QUIL ATEARA HEADCANONS
his imprint is a deer shape shifter
𝒬uil never expected to imprint and when it happens, it’s with you, the last person the universe should have tied him to.
the first time he realizes you’re a shifter too, and not just any shifter but a deer, he suddenly laughs out loud. though not out of mockery. more like disbelief and shock. “of course. of course the universe thinks it’s funny. a wolf and a deer.” but behind the jokes, he’s instantly fascinated.
you’re gentle, sharp-eyed, and always slightly on guard, because… well, you’re a deer. the natural prey of his kind. the irony is not lost on anyone, least of all quil.
at first, he’s terrified he’s going to scare you off. the wolf inside him wants to stay close, to circle and guard you, but quil’s human brain is screaming “don’t be creepy, don’t stalk her, she’ll run away.”
but there’s something about your skittish, graceful nature that makes him want to slow down.
he knows you’re sensitive to sudden movements and heavy emotions, so he reins himself in just for you. he’s the one wolf who never storms in. he lingers, patient, always giving you space to come closer on your own terms.
he ends up hovering awkwardly, tripping over his own feet just trying to get near you.
at first, you keep your distance. it feels dangerous, even reckless, to be so drawn to him. but quil is persistent in his soft, steady way. he never pressures you, never pushes, just… waits. and the waiting makes you ache, because you can feel the pull too.
the pack does not let him live it down. paul jokes that quil’s wolf probably drools whenever you’re around. embry teases him mercilessly. “so quil… is venison your new favorite food now or?” quil nearly kills him for that one.
you notice right away how different quil is with you compared to the others. he’s goofy and easy-going with the pack, but with you? he’s almost nervous. he tries to play it cool, but you catch the way his hands tremble when you brush past him, or how his eyes track you like you might vanish.
you, meanwhile, are cautious. wolves and deer don’t mix. instinctually, your body tenses around him, your heartbeat quickens (not just from nerves but from pure shifter biology). but at the same time, you don’t understand why quil feels… safe. he should feel dangerous. but the moment his gaze softens, that warmth that radiates off him makes your instincts stutter in confusion.
quil’s yearning is painful. he’ll sit awake at night, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the impossible pull toward you. he wants to be close, to protect, but he’s terrified of making you feel trapped. he’s constantly second-guessing:
“am i too much? does she even want me around? god, she probably thinks i’m some creepy wolf waiting to eat her alive.”
the first time you shift near him, his wolf nearly bursts out of him. you in deer form is… breathtaking. fragile, elegant, otherworldly. he’s so terrified of moving wrong, of proving your instincts right, that he freezes in place just to let you approach on your terms. when you don’t run, when you let him sit there in silence while you graze near the treeline, his chest physically aches.
slowly, slowly, you start to trust him. it’s little things: you stop flinching when he sits beside you, you let your shoulder brush his when walking, you linger when he cracks a dumb joke instead of slipping away. quil notices everything.
he notices how your footsteps unconsciously follow his when you’re walking in the woods, how you seek the comfort of his presence even when you won’t admit it out loud.
quil has this way of balancing your instincts. you’re quick to run, but he never chases. you spook easily, but his steady warmth grounds you.
you’re the one who teaches him patience, and he’s the one who teaches you safety, that maybe being near a predator doesn’t have to mean danger.
you see the way quil’s eyes soften every time you shift back into your human form, how he averts his gaze like he’s seen something too precious to stare at for long.
he treats you with a reverence you don’t understand. you’ll laugh and call him dramatic, but he just shakes his head. “you don’t get it. you’re… you’re everything.”
the yearning is agonizing. quil will hover at the edge of your space, his hand twitching like he wants to reach for yours but never quite daring. his wolf howls for him to close the distance, but his respect for you makes him wait. always wait.
quil is achingly careful with you. when you’re human, he never hugs you too tightly, never holds on too long, though every part of him wants to. when you’re a deer, he keeps his distance, head tilted, eyes warm, like he’s guarding rather than stalking. he’d never forgive himself if he made you feel cornered.
eventually, though, you start testing the boundaries. you’ll let your fingers brush against his when you’re walking side by side, just to see if he pulls away (he doesn’t).
the slow burn stage is full of stolen glances, shared silences, the brush of fingers that lingers too long, the way his laughter softens whenever it’s directed at you.
he doesn’t just want you, he cherishes you.
there’s a moment, maybe after you get spooked and nearly shift in front of strangers, and quil shields you without hesitation, where something in you clicks. the irony doesn’t matter. the predator-prey instinct doesn’t matter. because you’ve never felt safer than in quil’s orbit.
when you finally lean into him, maybe resting your head on his shoulder by the bonfire, he swears he forgets how to breathe. quil goes completely still. his heart is hammering, his breath shaky, his whole body trying to contain the joy exploding inside him. he doesn’t even speak, because he’s terrified of breaking the moment. he just lets you stay there as long as you want, because in that moment he feels like he has everything he’s ever needed.
now that you’re together, the irony of wolf and deer has turned into an endless source of teasing, both from the pack and between yourselves.
quil loves to jokingly chase you during training runs, pretending he’s hunting, while you dart and weave effortlessly, laughing. but when he finally catches you, it’s gentle, almost protective, and your laughter dies into a soft sigh as he holds you close.
the first time you two share a proper, full embrace, it’s quiet and almost shy. quil’s arms wrap around you like he’s afraid to squeeze too hard and scare you, and your head fits perfectly into the crook of his neck.
neither of you speaks at first, just breathing each other in, the bond humming faintly between your chests. quil swears he can feel your heartbeat racing against his and secretly wonders how he survived this long without it.
you’ve started spending nights at his place. quil is gentle when he wakes up next to you, often brushing stray hairs behind your ear, tracing patterns on your back while you’re half-asleep. your soft nuzzles into his chest make him feel like the luckiest wolf alive.
and every morning, without fail, he’s the first to whisper, “morning, my deer.” and you giggle softly, turning over to press a sleepy kiss to his jaw.
quil loves to cuddle, though he pretends it’s casual. you often fall asleep against him, warm and safe, and he’ll stroke your hair or rub your back softly.
when you’re in your deer form, he’ll lie beside you, wolf body close but not crowding, and he finds the sight mesmerizing. your grace and softness calm his wildness.
the first proper kiss is slow, drawn-out, and full of hesitation. quil hovers over you, giving you the choice to move closer. you do. he melts against you, cupping your face, his lips gentle yet claiming, and you wrap your arms around his neck.
it’s the first time you feel your hearts sync completely, and the world seems to hold its breath with you.
he leaves tiny gifts for you. flowers picked from the woods, feathers, small trinkets. you hide them in your room, feeling cherished and understood. quil notices how your eyes light up at each one, and that small joy makes his chest ache with love and pride.
even after you’re together, quil’s wolf instincts flare constantly. if someone gets too close or acts threatening, he’s immediately tense, positioning himself slightly in front of you.
he’s careful not to overreact, though, he knows you can defend yourself, but the need to guard you is like a constant hum under his skin.
you tease him about it endlessly, but you secretly find it endearing, and sometimes you lean against him just to feel the strength beneath his calm exterior.
your dynamic flows like this: prey and predator, yes, but also protector and protected. patience and hesitation, steadiness and grace. you balance each other’s instincts, turning something impossible into something inevitable.
and though quil jokes about the irony every chance he gets, deep down he knows, it’s not a cruel joke at all. it’s fate. because nothing in the world has ever felt as right as being yours.
