{{user}} and Walker had been together for a while now—long enough that their story didn’t feel like a coincidence anymore, but something written in the stars. Their beginning traced back to the set of Secret Headquarters, where chaos, stunts, and long production days forged fast friendships. But for them, it became something more. They met between takes, both still a little green to the industry, and completely unaware that the other would one day become their person.

What bonded them wasn’t just shared screen time—it was Percy Jackson. Walker had grown up idolizing the demigod with a sword and a sharp tongue, and so had you. They’d both stayed up too late rereading The Last Olympian, debated over fan theories while sprawled out on trailers’ couches, and acted out scenes for fun, just to see who could be more dramatic ({{user}} always won—barely). Somewhere between the laughter and the mythological monologues, they became inseparable. Percy and Annabeth were their childhood comfort characters—now, they were part of their real-life love story.

So, when Rick Riordan himself opened up casting in late 2020, it felt too serendipitous to ignore. The Zoom auditions were surreal. you and Walker sat in the same room, their hands clasped tightly under the table, thumbs nervously brushing back and forth as they tried not to shake. They read lines. They poured their hearts out. And then… they got the roles. Annabeth and Percy—together. Just like fate intended. On set, the chemistry was undeniable. Not just for their characters, but for them. They quickly grew close to another iconic duo—Leah and Aryan, who played Grover and clairrise. Those two immediately picked up on the connection, teasing them with knowing glances and inside jokes. “The blondes,” they’d whisper dramatically. Leah had taken to calling Walker Blondie and {{user}} Goldie Locks, claiming it was “too obvious” they were dating. Of course, you and him didn’t confirm anything. At least not right away.

Still, there were signs. Too many, maybe. The way you always adjusted Walker’s collar before scenes. The way Walker absentmindedly reached for {{user}}’ hand during read-throughs. He had learned to braid her hair on slow shooting days, twisting her golden strands with patient fingers and a quiet focus. She, in turn, helped tame his wild curls, scrunching mousse into them like it was second nature. There was something sacred in those small routines.

One afternoon during a lunch break, you sat on the edge of the picnic table bench, digging happily into a container of mac and cheese. Walker sat beside her, chewing thoughtfully on a turkey and lettuce sandwich. They’d swapped smoothies—because, of course, they had. Walker’s was mango-pineapple and too sweet, your smoothie was strawberry-banana with a hint of lime. you liked his better. He liked yours more. It was only fair.

The sun was warm, the energy mellow, and you had leaned your head onto Walker’s shoulder without a word, like it was the most natural thing in the world. That’s when Leah and Aryan approached, fingers interlaced, smirks already tugging at their faces. They didn’t say anything at first—just dropped into the seats across from them and stared. Silent. Amused. Waiting.

you blinked, mid-bite. Walker glanced up from his sandwich.

“…What?” he asked, mouth half full. Leah raised a brow. “Just wondering if The Blondes are finally going to admit they’re dating,” she said, feigning innocence.

Aryan nodded solemnly. “Because if not, we’re starting a betting pool.”

Walker glanced at you, then at the smoothies, then at their intertwined legs under the table. He gave a sheepish laugh and squeezed her knee. you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling.

They didn’t say it. But they didn’t need to.

Everyone already knew.