can i request a pop punk record with nico hischier? tysm!
She Makes Me Weak | Nico Hischier x fem!reader
♫ summary: nico has just moved in and the first thing he notices is that y/n is miserable.
♫ pairing: nico hischier x reader
♫ word count: 4.5k
♫ warnings: infidelity
♫ note: i promise this is my last thing for today, i've just been freed of writer's block and i need to get things done.
♫ inspired by Flavor of the Weak by American Hi-Fi
The first thing Y/N ever learned about the guy next door was that he woke up early.
Not alarm-clock early, but quiet, disciplined early. The kind where the day didn’t start so much as unfold. She noticed it on a Tuesday morning in late October, standing barefoot in her kitchen with a chipped mug warming her hands, when she saw him through the thin sliver of her window.
He was already outside.
Jogging.
Gray hoodie, black shorts despite the cold, earbuds in, breath visible in short, steady bursts. He moved like someone who knew exactly where his body was in space, controlled, efficient, almost careful. When he slowed to stretch near the mailbox, hands braced on his thighs, Y/N realized she’d been staring too long.
She ducked back behind the curtain, heart doing something stupid.
“Get a grip,” she muttered to herself, turning toward the sink.
From the living room, her phone buzzed.
Evan: u still asleep?
Evan: might come over later if the guys don’t wanna go out
Y/N stared at the screen. She typed, erased, typed again.
Y/N: I’m up. Morning.
Evan: lol morning
That was it. No how are you, no I miss you, no I’ll see you. Just that.
She set the phone face-down on the counter and reached for the sponge, scrubbing at a plate that was already clean. The apartment felt too quiet, like it was holding its breath. Evan had stayed over the night before, left his clothes in a heap on her bedroom floor, his coffee cup ringed on her desk. He hadn’t said goodbye. He never did, just kissed her cheek like an afterthought and disappeared.
She washed his shirt anyway.
It was habit. Muscle memory. Love, she told herself, even when the word felt thin in her mouth.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
Nico moved in two weeks later.
Y/N met him officially when she was hauling groceries up the narrow steps of the shared walkway, one bag tearing at the seam. Oranges rolled out first, bouncing down the concrete like bright punctuation marks.
“Hey- wait.”
She turned just as he jogged up behind her, scooping one up before it could escape into the parking lot. He handed it back with a small, apologetic smile, like he was the one who’d dropped it.
“I think you lost this.”
“Oh, God, thank you.” She laughed, embarrassed, brushing hair out of her face. “I always buy too much. Like I’m feeding a family of five.”
He smiled wider this time. “Yeah, grocery stores do that to you. Makes you think you need everything.”
His accent was subtle but there; soft, European edges smoothing out the words. Y/N noticed it immediately, the way she noticed everything that felt different.
“I’m Y/N,” she said, shifting the bags. “I’m right there.” She nodded toward her door.
“Nico,” he replied. “Next door.”
They stood there for a second too long, the moment stretching until Y/N felt the familiar urge to fill the silence.
“So… welcome to Jersey,” she said.
He laughed, short and genuine. “Thanks. Still getting used to it.”
“Well,” she said, smiling back despite herself, “we have… good pizza.”
“I’ve heard,” he said, amused. “Very important.”
He took one of her bags without asking.
“Hey, you don’t have to-”
“It’s fine,” he said easily. “I’m already here.”
The kindness landed heavier than it should have.
Inside her apartment, he glanced around politely, not lingering on anything, not making it feel like he was cataloging her life. She noticed that too.
“Thanks again,” she said as he set the bag down. “Seriously.”
“No problem.” He hesitated, then added, “If you ever need anything -like, anything- just knock.”
She nodded. “Same.”
She closed the door and leaned back against it, exhaling.
Her phone buzzed again.
Evan: btw I might be busy this weekend
She stared at the message until the screen dimmed.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
Friday night came quietly.
Y/N sat cross-legged on her couch, nails half-done, the smell of acetone sharp in the air. The TV droned on in the background, some show Evan liked, something loud and stupid she pretended to enjoy because it made him happy. Her phone lay beside her, stubbornly silent.
She checked it anyway.
Nothing.
She painted another nail, careful and slow. Red. She’d picked it because Evan once said he liked it. She didn’t even like red.
From the other side of the wall, she heard muffled music, something rhythmic, steady. Not loud. Just present. A life happening next door.
Her phone buzzed at last.
Evan: out w friends. talk later
She typed back immediately.
Y/N: Oh. Okay. Have fun ❤️
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
She swallowed and turned her attention back to her nails, blinking hard when her vision blurred. The TV laughed at something she didn’t hear.
A knock sounded.
She startled, heart leaping into her throat.
Another knock, gentler this time.
She wiped her hands on a towel and opened the door.
Nico stood there holding a folded piece of mail. “Hey. Sorry- this came to my place. Wrong box.”
“Oh.” She took it, fingers brushing his. “Thanks.”
He glanced past her, taking in the TV glow, the half-done nails, the quiet. His expression softened, just a little.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said too quickly. “Just, Friday.”
He nodded like he understood that more than he let on.
“Well,” he said, shifting his weight, “if you want… I was going to order takeout. You’re welcome to join. No pressure.”
She hesitated. Thought of Evan. Thought of the empty couch beside her. Thought of the way Nico had carried her groceries without asking.
“Okay,” she said softly. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
He smiled.
“Cool,” he said.
As he turned to leave, Y/N looked down at the red polish drying on her hands and felt something unfamiliar settle in her chest.
Not guilt.
Hope.
And it scared her how weak it made her feel.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
Nico’s apartment smelled like clean laundry.
Y/N noticed it the second she stepped inside, neutral, orderly, like someone who hadn’t lived there long enough to leave a mess behind. The furniture was sparse but intentional: a gray couch, a small dining table with two chairs, framed photos still leaning against the wall instead of hung. One of them caught her eye immediately: a hockey rink under bright lights, the ice glowing white like a promise.
“Sorry,” Nico said, following her gaze. “I keep meaning to put those up.”
“No, it’s nice,” she replied. “It feels… new.”
He smiled at that, like it was exactly right.
They sat at opposite ends of the couch, knees angled toward each other without meaning to. Nico spread the menus across the coffee table.
“Any allergies?” he asked.
“Nope. I eat everything.”
“Good.” He laughed softly. “Me too. Makes life easier.”
Y/N tucked her legs beneath her, red nails flashing as she reached for a menu. “So,” she said, casual but curious, “how’s… everything? With hockey. With Jersey.”
He took a breath before answering, the way people did when they wanted to be honest without sounding dramatic.
“It’s a lot,” he said. “Rookie season. New country, new team, new expectations.” He shrugged, understated. “But it’s good. Hard. Good.”
She nodded, listening intently.
“I watch sometimes,” she admitted. “Not, like, religiously. But I know who you are.”
His ears turned faintly pink. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “You look different on the ice. Bigger. Like you belong there.”
Something flickered across his face at that. Gratitude, maybe. Or relief.
“Thanks,” he said quietly. “That means more than you think.”
They ordered Thai food and ate straight from the containers, sitting closer now, shoulders nearly touching. Y/N laughed more than she had in weeks, surprised by how easy it felt. Nico wasn’t trying to impress her. He didn’t interrupt or check his phone or talk over her stories. When she spoke, he listened like it mattered.
At some point, she fell quiet.
Nico noticed immediately.
“You okay?” he asked gently.
She stared at her noodles, pushing them around. “Yeah. Just tired.”
He didn’t push. Just nodded, understanding settling between them.
They watched the end of a game replay on his TV, the room dim except for the blue glow of the screen. Y/N hugged a pillow to her chest, eyes unfocused. Nico sat rigid beside her, hands clasped, aware of every inch of space between them.
He wanted to close it.
He wanted to say something, anything, that might make the heaviness lift from her shoulders. But he didn’t know how, not without crossing a line she hadn’t drawn but clearly lived behind.
So he stayed quiet.
Later, when she stood to leave, the air shifted, something unspoken stretching thin.
“Thanks,” she said at the door. “For tonight. I really needed it.”
“Anytime,” he replied. And meant it in a way that scared him.
She paused, hand on the doorknob. “You’re… really nice, Nico.”
He smiled, soft and a little sad. “You deserve nice.”
She didn’t respond to that. Just nodded, like she couldn’t trust herself to.
When the door closed behind her, Nico leaned his forehead against it and exhaled.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
The weeks blurred together after that.
They fell into a rhythm without naming it. Morning hellos in the hallway. Shared takeout containers balanced between them on the couch. Y/N started watching his games for real, sitting cross-legged on her floor, phone in hand, texting him good luck even though she knew he wouldn’t see it until after.
He always replied later.
Nico: thank you 😊
Nico: means a lot
Sometimes he added, we won. Sometimes he didn’t.
On nights they lost, she could feel it in the way he moved. She’d offer him tea. He’d accept. They’d sit in comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t demand anything.
But Y/N was still sad.
Nico saw it in the small things. The way she flinched when her phone buzzed late at night. The way she apologized for existing. The way she laughed a beat too late, like she was catching up to herself.
One night, as snow dusted the windows and the city felt muffled, she curled into the corner of his couch, Evan’s hoodie wrapped around her shoulders. Nico noticed it immediately.
“That’s… his?” he asked carefully.
She nodded. “Yeah. He left it here.”
“Does he want it back?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. He hasn’t asked.”
Nico swallowed. He chose his words like stepping onto thin ice.
“Does he… take care of you?”
Y/N stared at the TV, jaw tight. “He’s busy.”
“That’s not an answer,” Nico said softly.
Her eyes glistened. “I know.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy but honest.
“You don’t have to settle,” Nico said quietly. “For someone who makes you feel alone.”
She turned to look at him then, really look at him. “You don’t even know me.”
He met her gaze, heart pounding. “I know enough.”
The truth sat on his tongue, how every smile from her felt like a victory, how her sadness hurt worse than any loss on the ice, how he was falling whether he wanted to or not.
But he didn’t say it.
Because she was still someone else’s.
Because loving her felt like wanting something fragile with hands he wasn’t sure were steady enough.
So instead, he reached for the remote and turned the volume down.
“I’m here,” he said simply.
Y/N leaned her head against his shoulder, tentative, like she might pull away if he moved. Nico froze for half a second, then relaxed, letting himself exist in the moment.
Her weight was warm. Real.
He stared at the wall, heart aching in the quiet.
She made him weak.
And he didn’t mind at all.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
The bread was still warm when Nico wrapped it in a clean kitchen towel.
He’d burned the bottom slightly, too much heat, not enough patience, but it smelled right. Yeasty and familiar. Home, in a way he hadn’t expected to find in New Jersey. He stood in his kitchen for a moment, staring down at it like it might tell him whether this was a bad idea.
It’s just bread, he told himself. Neighbors do this.
Still, his chest felt tight as he crossed the hallway and stopped in front of Y/N’s door.
He knocked once. Then again, softer.
Footsteps. Laughter.
A male voice.
Nico’s stomach dropped.
The door swung open, and for half a second, relief flared, Y/N was there, hair loose, wearing an oversized sweater Nico recognized immediately. Evan’s. Her smile faltered when she saw him.
“Oh, hey,” she said, surprised. “What’s up?”
Before Nico could answer, Evan appeared behind her, one arm slung casually around the doorframe like he owned it. He looked Nico up and down slowly, eyes sharp and unimpressed.
“Who’s this?” Evan asked.
Nico kept his voice even. “Nico. I live next door.”
Y/N shifted uncomfortably. “This is my neighbor. I told you about him.”
Evan snorted. “You didn’t mention he was dropping by unannounced.”
Nico held up the bread, suddenly feeling ridiculous. “I made too much. Thought I’d share.”
Y/N’s eyes softened immediately. “You made bread?”
“Yeah,” Nico said, glancing at her. “Sourdough. First try.”
“That’s-” She smiled, genuinely. “That’s really nice.”
Evan laughed, short and humorless. “What is this, some kind of domestic flex?”
Nico’s jaw tightened.
“It’s bread,” he said calmly. “Relax.”
Evan straightened, stepping closer. He was shorter than Nico, broader in the shoulders but sloppy about it, like his confidence came more from volume than substance.
“You always bringing gifts to taken girls?” Evan asked.
Y/N stiffened. “Evan, stop.”
“No,” Nico said, voice low now. “I’m bringing food to my neighbor. That’s it.”
Evan scoffed. “Funny. Because it looks a lot like you’re trying something.”
Nico felt it then, the shift. The way his body responded without permission. Years of hockey, of pressure, of men trying to get under his skin. His shoulders squared instinctively, stance widening just enough to be unmistakable.
“I’m not,” he said. “But if you’re feeling threatened by a loaf of bread, that’s not my problem.”
Evan stepped forward.
Y/N moved between them immediately. “Evan. Enough.”
“You defending him now?” Evan snapped.
“I’m asking you not to be a jerk!" she shot back, voice shaking.
Nico looked at her then, really looked, saw the embarrassment burning in her cheeks, the way her hands trembled just slightly. Something inside him hardened.
He met Evan’s stare. “You should talk to her like you respect her.”
Evan laughed again, but there was anger under it now. “You don’t know anything about us.”
“I know you’re making a scene in her doorway,” Nico replied evenly. “And I know she looks uncomfortable.”
That landed.
Evan’s eyes flicked to Y/N, then back to Nico. His voice dropped. “You wanna take this outside?”
Nico didn’t hesitate. “Anytime.”
“Nico,” Y/N said quickly, panicked. “Please. Don’t.”
He looked at her, the fire dimming just enough. “I don’t want to cause trouble.”
“Then go,” Evan said. “Before I make you.”
Nico let out a slow breath through his nose. He turned to Y/N, held the bread out to her.
“For later,” he said gently. “If you want it.”
She took it, fingers brushing his. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He nodded once, then stepped back into the hallway.
Behind him, Evan muttered, “Unbelievable,” and slammed the door.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
Nico stood in his apartment for a long time after that, hands braced on the counter, the echo of Evan’s voice still ringing in his ears.
Anger simmered low and steady.
Not because Evan had insulted him.
Because of the way Y/N had looked, small, apologetic, like she was responsible for other people’s behavior.
He grabbed his laptop.
If Evan thought he was slick, Nico was done pretending not to see it.
He started simple. Social media. Tagged photos. Public check-ins. It didn’t take long. Evan was careless in the way men who thought they were untouchable always were.
Girls in the background of bar photos. Arms slung too close. Comments that crossed lines. Inside jokes Y/N wasn’t part of.
Nico’s jaw clenched tighter with every scroll.
Then he found it.
A post from three weeks ago. Evan at a rooftop bar. A brunette tucked against his side, her head on his shoulder. The caption read:
Some nights just hit different.
The comments were worse.
Nico slammed the laptop shut, heart pounding.
So that was it.
She washed his clothes. Learned his favorite songs. Painted her nails for a man who didn’t even bother to hide it.
Nico leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.
He didn’t feel victorious.
He felt sick.
But beneath it all, something else burned, quiet and determined.
Y/N deserved the truth.
And if Evan wouldn’t give it to her, Nico would make sure she got it.
Nico didn’t sleep.
He lay on his back staring at the ceiling, the city humming faintly through the walls, the image of that photo burned behind his eyes. Every time he closed them, he saw Y/N’s face instead, soft, hopeful, trusting in a way that felt dangerous.
By morning, he’d made a decision.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
Y/N found him outside her door that afternoon, sitting on the hallway steps with his elbows on his knees, phone clenched in his hand like it weighed too much.
“Nico?” she said softly. “Are you okay?”
He looked up at her, stood immediately. “Yeah. I- can we talk? For a minute.”
Her stomach tightened at his tone. “Sure.”
She unlocked her door, hesitated, then stepped aside. “Come in.”
The apartment smelled faintly like the bread he’d brought the night before. It sat on the counter, half-wrapped, uneaten. Nico noticed it instantly.
“You didn’t try it yet,” he said.
She smiled weakly. “I was saving it.”
“For what?”
She shrugged. “A good day.”
Something in his chest cracked.
They stood across from each other in the living room, the space suddenly feeling smaller than it ever had. Nico rubbed his palms together once, steadying himself.
“Y/N,” he said carefully, “I need to tell you something. And I want you to know, I’m not doing this to hurt you.”
Her smile faded. “You’re scaring me.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He took a breath. “But after last night… I couldn’t let it go.”
She crossed her arms, defensive without realizing it. “Let what go?”
Nico unlocked his phone, thumb hovering over the screen for a second longer than necessary.
“I looked him up,” he said quietly. “Evan.”
Her head snapped up. “You what?”
“I know that sounds invasive,” he continued quickly. “And if you want to be angry with me after this, I’ll understand. But I saw something you deserve to know.”
Silence fell, thick and heavy.
“Nico,” she said slowly, “this is my relationship.”
“I know,” he said. “And I wouldn’t interfere unless I was sure.”
He turned the phone toward her.
Y/N stared at the screen.
At first, she didn’t understand what she was seeing. The rooftop bar. Evan’s familiar grin. His arm around a girl she’d never met, her body angled in like it belonged there.
Then she read the caption.
Then the comments.
Her face drained of color.
“That’s not-” Her voice caught. “That could be anyone.”
Nico said nothing.
She scrolled. Once. Twice. Her hands started to shake.
“That was three weeks ago,” she whispered. “He told me he was sick that weekend.”
Nico swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
She sank onto the couch like her legs had given out. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, sharp and intrusive. She didn’t check it.
“I feel stupid,” she said faintly.
“You’re not,” Nico said immediately, kneeling in front of her without thinking. “You trusted someone. That’s not stupid.”
She laughed, brittle. “I washed his clothes. I defended him. I thought I was being patient.”
“You were being kind,” Nico said. “He took advantage of that.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks before she realized she was crying. She covered her face with her hands, shoulders shaking.
“I kept thinking if I just tried harder, he’d notice,” she said through a sob. “That he’d see me.”
Nico’s heart ached.
“I see you,” he said quietly.
She looked up at him then, eyes red, searching his face. “Why do you care this much?”
The truth hovered between them, fragile and dangerous.
“Because,” he said carefully, “it hurts to watch someone good get treated like they’re disposable.”
She nodded, wiping her cheeks. “He’s going to deny it.”
“Maybe,” Nico said. “But the evidence won’t.”
She exhaled shakily. “He’s going to be mad.”
Nico straightened slightly, jaw firm. “Let him be mad.”
There was a knock at the door.
They both froze.
Another knock, harder this time.
“Y/N,” Evan’s voice called from the hallway. “Open up.”
Her eyes widened. “I can’t-”
Nico stood. “I’ve got this.”
“No,” she said quickly. “This is my mess.”
He looked at her, steady. “You don’t have to do it alone.”
The knocking turned into pounding.
“Y/N, seriously.”
She took a breath, stood, and walked to the door. Nico stayed just behind her, close enough to be felt.
She opened it.
Evan’s irritation melted into confusion when he saw Nico there.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Evan demanded.
Y/N held up her phone. “Who is she?”
Evan scoffed instantly. “Are you serious right now?”
“Answer me,” she said, voice trembling but firm.
He glanced at the screen, then rolled his eyes. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“That’s exactly what you said you were doing that night,” she replied. “And you weren’t.”
“Y/N,” Evan said, lowering his voice, “don’t let him get in your head.”
Nico stepped forward. “You did that all by yourself.”
Evan snapped. “Stay out of it.”
“I will,” Nico said evenly. “The second you stop lying to her.”
Y/N’s voice cut through them. “I’m done.”
Evan stared at her. “Done with what?”
“With this,” she said. “With feeling like I’m optional.”
She stepped back, opening the door wider. “Leave.”
Evan laughed, incredulous. “You’re choosing him?”
She shook her head. “I’m choosing me.”
The door closed behind Evan with a final, shaking click.
Y/N leaned against it, breath hitching. Nico stood a few feet away, unsure, heart racing.
“Thank you,” she said finally.
He shook his head. “I didn’t do it for thanks.”
She looked at him, eyes raw but clear. “I know.”
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
The quiet after Evan left was louder than the argument itself.
Y/N stayed pressed against the door, forehead resting on the wood, breathing like she’d just run a mile. Nico watched her from across the room, every instinct screaming to go to her, to wrap his arms around her, to fix something that couldn’t be fixed that way.
He didn’t move.
Not yet.
Minutes passed. The clock on the stove clicked over, each second too sharp.
“I feel… empty,” Y/N said finally, her voice small. “Like I ripped something out of myself.”
Nico nodded, even though she wasn’t looking. “That makes sense.”
She turned, sliding down until she was sitting on the floor, knees pulled to her chest. “I keep waiting to feel relieved.”
“Sometimes relief comes later,” he said gently. “After the shock wears off.”
She looked up at him. “You’re really calm.”
“I’m not,” he admitted. “I’m just trying not to overwhelm you.”
Her mouth twitched. “You’re doing a good job.”
That did something to him.
He crossed the room slowly and sat on the floor a few feet away from her, leaving space, always space. The afternoon light slanted in through the window, dust motes drifting like they didn’t know the world had just shifted.
“I didn’t mean for things to happen like this,” Nico said quietly. “I never wanted to be the reason something ended.”
She shook her head. “You weren’t. You just… showed me what was already broken.”
He swallowed.
There it was. The opening. The moment he’d been both afraid of and bracing for since the first night she sat on his couch and laughed like she’d forgotten how.
“Y/N,” he said, voice steady but low, “there’s something I need to say. And I need you to know you don’t owe me anything because of it.”
She studied his face, wary but open. “Okay.”
He took a breath, slow and deliberate.
“I started falling for you before I meant to,” he said. “Before I even realized it was happening.”
Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t interrupt.
“It was small at first,” he continued. “The way you say thank you like you really mean it. The way you watch games like you’re trying to understand, not just pretending. The way you get quiet when you’re hurt instead of making noise.”
Her throat bobbed.
“I told myself it was just… proximity,” he said with a soft, self-aware smile. “Two neighbors. Bad timing. I told myself it would pass.”
She whispered, “Did it?”
“No,” he said honestly. “It got worse.”
A shaky laugh escaped her. “Worse?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Because then I started caring. Really caring. About how you were doing. About whether you ate. About whether you were smiling for real or just being polite.”
He looked down at his hands, then back up at her, eyes earnest.
“And I hated how sad you were,” he said. “Not because it was inconvenient. Because it felt unfair. Like someone had taken something from you and didn’t even notice.”
Y/N’s eyes filled again.
“I never touched you,” he said quietly. “I never crossed that line. But I thought about you. More than I should have. And I felt guilty about it. And then I felt angry. And then I just… felt.”
She laughed softly through her tears. “You make it sound very complicated.”
“It is,” he said. “But the simple part is this: I like you. More than a neighbor. More than a friend.”
Silence stretched, taut and trembling.
She searched his face, looking for expectation, for pressure, for any hint that this was a transaction.
There was none.
“I don’t know what I’m ready for,” she said quietly. “I don’t know how to trust my own judgment right now.”
“I know,” Nico said immediately. “I’m not asking for anything.”
She tilted her head. “Then why tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want you to think I helped you because I wanted something in return,” he said. “And because I didn’t want to keep lying by omission.”
Her lips parted. She stared at him like she was seeing him clearly for the first time.
“You didn’t make me feel stupid,” she said softly. “You didn’t rush me. You didn’t even touch me when you could have.”
He smiled faintly. “Hockey teaches patience. Sometimes.”
She let out a breath that was almost a laugh.
“I feel… safe with you,” she said. “And that scares me.”
“It scares me too,” he admitted. “But I think that means it matters.”
She shifted closer, just an inch. He didn’t move, let her decide.
“Can I say something selfish?” she asked.
“Please.”
“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” she said. “But I don’t want to pretend I’m fine either.”
Nico nodded. “We can just exist.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder, slow and tentative, like she was asking permission even as she did it.
He let himself breathe.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said quietly.
Her voice was barely audible. “Good.”
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