Eric Coulter Imagines

What If: She is Trouble

After the fever incident, Eric found himself watching Y/N more than he cared to admit. It wasn't obvious—at least not to anyone else—but his sharp eyes couldn't help but linger on her during training sessions, meetings, or even in passing.

It started small. He'd catch a glimpse of her as she moved through the compound, and his gaze would inevitably fall to the flowing black dress she always wore. It wasn't like anyone else in Dauntless—it was softer, more delicate, and frankly, ridiculous by his standards. But somehow, on her, it worked.

The dress, despite its flowy elegance, left parts of her exposed—just enough to catch his attention. The way the fabric shifted, revealing the soft skin on her waist, or how it clung to her slender frame, highlighting her curves in ways that were subtle but enticing. She was smaller than most of the Dauntless women he was used to—lean, almost fragile-looking, but he knew better. He'd felt the force of her punches firsthand.

How someone so small, with wrists so slim, could nearly break his jaw in a sparring match... it fascinated him. He remembered how hard she had fought him, even when she was bleeding, bruised, and exhausted. She wasn't afraid to get hurt. She thrived in the fight, almost like she enjoyed it.

Eric found himself thinking about that more than he should've.

*How can someone so damn delicate be so ruthless?*

---

One day, as Eric was heading down a corridor, he spotted Y/N. She wasn't running, but she moved with purpose—her usual calm, steady demeanor intact, but something about her seemed different. She looked focused, her eyes sharp, like she was planning something.

As she passed him, Eric raised an eyebrow. "What's the rush?"

Y/N didn't stop but glanced over her shoulder. "Just handling something," she said evenly, her tone giving nothing away.

Before Eric could ask more, another figure appeared behind her—Darren. He was moving quickly, his face twisted with frustration. Eric recognized the look on his face—it was the look of someone who had been outsmarted.

Darren, a stocky instructor known for his cocky attitude and constant need to prove himself, looked between Y/N and Eric. He slowed when he saw Eric, clearly hesitant. The tension between them was thick, but Darren's anger was evident.

"She sabotaged the training sim," Darren spat, glaring at Y/N's back. "I nearly got electrocuted."

Y/N's expression remained neutral, but there was a flicker of satisfaction in her eyes. She hadn't sabotaged the sim out of spite. She had done it to prove a point—to show Darren that his arrogance and mockery had limits. But she didn't feel the need to explain herself. In her mind, it was over.

Eric's gaze shifted between them. "Is that true?" he asked, his voice low but curious.

Y/N shrugged, meeting Eric's eyes with calm resolve. "I adjusted the settings. Darren wasn't paying attention. It's not my fault if he didn't see it coming."

Darren's face reddened, his anger barely contained. "You did it on purpose!"

Y/N didn't flinch. "I didn't do anything that wasn't part of the training."

Eric tilted his head, intrigued. He could tell Y/N wasn't lying, but she was definitely playing a game here. A subtle one. She wasn't impulsive—she was methodical. She didn't pull stunts for attention; she made moves that others didn't see coming.

Darren, still fuming, looked to Eric for support, but Eric just smirked. "Sounds like you weren't paying attention, Darren."

Darren clenched his fists, his frustration palpable. "She's been pushing limits. I know what she's doing."

Eric chuckled, his gaze returning to Y/N. "Is that so?"

Y/N didn't respond, her eyes flicking toward Darren with a faint, dismissive smile. She was in control, even when it looked like she wasn't. There was no chaos in her, only precision.

Darren, realizing he wasn't going to get the reaction he wanted from either of them, huffed and turned on his heel, muttering under his breath as he stormed away.

As Darren disappeared down the hall, Eric turned back to Y/N, who was already walking away. "You're not as innocent as you look, are you?" he called after her.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "You're just figuring that out?"

---

After that incident, Eric couldn't stop thinking about her. It wasn't just her strength anymore—it was her unpredictability, her ability to both control and lose control in ways that fascinated him. She wasn't impulsive—she was calculated, precise, like she saw everything five steps ahead. It intrigued him. She didn't fit into any mold he was used to, and he found himself watching her even more closely.

Days passed, and they sparred again. This time, Eric found himself testing her more, pushing her limits. He watched the way her body moved, the way she adapted to his attacks, always quick, always clever. The black dress still clung to her frame, her skin exposed just enough to catch his eye.

He hit her hard—right in the ribs—and watched as she stumbled, a grimace crossing her face. For a moment, he thought she'd fall. But instead, Y/N straightened, a dangerous smile creeping onto her lips.

She lunged at him with a force that nearly knocked him off balance. Her hits came fast and fierce, and before he knew it, she'd landed a blow square against his jaw. The pain shot through him, but all he could think was, *Damn, she's crazy*.

He liked it.

But then, without warning, Y/N's body finally gave out. She staggered, her knees buckling as exhaustion took over. Eric reached out, catching her before she could hit the ground. For a second, he just stared down at her, his heart beating a little faster than it should've.

She was reckless. She was wild. And she was getting under his skin in ways he didn't expect.

As she caught her breath, Y/N looked up at him, her eyes still blazing with that unrelenting fire. Without warning, she grabbed his hand, using his own weight against him to spin him down onto the ground. She stood over him, smirking as she pointed a mock gun at his head.

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

Eric chuckled, shaking his head as he stayed sprawled on the mat. "You're a fucking maniac."

Y/N grinned, brushing the hair out of her face. "Look who's talking."

For a brief moment, their eyes met, and Eric felt something shift inside him. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was there—a pull, a spark, something he couldn't quite name. But damn it, he liked it. He liked the fire, the danger, the unpredictability she brought to his life.

And he wanted more.