Eridan x Reader: Camp Skaia

You don’t remember the real reason you signed up for volunteering as a counselor at Camp Skaia--you aren’t particularly good with children and you don’t really like the outdoors. Probably for the volunteer hours, originally. You went through the ordeal of papers and driving and then they made you pick a camp name, which seemed to have been designed to be as stupid and cringe-inducing as possible. (You're "Harry Potter". Go fucking figure.) And after all that codswallop was done, you had hoped that you would get assigned to a teenage cabin, so you would have as little work to do as possible.

But no, you ended up with the eight to ten year olds under your freaking supervision, a unit otherwise completely run by older women who gave you death glares as they informed you how to handle their “precious little ones.” You’ll be forced to tell stories, attend cookoffs, and comfort crying kids about their fear of the dark, the woods, the lake. All while surrounded by people that actually care, and will be judging you because you don’t.

So in other words, this summer is going to be an utter disaster.

You wake up in the drafty cabin on the first day, help yourself to some low-quality black tea in the mess hall, and go to the orientation for the campers this session. 90% of the counselors are blonde girls in jeans and perfect makeup who know exactly what they’re doing. There are about three male counselors who you can immediately pin as equally enthusiastic, and anyway, they’re too busy flirting (in a kid-friendly way, of course) with the other female counselors. As usual, you and your ill-fitting camp shirt are left alone, waiting for your cabin members to arrive.

As you sulk on a tree stump, watching the kids trickle in, you hear a voice call, “Hey, earth to cape guy.”

You look up and are immediately shocked. A (your height) girl with (h/c) hair is standing next to you, smiling mischievously. You vaguely recognize her as one of the counselors, and feel your face heat up slightly at the fact that a cute girl is talking to you voluntarily. “Uh...hi.”

She takes a seat on the grass next to you. “You do realize you’re gonna be livin’ with these kids the whole three months, right?”

“...Yeah?” you say blankly. “Your point being?”

She giggles up at you. “Kids won’t like you unless you look like someone they can relate to, or at least someone that looks nice! Your face is kind of intense right now.” Putting her fingers above her eyes in a motion that takes you a moment to realize she’s imitating eyebrows, she scowls darkly, and then laughs again. “Eyebrow game too strong.”

God. Is it even legal to laugh that much and still come off as your age? How old does she think she is, seven? Her camp shirt is far too big on her, almost covering her jean shorts. Her slender wrists and ankles are decorated in multicolored friendship bracelets, ranging from sloppy to intricate.

“Well, your choice,” she says finally. “Your cabin can hate you. Not my problem.”

There’s an awkward silence, while you stare at the grass, knowing she’ll leave soon to talk to her other friends.

“You don’t say much, do you?” she remarks wryly. You turn to blink at her, wondering why she hasn’t left you alone yet.

Noticing you wordlessly staring at her, she coughs slightly, twisting her face into a grin. “My face is up here.”

At her implication, you feel the blood drain from your face. “N-no! I was just...lookin’. At the...friendship bracelets.” (That, admittedly, was not what you were checking out. But you'll try to keep it PG.)

“The kids make them for me every year,” she admits, glancing at her ankle. “I’ve never taken any of them off.” She looks at you again. “You’re new, aren’t you? I can tell by your irritated expression.”

“Yeah,” you admit grudgingly. “Summer camps are good for college resumes. Plus I’m, you know, a good swimmer. On the swim team at home.” You subtly flex your arm muscles, hoping she’ll notice.

Unfortunately, the pretty thing seems blissfully unaware of your advances. “I just relate to the kids,” she says, staring at the tiny figures parting excitedly from their parents. “I never really grew up. Hanging out with them makes me feel like I fit in better.” She shrugs. “Whatever. Sorry, I like to talk about my past a lot.”

“I’m Eridan,” you blurt out, suddenly nervous. “What’s your name?”

She tilts her head, confused, but suddenly breaks into a white-toothed smile. “I’m Mermaid--well, that’s my camp name. If you call me by anything else you’ll get in trouble, ‘cuz it ruins it for the kids, you know.”

You roll your eyes. “I can’t even know your real name? Are we gonna be counselors to these brats together, or what?”

“This one has sass!” she says, giggling yet again. Each time, it’s a little more endearing. “Maybe later, if you promise to be nice to your cabin.”

A voice sounds behind you. “Cabin Fox, your camp members are here!”

Mermaid, whatever her real name is, stands up, glancing at you with a strange expression--almost like she’s disappointed to leave.  “Well, see you around, Eridan,” she says, flashing another smile and skipping off with a big smile.

You’re left stranded, alone once again, but feeling a little like this summer won’t be so bad after all.