#in a perfect world the dialogue would all be either in russian or latvian. but alas then noone would understand shit

[chesters-ocs]

My brain just went "Sylvester is probably scary as hell when he gets really mad." And so now I have this strong need to see him angry.

So I'm humbly requesting Sylvester tearing into someone with his words and maybe his fists. Honestly, it could even be Stone, because God knows Stone deserves to be yelled at. (But honestly, whoever he yells at is put to you.)

hm;; inch resting;;; to be fair, he deserves to be scary. as compensation for being the shortest one. also slight ranch au rewrite up ahead because methinks i can do better now >:3

wc: 1.5k

"Why are you here?!"

The house went quiet as soon as the icy words left the shortest of the bunch, who had went to open the door when the bell rang.

Butcher slowly turned around at the table to face his friend, his face twisting into one of discomfort, as he watched the tail of the man thrash back and forth wildly, hardly a hint of the usually composed energy Sylvester exuded on the norm.

He almost looked ready to tear the other person in the room apart: ears pinned close to the skull, blending into his long-since grayed hair, his pose resembling that of feral animal, with how he was hunched ever so slightly, his shoulders tense, eyes focused only on the target of his fury.

Even from his spot across the room, Butcher could hear the breathing, no, panting, and the way it resembled that of the growls of a feral animal instead.

"Well?" Sylvester demanded an answer, staring up, baring his teeth in the process. Teeth, that were sharp enough to draw blood. And a lot of it. Unsatisfied with the continued silence, he raised his voice further: "Speak when spoken to, god damn it!"

Butcher ignored how tense the kids in the room got, and how his own husband quickly herded them away from the kitchen-living room space, cutting the dinner talk short.

Thinking quickly, the gangster excused himself to quote-unquote "go out for a quick smoke," silently thankful that the household had grown used to his frequent cigarette breaks. In reality, they all knew it was so he remain close by and could intervene if the situation demanded it.

Pushing past the man, he finally saw the poor soul on the other side of the door, who was unfortunate enough to light such a fire in him.

Butcher is not proud of the way his own fist balled, as if ready to throw the first punch.

The woman at the door paled slightly, her confident facade crumbling near-instantly.

To everyone's surprise, Sylvester's arm stretched out to block Butcher. He looked up at him over his shoulder, as he spoke: "If you need to, go trough the back door. I'm busy."

Sylvester's tone of voice left no room for arguments. Accepting his fate, the taller man stepped back inside, closing and locking the door after him, to the dismay of the other men, who were watching the situation.

"Hey, hold on, what are you doing? What if-"

"He's got it handled. That's just a pest. A fucking annoying, shameless goddamn pest," he interrupted, and leaned against the door with a soft thud, effectively blocking both Vikram and Ashok's attempts to unlock the door.

"He's got it handled," Butcher continued, "Keep the kids away from the windows. Sure as hell won't be pretty."

"Hey, what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Vikram asked, his paranoia spiking, not wanting to leave his husband out and alone with someone he could only assume to be a threat.

"Mean's he's got a shit ton of pent up emotions to get out. Let him, I wanna hear it," Butcher grins, purposefully being vague.

Truth be told, the person on the other side of the door was someone both Butcher and Sylvester knew unfortunately well. That much is evident by how loud the man got, his voice getting trough, despite the door.

To them, it was muffled, but the woman, Līva, heard everything loud and clear.

"Are you going to fucking speak or not?! I don't have all day!"

"Why is he here?"

"None of your goddamn business. And I asked you that question first, sweetheart, so spill it!" the petname was coated in so much venom and hatred that it could almost kill. Almost.

"Well, honey," she finally bit back, but the confidence she tried to put on was barely reaching her eyes, and the slight waver in her voice was instantly caught by him, "I am... just here for a little visit, is all. Am I not allowed to visit my darling dear daughter?" she smiled, but it quickly became a grimace at the scoff that escaped the man.

"Daughter? Daughter?! Are you fucking hearing yourself, woman?!"

Behind the door, Butcher's smirk widened, while the other two men shared concerned glances at each other. The window was ever so slightly cracked open, so they heard everything loud and clear.

"You barely have a fucking right to call yourself that! Not after you disfigured her, not after you left her, not after you left us!"

Vikram's eyes widened ever-so-slightly, and he turned to Butcher: "Who is he talking to?"

"A certain, lousy ex wife of his."

There was no time for more questions, as Līva spoke again, faking being indignant.

"What, me? Leave? No, honey, never-"

"Shut up.. Just shut the fuck up! You left me, went off and screwed some bloody Frenchman, and lord knows it's a bloody damn miracle he saw you for anything more than the gold digger you so clearly are! You not only broke my heart, but his one too! And then you have the audacity to pretend Mary's mine! The amount of lies you can spin would be impressive, if it wasn't for the fact it pisses me the fuck off!"

Each word got faster and faster, his temper rising rapidly, ready to blow over at any given second.

The woman paled, unaware how much the man before her knew, before trying to mend the situation, eyes looking around wildly as she stammered.

"U-Uhm, you see- w-well! Remember how you promised you'd b-be there for me? No matter what-"

"That was only true before you dumped divorce papers on me and before you ran off to lead poor Martin on." Sylvester dismissed her near-instantly. "Just... tell me why you're here. So this can be done with, why don't you?"

"Ah, yes, yes, right away, honeydew. I need money. You're still in debt to me, remember, cutie? Nothing personal, but I'm here to collect-"

It was now when the door swung open, with Butcher having decided Sylvester's let out enough steam.

The woman gulped when she saw him once more, aware that her so-called "master plan" is about to be lit ablaze.

"Collecting money, eh?" he asked, gently guiding Sylvester back inside, where Vikram gladly took him away, comforting the man who's voice has now turned hoarse, and the adrenaline leaving his veins making him a bit more sluggish than usual.

"Y'know... It's one thing to lie, and it's another thing entirely to make up a situation... Shame that you're piss poor at lying though," he commented, clearly using his intimidation factor to freeze her in place, as he finally lit that cigarette.

Līva was frozen. It was a pity Butcher could not hear her heart hammering in her chest.

"You may think you're tough shit for playing mind games with someone like him. Someone who clearly loved you and didn't want to hurt you back," he hummed, taking a long drag, as he started slowly circling around her, "But you're really just a pathetic excuse for human scum. I don't even think it'd be fun to kill you. Would feel more like pest control, than a satisfying kill."

"Though," He spoke after exhaling the smoke right into her face, making her cough and rub her eyes instinctively, "I guess I could make it more... exciting~"

The way he spoke was absolutely perverted, and Līva was absolutely sure he was getting off on her unease, her blatant fear of her better (or worse, in this case) version. She never imagined he'd be here too. Never in a million years.

Before she could mourn the world in which she never came to this home, to her ex's house, Butcher started counting down. Ever the sadistic freak.

"Five... Four..."

She made out the slight glimpse of his brass knuckles fit snug on his fingers, as he leisurely reached for his holstered gun.

'Jesus fucking Christ, since when did he have that?!' she thought.

"Three..."

Locking in her fate, she spun on her heel, and ran to her car.

The last glimpse she saw of him was him aiming it directly at her, as if she were now his target practice.

Satisfied at her quick departure, he holstered the pistol and kept smoking in peace. Or, what would have been peace, if his lover had not interrupted him.

There was a hint of disapproval, if not disappointment in Ashok's voice, as he leaned against the doorframe, not caring about the cigarette smoke that was being let in. "Did you have to resort to that?"

"And miss out on messing with that chick? Not a chance, dollface!"

"... I'm giving that gun to Sylvester when you come inside," he threatened lightly.

"Hah, fine by me."

"But you two are so going to tell me who that lady is! Sounded... Bad."

"That's putting it lightly, doll," Butcher chuckled, snuffing the cigarette out on the ashtray, stepping back inside to the warm home, where the smell of the dinner still persisted.