Eric Coulter Imagines

What If: The First Impression

The training room echoed with the sounds of fists hitting pads and bodies hitting the floor. Eric stood with his arms crossed, watching as the trainees fumbled through basic combat drills. His gaze eventually landed on Y/N, her flowy black dress swaying slightly as she moved. A few of the trainees glanced at her, clearly confused by her attire, exchanging looks that said it all: What's with the dress?

Eric scoffed, his expression a mixture of amusement and disdain. "That dress isn't going to save you in a fight, princess," he called out, loud enough for everyone to hear. His voice dripped with sarcasm as he walked over to her. The other trainees stopped what they were doing, their attention now fixed on the brewing tension.

Y/N turned to face him, her usual calm demeanor unwavering. "Didn't know my fashion choices were your concern," she replied smoothly, drawing more than a few raised eyebrows from the surrounding trainees. A couple of them exchanged impressed glances. Y/N wasn't intimidated—at least not outwardly.

Eric's smirk deepened. "They're not. But I thought I'd save you the embarrassment when that dress trips you up."

The room went quiet, everyone now focused on the unfolding scene. Eric stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "Let's see if you can handle more than just a few words." His tone was laced with challenge, a clear taunt.

Without hesitation, Y/N stepped forward, accepting his challenge. The other trainees quickly formed a circle, eager to watch. Eric rolled his shoulders, his smirk never fading. He wasn't going to go easy on her, and he knew everyone watching expected nothing less.

They squared off in the center, the room thick with anticipation. Y/N, in her flowing black dress, dropped into a defensive stance. A few trainees whispered to each other, clearly doubting her ability to keep up with Eric.

"She's dead meat," one muttered under his breath.

"Bet she doesn't last ten seconds," another chimed in.

Eric launched himself at her with a series of rapid strikes, his fists flying with brutal precision. Y/N dodged the first few with surprising agility, her movements graceful despite the impracticality of her attire. A few of the onlookers exchanged surprised glances—she was holding her own, for now.

But Eric wasn't done. He pressed harder, his fists coming in fast, relentless. And then, with a quick, brutal motion, he slammed his fist into her ribs. The impact echoed across the room, and Y/N staggered backward, her hand clutching her side as she coughed, blood splattering the floor.

Gasps erupted from the crowd. One trainee leaned over to another. "That's it. She's finished."

But Y/N straightened, wiping the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand. Her lips curled into a slow, unsettling smile—one that sent ripples of unease through the group of spectators. Even Eric paused, his eyes narrowing as he caught that look on her face.

And then, without warning, Y/N charged at him. Her movements were wild, fierce, a stark contrast to the calm she usually exuded. She was faster than before, her fists flying with an intensity that made the spectators murmur in shock. Eric managed to block most of her blows, but one punch landed square on his jaw, snapping his head to the side.

The crowd erupted in disbelief. "Did she just—"

"She hit him!" someone shouted, stunned.

But Y/N's body was reaching its limit. After a few more strikes, her energy gave out. Her legs buckled, and she collapsed onto the floor, breathing heavily. The room went silent again, everyone's eyes wide as they took in the scene.

Eric stood over her, rubbing his jaw where she had struck him. He glanced down, seeing the blood trickling from her mouth and her chest heaving with exhaustion. She had fought until her body simply couldn't take it anymore.

"Crazy as hell," Eric muttered to himself, his lips curling into an amused smirk. "I kinda like it."

The crowd was still watching, waiting to see what would happen next. Eric, for a moment, contemplated leaving her there. But instead, he reached out a hand to help her up.

Y/N, still panting, glanced up at him. She took his hand, but before he could pull her to her feet, she used his momentum against him. In one swift, fluid motion, she spun, yanking him off balance and sending him crashing down onto the mat. The crowd gasped in unison, some even stepping back in shock.

Eric hit the floor with a thud, momentarily stunned. Before he could react, Y/N stood over him, her face bruised and bloodied, but with a smirk that was far from defeated. She pointed a finger at him, mimicking a gun.

"Bang," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

The trainees were stunned into silence, their faces a mix of disbelief and awe. Eric, still on the ground, stared up at her with a flicker of something new in his eyes—respect, maybe even admiration. She'd fought back, even after he'd knocked her down. And she'd done it with style.

As Y/N turned to walk away, a few of the trainees whispered among themselves.

"She's insane," one muttered, eyes wide.

"Did you see that smile?" another added. "She liked it."

Eric remained on the ground for a second longer, watching her retreat. Slowly, he pulled himself up, chuckling to himself. "She's insane," he repeated, his smirk growing. "I like it."