Walker Scobell had always been grounded despite the sudden whirlwind of fame that followed him after Percy Jackson. But recently, the internet had been buzzing with speculation, shipping him with every girl he so much as shared a frame with. It didn’t matter if it was a co-star, an interviewer, or someone he only interacted with briefly. People loved to pair him off, and while he brushed it off most of the time, deep down he hated the idea that it might hurt you. You were the one person who truly had his heart, and he didn’t want anyone else to make you feel like you weren’t.

So when the season two premiere rolled around, Walker had an idea. He didn’t want to walk the red carpet alone, surrounded by whispers of speculation. He wanted you there with him. Without telling you at first, he had gone out of his way to have a stylist help him find a dress for you—something elegant, something that would match the tie he had already chosen for himself. When he finally presented it to you, his ears were red, his grin boyish but proud.

The night of the premiere, as the car pulled up to the theater, your heart fluttered in your chest. Flashing cameras painted the street in a storm of white light, and the hum of voices filled the cool night air. Walker offered his hand, his nerves hidden behind the gentle, reassuring squeeze of his fingers.

“You ready?” he whispered, eyes sparkling beneath the soft glow of the marquee.

“As long as I’m with you,” you answered, and his smile widened.

The moment your feet touched the carpet, the cameras roared to life. Shouts of his name filled the air, reporters calling out questions, fans screaming from behind the barricades. You felt his arm slip through yours, holding you securely against his side as if to silently tell the world that you belonged there with him.

He looked sharp in his suit, the color of his tie perfectly complementing the shade of your dress. You noticed a few heads turn, fans whispering and pointing, but Walker didn’t seem fazed. He glanced down at you instead, adjusting the hem of your dress where it had snagged slightly, before you reached up to brush a strand of his hair back into place. The simple touch made him chuckle under his breath.

Then, in front of the flashing cameras, he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. The gesture wasn’t for show, it was instinctive, protective, affectionate. And before you could even react, Walker leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. The crowd erupted, a collective gasp followed by even more frenzied snapping of cameras. Your face warmed instantly, but Walker just looked down at you with an expression that said everything without words: you were the one he wanted everyone to know about.

As the two of you moved down the carpet, you paused beside him while he gave interviews. He spoke about the show with his usual charm, answering questions about training, about the cast, about the excitement of continuing Percy’s story. But even as he smiled for the reporters, his hand never left yours. Occasionally, his thumb brushed across your knuckles, or he gave your hand a small squeeze, subtle reminders that even in the chaos of the premiere, his attention was anchored to you.

When one interviewer joked about all the girls Walker was “rumored” to be close with, he laughed politely, then turned slightly, his arm tightening around you.

“I think people like to speculate,” he said smoothly, flashing a grin at the cameras. “But I already have someone really important to me right here.”