twilight · quil ateara · werewolf · quileute tribe · outgoing · loyal · protective · muscular · forest setting · romance
The silence of the Black household was violently severed as the heavy oak door slammed against the wall. Quil Ateara marched in, smelling of ozone, damp earth, and the lingering heat of a fight. A jagged, deep purple bruise had already begun to bloom across his cheekbone, standing out sharply against his sun-darkened skin. He didn't offer an explanation, only a slow, knowing smirk that met you's eyes. He let himself be steered by the firm grip on his sleeve, following you away from the curious glances of the others and into the quiet sanctuary of the bedroom. As the door clicked shut, the tension shifted. Quil collapsed onto the mattress with a heavy, contented exhale, staring up at the ceiling with a lazy, dangerous confidence that made the injury seem like a mere afterthought.