Eric Coulter Imagines

What If: Her POV - Slowly Falling

Y/N didn't want to admit it—not even to herself—but her eyes always seemed to find him. It didn't matter where they were or what they were doing. Whether it was during a mission briefing or training with the initiates, Eric was always in her line of sight, like some gravitational force pulling her gaze to him.

She could pretend it was just because he was loud, arrogant, and impossible to ignore. That would be the logical excuse, the one she could live with. But deep down, she knew it wasn't that simple. Her eyes followed him because she wanted them to.

She told herself it was just curiosity. After all, anyone would be intrigued by someone like Eric—the way his tattoos seemed to ripple across his skin when he moved, the sharp gleam in his eyes when he was in control, the power that radiated off him without effort. She wasn't the only one who noticed these things. It didn't mean anything.

But it did.

She tried to brush off the times when she caught herself thinking about him more than she should. Like the night he had shown up at her door, drunk and uncharacteristically honest. It had been a mess, really—him slurring words, his usual edge softened by the alcohol. But it was in that moment, when he had let his guard down, that Y/N had seen something different in him. She had sat with him on the couch, his body heavy against hers, and though she knew she should have pushed him away, she hadn't. The warmth of him, the way he had unconsciously leaned into her, had been enough to unravel something inside her.

Or the time when he had helped her cut through that stubborn piece of metal. He had been smug about it, of course, using the opportunity to wrap his hands around hers, pretending to guide her. But the way his fingers lingered on her waist, the casual intimacy of it, had left her flustered. He had known exactly what he was doing, teasing her, getting under her skin. But instead of being annoyed, she had felt... alive.

Her gaze flicked to him now, across the training room, where he stood barking orders at the initiates. His voice was sharp, commanding, and though he wasn't directing his focus at her, Y/N could feel the weight of his presence. He always filled whatever space he was in—too loud, too confident, too much. And yet, she couldn't stop watching him.

It frustrated her, the way he made her feel. He was impossible, always pushing her, always keeping her off-balance. There was that time, after she had broken down in front of him, when she had cried in his arms. It had been one of her weakest moments, and yet, Eric hadn't mocked her. He hadn't pushed her away. Instead, he had held her, silent and strong, his hand tracing slow circles on her back. She had felt safe then, even though she knew she shouldn't. It was Eric, after all—he wasn't supposed to care about anyone. But in that moment, she had felt like he cared about her, and that had scared her more than anything.

Her lips pressed together as she remembered the morning after that night, when she had hugged him from behind. She still wasn't sure why she had done it. It had been impulsive, a way to prove a point, but it had ended up feeling like more than that. His muscles had tensed under her touch, and for a brief second, she had felt something shift between them. He hadn't pulled away. That had been the most surprising part.

Y/N sighed softly, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. But no matter how hard she tried, her thoughts kept drifting back to him. She caught herself watching the way his arms flexed as he moved, the ink of his tattoos shifting over his skin. She hated how much she noticed about him—how her heart sped up when he got too close, how she always felt a little too aware of his presence.

There was a part of her that wanted to believe it was just because Eric was... Eric. Anyone would have fallen for someone like him—strong, arrogant, a little dangerous. But Y/N knew it wasn't just that. There were moments, small ones, where she saw the cracks in his armor. When he looked at her, there was something unspoken, something that made her feel like she mattered.

And she hated it.

She wasn't supposed to want this. Want him. But she did.

Across the room, Eric's gaze flicked toward her, and for a split second, their eyes met. His smirk was instant, sharp and knowing. Y/N quickly looked away, her cheeks flushing with heat. She cursed herself for being so obvious. He would never let her live this down.

Eric started moving toward her, his long strides making her heart beat faster. She could already hear the teasing words that would leave his mouth, the way he would make her feel flustered just by standing too close.

But even as her mind screamed at her to keep her distance, her traitorous eyes followed him, her body leaning slightly forward as if drawn to him.

Get a grip, Y/N.

But no matter how hard she tried, her gaze always found him.