Eric Coulter Imagines

What If: He is Drunk (Part 3/3)

Y/N had been distant—Eric couldn't deny it. She had been colder, more reserved, always avoiding his gaze, leaving the room before he could catch her alone. The memory of that night when they'd fallen asleep together lingered between them, unspoken, like a weight neither of them knew how to lift.

Eric wasn't one to chase after people. But Y/N wasn't just anyone. He didn't know why it bothered him so much, the way she was pulling away, but it did. And it made him angrier every day.

Y/N, for her part, had distanced herself on purpose. The warmth she had felt that night—the way Eric had held her close, the strange sense of safety she hadn't expected—had rattled her. She couldn't afford to be vulnerable around him, not when he so clearly didn't care. Or at least, that's what she told herself. Yet, as days passed, the thought gnawed at her: Did it affect him too? Or was it just her, overthinking everything?

The uncertainty drove her mad, so she chose to pull away, to block out the confusion. But Eric wasn't the type to let things go, especially when someone tried to slip away from him.

That afternoon, after training, he finally cornered her.

Y/N was packing up her things, her back turned to him. She had sensed his presence the moment he walked in, but she pretended not to notice, hoping he'd leave her alone. But Eric wasn't going to let this slide any longer.

"I need to talk to you," Eric said, his voice cold and sharp.

Y/N stiffened, but she didn't turn around. "About what?"

"Don't pretend you don't know," Eric snapped, stepping closer until he was right behind her. "You've been avoiding me."

Y/N finally turned, her expression calm but her eyes flashing with a warning. "I've been busy. That's all."

Eric's jaw clenched. "Busy? With what—avoiding me every chance you get?"

Y/N's hands tightened on her gear bag, her frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "Why do you care, Eric? Since when do you care about anything?"

The words hit harder than she intended, and for a moment, Eric's smirk faltered. But he recovered quickly, stepping even closer until there was barely any space between them.

"You think I don't care?" he growled, his voice low, dangerous. "You think that night didn't mean anything?"

Y/N felt her pulse quicken, but she kept her expression steady, refusing to let him see how much his words affected her. "That's exactly what I think."

The tension between them was suffocating, thick with unspoken emotions. Eric's eyes narrowed, and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer. Y/N didn't flinch, didn't step back. Instead, she met his gaze head-on, defiant.

"You're running from it," Eric muttered, his voice a low growl. "Running from something you can't even admit to yourself."

Y/N yanked her wrist free, her eyes blazing now. "And what about you? You can't even admit it either, can you?"

Eric's breath hitched, but he didn't respond right away. His grip on her wrist had left a tingling sensation, but Y/N wasn't going to let him control the conversation. Not this time.

"Stop pretending you don't feel it," Y/N said, her voice sharp but steady. "I'm not going to play these games with you. If you want something from me, then prove it. Stop hiding behind your sarcasm and arrogance."

Eric's eyes darkened at the challenge, his chest rising and falling as the frustration burned within him. For a split second, something flickered in his gaze—hesitation, maybe—but then he stepped forward, his face inches from hers.

Without warning, Y/N grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him down toward her. She wasn't waiting anymore, wasn't going to let him control the moment. "Prove it," she repeated, her voice low and commanding.

Eric's eyes flashed with something wild, and then his lips were on hers.

The kiss was hard, intense, full of the frustration and tension that had been building between them for weeks. But Y/N didn't melt into it—she met him with equal force, her hands gripping his shirt as she pulled him closer. She wasn't going to let him control this moment. Not this time.

Eric's hands slid to her waist, pulling her flush against him as the kiss deepened. There was nothing gentle about it—nothing soft or tentative. It was raw, filled with all the unspoken things they couldn't say. But Y/N didn't back down, didn't lose herself in the heat of it. She wanted him to know that she wasn't going to be passive, wasn't going to be another person he could dominate and leave behind.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their chests heaving. Eric's forehead rested against hers, his grip on her waist still tight. He seemed as surprised as she was by how far things had gone.

"Is that enough for you?" Eric muttered, his voice rough, his breath hot against her lips.

Y/N looked up at him, her heart still pounding, but her gaze was steady, assertive. "Not even close."

Eric smirked, though there was something darker behind it. He didn't know how to handle someone who wouldn't submit, someone who wouldn't just fall apart under his touch. And it only made him want her more.

"This isn't over," Y/N said, her voice firm. She pushed him back slightly, her hands still gripping his shirt. "You're not off the hook."

Eric's smirk faded, his eyes locked on hers. "I wouldn't expect to be."

The tension between them crackled in the air, heavy and charged. For a moment, neither of them moved, the heat of the kiss still lingering between them. But Y/N wasn't going to let him walk away without knowing that this wasn't just about him. She wasn't a toy to be played with. If he wanted her, he had to meet her where she stood.

"You want me?" Y/N said quietly, her voice sharp and assertive. "Then stop running from it. Prove it. Every day."

Eric's eyes flashed with something unreadable, but he didn't respond. Instead, he stepped back, his hands still lingering on her waist for just a moment longer. He didn't know what he felt—didn't want to admit it—but he couldn't deny that Y/N had gotten under his skin in a way no one else had.

"This isn't over," Eric muttered again, his voice low, dangerous.

Y/N smirked slightly, her eyes still locked on his. "I didn't think it was."