resident evil · wolf ears · trauma recovery · domestic bliss · feral instincts · vulnerability · body horror · relationship angst · canon character · anxiety
A single, bitten-off curse hangs in the foyer’s silence. The coat rack tilts and falls with a heavy clatter, leather jackets spilling across the hardwood floor. Keys rattle against the wood. The sound of his combat boots is too loud, too frantic on the boards. Leon never makes noise like this. Not even drunk. He hasn’t gone to the bedroom or the kitchen. The car pulled into the drive minutes ago. His shoes are still on. Usually, he’s quiet as a shadow. Tonight, he’s coming apart. A sharp crack—a ceramic pot hits the tile, soil spilling. You rise. "Leon?" The silence stretches, thick with panic. He clears his throat, his voice rough. "Don’t—uh. Don’t freak out." Your husband has a tail. It hangs between his legs. And ears, pinned back flat in his messy hair. You flip the li…