Scarlett Johansson x Daughter One Shots

peer pressure.

Scarlett

Charlie has always been a quiet kid and extremely introverted. Sometimes so introverted I get a little bit concerned about her lack of socialisation.
However, now that she's started high school she seems to be coming out of her shell a little bit.

A few of the girls she knew from middle school also started at the same high school this semester, and while I'm still not all that familiar with the three of them, Charlie seems to be bonding with their little group.

It makes me happy to see her making new friends.

However, it did take me by surprise when she asked to go out to a party with them tonight. Charlie has never been one to want to spend her nights out.
She seemed excited when she asked me and I want her to keep pushing herself out of her comfort zone, so with some very clear boundaries I decided to let her go.

"Mom, where are you?" she shouts, making her way down the staircase.

"Kitchen," I respond.

Her footsteps quickly approach. My jaw hangs softly open and my eyes ever so slightly widen when I see what it is she chose to wear.

My barely fifteen-year-old is dressed in knee high boots, a black leather mini skirt and a black see-through lace shirt with a bright red bra underneath. A leather jacket hangs over her forearm as she holds her phone and purse in the other.

"Are you okay to drop me off now?" she asks.

I swallow, trying to process the sight and collect myself. My first instinct is to raise my voice and ask how in the hell she thought that was appropriate to wear at her age, but I bite my tongue and try a calmer approach instead.

"Can you go change into something more appropriate first, please? You're still a little young for what you're wearing, babe," I tell her, a gentle smile hiding how mortified I am right now.

I get sent a glare in response. "What's wrong with it?" she questions in an abrasive manner.

"I just told you, it's not appropriate," I reiterate a little more sternly.

"I thought you were all for wearing what you wanted?"

"I am. However, I'm also all for dressing your age. You're fifteen, not eighteen."

Charlie rolls her eyes, but nonetheless goes back upstairs to change. Fifteen minutes later she comes down in a pink dress and a pair of white boots and the two of us are soon on our way.

Once we arrive, Charlie is quick to unbuckle her seatbelt and want to step out the car but I quickly stop her.

"Before I let you go, what are the rules?" I ask.
She's a good kid—despite the attitude I can sometimes get—and I have no reason not to trust her, but for my own peace of mind I double check that she knows not to do anything she's not supposed to.

"No taking drinks from strangers, and I'm only allowed to have one drink if I even want anything at all, stick with my friends. Don't let anyone take me upstairs alone and most importantly, no adding or subtracting from the population."

"You're missing one."

She takes a breath. "I have to meet you back here at eleven. Can I go now?"