This Can't be Happening (Hamilsquad x Reader)

Pride Can be a Bitch

Previously:

I smiled. For the first time since being here, I felt like I belonged.
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Hercules' point of view

Something was strange with that new kid. He seemed really familiar.

Me and the guys showed him the rest of the camp. He was a little to excited. He almost looked like...

No. I pushed away that thought. Thinking about (y/n) is a bad idea. It'll distract me.

We had free time for the rest of the day. It was pretty boring actually. We stayed in the tent and talked to Jack.

He told us stories about his childhood. How his mother and father died at a young age and he was raised by another family.

He had a lot of brothers and sisters because of that. They would play pranks on each other and it would turn into prank wars, which would get them in a lot of trouble.

The way he laughed was so strange. It was so full of life and happiness. It was a lot like (y/n)'s.

I mentally sighed. It was going to be a long few years of war.
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(Y/n)'s point of view

I woke up to the pots and pans again. Last night, we talked a lot, and I had told them the truth. Well, except for only having one foster family. I don't know the custom here and I didn't want them getting suspicious.

We got ready, stood in our lines and went over strategies. It was long and my legs hurt after, but I'd just have to get used to that.

After we received our breakfast for the day, I went over to where we would practice hand to hand combat. A lot of the men there were a lot bigger and stronger than me. I would be worried, but one of my dads made me take self defense lessons.

I didn't hate all of the homes I got stuck in. I actually rather liked that home, until I got temporarily pulled out of the system to live with an aunt who just got out of jail, then got sent back in after she robbed a convenience store.

I was set up against a man who was twice my size. He looked like he'd killed a few people and would do it again. I was a little bit worried.

Actually, I was terrified, but I wouldn't let it show. They had us sparring with our partners while a trainer/supervisor watched us.

The big man threw a punch. I ducked and my fist hit his chest. My hand throbbed. The wound on my knuckles was still tender.

I ducked another oncoming punch and countered with my own, immediately regretting the decision. I drew my hand back and cradled it. My opponent took this opportunity to catch me off guard and he landed a punch on my jaw.

I think he hit harder than he meant to because he stopped when he saw me rub my cheek.

The wound on my hand had opened up again and bled through the makeshift bandages. I felt a little lightheaded after that last hit, so I sat down.

I watched the others practicing. They were a lot bigger and stronger than me. I had to find a new way to beat them. Brute strength wouldn't work.