Helena Bonham Carter characters x Reader

Marla Singer~ Part 1

Tw: mention of depression, alcohol and drug addictions

What you want to know is who the fuck does she think she is. Here you are, at your Alcoholics Anonymous meeting trying to give your speech for being nine months sober, and there she is, out in the audience, distracting you. You had first laid eyes on her two weeks ago, and you've never even talked to her before. You only knew her name, Marla, because she wore a name tag, like everyone else at these things. Clearly, she isn't an alcoholic, or she isn't doing anything about it, because all she does is sit in the back and smoke. Yes, smoke, like that's gonna help any recovering addict. At the end of meetings, she gets a cup of coffee and a donut, then leaves. The weird thing is, she does this with other support groups, too. The only reason you know this is because you saw her leaving when you were walking into the community center about a month ago. For some reason, you despised her. Rationalizing that was somewhat different, but you just did. You just hated everything about her. You hated how hot she looked when she smoked, you hated the super cool rings her smoke would make, you hated her perfectly sharp cheekbones, and you hated her deep brown eyes that you could totally get lost in, if you allowed yourself to. Right now, you hated that she distracted you from your speech. You look up at the crowd, getting knocked into the present moment, and realized that you totally stopped speaking. Where were you? Oh yes, sobriety.

A little while later, you're over by the table with food. You pour yourself some coffee and put a donut on a napkin when you hear the sound of slow, almost sarcastic sounding clapping behind you. Without looking, you know who it is, and your face turns red.
"Congrats on the sobriety. You must be fun at parties," Marla said sarcastically.
"Excuse me?" you asked, annoyed. You refused to turn around, so you kept your eyes glued to the table.
"Actually, you probably just don't go. After all, the temptation is the work of the devil," she continued. God, you loved her voice. You hated what she was saying, but her voice did sound good saying it. Ignoring her, she started walking away.
"Wait," you called, and she turned back around, "I want to know what the hell you're doing here. Clearly, your not an addict...".
"Not to alcohol," she said, cutting you off.
"You just sit in the back and smoke. You've been doing it for weeks," you press on.
"So you've been watching me?" she asks, her voice coy. You roll your eyes.
"No, I..." you start, but stop when you notice her writing on a napkin. When she finishes, she hands it to you. It says her full name, Marla Singer, and her phone number.
"Here. In case you want to watch me more," she says, coming so close to you that you can feel her heart beating. Meanwhile, you felt like yours might have stopped at her closeness. With that, she walks away.
"I won't be calling you," you yell after her, but she ignores you.

Waking up the next morning, you know it's gonna be a bad day. Sometimes, you're depression just hits you. You can't get out of bed, not that you want to. Ever since your parents died, you've lived in a huge house, entirely alone. It's days like this when you want to stop being sober. You roll over to face your nightstand, and you see the napkin Marla Singer gave you last night. Hoping this will be healthier than drinking, you take a deep breath and dial the phone next to your bed.
"I knew you'd call," she says before you can even say who it is.
"How did you know it's me?"
"Lucky guess. Listen, normally I can talk on the phone for hours, but I have a feeling you only want me to say two words".
"And what would that be?"
"Come over".

Authors note: I hope you like this so far! Next chapter is probably gonna get spicy...