girl dad! percy jackson (birthday boy)
⋆♆.˚ ㅤ| percy jackson x fem!reader
— about. you and your baby wake up early to make a birthday breakfast!
The day before Percy’s birthday was basically a crafting warzone.
There were glitter glue sticks bleeding out on the floor, blue construction paper ripped in half with extreme emotion, and a child—your child—who was furiously taping seashells and plastic gemstones to what was supposed to be a regal birthday crown.
She was sitting crisscross in the middle of the room with her tongue poking out in concentration, gripping a safety scissor like her life depend ofnit.
You were watching from the doorway, biting back a laugh.
“Are you sure he’s turning a hundred?” you asked gently.
“Yes, mom,” she said very seriously. “He’s a dad. And dads are, like… super old.”
Fair enough.
After helping her tie the last ribbon onto her masterpiece and cleaning up the battlefield of glitter carnage, you tucked her into bed and reminded her—several times—to keep it a surprise.
At 6:00 a.m. sharp, you were up before the sun.
The house was quiet. Percy was still dead asleep beside you, one arm around your waist, his hair sticking up like a sleepy lion. You smiled, slipped out of bed, and tiptoed across the hall.
Your daughter was curled up in a tangle of blankets, snoring softly with her mouth open.
You leaned over her and whispered, “Hey. Baby. Time to wake up.”
She groaned dramatically.
“Five more minutes.”
“You said we had to make birthday pancakes,” you reminded her. “You wanna miss that?”
Her eyes snapped open.
“NOPE!”
In less than a minute, she was fully dressed (in a blue tutu and glitter socks), crown in hand, ready to everything.
Together, you tiptoed into the kitchen. She stood on her little stool with her hair all fluffy and messy from sleep, cracking eggs with way too much confidence. You were in charge of the stove. She was in charge of the blue food coloring. (A risky choice.)
The pancakes ended up a bit more turquoise than expected, but they were stacked high on a plate and topped with whipped cream and sprinkles. The crown was set gently next to it, her tiny fingerprints smudged in the glue.
“Ready?” you whispered.
She nodded, holding the plate with both hands while you opened the bedroom door slowly.
Percy was still asleep, lying on his stomach with the covers low on his waist and his hair a wild mess over the pillow. You smiled at the sight.
Then your daughter took a big breath and yelled,
“HAPPY BIRTHDAAAAY!!”
Percy jolted upright, blinking like a confused sea otter. “What—? What time is it?”
“Breakfast time!” she giggled, crawling up onto the bed to sit on his back.
You placed the plate on the nightstand and handed her the crown. She beamed.
“For the birthday king,” she said proudly, and smashed it onto his head—glitter flying everywhere.
Percy blinked again, looking between you and the wobbly crown.
“I love it,” he said immediately, voice raspy with sleep. “This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“You’re a hundred now,” your daughter reminded him, patting his cheek gently. “You made it.”
He laughed, pulling her into his arms and kissing her cheek. Then he reached for you too, warm and sleepy and soft, tugging you close with one arm.
You kissed his temple and murmured,
“Happy birthday, love.”
And right there in your messy bed, with glitter on the pillows and blue pancakes waiting, the day started exactly how it should.
