Pipabeth oneshots!!

Piper’s birthday began with an eerie calmness—too calm for Camp Half-Blood, where anything could happen at any moment. Piper was lounging on her bed in the Aphrodite cabin, looking at her phone and considering taking a nap when Annabeth strolled in, grinning like she knew something Piper didn’t.

“Happy birthday, Pipes!” Annabeth said cheerfully, holding out a folded piece of parchment.

Piper raised an eyebrow, then smiled. “What’s this? A ransom note?”

Annabeth rolled her eyes but didn’t give an inch. “Open it. You’ll see.”

Piper unfolded the note, her eyes scanning the words quickly.

Clue #1: Where your charm and my wit first collided, start your day where our love was decided.

Piper groaned. “Oh no. Not a scavenger hunt. Annabeth, I just wanted cake and maybe a nap. Is that too much to ask for?”

Annabeth raised an eyebrow, feigning hurt. “A scavenger hunt is an ideal birthday tradition, thank you very much. Plus, you’ll get cake after you finish the clues.”

“Or you could eat it all yourself,” Piper grumbled, but she was already getting that familiar spark of excitement in her chest.

She knew where the first clue was pointing: the sparring arena. That’s where their rivalry had first started—well, the friendly kind of rivalry. Annabeth had been practicing knife-throwing while Piper had, in her infinite wisdom, tried to distract her with a few witty remarks. They hadn’t really known each other that well back then, but their interactions had been… electric. They had gone from teasing each other to something deeper.

Piper walked to the arena with a purpose, her mind replaying that memory. She remembered how Annabeth’s eyes had narrowed as Piper had mocked her aim, but when the knife had missed the target and almost hit her, Piper had laughed so hard she’d almost fallen over. Annabeth, to her credit, had smiled despite her irritation. “Next time, I’ll aim for your face,” Annabeth had warned, though Piper knew that was more of a joke than a threat.

When she arrived, the only thing she found was a small leather bracelet with a little owl charm tied to it. As she picked it up, she saw the next clue, written neatly on a scrap of parchment.

Clue #2: A cabin of wisdom, where I first fell for your smile.

Piper snorted, rolling her eyes. “Of course. You had to bring up the cabin of wisdom.”

But the smile never left her face as she walked to the Athena cabin. Inside, tucked into the corner, was a beautifully painted amphora depicting two figures under a starry sky. It was a scene that felt oddly familiar, and Piper instantly knew what it represented: the night they’d snuck away from camp and shared an evening together under the stars.

That night had been something special. They had laid on a blanket in the strawberry fields, the silence of the evening punctuated only by the occasional sound of distant monsters or the rustle of the wind. Piper had pointed out constellations in the sky, teasing Annabeth about how much she knew, and Annabeth had rolled her eyes but indulged her with stories of Greek myths. At one point, Piper had been staring at the stars so intently that she hadn’t noticed Annabeth watching her until the blonde had asked, “Are you going to keep looking at the stars, or are you going to kiss me already?”

Piper had flushed, but not as much as Annabeth had. “Are you sure you want to kiss me? I’m pretty sure I’m not a good kisser.”

Annabeth had raised an eyebrow. “That’s cute. Try me.”

And that had been it. Their first kiss was soft, tentative, but meaningful. Piper hadn’t realized it at the time, but she’d known from that moment that there was no going back. Annabeth had left an impression that night.

Piper smirked as she plucked the clue from beneath the amphora. “Alright, next stop: the canoe lake.”

She knew the clue’s next meaning before she even arrived. The lake had witnessed one of their most ridiculous—and memorable—adventures. Annabeth, the ever-competent daughter of Athena, had insisted on steering their canoe during one of their rare lazy afternoons. Naturally, they’d gotten stuck on a sandbar almost immediately.

“You’re supposed to steer,” Piper had pointed out as Annabeth tried (and failed) to paddle them out of trouble.

“I am steering,” Annabeth had argued, her face flushed with frustration.

“By steering you mean yelling at the water and hoping for the best?” Piper had teased, holding back laughter as they both paddled desperately, only to capsized the boat seconds later.

Soaked and half-laughing, they’d managed to swim back to shore, and as Annabeth wrung out her shirt, Piper had quipped, “You know, you could probably teach a class on how not to steer a canoe.”

Annabeth had shot her a look, but she’d been grinning. “That’s rich, coming from someone who’s never steered a canoe properly.”

Piper had laughed so hard she’d almost forgotten to take the clue out of the water. “Of course, this was you setting me up for another ridiculous trip down memory lane.”

As she approached the strawberry fields, Piper was starting to get a little tired, but that excitement never left her. She was more than ready to see what the next memory held. She followed the path between rows of berries and found a small Polaroid, tucked beneath a basket of fresh strawberries.

The photo was from one of their more chaotic, but equally adorable, afternoons. Piper and Annabeth had started what could only be described as a berry fight. It had escalated quickly, with Piper sneaking up behind Annabeth and launching a berry at her, only for Annabeth to retaliate by pelting her with handfuls of fruit. They’d both ended up covered in purple juice and laughing until their sides hurt. The photo captured them at their messiest, but also their happiest.

Piper smiled as she pocketed the photo, ready for the final clue.

The last clue was waiting at the campfire pit. As she read it, her eyes widened:

Where the stars meet the earth, your final gift awaits. Follow the path where our hearts once raced.

“That’s gotta be the beach,” Piper muttered, feeling her heart race with anticipation. “It’s always the beach.”

And it was. When Piper reached the beach, she couldn’t help but stop and stare. The area was lit with glowing lanterns strung between driftwood poles, casting a soft light on the sand. A picnic blanket was laid out with a spread of all her favorite foods: freshly baked blueberry muffins, strawberries, and a thermos of ambrosia (she had to admit, it was a good gift).

As she walked closer, the familiar faces of her friends surrounded the area, all of them cheering her on like they had just won the Super Bowl.

“Ta-da!” Annabeth called out from the center of the scene, holding up a small wooden box. “Happy birthday, Piper.”

Piper could barely speak as she opened the box to find a silver necklace, its pendant a teardrop-shaped emerald. She was touched beyond words, and as she looked up at Annabeth, she felt that familiar rush of love, mixed with a little disbelief.

“You’re really pulling out all the stops today, huh?” Piper said softly.

Before Annabeth could respond, a loud growl interrupted them. Everyone turned to see a pack of hellhounds stalking toward them, their eyes glowing a fiery red.

Annabeth raised an eyebrow and pulled her dagger from its sheath. “Seriously? On my birthday?”

Jason groaned, drawing his sword. “This day just had to get interesting.”

The campers quickly rallied, ready to defend the beach and their picnic. Leo grinned mischievously as he pulled out a firework cannon, aiming it at the hellhounds. “Hey, maybe we can make this fight really fun.”

Annabeth shot him a look. “Leo, if you set me on fire, I will destroy you.”

But before things could escalate any further, Piper had already stepped up, her charm-speak working like magic. “Alright, you guys. Nap time,” she said, and with a few soothing words, the hellhounds stopped in their tracks. One by one, they collapsed onto the sand, snoring loudly.

Annabeth stared, mouth agape. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, we do things my way now,” Piper said with a grin.

The camp erupted into laughter as the hellhounds were swiftly dealt with, and soon, everyone was gathered around the campfire once again.

Piper looked at Annabeth, her necklace sparkling in the firelight. “This has been the best birthday ever. Even with the hellhounds.”

Annabeth smirked. “Especially with the hellhounds. We wouldn’t want a boring birthday, right?”

Piper laughed, wrapping her arms around Annabeth. As the fire flickered and their friends laughed, Piper realized that despite all the chaos, this was exactly what she wanted—memories made with the person she loved.

Perfectly imperfect, just like their relationship.