Fireman Sam x Reader Oneshots (REQUESTS ARE OPEN!)

Norman x Kid Reader

(a little request for a norman x kid reader, i decided to expand upon it)

"Norman, for the last time, this is a bad idea!!" You were Y/N L/N, an 8 year old kid from Pontypandy, Wales. And, oh boy, was it crazy. There were fires every day, people were always getting into emergencies, and most of the adults were incompetent. And you loved it. But right now, you weren't loving it. Norman Price, the 9 year old troublemaker and certified arsonist of the town, was trying to start a fire with two stones. You were out camping with the rest of the Pontypandy Pioneers, and Trevor was off telling Sarah and James something unimportant, you really didn't care.

"Oh, it won't be that bad, Y/N!!" Norman said, not looking up from his task at hand. He was furiously rubbing the stones together, as hard as he possibly could.

"No Norman, it will be bad," you told him, trying to pull the stones away from his grubby little hands, "you'll start a fire!!!"

"That's the point!" Norman pulled the stones back, causing you to slightly stumble forward.

"I mean you'll set the whole forest on fire!" you yelled back at him, "you're going to kill all of us and you don't even care!"

"I DO CARE!!!!" Norman shouted, getting right up in your face. Ugh, he was gross. He smelled like boogers, and his dumb ginger hair was all over the place, and his stupid classes framed his... beautiful eyes... they were green, like a leaf. You had never realised that they were green, you had always thought they were brown. Most people around Pontypandy had brown eyes, and a few had blue eyes. Dilys, his mum, had brown eyes, so you had assumed that he had the same.

You felt your face flush. Your eyes were locked to his.

"You clearly don't," you finally managed to say, slightly stumbling over your words, "you'd LIKE it if the whole town died, wouldn't you? You would like it if we all burned to death."

"No... I- I wouldn't..." Norman stuttered, his face softening slightly, "I just... no one understands."

"Yeah, no one understands why you're constantly trying to commit arson," you replied, crossing your arms, "it's really weird."

"It's the only way to get attention!" he finally blurted out, "my mum hardly even talks to me, she's always fawning over Trevor or making fun of Bella or doing whatever the heck she does!!"

You rolled your eyes. His mum was ALWAYS yelling at her one and only son. She clearly paid a lot of attention to him.

"Well, for a neglectful parent, she sure does seem to pay a lot of attention to you," you smirked. There was absolutely no way that he could top that.

"That's whenever she acknowledges my existence," Norman sighs, "she only talks at me to yell at me."

"Oh riiiight..."

"No, I'm serious Y/N! And plus, you're the one that asked why I'm always starting fires!!!"

"I DID NOT ask!!!" you shouted back at him.

Norman bristled, "yes you did."

"No I didn't!!"

"Yes you did."

"No!!!! I did NOT!!"

"Yes. You. Did."

"Liar liar, pants on fire!!"

"Shut up, you did."

"NO!!!" You tried to throw a punch at him, but he grabbed your arm. You were in shock, because it was so quickly and efficiently that an adult could do it with years of training.

"You did. You didn't say it, but you were thinking it."

You blushed again, "I was not." You had been thinking that, but you would never admit that in front of Norman Price. Never.

"You did," Norman said, letting go of your arm, "I can always tell what people are thinking. I can always tell that they're thinking, 'look at that ugly little boy, always starting fires. He's a right menace, he is. Shouldn't even be around. What a horrid little brat.' That's what they think of me, Y/N, that's what they think..." His voice cracked once towards the end, but other than that he remained steady and firm, like a soldier that had been through years of war, desensitised by all of the fighting and death.

"Norman, they- they don't think that... They don't..."

"Even Sam thinks that," he sniffled, tears forming in his eyes, "even my own Mam thinks that I'm horrible. Everyone hates me. Even you."

"I- I don't hate you," you said, now starting to cry yourself, "please, I don't hate you... I- I love you..." You had never said those words to anyone before, aside from your mother and father. It was all of a sudden, and even you were surprised.

"I know you're lying," Norman said, turning away. You tried to place a hand on his shoulder, but he pushed you away, and started to walk away from the area, away from everyone else, away from the campsite, away from everything.

"Where are you going?!" you called out, rushing behind him, "stop, Norman!"

"I'm going away, where no one knows who I am," he replied, not turning back, "that way I can start anew."

"But Norman- "

"Y/N, just stop," Norman halted dead in his tracks and turned to face you, his face eerily still and drained of all emotion, "just STOP trying to make me feel better. STOP having sympathy for me. I don't want anybody's sympathy. I want somebody's LOVE. And you clearly can't give me that. You were my last hope, and for a moment, I thought... I thought you might have given me it, but I guess you can't. Goodbye."

And with that, he turned and walked away.

You watched him go through the trees, through the forest, and into the unknown.

You sat down on a nearby rock, trying to process what happened. What did all of that just mean? That he loved you? You weren't quite sure, but it had sure sounded like it.

But now that would never be.

You buried your face in your hands, and burst into tears. You cried for what felt like forever, about everything and everyone. You cried for Norman, you cried for yourself, you cried for both of you. You couldn't stop. Why hadn't you realised it when he had? It had taken you so long to love him that by the time you admitted it, it was already too late. And you couldn't go back and change it now, you never could.

25 years later...

You were older and worn, living at the edge of town. You had a nice little house, a few cats, and that was all. You never needed anything, except for Norman. Every day you would stand out, waiting for him, looking for him, hoping that he would maybe show up one day. 

No one had bothered to look for him. Even his mum had said "good riddance" when he didn't come home for dinner that night. Everyone just quickly moved on without a second thought, and it made you angry, but also guilty. For you had once been like them, always annoyed with Norman, despising him, all of that. But now, you saw through that facade that he had put on. He was just a lost little boy, with no one to confide in. Fires were the only thing he could really channel everything into. It was the only thing that ever seemed to bring him happiness.

One evening, as you were sweeping off your porch, you saw a figure in the distance. A long time ago, you had decided to live on the edge of town, so no one really came by to visit you except your sister every few years. But this figure was walking directly towards your house.

Your breath stopped when you saw the ginger hair.

"Norman?"

"Y/N."

You practically jumped off of the porch and into his arms. He held you close and kissed you.

"Where were you?" you finally asked, tears streaming down your face.

"Oh, it's a long story..."