Mom's Friend / Scarlett Johansson

Chapter One: The Storm

It was 10 p.m., and the rain came down in heavy sheets, each drop a reminder of the life Y/N had learned to survive. She gripped the handlebars of her motorcycle tightly as she sped through the slick streets, the hum of the engine beneath her a comforting roar. Her knuckles were bruised, the adrenaline from the fight still coursing through her veins. Of course, she won. She always did. But that didn't make it any easier.

The city lights blurred as she rode through the rain-soaked streets, her thoughts drifting to the memories she fought so hard to bury. Her father, that towering figure who had once ruled her world, had left her broken. He had left her and her mother, Elizabeth, when she was just six. He left bruises, scars, and shattered pieces of a girl who had once been whole. The beatings had been brutal, merciless—on both of them. Y/N could still remember the hollow look in her mother's eyes after each confrontation, how she would hide the bruises and continue on, like everything was normal. 

Her father hadn't just left scars on their skin. He had carved them deep into their hearts, into the very fabric of who Y/N had become. A fighter. A loner. Someone who couldn't, wouldn't, trust. And when he finally left, Y/N made sure no one else could get close enough to hurt her like that again.

Elizabeth, her mother, was different. She was soft, kind—always too forgiving. Even now, she visited the man who destroyed them both, sitting by his hospital bed after his car accident, hoping he would wake up and become the father Y/N never had. But Y/N knew better. She hated him. Hated the man he was and everything he stood for. The scars on her skin, the ones on her mother—they were his legacy.

Y/N turned a corner, the tires of her bike skidding slightly on the wet pavement. She had been in a fight tonight—one of the many underground brawls she was known for. Illegal fights, dirty punches. It was where she could let out the rage she carried. Every punch thrown was for something different—her father, her past, her anger, her isolation. It was the only place she felt alive, the only time she could control the chaos.

Her mother didn't know. Elizabeth saw her as the quiet, brooding college student who kept to herself. She didn't know about the gang Y/N had fallen in with, the fights, the women—God, the women. Y/N shook her head. No, Elizabeth had no idea who her daughter really was. She couldn't. It was better that way.

As Y/N pulled into the driveway, the rain beat harder against her leather jacket. She parked her bike inside the garage, shutting the door behind her. She was soaked to the bone, water dripping from her short, dark hair. The sound of the garage door closing echoed behind her, and she hurried toward the front door, hoping to avoid another downpour.

Her hand was just inches from the handle when it opened.

Y/N stopped dead in her tracks, her breath catching in her throat. The rain splashed around her, but her focus was entirely on the woman standing in the doorway. Sharp jawline, platinum blonde hair, a small nose, and those eyes—emerald green, intoxicating in a way that made Y/N's mind spin. She knew those eyes from somewhere.

Her gaze drifted up, locking onto the woman's face. And then it clicked. 

Scarlett Ingrid Johansson.

Y/N just stood there, her heart racing. She didn't know what to say, what to do. All she could do was stare into those mesmerizing emerald eyes.

The name echoed in her mind like a whisper carried by the storm.