Slashers x reader one-shots {Book 1}

Norman Bates x Male! reader <3

Requested by: DramaticHorrorFan 

This is cute fluff ^^ I promise. And sorry :( I had to quickly post so that I can get a chapter out.

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   The sound of an incoherent ring bashed through my ears, and rattled my head, resulting in me letting out a painful yell. The back of my head throbbed for the cause of a hard fist. I growled, lifting my stone-hard eyes to connect with slickly sharp ones.

"You're such a pussy! You can't even take one hit! Just like that queer you hang around with!" the man, who assaulted me, and Norman, had remarked harshly at my pain. And started to laugh halfheartedly.

I growled and lunged forward, surprising him, and ending his hyena-like laughter. My calloused hands wrapped around his neck, I swung my other hand around and did the same. 

I squeezed hard and smiled when he started to cry.

"Call me pussy, hit me, fucking torture me. But if I ever hear you speak of Norman in that way, I'll lodge a pole up your ass and out your throat. You understand me?"

The man, who minutes ago was spitting insults at me with a boastful look, was now sobbing like a child.

I withdrew my hands and gave him a glare, sending him off, scared like a paranoid mutt. Oblivious to his surroundings, expecting me to jump out any minute. That's what I liked.

I held my victory with a bruised hand, and returned walking the path to the hotel. I was only protecting Norman for what he might see if I fought the man in the parking lot. 

After a few minutes of walking, contemplating on what to cook for dinner, and daydreaming about Norman; who I really want to confess to. I soon arrived.

Oh, so you thought me and him were already a couple? Man, that would be awesome. But that's not true.

Men aren't supposed to love each other, that's what I was taught ever since I was a baby. My mom was extremely strict when it came to gay people, I distinctly remember her covering my eyes when a gay passed by. But why? Why did she do that?

Well, she thought that being gay was a disease. Before you all call her crazy, there's a reason she thinks this way.

I had a sister, yes, had.

She was a lesbian, you could tell by her energy. My mom was fine with it, she even tried to get my sister some girls! But that all changed when she got cancer...I remember the fear in my eyes and the tremble in my hands when I saw her hair fall out.

We all thought she would fight through it, because she was resilient and tough. But I guess she reached her breaking point. She died a few months after her visit from the hospital.

I somewhat understand my mom, she wanted something to blame on instead of accepting her death. So she blamed the sexuality. 

I felt horrible, down right disgusting when I found out I liked guys. I guess I used the same kind of coping skill my mom used. Blaming.

But now I embrace the fact that I am gay. And that I have a crush on Norman.

I shook my head to get rid of my foul memories.

I think that's enough with the sad stuff, I need to light up a bit. This is the day I will confess! I should be happy and excited.

But I'm nervous as shit. After-all, he might not be gay.

I soon realized I was standing in front of the master bedroom when I snapped out of my train of thought. I sucked in a deep and cold breath before I entered.

I was hit by a smell of oranges and cleaning products, I looked around the room and saw that Norman made everything spotless. Typical him.

"Norman, I'm home," I called and entered fully before closing the door.

I was only answered by a trail of sobs before I knew something was wrong with the poor man. I wiped a line of blood from under my nose and followed the saddening sobs. 

It even made me want to cry.

I was led to the bathroom before warning bells rang in my head, what if he? No...he's not a cutter. Is he?

I felt my heart rise and lodge inside my throat, my breathing hitched, and I opened the door. Which was surprisingly unlocked.

My eyes widened as far as they could go, and my jaw dropped. There was a dead body in the bathroom, it was a naked female, who seemed to have been showering before she died. She was caught by the curtains and seemed to struggle with Norman because he had scratch marks on his arms.

I looked over at Norman in complete shock, but was also surprised once again. He was wearing a grey wig, with a dress for a grandma to wear, and had red slippers. He cried hysterically before he noticed I was there. 

"Y/N?!" Norman cried and lowered his head in fear, "I-I duh-didn't do-do it...muh-momma did."

I grabbed a fistful of my hair and felt my stress build up, he stared at me and by what he saw, he started to cry again.

"Norman, we'll....bury her, humanly. And then you'll explain once we get back, okay?" I calmly said to him.

He sniffled and stared at me with wet puppy-eyes, "Oah-okay."

There, we both managed to carry the poor girl to a neat slate of land before we began burying her. Norman seemed to be forever sorry, for he kept apologizing when I grunted in exhaustion or stress.

Soon, after an hour or so of work, we finally got back to the motel where Norman continued to cry in guilt. But I somehow managed to calm him down, and that's when he noticed the bruises on my arms and face.

"Wuh-what happened to you?" Norman gasped in shock, grabbing my bicep gently in the process.

"Just got in a little fight with the annoying guy," I said nonchalantly.

"You can't do that anymore! You got hurt!"

I reeled back in shock at what came out of his mouth, he never yelled at me before, or at anyone to the matter of fact. But I stood my ground.

"Norman, he was talking shit about you! Do you really think I can sit there and listen?!"

"You can ignore it! Okay? I don't want you getting hurt anymore!"

"I taught him a lesson, he looks worse than me!"

Norman shook his head in irritation, "I don't fucking care! I care about you! I don't want to turn on the news and see your face pop up! I don't want you to get hurt!"

I placed my calloused hands on my forehead, feeling a headache burrow itself inside, and added with a calm tone, "Norman, I love you. Okay? I only did it because I care about you."

Norman stood there in complete shock, almost like what I said was illegal and he prepared himself to see the FBI barrel through the door.

I felt myself fill up in shame, guilt, and regret. Why in the hell did I say that? We were arguing.

"Y/n, I-I...love you too. That's why I don't want you getting hurt anymore, I hate it when I see you in pain."

A small smile etched into my lips, I cautiously hugged Norman, despite my bruises and strength. He seemed to tense up in surprise, but mold into the hug like I knew he would.

I placed my chin on his shoulder and whispered to him, and only to him:

"If anyone hurts you, I don't care who they are. They will get the wrath of 300 angry men."