Pairing: Hwang Inho x FemNeighbor! Reader
Summary: A shy foreign student moves to Korea and unexpectedly finds comfort, warmth, and slow-burn love with her soft-spoken neighbor, Hwang Inho.
Warnings: Slow burn. Mutual pining. Soft intimacy. Romantic tension. Neighbors to lovers. Fluff with feelings. Kissing. Gentle angst. Tooth-rotting softness.
Author's Note: Based on THIS request. I wanted to add more in it but I've got a runny nose 🤧 and that's why I'm a little inactive too. But I hope you guys will enjoy this 🌸
Taglist: Let me know if you want to get tagged. @salesmancarddd @marymun @astronomicalastro-blog1 @filthygalli @thehellhaveubeenloca @yosoylaprincesa2004 @watasinekoru @nightlark100 @drewstarkeysrightarm @doodle-with-rhy @lunaryoongie @ilovebyunghunlee @yxluana @sammie217 @sammat97 @alex-17s-world @mObi4girls @maah-sama @grylian @hecticspice @manager016 @mxriesss @christmascoles @nosebeers @carolinevoight @princesscherryblossom15 @frozen-waffle @eviesmoon @startled-cats @retiredpieceofshits @ft-winnow @weakh3rokdrama @bluechaoslizzy @frontwomann @cutecat2005 @starlightlunax @alex110370000 @wanna-plan-world-domination @akiyhara @natalie3657 @hornylittlesimp @lazybum0 @reneejkn @solarpotato @masked-protocol @lindsay00000 @v13fsg @missinkho
Winter had settled deeply over Seoul.
The morning air was sharp and pale, breath fogging in front of strangers as the city stirred awake. Cars slid over damp roads, buses hissed at stops, and people moved with purpose—coats pulled tight, scarves tucked high, footsteps quick against the cold. Office workers, students, early risers chasing warmth and caffeine before the day fully claimed them.
She hurried down the sidewalk, clutching her bag close to her side, boots clicking unevenly as she checked the time on her phone for the third time in under a minute. Her heart beat faster than her steps, nerves tangling with excitement and panic in equal measure.
Her first day at the university.
She’d moved to Seoul just last week—an entirely new country, a new language humming around her ears, a city that felt too big and too fast.
Everything still felt unfamiliar: the streets, the signs, even the way people walked with such certainty. And now she was late. Of course she was.
The café on the corner came into view, its windows fogged from the warmth inside. She hesitated only a second before pushing the door open, a small bell chiming overhead.
Warmth rushed over her instantly—along with noise.
The café was crowded. Packed. Bodies shoulder to shoulder, coats draped over chairs, voices overlapping in soft chaos. The smell of coffee beans and steamed milk wrapped around her, comforting but cruelly slow when she didn’t have time.
Y/N swallowed and stepped inside anyway.
She weaved through the crowd with quiet apologies, head bowed slightly, murmuring soft excuse mes that barely rose above the hum. By the time she reached the counter, her fingers were numb from gripping her bag too tightly.
There was already someone standing infront of her.
A man—tall, broad-shouldered, dressed neatly in a dark coat that looked too composed for the mess of the morning rush. He stood close to the counter, one hand resting against the wood as the barista stared at him with thin patience.
“I swear, it was here.” the man said, voice calm but clearly strained. He patted his coat pocket, then his other. “I must have left my wallet at home.”
The barista sighed. “Sir, I can’t give you the coffee without payment.”
“I understand.” he replied, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Just—give me a minute. I’ll figure something out.”
Y/N glanced down at the watch on her wrist.
Too late. She was already too late.
The seconds ticked loudly in her head as the line behind her shifted, someone clearing their throat impatiently. The barista crossed their arms. “I’m sorry, but if you can’t pay, you’ll need to step aside.”
The man exhaled slowly, jaw tightening—not angry, just… tired. “Alright. I’ll step out.”
Something in Y/N twisted.
Before she could overthink it—before shyness could pull her back—she stepped forward.
“I—I’ll pay.” she said softly, voice trembling just a little. “For his. And mine.”
Both the barista and the man turned to look at her.
“What?” the man said immediately. “No, you don’t have to do that.”
“It’s okay.” she insisted, already reaching into her bag. “It’s just coffee. And I’m… I’m in a hurry.”
She placed the money on the counter, hands moving quickly, cheeks warming under their attention. “One Americano.” she added quietly, “and whatever he ordered.”
The barista blinked, then nodded, taking the payment. “Alright.”
The man turned fully toward her now, surprise clear on his face. “Really, you didn’t need to—”
“It’s fine,” she said again, a small smile flickering despite her nerves. “Really.”
The coffees were handed over moments later. Y/N took hers quickly, fingers curling around the warm cup like it was an anchor, and turned toward the door.
“Wait,” the man said, stepping after her. “At least let me get your number. Or—where do you live? I’ll pay you back.”
She paused, shaking her head immediately. “No, no. You don’t need to.”
“It’s fine.” she said, almost apologetically. “Just a small thing.”
She adjusted the strap of her bag, already stepping backward. “I’m really late. I have to go.”
And before he could say another word, she bowed slightly—out of habit, out of politeness—and hurried out into the cold, the bell chiming softly behind her.
The man stood there for a moment, coffee still warm in his hand, watching the space where she’d been—long after she’d disappeared into the winter crowd.
Something about her lingered.
And Y/N, rushing down the street with her heart still racing, had no idea she’d just stepped into the beginning of something she never planned for.
By the time afternoon bled into early evening, the cold had softened.
Y/N walked back toward her apartment building with lighter steps than she’d had that morning, her breath no longer rushed, her shoulders relaxed beneath her coat. The city felt different now—less overwhelming, less sharp around the edges. Her first day at the university had gone… well. Better than she’d expected, honestly.
She’d found her classrooms without getting lost. She’d spoken—actually spoken—to a few people. Even shared a quiet laugh over lunch with another student who, like her, looked just as new and unsure.
It felt like a small victory.
The apartment building rose ahead of her, familiar now after a week of memorizing its corners. She pushed through the front doors, warmth greeting her once again, and stepped into the elevator just as the doors began to slide shut.
When the elevator stopped at her floor, she stepped out, already reaching into her bag for her keys as she walked down the hall. The corridor was softly lit, the sound of her footsteps echoing faintly against the walls.
She stopped in front of her apartment door.
The voice came from her left.
Y/N froze, fingers still curled around her keys, and slowly turned her head.
He stood a few steps away, just outside the neighboring apartment—dark coat shrugged open now, hair slightly mussed, expression caught somewhere between surprise and disbelief.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
He stepped closer, eyes flicking from her face to the door behind her, then back again. “You live here?” he asked, lifting a hand to gesture toward her apartment.
She blinked, then nodded. “Yes. This one.”
“I’ve never seen you before.” he said, more to himself than to her.
“I moved in last week,” Y/N replied softly. “I’m… new.”
Something clicked in his expression. “That makes sense. I was out of the city last week.”
A beat passed—then he bowed slightly, polite and sincere. “Thank you. Again. For earlier.”
She smiled faintly, a little shy under his attention. “You really don’t have to keep thanking me.”
He straightened, glancing down the hallway as if still processing the coincidence. “Still. What are the odds?” A small smile tugged at his lips. “Neighbors.”
She let out a quiet breath of a laugh. “I guess so.”
He hesitated, then reached into his pocket before stopping himself, remembering. “At least let me pay you back properly this time.”
She shook her head immediately. “No. Please. I don’t need it.”
He studied her for a moment, then seemed to accept defeat. Instead, he extended his hand toward her.
“Hwang In-ho.” he said. “Nice to officially meet you.”
She adjusted her grip on her bag and shook his hand, her touch light. “Y/N.”
His handshake was warm—steady. He noticed the way she held notebooks and loose papers under her arm, the faint fatigue behind her smile.
“In that case,” he said, stepping back politely, “you must be tired. You should rest.”
She blinked, touched by the thoughtfulness.
He smiled gently. “I hope we’ll keep running into each other.”
Her cheeks warmed at that, and she nodded, a little bashful. “I hope so too.”
With that, she unlocked her door and slipped inside, closing it softly behind her.
In-ho stood in the hallway for a moment longer than necessary, hands in his pockets, a thoughtful look settling over his face.
Somehow, that word lingered.
And on the other side of the door, Y/N leaned back against it, heart beating just a little faster than before—wondering how a single day could bring so many unexpected turns.
Hwang Inho sat on the edge of the desk in his bedroom, elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped together.
The apartment was quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that usually soothed him after long days, after crowded streets and forced conversations. Tonight, it only made his thoughts louder.
He still couldn’t quite believe what had happened.
He leaned back slightly, closing his eyes.
The café came back to him in fragments first—the low hum of voices, the clink of cups, the blurred movement of people passing by.
Everything else had faded into the background the moment he saw her.
She’d been standing near the counter, clutching her bag a little too tightly, eyes scanning the menu like it was written in a language she wasn’t fully comfortable with. And maybe it was—because one look at her had been enough for him to know she wasn’t from here.
Her features were soft but unfamiliar, her accent hesitant when she spoke, her presence quiet yet strangely vivid.
He remembered how his chest had tightened then, an odd sensation he hadn’t bothered naming. He’d brushed it off—attraction, curiosity, nothing more.
But then he’d seen her again.
This time, standing in the hallway of his own apartment building. His neighbor.
That same feeling had returned—stronger, clearer. Impossible to ignore now.
Inho opened his eyes slowly and exhaled.
She hadn’t accepted the money earlier. He’d noticed the way she’d shaken her head, polite but firm, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. And for reasons he didn’t fully understand, that had stayed with him.
He needed to do something.
He stood up abruptly, as if the decision had already been made somewhere deep inside him, and walked to the kitchen.
The thought came to him without effort, settling in his mind like it belonged there. He didn’t question it.
The next half hour passed in quiet focus—the measured movements of someone used to working with his hands.
When the brownies were finally done, the rich chocolate scent filled the apartment, warm and inviting in a way his space rarely was.
He arranged them neatly on a plate, wiped his hands, then paused.
After a brief moment of consideration, he changed his clothes—something simple but clean, hair slightly damp from a quick rinse. Fresh. Presentable.
With the plate in his hands, he stepped out into the hallway. Standing in front of her door, he took a deep breath.
A few seconds passed before the door opened.
She stood there in soft, comfy clothes—oversized, relaxed, nothing like the careful tension he’d seen earlier. Her hair framed her face naturally, and without trying, she looked… beautiful.
Her eyes widened when she saw him.
Inho immediately understood. He lifted the plate slightly, offering a small, reassuring smile.
“I—I thought I should do something in return.” he said gently. “To welcome my new neighbor.”
Her shoulders relaxed just a little.
She smiled then, shy but genuine, and thanked him as she stepped aside to let him in. Taking the plate from his hands, she set it carefully on the table in the living room.
“Please—make yourself comfortable.” she said, excusing herself toward the kitchen. “I’ll make coffee.”
Left alone, Inho let his gaze wander.
Her apartment was nothing like his.
Where his was muted and minimal, hers was alive—splashes of color, small decorations, soft fabrics, little details that felt personal. It looked lived in. Warm.
When she returned, setting two cups down beside the plate, she uncovered it—and her eyes lit up instantly.
“Brownies!” she exclaimed, the word spilling out with pure delight.
Inho smiled without realizing it.
“You like them?” he asked.
She nodded quickly, almost bashful. “I love them. How did you even think of this?”
He shrugged lightly. “I just… figured you must like chocolatey things.”
They shared a quiet chuckle, the tension between them easing as they each picked up a brownie, sipping their coffee between bites. Conversation came more easily than he’d expected—small things at first, then slowly more.
She asked what he did for a living.
“I’m a photographer.” he said. “I have my own studio.”
Her eyes widened, clearly impressed. She admitted she loved taking pictures too, though she wasn’t very good at it.
“You could learn.” he said without thinking.
Then, catching himself, he added quickly, “I mean—I could help. If you want.”
She smiled, touched by the offer, and told him about herself—about leaving her country to study here, about how overwhelming it all still felt.
When he asked if she’d made any friends yet, she hesitated before shaking her head.
“I’m… alone here.” she admitted softly.
Inho met her gaze steadily.
“You’re not alone anymore.” he said. “You have me. If you ever need anything—anything at all—you can tell me.”
Her cheeks warmed, color blooming across them as she thanked him.
Time passed without either of them noticing. Laughter slipped in easily, routines and small habits exchanged like secrets. Eventually, In-ho glanced at the clock and realized how late it had gotten.
“I should go.” he said reluctantly.
She walked him to the door, thanking him again for the brownies.
He smiled, a hint of teasing in his eyes. “I think we’re even now.”
She chuckled and nodded, watching as he stepped back into the hallway.
As the door closed between them, both of them stood still for a moment—separately, yet thinking the same thing.
But already, they were looking forward to the next time.
A week slipped by almost unnoticed.
They fell into an easy rhythm—leaving the building together in the mornings, exchanging quiet smiles in the hallway, lingering for a few extra minutes as they talked about classes, work, small annoyances, little victories.
Some evenings, one of them would knock on the other’s door with a dish in hand or a flimsy excuse—I made too much, I wanted your opinion, I was nearby anyway.
Neither ever questioned it.
For Inho, there was no confusion left. Somewhere between shared coffees and soft laughter, he had fallen completely. The realization came calmly, firmly—she was the one he had been waiting for without knowing it. The thought didn’t scare him. It settled in his chest like truth.
Y/n, on the other hand, moved more carefully. She liked him—more than she wanted to admit—but new places and new people still made her hesitant, her shyness wrapping around her instincts like armor.
Yet every time she was with Inho, that fear loosened its grip. Around him, she felt safe. Comfortable. And deep down, she knew that meant something she wouldn’t be able to ignore for long.
A month had passed, and somehow they had gone from polite neighbors to something closer than that—best friends, really. The kind who teased without thinking, joked like they’d known each other for years, slipped into each other’s space without asking. It felt natural.
Too natural for only four weeks.
It was a little past ten when a knock echoed through Inho’s apartment.
He opened the door to find her standing there with a notebook hugged to her chest, loose notes sticking out at odd angles. Her lower lip was pushed out in a pout so exaggerated it almost made him laugh out loud.
He chuckled softly instead. “What’s wrong?” he asked, confused—and a little concerned. “It’s late.”
She didn’t answer right away, just walked past him as he stepped aside, clearly invited by instinct rather than permission. She dropped onto his couch, shoulders slumping dramatically.
“I have my first test tomorrow.” she said. “And I need help.”
“In what?” he asked, already sitting beside her.
She looked at him flatly. “Mathematics.”
In-ho laughed. Actually laughed. “You came to the right person.” he said with mock arrogance, chest puffing out just a little.
She rolled her eyes, but the faint blush on her cheeks betrayed her. “Just help me.”
He took her notes, scanning the pages, nodding to himself as he read through the questions. “This is easy.” he said casually.
She shot him a dead, unimpressed stare.
He cracked, chuckling. “Okay, okay. I’ll help.”
He walked her through a few questions, explaining patiently, breaking things down until her frown eased and understanding settled in. Then he leaned back slightly. “Now you try the rest. I’ll watch.”
She bent over the notebook, fully focused, brows furrowed in concentration. And that was when Inho stopped paying attention to the math entirely.
The way her lips moved silently as she calculated. The seriousness in her eyes. The way a strand of hair kept slipping loose near her face. She looked… unbearably adorable.
The thought of kissing her came uninvited, sudden and dangerous, and he forced himself to stay still.
When she finished, she pushed the notebook toward him. He checked her answers, humming in approval.
Her smile was quick, proud.
She turned back to the notebook to continue, but Inho didn’t look away this time. He just watched her—openly, softly.
“Why are you staring?” she asked, eyes still on the page.
She turned her head, and their eyes met.
Her breath hitched just slightly as she whispered his name “Inho” barely audible.
Inho lifted his hand, slow and careful, and tucked the loose strand of hair behind her ear. He didn’t break eye contact, his expression uncertain, searching—asking without words. Then,
She snapped her fingers in front of his face.
“Go make me coffee.” she said lightly, pushing him off the couch with a playful shove.
He blinked, the moment shattering. Scratching the back of his neck, he stood and headed for the kitchen without protest.
And though neither of them said it out loud, they both knew, this wasn’t just friendship anymore.
The next evening, Inho was walking back from his studio, hands in his pockets, mind half-occupied with work, when he heard his name being yelled down the street.
He stopped in front of the apartment building and frowned, lifting his head just in time to see her running toward him from the opposite direction.
She was practically glowing—wide smile, eyes bright, steps hurried like she couldn’t get to him fast enough.
Before he could say a word, she reached him and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.
“I got full marks!” she exclaimed breathlessly. “Full marks, Inho!”
For a brief second, his mind went blank, trying to process how close she was—the warmth of her body, her arms locked around him, her voice right against his ear. She, completely oblivious, kept talking, words tumbling over each other in excitement.
“It was exactly like what you explained, and I didn’t panic at all and—”
Slowly, almost cautiously, Inho lifted his hands and placed them on her back, hugging her in return. He inhaled without thinking, catching the soft, familiar scent of her shampoo. His eyes slipped shut.
He wasn’t really listening anymore. Not to the words, at least. He was too busy registering how right this felt, how easily she fit against him, how dangerous it was to enjoy it this much.
Then she stopped mid-sentence.
She pulled back slightly, realization dawning, and they separated at the same time, standing an awkward step apart. Both of them were flushed now, her eyes wide and nervous, his expression suddenly far too aware.
Inho cleared his throat quickly. “I—uh. I knew you could do it.” he said, a small smile breaking through. “You worked hard.”
She nodded, tucking her hands together. “I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you… really.”
He hesitated for a second, then spoke, as if the words came to save them both. “We should go out. Celebrate.”
Her face lit up again, softer this time. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
“Go get fresh.” he added. “Change. I’ll do the same. Then we’ll leave.”
She smiled, nodding, and headed toward her apartment.
As she walked away, Inho stood there for a moment longer than necessary, heart beating a little faster than it should.
Something had shifted. And neither of them could pretend otherwise anymore.
In-ho barely gave himself five minutes to breathe before stepping into the shower. The warm water did nothing to calm his thoughts.
He stared at his reflection afterward, towel slung low around his waist, debating far too seriously over what to wear. He didn’t want to look like he was trying too hard—but he also didn’t want to look careless.
After changing shirts twice and staring at himself one last time, he finally settled on a black suit. Clean. Simple. Appropriate for the fancy restaurant he had in mind.
The next door, y/n was going through her own quiet crisis.
Outfits were laid across the bed, shoes kicked aside, and she stood in front of the mirror biting her lip. Too much? Too plain?
She swapped shoes, fixed her hair, wiped off one lipstick shade only to replace it with another. Eventually, she chose something elegant but soft—something that felt like her—and a lipstick shade she hoped he’d notice, even if he never said a word.
When Inho knocked on her door, his heartbeat picked up. It took a minute. Maybe two.
Then the door opened—and they both froze.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. He looked impossibly sharp in black, hair neat, posture confident. She looked stunning, eyes bright, nervous energy barely hidden beneath her smile.
In-mho cleared his throat first. “You… you look beautiful.”
She smiled, cheeks warming. “You look really good too.”
The restaurant was warm and softly lit, the kind of place meant for celebrations. They took their seats, ordered food, and drinks—something small, just enough to mark the moment. It felt special, her first little victory at the university, and he made sure she knew it mattered.
They talked easily as they waited. She told him about her country—how different everything was, the traditions she missed, the festivals, the colors, the noise. He listened, truly listened, eyes steady on her face, asking questions here and there.
When the food arrived, he mentioned casually, “There’s a cherry blossom festival coming up soon.”
Her eyes lit up instantly. “Really? I love that. I’ve always wanted to see it in person. Like—really see it.”
She started talking excitedly, hands moving as she spoke, already imagining it. Inho smiled, saying nothing, quietly committing her words to memory.
After dinner, after clinking glasses once more in celebration, they walked back together toward their apartment building. The night air was cool, comfortable, heavy with things left unsaid.
In the hallway, they lingered.
“I had a really good time.” she said softly.
“We should do this more often.” he replied, just as quietly.
She nodded. “Yeah. We should.”
They wished each other goodnight. Inho hesitated—there was something in his eyes, something he clearly wanted to do but didn’t. He smiled instead and turned toward his door.
He stopped and turned back just in time to see her step closer. Before he could react, she rose onto her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.
Then she was gone—spinning around and disappearing into her apartment, the door closing behind her.
Inho stood there, stunned, cheek warm, heart racing like a teenager in love.
Weeks passed, and something quietly shifted between them.
Touches lingered a second longer than necessary. Teasing smiles carried meanings neither of them dared to say out loud. Every shared look felt like a question, every silence like an answer forming but never spoken.
One afternoon, Inho showed up at her apartment without warning.
She opened the door, startled to find him there, expression unreadable, urgency written all over his posture. “You need to come with me.” he said, already stepping back as if he expected her to follow.
Confusion creased her brow. “Inho? Is everything okay?”
He shook his head slightly. “No time. Please. Just trust me.”
Concern prickled through her, but she grabbed her things anyway and followed him out. As they walked, she kept glancing at him, asking what was wrong, where they were going. He didn’t answer. Not once.
They walked longer than she expected.
Then, suddenly, they stepped into an open suspension ground—quiet, almost hidden—filled with trees and flowers swaying gently in the breeze. The air smelled fresh, soft, alive.
She slowed, frowning. “Where are we?”
Inho stopped and turned to face her. “You told me,” he said quietly, “that you love cherry blossoms.”
She nodded, still confused. “Yes… but what does that have to do with—”
He smiled, soft and almost nervous, then gently took her shoulders and turned her around.
In front of her stood a massive cherry blossom tree, branches heavy with pale pink blooms, petals drifting down like falling snow. The wind carried them through the air, scattering them across the ground in delicate arcs.
She stared, wide-eyed, completely speechless.
Inho slipped his hand into hers and guided her forward. They stopped beneath the tree, petals brushing their shoulders, landing in her hair. She finally found her voice, turning to him with awe shining in her eyes.
“I… I wasn’t expecting this.” she whispered. “Thank you.”
He looked at her like the world had narrowed down to just her. “I remember everything you say.” he replied. “I just wanted to make you smile.”
The moment stretched—quiet, intimate, heavy with all the things they hadn’t said.
They looked at each other, really looked. Slowly, almost hesitantly, they leaned closer, as if afraid the moment might disappear if they moved too fast.
The kiss was soft, unhurried—full of everything they had been holding back for weeks. Under the falling petals, beneath the cherry blossom tree she had always dreamed of seeing, they finally let themselves cross the line they had both been standing at for far too long.
And neither of them wanted to go back.
After the kiss, Inho didn’t let go of her hand for long.
Instead, he reached for his camera, the same one that always rested at his side, and gently asked her to stay just as she was.
Laughing shyly, y/n stood beneath the cherry blossom tree while he captured her—petals caught in her hair, her smile still dazed and real.
When he showed her the photos, her eyes widened as she praised him, telling him how beautiful they were.
Inho only smiled, tilting his head slightly as he said, “That’s because the subject makes it impossible to take a bad picture.”
And in that moment, they both knew this was the start of something new.
