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﹒⌗﹒open up your heart ⸝⸝

actors ↳ dior goodjohn x black!fem!reader

synopsis: ↳ when leah's older sister, y/n, returns home from college for the weekend, she wasn't expecting to meet her little sister's cast mates and definitely not to catch Dior's attention

genre: ↳ wlw, actress x university student, fluff, best friends sister au, slow burn, love at first sight

featuring: ↳ dior goodjohn x leah’s older sister!reader ↳ leah sava jefferies, walker scobell, aryan simhadri, charlie bushnell, tamara smart, daniel deimer

warnings / notes: ↳ request ↳ none. just pure fluff ↳ 2, 925 words

You should’ve known coming home for the weekend wouldn’t be quiet.

Leah didn’t even give you five minutes to drop your bag before she was bouncing on the balls of her feet like she had just downed three iced matchas.

“They’re coming over tonight,” she announced.

You paused mid-unpacking, “Who is “they” exactly?”

She blinked at you like you’d just who Beyoncé was. “You know, the rest of the cast.”

You stared at her and she stared at you while standing in the doorway of your bedroom.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Leah.”

“Y/n.”

You closed your suitcase with a sigh—you loved your little sister, you really did but you had successfully avoided most of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians chaos ever since the first season and fans had found out that Leah had an older sister. You preferred being the mysterious older sister who stayed out of the spotlight.

College was peaceful, predictable.

No red carpets and no group chats blowing up at 2 a.m.

“I’ll just stay upstairs,” you muttered.

Leah crossed her arms, walking further into the room. “You said that you were going to spend time with me.”

"I am.” you said, looking at the sixteen year old. “I just didn’t realize that it came with a whole PJO ensemble.”

She grinned, “Please? We’re doing a watch party for season two, just hang out for a little. They’re not scary.”

You gave her a look as she sat down on the floor across from you.

She leaned in, “Dior will be there.”

You tried to ignore the tiny flicker in your chest at the name. You had met her once, briefly, a handshake and a soft, “Hi, it’s really nice to finally meet you.”

Her smile had been warm and her eyes had been even warmer.

You had fled to the kitchen after that, being too shy to even talk to her, Walker, Aryan and Charlie at the time.

“I’ll think about it,” you said casually, running a hand through your straightened hair.

Leah’s smile widened in a way that felt suspicious.

—

The house was loud by seven p.m, Walker was arguing with Aryan about pizza toppings, Charlie was trying to keep them from burning the garlic bread, Tamara and Daniel were setting up the TV while Leah fluttered between rooms like a very excited event coordinator.

You stayed upstairs for a solid twenty minutes before your sister texted:

leah sava j. If you don’t come down, I’m telling them that you cried during the finale. Read 7:21 PM

You were downstairs in thirty seconds after getting that text message.

The room quieted for half a heartbeat when you walked in, not in a bad way just that subtle shift when someone new enters.

Leah beamed, “Guys, this is my sister, Y/n.”

You gave a small wave, “Hi.”

Tamara smiled immediately, finally getting to see the girl that she’s heard so much about ever since joining the cast. “Oh, she’s gorgeous.”

“Tamara,” Daniel scolded playfully, being the eldest out of everyone in the room.

You felt your face heat up, just great. Moments like this were exactly why you avoided being in these kinds of situations.

And then, “There you are.”

Your eyes lifted and they landed on Dior where she was standing near the couch, hands tucked into the sleeves of her sweater, like she was trying not to look too eager to see you. Her curls framed her face perfectly, and when she smiled at you, it felt intentional, soft, like she’d been waiting to see you again.

“Hi,” she said again, like she hadn’t already said it once three years ago.

“Hi,” you echoed.

Leah was watching both of you like this was her favorite show.

You cleared your throat, “I didn’t realize it was this big of a party.”

“It’s not,” Dior said quickly, “It’s just us.”

You smiled despite yourself, “That’s what scares me.”

She laughed, bright and unfiltered, and something in your chest loosened at the sound of her laughter.

You ended up up on the couch, next to Dior, not because you meant to and not because Leah had forced Walker to scoot over.

Definitely not that.

The episode started, and you tried to focus on the screen. You really did, but you could feel her next to you, not touching just close enough that the warmth of her arm felt real.

Halfway through the episode, she leaned slightly toward you while everyone else was distracted by the tv screen.

“So,” she whispered, “is college treating you okay?”

You glanced at her, “Yeah, it’s calm.”

“Calm is good.”

“I like calm.”

She tilted her head, “You don’t like chaos?”

You looked at Walker dramatically fake-gasping at a scene and Aryan nearly dropping his drink.

“I think I’ve had my fill.”

She smiled like she understood something deeper than your words.

“That’s fair,” she said softly.

And then, without thinking, you smiled back fully which caught her off guard making her breath hitch, just a little, and you pretended not to notice.

Across the room, Walker leaned toward Charlie.

“Why is Dior looking at her like that?” he whispered.

Charlie followed his gaze, “Like what?”

“Like she’s about to write a million love songs.”

Later, in the kitchen, Dior, Leah and Walker were near the fridge.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since we first met!” she whispered, clearly trying and failing to keep her voice down. “I just love her warm smile and her beautiful eyes.”

Walker blinked at her, “That’s gay.”

Leah smacked his arm, “Shut up.”

He held his hands up defensively, “I’m just saying!”

From the doorway, you caught the tail end of it and you pretended that you didn’t, but your heart was doing something that wasn’t very calm.

When the episode ended, everyone drifted into smaller conversations while you slipped out onto the porch for air.

You weren’t used to this many people or this much energy, it wasn’t bad, it was just overwhelming.

The door creaked open behind you.

“I had a feeling you’d escape,” Dior said gently.

You turned, surprised but not really.

“Too loud?”

“A little.”

She nodded and stepped beside you, resting her arms on the railing. “I get that.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, everyone thinks that because we’re actors, we love attention, but sometimes it’s just a lot.”

You studied her profile quietly, she looked calmer out here, more realer.

“I didn’t mean to be distant earlier,” you admitted quietly. “I’m just not great with new people.”

She turned to you fully.

“You weren’t distant,” she said. “You were careful.”

The way she said it made it sound like something precious instead of a flaw.

“I don’t like the spotlight,” you said.

“I know.”

“You do?”

She nodded, “Leah talks about you all the time on set or during interviews. You’ve always been there for her, made sure she knew that you’re always supporting her even if you’re not with her physically all the time.”

You swallowed, “She deserves that.”

“And so do you.” Dior said softly.

The air shifted between the two of you as you looked at her properly then, no noise and no other people around, just the two of you and the faint glow of the porch light.

“You don’t even know me.” you murmured.

She smiled, “I’d like to.”

The honesty in her voice made your chest ache in the best way.

You hesitated; old habits, walls, and safe distance.

She didn’t rush you, just stood there, patient.

“You’re not scared of me?” you asked.

“Should I be?”

“I’m not exactly open, you know.”

Her eyes softened, “That’s okay. I’m not asking you to be, not all at once.”

Your heart did that thing again, “And what are you asking?” you whispered.

She took a small step closer, “Just let me try.”

You searched her face for anything but sincerity, and there was nothing but warmth.

You exhaled slowly, “Okay.”

Her smile bloomed like the sunrise.

“Okay?” she repeated, hopeful.

“Okay,” you confirmed, and this time you didn’t hold back the full curve of your lips.

She looked like she’d just won an award.

Inside, Leah peeked through the curtain, grinning like the mastermind she was.

Walker leaned over, “Did it work?”

Leah nodded proudly, “Told you.”

Back on the porch, Dior brushed her pinky lightly against yours, not quite holding hands just close.

“Can I take you out while you’re home?” she asked softly. “Somewhere calm.”

You pretended to think about it, “Is it loud?”

“No.”

“Chaotic?”

“Not if I can help it.”

You let your pinky hook around hers.

“Then maybe.”

Her grin was so bright it was unfair.

And for the first time in a long time, opening up didn’t feel terrifying at all.

Instead, it felt right.

—

The date was supposed to be simple, that’s what Dior told herself—simple, calm, and low-pressure.

Which is exactly why she showed up at the Jefferies house forty minutes early.

She stood on the porch, staring at the door like it had personally offended her. In her hand was a small bouquet of sunflowers–bright, warm, and impossible to ignore. She’d remember you mentioning it once, offhandedly, that you liked flowers that looked like they were “trying too hard to be happy.”

Sunflowers definitely qualified.

The door swung open before she could even get the chance to knock and there stood Leah, her arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

“Oh,” she said slowly. “You’re early.”

Dior cleared her throat, “I like being punctual.”

“You’re sweating.”

“It’s summer.”

“It’s February.”

Dior blinked, her face heating up in embarrassment. “Right…”

Leah stepped aside to let Dior in, “Come in.”

The house was quiet, too quiet. Floyd was out for a modeling gig and their parents were busy working in their home offices.

“Where’s—” Dior started before getting cut off by Leah.

“Upstairs,” Leah said. “Getting ready.”

Dior’s heart did something embarrassing as Leah shut the door behind her with a soft click and led the older girl to the living room.

“Sit.”

It wasn’t a suggestion.

Dior sat on the couch like she was waiting to be graded while Leah remained standing, observing the nineteen year old girl carefully.

There was something different about the sixteen year old girl now, there wasn’t any sign of the bubbly, mischievous little sister energy that Leah always had, this was more protective and measured.

“So,” Leah began, clasping her hands together. “You like my sister.”

Dior didn’t hesitate, “Yeah.”

“How much?”

The question caught her off guard, “What do you mean?”

Leah tilted her head slightly, “I mean is this just a crush because she’s pretty and mysterious? Or do you actually like her?”

Dior swallowed, she could’ve dodged it and played it cool but that didn’t feel right.

“I like the way she listens,” Dior said quietly, “Like she’s really hearing you. I like that she thinks before she speaks. I like that she supports you. I like that she doesn’t let people in easily.”

Leah’s expression shifted slightly. “And?” she pressed.

“And I don’t want to rush her,” Dior continued. “I know that she’s guarded, and I’m not trying to break that down. I just want to be someone she feels safe with.”

The room went silent before Leah studied her for a long moment.

“My sister,” she said slowly, “doesn’t open up to people, at least not fully and when she does, it’s a big deal.”

“I know.”

“She’s been hurt before.”

Dior’s chest tightened, “I won’t hurt her.”

Leah stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. “If you do,” she said evenly, “I will make your life very difficult.”

Dior almost smiled, before stopping herself. “That’s fur.”

The sixteen year old held her gaze for another few seconds, like she was weighing something invisible before she made her decision.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Dior echoed, a look of confusion appearing on her face.

“You passed.”

Dior let out a breath that she didn’t realize she had been holding in.

“But,” Leah added quickly, pointing a finger at her, “if she comes back tonight looking even a little sad—”

“She won’t.”

Leah’s face softened, just barely. “I know.” she said.

Upstairs, your bedroom door opened causing both girls to look up instinctively and then you appeared at the top of the stairs.

Dior forgot how to breathe as her eyes locked on you.

You were wearing something soft and effortless—a fitted sweater that hugged your shoulders, high-waisted jeans, gold jewelry catching the light just enough to glow against your skin. Your hair framed your face perfectly, and when your eyes found hers, your lips curved into that warm smile that she had absolutely been losing sleep over.

“Oh,” the nineteen year old whispered under her breath.

Leah smirked, “Yeah, good luck.”

You descended the stairs slowly, adjusting your bag on your shoulder.

“Why do you both look like you just signed a contract?” you asked suspiciously.

“Secret.” Leah said quickly.

Dior nodded, “Very secret.”

You narrowed your eyes but let it go, walking further into the living room. When you reached her, Dior held out the bouquet of sunflowers.

“These are for you.”

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise, “You didn’t have to–”

“I wanted to.”

You took them gently, brushing her fingers in the process. The contact was brief, intentional, and electric, causing both of your hearts to skip a beat.

“They’re beautiful.” you murmured, running your thumb over a petal.

Leah watched the entire exchange like a proud mom. “Be home at a reasonable hour,” she called as you both headed for the door.

“Define reasonable!” you shot back.

“Before sunrise!”

Dior laughed, opening the door for you.

The night air was cool and quiet, exactly what she’d promised.

She had chosen a small, tucked-away cafe downtown—soft yellow lights glowed through the windows, there was low music humming in the background, and the place smelled faintly of vanilla and espresso.

You looked around, visibly relaxing from your surroundings.

“This is perfect.” you said, looking around before looking at the taller girl.

Dior’s shoulders loosened, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” you assured her, nodding.

They gave you a small table near the window. Outside, the city lights flickered softly against the dark sky and for a moment neither of you spoke, it wasn’t awkward, just new.

You traced the rim of your glass thoughtfully. “So,” you said, glancing at her, “were you nervous/”

She laughed lightly, “Is it that obvious?”

“A little.”

She leaned back in her chair, studying you. “I just wanted it to be right.”

“It already is.”

The words slipped out of you before you could filter them and her expression softened instantly.

You looked down, slightly embarrassed. “I mean…this place. It’s nice.”

“I know what you meant,” she said gently.

Your eyes met again, and there it was that quiet understanding.

The conversation flowed easier after that, you talked about school, your major, the professors you loved, and the way campus looked in the fall. She told you stories from set—long shooting days, inside jokes, and the way the cast felt like family.

But what surprised you most was how carefully she listened, not interrupting and not rushing to respond, just present.

At one point, she reached across the table without thinking and brushed her thumb lightly over your knuckles.

You stilled, your face warming up from the contact.

She froze too, her ears also heating up. “Sorry, I—”

You turned your hand over slowly, lacing your fingers with hers.

“Don’t.” you said softly.

Her breath caught as your hands fit together comfortably, like they’d practiced.

Outside, a car passed while inside, the cafe lights flickered warm and steady.

“You know,” you said after a moment, voice quieter now, “I almost didn’t come downstairs last night.”

“I know.”

“Leah threatened me.”

Dior grinned, “She threatened me too.”

You laughed, and then you looked at her with something more vulnerable.

“I’m not great at this.” you admitted.

“At what?”

“Letting people in.”

She squeezed your hand gently, “You don’t have to give me everything,” she said. “Just be honest.”

You searched her face again for anything uncertain, but there was nothing but patience and care.

You leaned back in your chair, still holding her hand.

“I like you.” you said finally, your words were steady and sure.

Dior’s entire face lit up, “I like you too.”

The simplicity of it felt bigger than fireworks.

Later, when she walked you back to her car, the night felt softer somehow and the world was quieter.

She opened the passenger door for you, but before you could get in, she hesitated.

“Can I—” she started, then stopped.

You stepped a little closer, tilting her head slightly in confusion.

“Can you what?”

Her voice dropped slightly, “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart jumped, but instead of panicking you smiled.

“Yeah,” you breathed.

She leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away but you didn’t.

Her hand hovered at your waist before settling gently, carefully, like she was afraid you’d shatter as your fingers curled into the fabric of her jacket.

The kiss was soft, sweet, and unrushed, it felt like something beginning and not something being taken.

When you pulled back, both of you were smiling like idiots.

“Reasonable hour,” you murmured.

She laughed quietly, “I’ll get you home.”

As she drove, your hand stayed in hers over the center console and for the first time, opening your heart didn’t feel like losing control.

Instead, it felt like choosing someone who would hold it gently.

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