Impractical Jokers: [Joker]xReader Collection

Sal x Reader - It'll Be Okay

It's been a couple of days since you've left your apartment. You just can't, you feel so anchored down with the weight of what had happened that you don't even know how to begin picking yourself up again. You've been broken - and perhaps, you theorise mercilessly, you only have yourself to blame for you care too deeply and feel too much and it always comes back to bite you in the end. You should have known better than to get your hopes up.

Your phone blares with its message tone. You ignore it. You always do these days. The desire to share your days with somebody has dwindled, considering you can barely find it in yourself to spend them on yourself. Selfish of you. But maybe it's time to start being selfish. Being anything but has only gotten you hurt.

Out of curiosity, [E/C] eyes flicker over to the lit up screen and mist over with warm wetness when the name catches your eye. Sal. Sal's been the source of many of the calls and texts left over the course of your self-assigned house-arrest; you hadn't answered a single one of them, had let the phone ring until it had driven you crazy... and yet you hadn't turned it off. Why? Because you'd hoped that you'd be ready to talk sooner rather than later.

With fleeting energy - because even the most simple of tasks require utmost concentration - you pick up the device and select the most recent message.

'I'm coming over. Don't even try and stop me. Be there in five.'

"Fuck..." The curse slips out in a bout of frustration as the unwelcome burning at the corner of your eyes begins to intensify, tears forming before you can stop them. And no sooner had they done so had your door been pushed open. You must have left it open. Immediately, you sink into the covers and pull them over your head, not prepared to let Sal see you in such a state.

The light thud of his shoes hitting the floor alerts you to his presence; no longer can your brain delude itself into believing that you had imagined him. The footsteps approaching your room make you clench tighter to the duvet and for just a single moment, you're afraid. Afraid of him confronting you.

"[Y/N]. I know you're in here," Sal says bluntly, a hand reaching for the duvet as he attempts to pull it off you. You refuse to let it go, hold it firmly in your fingers and don't relinquish your hold, even when he begins to pull harder. "[Y/N], come on!" he exclaims, and the frustration boiling over in your core has you whimpering in defeat, the Joker sent carting backwards as you let go of the cover and curl into a ball, trying to hide the tears.

Sal gets up, rearranges himself with a glare and a huff... before falling silent in shock. The sound of you crying breaks his heart for he can't stand to see anybody sad, never mind someone he cares immensely about. He's a highly sensitive man, takes in other's emotions like a sponge, and so it's no surprise when he rushes to your side and lays a hand on your shoulder. Harshly, you shrug him off and shudder with effort to contain yourself. You do not need a breakdown in front of him.

Suddenly, the bed dips with weight that isn't yours and you find yourself unable to move, unable to force yourself to pull away, and you lose your resolve completely when the Joker pulls you in with an arm coiling around your stomach while his lips settle on your temple and the distinct mumble of 'I'm here now...'. That's essentially what sends you over the edge.

Your body can no longer house the agonised sob that leaves your lungs as you turn with lightning quick speed and bury your face in Sal's chest, him holding you to him and stroking through your hair as you cry loudly. It's the most heartbreaking sound he's ever heard and it makes his own eyes sting with warmth, a hand running slowly up and down your back while the one in your hair tangles and coils and strokes– anything to reassure you that it's going to be okay.

The noise continues for several minutes, pent-up emotion spilling forth before your filter can even attempt to block it. There's no room left for appearances - and, as far as you're concerned, you have none with Sal Vulcano anyway - and it takes everything in you not to throw up because you're so disgusted with your lack of will-power.

Eventually, however, you begin to settle. It's hard to stop hyperventilating, to take proper breaths that don't exit your mouth as screams, but with the help of Sal, you manage. By now, the Joker is rocking you from side to side, the occasional 'shhh...' leaving him as he attempts to soothe you as best he can. Your fingers are all but tangled in the material of his jacket and your face is hot with the trails of tears that have scarred your skin; you lay there sniffling, having the urge to pull away from him so that you don't soil his jacket. You know how Sal is with germs... and it'd only make the embarrassment ten times worse.

"...you wanna talk about it?" he asks tentatively, breaking the silence with care that almost makes you choke up all over again. Your head shakes no. The distinct mumble of 'okay...' has you sighing in relief. That's the beauty of Sal: he never pushes if he can help in another way. "It's gonna all be all right, [Y/N]. No matter what. And I'll be here to help you, if you need it. You know that, right?"

A sob escapes you, though it's in the form of a laugh. You can count on Vulcano to make you feel more grounded. Sometimes a problem is much smaller than the mind perceives; worry and grief make a tiny thing cast a large shadow.

"Yeah..." you admit, a wobbly smile on your lips as he pulls away to look at you, thumb tracing over hot streaks lining your face before he leans in and kisses your forehead. Your eyes close at the sensation, feeling a wave of comfort overtake you as you reassign your head to his chest; the man lets you, of course he does, his fingers beginning to card through your soft hair once more. "It'll be okay... right, Sal?"

Sal kisses the top of your head - because you can't see him nodding.

"Right."