and concern emanating through his voice lets me know he really wants to give me a hug, and he probably needs one too. I remember the fear and concern when he had to get me out of that London crowd, gosh he was more scared than I was.

"I'm surprisingly alright, but that's really only because I got saved." I say quietly, I leave out the fact that David Bowie saved me because I don't know how my manager will react. He was there with me when David said I was a whore to the press, so I'm not sure that he'll be as quick to forgive him as I was.

"Saved? By who?" His voice suddenly goes from concern to curiosity, oh I hope he doesn't scream when I bring David with me.

"I'll introduce you both at the interview... On that note, can you tell me the address, I promise I'll be there on time."

"Alright Y/N, just please stop giving me heart attacks." This last sentence is humorous, yet completely serious at the same time. I can hear the sincerity, and I hope that I never put him through this again.

"I promise nothing." I reply sassily, writing down the address he tells me. I turn and hurriedly walk back to David's room, accidentally running into him and falling back to the floor. I glance up in surprise as he does the same to me, I can't help but be taken back to the same scenario that happened earlier today.

"I think we've been here before darling." David laughs as I smile humorously at the situation. He offers his hand and pulls me up with a little too much strength, resulting in me falling against his chest. I can feel myself blush furiously as I go to push myself away from him, but find myself trapped by his arms encircling my waist.

He holds me there for a few moments before gently releasing me and motioning to the clothes on his bed. I don't even spare them a glance as I grab them and walk into the bathroom, changing swiftly before looking at myself in the mirror. I was in one of his blue dress shirts with some fancy brown shoes, and some straight legged ivory pants. Everything is big on me, and I feel overdressed, I usually don't care how I look, and dress in a t-shirt, jeans; but David really has me dressing up.

I hesitantly open the bathroom door with my eyes on the floor, hearing David hurriedly stand from his spot on the bed. We stand in silence for about a minute, and I go to shy away from him, but he steps forward and holds me in place.

"I look such a mess don't I? I-" I criticize my appearance, but he gently cuts me off.

"I like seeing you in my clothes." His voice is just above a whisper, and he sounds so attractively honest that I glance up from my shoes and to his face. I immediately notice that we are only a few inches away from one another, and I can't help but look away from him.

I turn back to say something when his hand suddenly reaches up to cup my face, instantly grabbing my attention. I look at him, noticing how adoringly he gazes into my eyes, and I can't help but close my eyes. His lips gently graze my own, he seems to hold back meeting me fully, assumingly afraid of how I react. To stop his assumptions I lean forward and meet his retreating form, himself immediately responding.

We pull back, and I shyly look to the side, seeing him smile in my peripheral vision as he leans down and softly kisses my cheek. My blush comes back with a vengeance, and I can hear him chuckle at the way I respond to him. We pull apart slightly, he offers me a warm smile before checking the time.

"Oh, we better get going, love. We have about 10 minutes to get there, and it's a 5 minute drive." I nod my head, allowing him to hold my hand as we walk out of his room.

———————

Arriving at the interview I wait in anxiousness as David walks around the car and opens the door for me, holding my hand delicately as we walk towards the building. We suddenly stop as he looks towards me and then himself, releasing my hand as he starts to take off his coat.

I go to object, but he pays it no mind, holding it out for me, and helping slip it on. I can't help but feel so in-love at the moment, and it's funny because he's the last person I thought would be treating me like this.

"You look good, I think I want to see you in my shirts more often." His voice is so charming and natural as the cheeky sentence slips out. He said it so normally, but he knows how it leaves me speechless, a smirk appearing on his handsome features as he leads me into the building.

David Bowie: The Actress

Imagine David Bowie being interviewed, and the conversation suddenly focuses on you:

David Bowie's POV:

"So David, in the newest music video you had a lovely woman beside you. Would you mind telling us about her?" The question caught me off guard, we had previously been talking about advice for younger artists, so this was a drastic change.

I find myself tilting my head in confusion, Y/N was a well kept secret. She is beloved by all of America, yet somehow managed to stay hidden away from all of Europe; but I never thought she was so niche that the British media couldn't find any information on her.

The interviewer noticed my change in mood, deciding to reword her rather blunt question.

"I don't mean that in a rude way, we know that she is the lovely actress Y/N L/N. I was simply wondering how it was that you stumbled upon her... Over here many haven't even heard of her." She leans forward, eagerly awaiting my response.

"Of course, what would you like to know?" I don't really know what to expect, Y/N is quite the spectacular woman, and the questions are sure to be spectacular as well.

"Well... How did you two meet? Did her people contact you? Was it pure chance?" The interviewer clasps her hands together as she awaits my answer. I start thinking about how I got in contact with her, having to stifle a smirk at the memory of her manager's surprise when he learned that David Bowie wanted Y/N in his newest music video.

"I reached out to her." I state calmly as I imagine her serene voice, smiling slightly as I replay her moments of stubbornness during filming. She wasn't a rude sort of stubborn, but she stuck firm to her beliefs, and always knew how to win my approval.

"You did!?" She's clearly taken aback at hearing I specifically wanted such an 'unknown' actress starring with me. I can't help but want to sigh in annoyance, Y/N deserves much more recognition for her amazing skill. Her acting is stunning, and I learned over filming that her musical talent is just as brilliant, if not better. That reminds me, I'll have to ask her about a possible future collaboration.

"Yes... I had seen her in the film 'Poem to a Murderer,' and had subsequently written a song in admiration of her. Then when the song was chosen from my album to get a music video, I simply couldn't pass up on the chance to meet the wonderful actress herself." She was breathtaking in that film, gaining both my admiration and attention in the psychological thriller. The interviewer nods in thought, mulling my answer before opening her mouth to respond.

"Can you tell us anything about her role that caught your attention?" There's so much I could say, so much I want to say, but I don't want to spoil the amazing movie. How do I word this into a short sentence whilst still exclaiming my admiration for Y/N?

"Well, the movie itself was a beautifully written and produced piece of art in itself, disturbingly surreal in a way with the imagery they created. I don't want to spoil too much, but I can tell you that every second of that film keeps you on your toes, and Y/N's character kept me on the edge of my seat every scene she was in." I can't help but praise everything about her. She was exceptional in the film, and started me on a search to find and watch everything that she starred in.

"Ever since the music video, theories about you have been flying all through England. Any chance there might be some truth to them?" She asked the question so bluntly that I'm almost stunned. I'll never get used to interviewers being borderline rude while asking intrusive questions.

"Well it really depends on what's being said. I always have rumors circulating about me." I chuckle slightly, both in humor as well as hidden disdain at the truth of my statement. I am slightly intrigued about what she is talking about specifically, what theories have formed about me this time?

"I have sources who claim to have been on set during filming. They said you two were incredibly flirty with one another. They reckon a romantic fling occurred behind closed doors?" Her question isn't said cruelly, she genuinely seems curious; as does the audience from the looks of it. I hate these questions, why does everyone always have to spread rumors?

"Sorry to disappoint you, but there was no 'romantic fling'. Y/N was a very polite and professional person, so much so that I actually thought she didn't like me at first." I laugh through the latter part of my sentence, but I also cringe faintly at the feeling of dejection I had during that time.

"Really! She didn't like you at all?" This is becoming vaguely annoying, I tell them something, then they restate it wrong.

"That's not what I said, I said I thought she didn't like me. During the beginning of filming she was very closed off and focused, but even when the cameras were off she was professional to the point I thought she didn't like me." I explain with a sigh, remembering those moments where I shyly would try talking to her, only to be met with what I perceived as a closed off response.

"Oh, but... did she like you?"

"Luckily she did. It was funny, I remember the specific moment I realized that she didn't hate me. We were filming the fight scene, and the person I was sparring with, Jeffrey Callos, actually caught me in the jaw." I explained before she burst forward in astonishment.

"You were punched? Bet he got the sack." Her eyes are wide open as she surveys me, the crowd laughing lightly at the second half of her sentence.

"Ha ha, not quite. You see, my crew plotted this because they said I was being daft thinking she hated me. I had bet that she would stay in character and play it off, maybe even laugh. Practically everyone else bet that she might kill Jeff."

"Well! What did she do!"

"Funny enough, she nearly killed Jeff... " The audience burst out laughing at my statement, the interviewer and I were chuckling as well. I waited for everyone to settle before continuing my story.

"No no, she didn't kill him. She did run right over, fretting over me and asking if I was okay before running off IN HEELS to get me an ice pack and towel. I can't tell you the relief I felt at that moment. I was worried that she really hated me, but deep down she was incredibly caring and very sweet." I feel embarrassed in a way, describing how caring this reserved woman became when she saw me topple over from the punch.

"So... Does she know? The truth I mean?" Her question is quick to follow my explanation, so quick I don't understand it completely.

"What's that now?"

"Does she know the truth? Did she find out it was a set up?"

"Ah, yes well, it is kind of hard to miss when everyone is smirking at us as she helped me up. I had to explain the situation, and she got awfully flustered." A warm smile spreads across my face at the memory of her with a deep blush across her cheeks.

"I almost thought she would punch me as well, but she just kissed my cheek before saying she could never hate me."

"Aww." The crowd 'oohs' and 'awwws' at the story, I admit that the memory has me blushing slightly as well.

"She seems like quite the memorable lady." She smiles at me, raising her eyebrows slightly.

"Oh, she was great... I only wish I could've gotten to know her better, but her manager was getting calls for her every second of filming. She's probably much too busy to even remember me." I drop my smile slightly, I hope she remembers me, because I'll always remember her.

"I wouldn't say that David." Her response caught me off guard, what's she talking about?

"What do you mean?" My tone shows a little confusion, but I try to keep a check on my emotions.

"You know we invited you here to not only talk about this album, but also your future role in the film Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence?" She's grinning widely now, but I just want to know what she's building up to already.

"Yes... But what does that have to do with Y/N?" I squint my eyes slightly as I watch her sit up sharply.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the lovely Y/N L/N, who will be starring alongside David Bowie in Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence." The shock on my face must have been priceless as I turned and watched as Y/N gracefully walked towards us, the crowd's cheers quickly shifting into a mixture of giggles and laughter.

I stand up quickly, wanting to be polite as well as impress her. I may have neglected to tell the interviewer, but I did develop a slight attraction towards Y/N during filming.

"Hello Jonesey." Her sweet voice has me ignoring the name, a wide smile erupting across my face. She leans forward to hug me, kissing my cheek softly in greeting before shaking hands with our interviewer. I wait for her to sit before following suit, nervously glancing sideways to see her smiling at me already.

The crowd cheers for a few more moments, gradually beginning to quiet down.

"It's been a while, hasn't it, Jonesey?" I blush at the nickname, remembering when she first started calling me it. I don't even know how it started, but she first called me 'Jonesey' to make me laugh when I was filming a serious scene in the video, and laugh I did. From then on, 'Jonesey' was her go to nickname whenever she saw me.

"It's only been a few weeks, love." I grin, patting her hand gently as it rests on the armrest. Surprise gripping me as she lifts up my hand to her lips, gently kissing it before speaking.

"Too long for me." She smirks playfully to me, and I offer her a warm smile in reply before nervously glancing away.

The crowd has quieted down enough now, hopefully not noticing the intimate moment that passed between us.

"What was that? Seems like a lot more than costars catching up." Of course, the interviewer is sadly never one to miss a possible question. My mind stutters as I try to think of what to say, luckily not having to.

"I just love making Jonesey blush, surely he's told you that."

"What do you mean miss L/N?" Oh no, why do interviewers always manage to dig up embarrassing personal things. I'm usually okay with this, but being so near Y/N just has my mind fried.

"I mean, hasn't David told you of all the times I purposely just tried to make him blush during filming? I have a wonderful amount of memories where he couldn't even get a word out with how flustered he was." She giggles at the end of her sentence, lightly shoving my shoulder humorously as a blush dusts my cheeks again.

"David? You've been holding back on me?" The interviewer looks at me in a jokingly accusing way, crossing her arms as she looks at me.

"Nooooo... I've just been.. Selectively sharing?" My voice is uneven, I couldn't even form a proper sentence when she was near me. I glance to Y/N as I practically ask my sentence, waiting for her to nod in confirmation before shifting back to the interviewer a little more confident.

However, that confidence was a little damaged when the audience laughed at the interaction.

"Well, I think we know who wears the pants in the relationship. Anyways... " The interviewer continues on as I struggle to try and find my words to argue with her, but I'm quickly silenced by Y/N's gentle tug on my sleeve. She pulls me back in my seat, quietly whispering in my ears,

"You can show me who's the boss after... " Her words are delicate, no longer exuding the confidence from earlier, clearly unsure of how I'll respond.

The interviewer continues rambling, but I simply gaze deeply into her eyes, calmly kissing her hand in response before we both turn our attention back to the interviewer. But we aren't really paying attention, our minds wandering to scenarios of what might play out when this interview finishes.

David Bowie: Kid Sister

Imagine living with your older brother, David Bowie, but running away when he chooses drugs over you:

Being David Bowie's younger sister is hard enough, but having to watch him destroy his life is near impossible.

He and I have quite the age difference, he's currently 27, whilst I am only 15, but he has taken on the role of both father and big brother. When he first took me in I was 11 and he was only 23, he had wanted to stop by and surprise us with a visit after being so busy with his latest album.

It's a long story how he ended up my legal guardian, but let's just say he walked in on our mother berating me, and witnessed her slapping me across the cheek. Needless to say, he was not pleased in the slightest and demanded a reason be given as to why I was slapped. Our mother gave no answer, instead only glaring at me with an even darker hatred than before.

She took a step towards me and I don't know what came over me, but I sprinted around her and into David, crying my eyes out as I hid behind him. I remember my small hands grasping the material of his sleeves, just wanting some feeling of love and acceptance. He seemed stunned, taking a few seconds to react to this; leaning down, he handed me his keys, telling me in a soft voice to go wait in his car. I nodded and went to open the front door when our mother decided to intervene.

"Not another step young lady." I froze in place, this was the harsh tone she used when I knew I was going to be punished and tormented for the rest of the week. Usually she doesn't do more than slap me, but with tone she doesn't hesitate to bring out the belt. I was so close to the door, but the fear that burned in my chest made me want to throw up. I wanted to get away, but what would happen to me if I took another step?

No one made any move, but I knew that this might be my only chance. Taking another step I hesitantly looked over my shoulder towards my mother. She was furious, I could almost say for certain that there was a red gleam in her eyes. She starts walking towards me, but before she can reach me, David moves between us.

"Get out of the way, David." Her tone is sharp, I'm surprised when David makes no movement in response, simply settling a glare upon her.

"She's coming with me and that is final." His sentence is almost growled out, and I can tell mother is just as taken aback as I am, stepping back slightly as her facial expression morphs into one of shock. Not another word is spoken as David turns, grabbing my shoulder as he walks us out of the front door and to his car.

The ride is a blur, I can't find myself focusing on anything other than the bleary stereo and the gray skies. I only come back to reality when he pulls up in-front of a fancy hotel, handing his keys to the valet before helping me out of the car. I glanced around in surprise, he's taken us to the nice side of town, everyone is wearing their nice clothes that I would usually only wear on Sunday for church. David releases a quiet giggle at seeing my look of awe, patting my shoulder as he leads me into the hotel.

I stay silent through the process, making sure to stay directly on David's side as he gets the room key and walks us into the elevator. David leans back against the wall and watches the numbers, but I take this time to observe him; after all, I haven't seen him in quite a while. He's grown his hair out a bit, longer than the last time I saw him, and his face looked almost angry even though it was neutral. Walking to our room he sits me down on the bed, sitting himself next to me with his hands folded in his lap; he seems hesitant, but I know why.

"Just ask me already." My voice is quiet, I cast my gaze downwards as I hear David swallow heavily.

"How long has she been treating you like that?" His question is spoken carefully, almost as though worried that I might break if he didn't pick every word precisely. I feel a small smile trying to form, it's odd, having someone be so gentle with me, especially after the years I've spent with my mother.

"... Ever since dad died." I didn't want to tell him why, mainly because our father's death hurt him a lot as well, but he was already out of the house when that happened; not having to deal with our mother during the aftermath. I don't blame him, in fact, I never wanted him to know, I hate being such a burden.

"Well, no one will ever hurt you again. I promise." His tone is a stark contrast to earlier, being stern and certain; not harsh, but strong and confident. I look to the side, meeting his gaze before pushing forward and hugging him tightly. His body goes rigid, clearly being surprised, but slowly steadying as he envelopes my weak form with his arms.

_______

Ever since that day, I lived with my brother, traveled with him, helped him with his music, etc. We shared a life in a way, but he always made sure that my education came first, hiring me private tutors everywhere we went. I had so much fun, being raised by him was much different than being raised by our mother. David was kind and gentle, only really getting stern when I blatantly went against our agreed upon rules; such as that one time I snuck out of our hotel and went backstage to one of his concerts.

Oh, he was pissed, we got into a bit of a row before stomping off in opposite directions. We avoided each other for the rest of the night and the following day, only talking during a midnight snack run-in. I apologized, I knew it was dangerous to sneak out to a concert where I might be recognized and swarmed by fans. I also told him my reasoning, having not seen him for more than a couple of minutes over the last few months due to the concerts and rehearsals, exclaiming that I just wanted to see him.

David also apologized for yelling at me, he hates yelling and felt really bad, to which I made sure he knew it was alright. He promised to try and spend more time with me, taking time out of the next day for us to go get lunch and ice cream.

We had a lot of fun, but we ended the night running away from a crowd of fans. One of them had managed to grab his sleeves, resulting in him losing his coat. I laughed at first until we finally got away. I observed his hunched over body as we heaved for breath, he was much skinnier than I thought. I hadn't really been paying attention, but I can tell when someone is underweight, and he kind of reminded me of a skeleton.

That was when I started to pay more attention to him, noticing how he'd been more withdrawn recently, spending most of his time reading or in his room. I noticed that he often sniffled, I thought he had a cold, but something about it struck me as odd. I continued watching over him for the next year or so, noticing that he never lost the sniffles for long, they would usually return after a prolonged trip to the bathroom. He also stopped eating a lot, he used to love my occasional cooking and our random jaunts to restaurants, but that all suddenly stopped.

I finally said 'fuck his privacy', searching through his bags after he'd gone to sleep. I found a bag full of white powder, and I'm no idiot, this isn't fucking flour, it's cocaine. All the signs I've noticed now make sense, but that really does fuck all for me. What can I do now? I can't tell him I know, cause then he'll ask how I know. I just need to make sure he doesn't kill himself by accident.

_______

I softly knocked on David's door. He has an interview soon, yet he hasn't left his room all day. I'm really worried about him.

"What do you want!" His voice is rough and sharp, I jump slightly. He's recently taken to shouting at me whenever I do anything, and it scares the living daylights out of me; I know I shouldn't be scared of him, but it reminds me of mom. Anytime she yelled, I knew the day had gone from bad to worse.

"David... You have an interview soon, your people said it was in 15 minutes and that you should be heading out soon." My voice is higher in pitch, that only happens when I'm dreadfully aware of my surroundings. The places we stay in are nice still, but that homey vibe that used to accompany David has long gone.

The door creaks open, the room is dark, like the curtains have been pulled and all the lights smothered. His face is pale, sickly shining in the sterile lighting of the hall. The most haunting look is his eyes, they are so empty, he just stares at me with this dull look as though not even seeing me. David has been like this for a few weeks now, gradually refusing to acknowledge my presence to the point of convincing me I might not actually exist.

It hurts a lot, knowing the person you love and look up to sees you as nothing, but I still push forward.

He pushes the door open wider and walks past me, already dressed up in his suit and dragging along a cane.

"David... David!" He walked into the living room before turning to me, his eyes seemingly set ablaze.

"What." His tone is sharp with agitation, the short response making me feel uncomfortable.

"I... I was wondering...if-" My hesitant words get cut off as David glares at me.

"Hurry up and say it already!" He raises his voice, I can tell he's holding back from shouting at me.

"I just... David, I know." I don't know how else to word it, I just know that I need to confront him on his drug abuse.

"You know? Know what?" He actually seems generally confused, oh how his senses have been dulled.

"I know... I know about the drugs." The last half of my sentence is whispered, but his immediate rigidity alerts me that he heard me loud and clear. I finally look up to his face, and somehow he's become even paler; so gaunt I fear he may faint.

"H-How do you know about that?" For the first time in a while he sounds vulnerable, maybe even a little scared. There's no going back now, I have to tell him the truth and hope he sees reason.

"I looked through your bag a while ago and found it, please don't be mad!" There was a lilt in my voice, but it wasn't pleasant to hear, it more emphasized my worry at how this situation could unfold, and the next movements would only solidify that worry.

"How dare you." It had been silent for about a minute, so his stern toned sentence caught me slightly off guard.

"What?"

"Don't bring up matters that are none of your business!" Talking to him is like riding a roller coaster, one second he responds calmly, the next he's shouting your ear off. I actually stumble backwards, somewhat in shock due to the pure aggression and loathing he conveyed through his tone. The shout resonated in my head for a few moments before I forced myself to talk, my courage beginning to run thin.

"But David! Surely you can see that you're addicted-" My voice is soaked with concern, I love him so much, and this self-destructive behavior of his is hurting me as well. I'm about to continue but he steps forward and roughly shoves me back against the hotel wall.

"I'm not addicted! It is just a hobby!" The unbridled rage flows through his eyes, I see him raising his hand, but the rest is unknown because I shut my eyes tightly and turned away. I held my breath for a few seconds, awaiting the onslaught of abuse, but after being met with none I decided to maybe open my eyes.

The view I'm met with is pitiful almost, David is simply staring at me in shock, my arms still up to block any hits. I begin to breathe again, slowly lowering my arms as I watch his eyes well with tears.

"Y/.. Y/N, why did you do that?" I stare at him wearily, I thought he was going to hit me, I don't trust him anymore.

"You know why." I state solemnly, my voice but a whisper in the quiet hall.

"I would never!" He shouts back defensively, causing me to flinch away again.

He backs up frantically, he's about to say something before someone starts slamming on the door, hurriedly stating a message.

"Mr. Jones, your interview is in 5 minutes! We need to leave sir!" David stills for a moment before turning away. He straightens his suit and smooths his hair before grabbing his cane and walking to the door. As he's reaching for the handle he turns back to me, that same empty look having embodied him again.

"We'll talk about this when I get back." He's so cold, that's the coldest he's ever spoken to me, and I don't think I can take it anymore. Nodding my head, David leaves without another glance, a heavy feeling settling in my chest as I can feel the tears streaming down my face. I wipe them away quickly, the torn sleeve of my shirt dragging across my skin.

I can't stay here anymore, the way he spoke, what he did, how he left... He's chosen, and he didn't pick me. I should leave now, while he's gone. I stumble to my room, my legs apparently being a little wobbly after that interaction.

I pull out my backpack, shoving in clothes as well as my pen and notebook, packing my tooth brush/paste, combs, and moisturizer. I have to pack light, if the crew sees me heading out with a suitcase they will surely stop me from leaving, and I don't need David knowing that I was trying to run away... I worry to think what he would do to me.

I tear off my shirt and jeans and shove on a clean pair, wrapping my large jacket around my shivering frame, slipping on some insulated sweatpants as well. What can I say, it's December in New York City, I'm going to be cold as it is, no need to be freezing. I let my hair down to block my face, shoving on my boots before taking one last glance around.

Taking in my surroundings, I close my eyes and say a silent goodbye to David before grabbing my belongings and leaving.