Namjoon fell in love overnight, but let them slip away. Does fate give second chances? Jimin would do almost anything for his best friend and roommate, except maybe confess his true feelings. And Jungkook keeps ending up stuck together with his coworker, but why does he not seem to mind?
Pairings*: Namjoon x Reader(Cass?), Jimin x Reader(moon eyes), Jungkook x Reader(witch)
(*Each pairing is a separate Reader/ Y/n and changes based on member pov. The names in brackets are just nicknames)
On hiatus
(Disclaimer: Namjoon's initial story plot is based heavily on the 2001 film of the same title, Serendipity. Although I have made several changes and alterations, I do not claim any part the original story as my own)
Winter ‘Winnie’ Monroe is a well known and very loved hairdresser at the Nobel Elegance Hair Salon in Brooklyn. One day, she meets her new neighbor Bucky during a slightly unfortunate event and she cannot help herself, but to be intrigued by him. The two of them slowly grow pretty fond of one another, even to a point where Winnie would consider them friends. However, when she has to go back to Eugene, Oregon for a family gathering, she asks if Bucky wants to come and pretend to be her fake boyfriend. Her slightly senile grandfather however seems to recognize Bucky and why does Winnie think he might be right?
Christmas and the Monroes - Bucky has yet to spend a Christmas with the entire Monroe family and boy, did he not expect the hectic that this family brings with them. Besides, he has something on his mind.
Summary: After a long day of work, Winnie Monroe goes back to her apartment to enjoy a well deserved night of self-care. However, it does not go by undisturbed.
Bucky Barnes x Winnie Monroe (ofc)
Warnings: Mentions of sex and porn, but it’s all implied.
Wordcount: 3.3k
A/N: I said it once before, but I’ll say it again: what does one do when they found a new obsession (at least I do that)? You write fanfiction about them. It’s kinda like ‘The Proposal’ meets ‘Age of Adelaide’ eventually? Also, I might've cut my own hair, but I am in no way a hairdresser. My only resource/experience is watching Brad Mondo videos every now and then lol.
Masterlist // Serendipity Masterlist // Next chapter
Normally, I wouldn’t stay at work till six p.m., but when two lovely young ladies come to the hair salon to get their hair done for their double date, you honestly think I’m gonna say goodbye and leave? I mean, just because I cannot seem get someone crazy enough to go on a date with me, does not necessarily mean I can’t indirectly enjoy the whole giddiness during the preparation of a date with some high school girls.
When they walked into the salon, they were beauties already, however they turned into absolute visions when Julie and I were done with their hair. We even retouched their make-up a bit. If they don’t get that second date, I’m gonna find those guys and kick their asses for being stupid.
This is not the first time something like this happens. People come in all the time, hoping we can revamp their looks before dates, an important work meeting and sometimes to meet their in-laws for the first time. I love changing up looks and enjoy it with all my heart, but it’s the rewards in the form of glimmering eyes and happy smiles that make me never get sick of this job.
I drop my bag on the floor as I enter my apartment and let out a deep sigh. I think tonight calls for a nice self care night. I’ve had a self care night yesterday, but with the hectic day I had, I can use it again. It’s not everyday I need to save someone’s hair from a bleaching job gone horribly wrong.
That poor woman’s scalp.
I kick off my shoes and quickly rush to the kitchen, where I heat up some water in a kettle. It’s actually a gift from my mom. She gave it to me when I first moved out. She swore that a kitchen is not complete without a kettle. Besides, if I would heat up my water in the microwave, I think she would have aneurism without knowing why.
I grab some ramen and normally I would go out of my way to make something out of it, but today, just ramen will do. Besides, what’s a self care night without it?
Okay, maybe this is the third time in a row I’ve eaten this as dinner this week, because I’m too lazy to actually cook, but we will ignore that fact for now.
After I poured some hot water on the ramen and wait for it to be done, I sit at the little table I have in the kitchen for moments like these. I grab the picture frame and smile as I look at the picture. I think I’m about seven years old here, sitting on my father’s lap, as mom stands behind us and has wrapped her arms tightly around me.
They raised me in Eugene, Oregon. I was the only child of Raine and Harold Monroe. They were high school sweethearts and after they got married at around twenty five, they wanted to start a family. Dad told me once they wanted a large family, because he grew up in one. He had four brothers, while mom grew up alone. The sheer joy of having multiple kids running around, was a dream for both of them.
However, they had difficulties conceiving and after careful consideration and saving, they adopted me from China when I was a year old. It was hard to grow up in a place where everyone, including my entire family was white, but despite that, I never had an issue and for that I know I am extremely lucky. While it went paired with multiple embarrassing events, my parents went out of their way to give me tons of opportunities for me to reconnect with my Chinese roots. Though it being humiliating from time to time, it’s the thought and effort they put into it that counts.
They have always been supportive of me. When school and I didn’t necessarily go hand in hand, they helped me through the most important parts of high school. Things they thought I should master, while constantly reminding me to follow my heart and my dreams, no matter how bizarre it seemed.
If I truly wanted it and I work hard enough for it, everything could be possible for me to achieve.
When I was very young, my ultimate dream was to become the next pop star people all over the world would come to adore. However I chickened out right before the start of not one, not two, but three different recitals and I didn’t need my parents to tell me that being in the spotlight performing was not the goal I should have in life.
Quickly I proceeded onto my next goal in life: becoming a hairdresser, a job that would fit me better. Ever since I was a young kid, I was busy styling not only my hair, but also the hairs of my friends and especially my mom’s hair, since she had loads of it and didn’t mind me trying out different hairstyles.
Maybe it helped that I was their only child. Maybe it helped I tended to think I could achieve anything I wanted, even without the help of my parents. Maybe it helped my parents were quite the free spirited people and just wanted me to be happy.
I let my thumb run over the wooden frame dad made for me. Being on the other coast is difficult sometimes, but thankfully I seem to manage fine around 95 percent of the time.
Besides, I’m thirty years old, I don’t need mommy and daddy accompanying me all the time.
It’s only when the ramen is done, when I realize how hungry I actually was and start eating it in the kitchen. Eating ramen in the amounts I’m doing, is a habit I picked up as soon as I set foot in Brooklyn. My parents were all about the dehydrated food and chickpeas when I was younger and still are. While they let me try all the foods I wanted growing up and let me develop my own taste in what I liked and disliked (thus preparing other food for me, than for themselves), I’m sure they would hate to see how I’ve been devouring instant ramen like it’s the last thing I’ll ever eat. Thankfully, I am a grown woman, capable of making my own decisions and if my mom finds out and doesn’t like it, I’m not afraid for a little confrontation with my mom.
Okay, that is not true, but she isn’t around, she’ll never find out.
After I finished my healthy dinner, I quickly change into my flannel pajama pants with matching long sleeved shirt and I put on my pink thick bathrobe so I won’t freeze my ass off. It’s February and it’s colder than I think I have ever experienced Brooklyn and I’ve lived here for quite a few years. I remove my make-up and put on a mask, before I clean up my bedroom. While I love my job, being at home is my all time favorite thing to do.
When my skincare is done and my bed is ready for me whenever I want to go to bed, I fetch myself a nice glass of red wine and plop on the couch. I turn on the television and end up in the rabbit hole of really bad programs on TLC, that you simply have to watch once you start.
Tomorrow is another long day at the salon, but after that, I have not one day off, but two entire days of not working. I could really use them, if I’m being honest.
I envision on how I’m going to spend these days and first and foremost, I’m going to sleep in. I’m the worst morning person I have ever met and sleeping in would be an absolute relief. After I slept in, I could make bake something, long strolls through some parks, enjoy the February breeze, seeing the starts of spring blossoming every so often and during that stroll, I’ll definitely buy some flowers. I love flowers, especially if they are mainly pink and—
A loud noise interrupts my thoughts. What on earth was that?
I sit up a bit straighter, stretching out my neck, as if that enhances my hearing. I try to detect what that noise was. Is someone dying? It sounded a bit strained. Should I call the emergency servi—
Okay, no, never mind. No one is dying.
A loud female moan fills my apartment and I let out a deep sigh. I thought I had a single man living next door. Did he bring back a date or is he listening to porn at an inappropriate volume?
I hear the squeaking of a bed frame, followed by the banging of the headboard against the wall. Oh my, he is having legit sex and it’s almost like I’m there in the room as well. I never knew those walls were this thin.
Good thing I’m not the type of woman who turns on songs like ‘I’m Walking On Sunshine’ on full blast as she cleans up her living room and singing along, whilst sounding like a dying cat.
How long is this gonna last? I stare at my television and yank up the volume, hoping it will dissolve the terrible noise.
However, once you hear it, there is no possibility you can simply mute it, though that would be so lovely now.
Okay, yes, I cannot take this anymore. I don’t know how long he is gonna last or how many rounds they have in store, but I cannot listen to these high pitched female moans and male grunts.
Who even makes these sounds? Are they making porn or something?
I get up from my couch and while I’m closing my bathrobe, I slip on some fuzzy pink slippers, a pair that matches perfectly with my pajama and robe.
Normally the man in 214 is not bothering me. I’m lucky I have two neighbors who are very low key and make living in 213 not a living hell. But mister 214 decides to spice things up and I’m not having it.
How dare they even? It’s ten in the fucking evening, there are people who would like to have a good night sleep in.
Or watch an entire season of the Nanny, like I was planning as soon as this episode of ’90 day fiancé’ was done.
Whatever you want to do, it doesn’t need to be accompanied by moans and other bedroom related sounds.
I march over to door 214, only to see someone walk out of apartment 215. His brows are furrowed and a deep brown between them indicates he is not too happy about the noise either. We both stop in front of door 214.
I didn’t know this piece of eye candy was living in 215.
I feel like I should say something, since we’re both about to knock on the door of our loud neighbor. ‘Not enjoying the free porn show either?’ I ask him.
Okay, yeah, you shouldn’t say that, I think to myself. There are tons of ways to address this current and slightly unfortunate situation and this was not it.
The man, whose brown hair is around shoulder length, but in desperate need of a trim, simply stares at me, his gorgeous light blue eyes indicating he is trying to figure out if I really just asked him that.
Understandably so, because I’m doing the exact same thing.
Instead, he knocks on the door with his right hand. The moans and bed shaking come to an abrupt stop. The man beside me lets out a deep sigh, as if he is wondering what he should do next.
While I feel he has this entire situation under control, I can’t seem to tear myself back to my own room.
‘What?’ the annoyed voice of our shared neighbor sounds from behind the door.
‘Could you knock it off, please?’ I ask. ‘I don’t want to hear your sexual escapades.’
It’s very silent from apartment 214 and I think for tonight, we might’ve made our point and won our case.
I open my mouth to say something to the man who lives in 215, but he simply walks off and closes his door.
❀ ❀ ❀
‘No way,’ Julia, one of my friends and colleagues at Nobel Elegance exclaims when we’re on our break. While I only have one minute left, Julia just started her break and has around fifteen minutes of no haircuts. Since I barely had time to brief her about last night events before work, this one minute will do. ‘That disgusting human being of a neighbor of yours had sex? Why him and not us? What are we doing wrong, Winnie?’
‘If only I knew his secret,’ I say. ‘I don’t even remember the last time I had sex, or even kissed a guy.’
‘Your last bedroom activity was seven years ago,’ Julia answers. ‘And I think it was three years ago since you had your last kiss.’
I stare at her blankly. ‘Julia, that was a rhetorical question,’ I hiss. ‘Great, now I feel even more miserable, thanks for that.’
I mean, it’s obviously not my choice to be thirty and single. I’d like to say I have high standards, but the truth is: everyone who might be slightly interesting to me, is either taken or just wants a one night stand. I don’t want that anymore. I want to get to know someone, to bond and connect on a deeper level.
It’s just that I can’t seem to find someone in Brooklyn who wants to do that with me.
‘But,’ I say, ‘I met another neighbor last night. He lives in apartment 215.’
‘Oh,’ Julia says, wiggling her eyebrows. ‘Was he hot?’
A knock on the door interrupts our very important conversation. Our grumpy boss who tells us to call him ‘Mister Asher’ stands in the door opening. ‘Miss Winter Monroe, your break is over, just like your chitter chat. There is someone for you to cut.’
Ugh, I hate him.
‘Thanks for the reminder,’ I deadpan.
Julia scrunches up her nose. ‘Not fair,’ she mutters, ‘you were gonna tell me about your neighbor.’
‘Sorry,’ I say, ‘but enjoy your break.’ I slip passed mister Asher back into the salon. While Nobel Elegance is an amazing work place with lovely co-workers, the owner mister Asher is a nightmare to work with. He took over the salon from his grandmother a few years ago and thankfully he is usually in the back, not bothering us.
Today however, he decides to wander around the salon the entire time. He does that around two times every month and those days are the absolute worse, having him breathing down our necks the entire time and giving us “useful tips” right in front of our clients, making us look incapable.
I walk over to my chair, as I roll a cart along with me. Someone is already sitting on the chair and the closer I get to my work station, the more familiar the customer seems. ‘Hello neighbor,’ I say to him, as I stand behind him, folding out a clean cloak.
The same man from yesterday, neighbor 215, looks into the mirror and blinks his eyes a few times. ‘Neighbor,’ he says in a low voice.
I cover him with the cloak and as I’m securing the buttons, I say: ‘I’m Winnie.’
I usually introduce myself with the nickname my grandpa gave me, instead of my full name ‘Winter’. My mom thought of that name and it feels a bit try hard if I’m being honest, But it doesn’t really surprise me she chose that name.
I mean, her name is Raine, enough said.
He averts his eyes from the mirror and removes an imaginary thread from his jeans. ‘Bucky.’
‘That’s a lovely name,’ I say. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before. What can I do for you today, Bucky?’
Please say that I can at least trim the ends.
‘Just a little trim.’
I think thanking the universe is a bit too much, but I’m considering it. ‘Can be arranged. That’s all?’
He nods.
I grab the spray bottle and moisten his hair. I comb through is long brown locks with a thin comb. Despite the ends being a bit dead and dry, I do have to admit he has very luscious locks.
‘You have beautiful hair,’ I admit.
Neighbor Bucky doesn’t gracefully take the compliment, but I think he is not the type of man who would turn giddy and whisper a soft ‘thank you’ while blushing.
‘How much do you want off the ends?’ I ask.
‘How much necessary.’
Okay, a man of few words, I think to myself. I mean, yesterday made that pretty clear, but now I can’t ignore the obvious. I start dividing his hair into sections, so I can easily cut it.
‘So, you had a good sleep after 214 stopped his adventures last night?’ I ask him.
He shrugs.
‘Well,’ I continue, ‘I know I slept terribly. It was almost like I was waiting to be woken up again, you know what I mean?’ I cut off the dead ends of one strand of hair and it amazes me how that strand already looks better than the rest.
And yes, I’ve been a hairdresser for ten years and that still amazes me.
‘Mhm.’
‘So, how long have you lived in the apartment? I don’t think I have ever seen you before, besides yesterday?’
‘Three weeks ago.’ He looks up into the mirror, meeting my eyes, before looking away again.
Is there a way to maintain a conversation with this man? Probably not. Sometimes clients don’t want to talk and I figure this is one of those clients. I add some layers to his hair, so it has a little bit more volume. This is such an easy trim to do, but it’s nice to have easy trims every now and then. I mean, I spot a tricky balayage job sitting on the couch, waiting for me to do wonders with her hair.
I blow dry Bucky’s hair and once I’m done, I pull out a round mirror to hold behind him. ‘How does it look?’ I ask.
‘Good.’
Wow Winnie, my hair looks so much better than it did before. You honestly perform miracles once you have that scissor in your hand. How can I thank you? Some flowers? A nice dinner?
No? None of that?
I help him out of the cloak and we walk to the register. While I log into the system, I see him pull out his card from his back pocket. Before I can even think about it, I say: ‘You know what, this is on me.’
He seems surprised. ‘What?’ he asks. ‘I don’t have to pay?’
I shake my head. ‘Nope, see it as a ‘welcome to your new apartment’-gift from me.’
Bucky frowns and blinks his eyes, before one corner of his mouth curls up for a bit. It barely lasts a whole second, but I know what I saw and to be fair, I don’t think that tiny smirk will leave my daydreams today. ‘Thank you, Winnie.’
Hearing my name leave his lips, makes me smile. He nods briefly, before leaving the salon.
‘Who was hottie with the long hair?’ Julie asks, who comes to stand next to me.
I chuckle. ‘That is my other neighbor. Hot guy from 215.’
Her mouth drops and I feel she wants to ask more questions, only I simply send her a wink and walk off. ‘Miss Gina?’ I ask. ‘Are you ready for your balayage?’
Warnings : slow burn guys…slow burn . Also some fluff, humor,feels and angst.
a/n : this was my first ever spn writing. It started as a one shot and I couldn’t put it down to rest and kept writing and writing. Don’t know what else to write honestly….this is my first born and I love it, I hope you do too.
summary: You were minding your own business at work, in your little town.Your world was small and uneventful, work,studying,gym,netflix, a devastating heartbreak, the need to travel, the craving of freedom, adventure…just something different. You just knew you needed more .
Suddenly an American green eyed stranger walks in and, like someone heard your prayer ,your life won’t be the same.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part7 Part8 Part 9 Part10 Part11 Part12 Part 13 Part14 ( END)
This series is complete.
I would like to thank @waywardbaby for her amazing help with posting this one again. Thank you Zee ❤️
