Impractical Jokers Preferences (Currently Updating)

#59: He Hits You (Part 1)

Sal: Sal was drunk again. You always hated when he drank too much; he was a completely different person. Still, he would never hurt you; the worst he'd do was make fun of your hair maybe, but soon enough he'd apologize, guilt taking over and the alcohol wearing thin. Tonight, however, was not one of those nights. You were at the bar with Sal, watching as he downed his eighth pint of the hour. You grew tired, and pulled on his sleeve. "Can we go? I'm really tired," you yawned. He didn't do as much as look at you as he mumbled, "We just got here. Don't be a killjoy, (Y/N)." "Excuse me?" you quipped. "We've been here for almost four hours now, Sal. Please, can we go?" "No," he snapped, taking another swig of beer. "Sal, you do this every night. I mean, God, you drunk," you mumbled. "What did you just call me?" he hissed, finally turning to look at you with dark eyes. "I called you a drunk, Sal. You're a lazy, selfish drunk who—" Suddenly you felt a coursing pain through your cheek. Sal had just hit you. You looked up with wide eyes to find him gaping right back at you. It was as if every ounce of alcohol left his body, and worry and pain filled his veins. "(Y/N), I'm so sorry," he said, his voice cracking.  "You just hit me," you whispered. "I swear, I didn't— I mean, I was— I'm sorry." Tears filled his eyes and you looked away, grabbing your purse and running as far away from him as you could get.

Brian (Q): Four hours. He said he'd be home four hours ago. That was it; you'd had enough. That night, as he stumbled into the flat at two-thirty in the morning, you finally snapped. "Were you planning on lying to me when you got home too?" you said, startling him as he had obviously thought you were asleep. He whipped around, his eyes blood shot and his hair a mess. He had been doing this a lot lately; coming home late, with his collar scuffed up now and then, or what he swore to be a wine stain on his tie, though you knew it was red lipstick. "Babe, you're awake," he mumbled. "Yeah, I am. And I'm also confused, Brian." "What about?" He tried to act innocent by pretending to be stuck trying to unbutton his shirt, but you could see the way his hands slightly shook as he avoided direct eye contact. "About why my boyfriend has been lying to me for who knows how long! You told me you were at Sal's tonight, Brian, but when I called him, he had no idea what I was talking about. Don't tell me you think I can't smell the cheap perfume, either, because we both know every night you reek of it!" you said, venom laced delicately within your words. "Wait, are you accusing me of cheating, (Y/N)?" he gaped, eyes narrowing and his face turning red as anger began to course through his veins. "Oh, of course not! No, actually, I'm accusing you of being a cheater, Brian! A lying, selfish—" You were cut off with a fierce slap to the cheek, causing you to stumble back a few feet. Your eyes watered with tears as you looked up to find him just as shocked as you. Grabbing your jacket and slipping on you shoes, you tried desperately to hold in tears. Brian quickly tried to find the right words, but found them stuck in his throat. "(Y/N), wait!" "Too late, Brian," you spat, then slammed the door behind you as you left.

James (Murr): "Babe," James slurred, suddenly entering your bedroom where you sat on the bed, reading a book. You looked up, finding James's eyes bloodshot; he was obviously drunk. You stood, making your way towards him and resting your hands on his shoulders. Laughing, you said, "Let's get you ready for bed, mister." James suddenly took a hold of your wrists and back you up to the bed where you both fell, him lying on top of you. "No," he said, leaning down to kiss your neck. "James, you're so wasted, you need rest." You tried to push him off of you, but it was no use; he only tightened his grip on you. "James, stop," you said, a little more frantically this time, but he only continued to kiss your skin. He slipped his hands up your shirt, groping your breasts, as you struggled to get away from him. "Stop fighting me," he said darkly. You began to get scared and yelled, "Get off!" Then he was angry, and he picked you up by the shoulders, brought you up from the bed, smacked your cheek hard, and threw you back against the wall. You slid to the floor and sat in the fetal position, where you cried as the bedroom door was slammed shut.

Joe: "(Y/N)!" your boyfriend's voice suddenly boomed through the house. You remained on the couch as you heard the front door slam shut and heavy footsteps echoed through the halls. "Joey?" you worriedly asked in a small voice. "What's wrong, babe?" "Don't even call me that," he spat, angrily walking into view. He looked angry; his eyes were dark and fiery, his hands were balled in fists at his sides, and his jaw was clenched. "W-What happened?" you whimpered, suddenly overcome with fear. Standing and walking toward him, you reached out to touch him with a shaking hand. He swatted your hand away violently, taking a step closer to you, causer you to cower in fear. "You're cheating on me, you slut!" he yelled. "Joe, what are you talking about? I'm not— I-I never—" Then he hit you, right across the cheek. You stumbled backward, shocked.  You tried to quickly make a break for the bathroom, running around him into the room and locking the door behind you. You leaned against it, sobbing and choking on tears, as silence filled the house.

Here ya go, everyone! I hope you liked it!

Love Always xx –Bella Emily Kaplan