Classic Rock Imagines And One Shots

Geezer Butler #1 (Black Sabbath)

Requested by sweet_FA who is honestly an awesome person and runs a fan account on instagram, so go follow her. I think it's @/mod.martian

Also, last request for a while, then I have some stuff of my own to write.

   You stumbled along the sidewalk, speed-walking while glancing at your watch every few seconds. You clenched the folder you were carrying into your chest, careful not to let any fall out. However, even the most careful measures couldn't prevent what happened next.

   You collided with a total stranger, headfirst, and flew flat on your butt. Ignoring the pain you instantly felt from the cold, hard sidewalk, you began to apologize.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry,"

Papers flew everyone from your folder and you bent down to pick them up from all over the sidewalk. It seemed to take you forever, even if the wind wasn't blowing them away and you had a total stranger helping you.

   "It's okay," He said in reply, bending down to get the last piece of paper as you mentally scolded yourself for being so clumsy and careless.

   This all would have never happened if you hadn't slept through your alarm, and if you hadn't been rushing down the sidewalk, and if you hadn't been late to work. Yet, here you were, in a situation that you despised, all because of being late.

   You grabbed the papers from him and stuffed them in your folder. As you got up from the ground and your eyes met with his, he stared at you for quite a while, to the point where you felt just a little uncomfortable.

   "Uh, thank you," You stuttered, being a little taken-aback. "For helping me pick this up. And sorry again."

   "No worries," He said. "It's not everyday I run into a beautiful girl."

   You laughed awkwardly. Is he trying to flirt with me? You thought but soon shook off the idea and remembered that you had to get to work. Especially since you were already late.

   "Shit," You mumbled to yourself while remembering. "Listen," You said. "Thanks again, but I really have to go."

   You started to walk off before the man ran and caught up with you, making you really confused. "Do you want to come see my band play?" He asked. "I'm on my way to the club we're playing at now."

   "Uh," You were unsure how to respond. "I really have to go. I'm sorry."

   "Where are you going?" He questioned, disregarding the fact that you were in a hurry.

   "Work," You answered, smiling even though you were becoming annoyed. "And I'm already late, so I really have to go." You emphasizes the word 'really'.

   "Well, then don't go," He said, catching you off-guard and making you stop walking.

   "Excuse me?" You asked and looked back at him, weirdly.

   "If you're already late, then don't go," The man spoke simply. "How late are you anyways?"

   You looked at your watch, seeing that there was no way you'd make it without getting yelled at by your boss. You sighed, realizing that the mystery man was right. You probably just shouldn't go at all.

   "About thirty minutes," You answered and put your arm back down by your side. "I'm not gonna make it." You admitted.

   "So your free then?"

   "Yeah, I'm free,"

   "Great, then you can come and see my band play," He smiled and you laughed.

  "I don't know," You said.

   "What do you mean?" He interrogated. "You have nothing to do, so why not come see us play? I'm the bass player by the way."

   "Interesting," You laughed and rolled your eyes playfully. "And I just met you, that's why! How do I know you're not some serial killer trying to lure me into a trap?"

   "Do I look like a serial killer?"

   "Well, I don't know, the sideburns and mustache kind of make you look like it," You joked, causing him to snicker.

   "Fine," He admitted. "I'll tell you all about me."

   "Okay," You said and crossed your arms, knowing that this most likely wouldn't change your mind.

   "My name is Geezer Butler-" You interrupted immediately.

   "Geezer?" You raised an eyebrow. "That's quite the interesting name."

   "My real name is Terence," The man said. "Geezer's a nickname."

   "Alright,"

   "Anyways, I'm from Birmingham. But now, I live in London and play clubs with my band, Black Sabbath, to earn money. Is that enough information for you?" Geezer explained.

   "It's enough for right now," You said. "In the future; that's another story."

   "There's going to be a future?" He asked.

   "If your band plays well," You smiled and so did he, realizing that you had accepted his offer to see his band play.

   "Follow me then," He said, leading the way as you walked right beside him. 

   Turns out, Geezer wasn't a serial killer, and he really did play bass for a band called Black Sabbath. They might have not played the best that day, but they certainly played well enough to make you get Geezer's phone number. And to keep seeing him after that, of course.

A/n: Can't decide who I want to write about next. I have a couple ideas, but not sure which one to do first. I might write one about Damon Albarn because I'm so obsessed with Blur right now. Okay, thanks for reading. -Liz :)