Eric Coulter Imagines

What If: "Class Dismissed!"

Y/N's reputation as a weapons instructor had grown, and so had the whispers. She had heard them. It wasn't hard to notice the way the trainees and even other instructors watched her when Eric was around. People talked. They always did. And Eric—he was the worst of them all.

He had made a habit of showing up to her training sessions, his broad form lounging in the corner like he owned the place, watching her every move. At first, she had been able to ignore him, chalking it up to his need to control everything. But over time, it became harder. The weight of his stare, the lingering smirks—it had all begun to creep under her skin.

Their dynamic was different, complicated. It wasn't just professional, and it wasn't anything she could define. After all, how could she explain those nights when she had let herself cry in his arms, when he had held her in silence, offering comfort in his own twisted way? Or that time he had gotten drunk and shown up at her door, more honest and vulnerable than she had ever expected him to be. Even then, she had seen glimpses of something more—something dangerous, something addictive.

The tension between them had built slowly, through subtle touches and unspoken words. Eric had made her feel things she didn't want to admit, and she hated that he had that kind of power over her. But she had seen the way he looked at her, the way his touch lingered a little too long, the way his voice softened just slightly when he called her "princess" or taunted her with his usual sarcasm. It wasn't love—not in the way others would define it. It was something else. Something darker. Something she couldn't escape.

And it was starting to show.

The trainees had noticed. The rumors had started small, with a few whispers here and there. But now, it was impossible to ignore. They whispered about how often Eric stood too close, about how his eyes followed her like a predator watching its prey. Some even claimed she was getting special treatment, that Eric was using her for something more than just a tactical advantage.

Today was no different. As Y/N demonstrated the proper handling of a new weapon, she could feel the eyes of the trainees on her—not just because of the lesson, but because of Eric. He was there, as usual, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

One of the trainees, clearly too intrigued by the gossip, muttered under his breath to another, "Do you think they're, you know... together?"

The response was a snicker. "No way. But there's definitely something going on. Look at the way he watches her."

Y/N gritted her teeth, trying to stay focused, but her patience was wearing thin. Eric wasn't helping. He always knew how to push her buttons, and today, he seemed to be enjoying it more than usual. As the trainees paired off to practice, she felt him approach, his presence like a storm looming over her.

"Nice form," he remarked, his voice loud enough for the others to hear. It was a taunt, pure and simple, but the look in his eyes told her he wasn't here just to mock her. No, Eric was always playing a deeper game.

"I've heard the rumors," Y/N shot back, her tone sharp as she adjusted her stance. She wasn't about to let him get the better of her—not in front of the trainees.

Eric leaned in, his smirk widening. "Maybe I should make it official," he said, his voice low but carrying just enough to catch the attention of those nearby. "Just to shut them up."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, a mixture of anger and something else tightening in her chest. She could feel the trainees' eyes on her, their whispers growing louder. He was toying with her—pushing her right to the edge, as he always did.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she hissed, her voice barely controlled. She wasn't about to let him make a spectacle out of this, but Eric—he thrived on it. This was his game, and he was a master at it.

Eric stepped closer, his hand brushing against her arm in a way that felt more intimate than it should. The touch sent a shiver down her spine, one she hated herself for feeling. "What do you think it means?" he taunted, his breath hot against her ear, low enough for only her to hear.

The trainees weren't even pretending to practice anymore. Their weapons hung at their sides, eyes glued to the interaction. It was like a show they hadn't paid for, but one they were eager to watch.

Y/N was done playing. She raised the weapon she had been demonstrating, pressing the barrel lightly against Eric's chest, just hard enough to make her point. The trainees gasped, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife.

But Eric didn't flinch. He never did. His eyes locked on hers, a challenge in them that made her pulse quicken. He was daring her to follow through, daring her to push him, and for a second, she almost considered it. She knew she wouldn't, though. She wasn't reckless—not like him.

"Careful," he warned, his voice dangerously soft. "You might make them think you've got a thing for me."

The audacity of his words sent a surge of heat through her, both anger and something else mingling in her veins. She was so close to snapping, to saying something that would make things worse. But before she could, Eric moved.

With one swift motion, he grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward him. The trainees gasped again, the room crackling with tension as she stumbled into his chest. His grip was firm, possessive, and his eyes held hers, daring her to pull away.

Y/N's breath hitched, her heart racing as she realized just how close they were. Too close. The heat of him surrounded her, and despite the chaos in her mind, she couldn't help but feel the pull. That damn pull she had been fighting for weeks.

"What are you doing?" she growled, trying to keep her voice steady, trying to hold onto the control that was slipping through her fingers.

Eric leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "Just making things clear for them. You and I—we're not a rumor."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut, leaving her breathless and reeling. He was serious—or maybe he wasn't. Maybe this was just another one of his twisted games. But either way, the trainees were watching, and she couldn't afford to show weakness.

Y/N pulled her wrist free, stepping back, her eyes blazing with defiance. "You're unbelievable," she muttered, her voice low but full of heat.

Eric shrugged, his smirk never faltering. "Maybe. But now they know." His voice carried a dangerous undertone, leaving no room for doubt.

Before Y/N could respond, Eric turned to face the trainees, who were now standing frozen, their eyes wide and their weapons forgotten.

"Class dismissed," Eric barked, his tone sharp, leaving no room for argument.

The trainees hesitated, stunned by the scene they had just witnessed, before quickly filing out of the room, their whispers loud in the now empty space.

Y/N stood there, her heart still racing, trying to process what had just happened. Eric, of course, was perfectly calm, as if he hadn't just lit a fire under the already burning rumors.

"You're an asshole," Y/N muttered under her breath, her anger simmering just below the surface.

Eric just smirked, turning to leave. "Maybe. But at least now they know."

And with that, he was gone, leaving her alone with the weight of what had just transpired.