Witch.

ooo maybe if you could incorporate one of my favourite songs which is “hard to say i’m sorry” by chicago in the minific. It’s definetly a great song for after a fight, especially if they sing together.

Ok so Amalroid asked for the next combo:

H. Mutual pining idiots H. After a fight G. Emotional confession

Also, they asked me to incorporate the song Hard to Say I’m Sorry by Chicago. This one gave me a bit of a hard time at first because I wasn’t sure how to weave it in, but with how everything turned out, I think it ended up being my favorite so far. I had so much fun writing this—just a little fluff and comedy to pass the time. I hope you enjoy it!

Hard to Say I'm Sorry ⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

“C’mon, Carrots, at some point you have to forgive me.”

“Shut it, Nick.”

The words came out sharper than she intended, but not by much.

Judy didn’t slow down. If anything, she walked faster, feet hitting the pavement with just a little more force than necessary, like that might help her outrun him. It didn’t. Of course it didn’t.

Nick Wilde was many things—annoying, infuriating, way too charming for his own good—but one thing he definitely wasn’t was easy to shake off, especially not tonight.

She could hear him behind her, keeping pace effortlessly, like this was just another casual stroll and not the aftermath of him saying something that had completely derailed her plans.

Three weeks.

Three weeks of desk duty.

Three weeks stuck behind a computer, buried in paperwork, logging reports, answering calls—while the rest of the precinct was out there actually doing the job she had fought her entire life to have.

All because Nick couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

That morning at roll call, right after their usual debriefing, he’d decided to make a catastrophic life choice. He leaned back in his chair, wearing that usual sly smirk, and— for reasons completely beyond her—tossed out one of his infamous yo’ mama jokes.

Directed, of all mammals, at Chief Bogo.

Chief. Bogo.

The moment she heard it, she squeezed her eyes shut for half a second, still not entirely sure how much longer Nick had left to live.

The room had gone silent. Completely silent.

And then—

Well. Let’s just say Bogo hadn’t found it funny.

At all.

“Look, I said I was sorry,” Nick went on behind her, and she could practically hear the half-smile in his voice. “Multiple times, might I add. Very heartfelt apologies. I’m pretty sure I almost cried.”

Judy exhaled sharply through her nose.

Don’t engage.

Do. Not. Engage.

Because the worst part? She hadn’t even done anything! She hadn’t laughed. Hadn’t encouraged him. Hadn’t even been standing that close.

But none of that had mattered, because she was his partner and apparently that meant she got dragged down with him.

“Desk duty. Three weeks,” Bogo had said, voice flat, eyes burning. “Both of you.”

Both.

Of.

You.

Judy’s ears flicked back at the memory.

Unbelievable.

“Nick,” she warned, not even glancing back.

That should’ve been enough, it usually was.

But tonight? Tonight he just… kept going.

She spotted the bar up ahead—the familiar neon sign flickering, the low hum of music and laughter spilling out every time the door opened. Precinct One’s usual spot. 

“Okay, wow,” Nick muttered behind her. “That bad, huh?”

Yes. 

She didn’t say it. Instead, she stopped just short of the entrance, forcing herself to take a slow breath.

In.

Out.

Another one.

By the time she spoke again, her voice was controlled. Tight, but controlled.

“We’re not doing this right now,” she said. “We’re here to see everyone, and I’m not in the mood to make things awkward.”

“Got it,” he said. “Professional mode. Smiles, small talk, pretend I didn’t ruin my entire life for three weeks—business as usual.”

Her ears snapped back. “Oh, you mean my life too?” she shot back before she could stop herself, turning just enough to glare at him. “Because last time I checked, I’m the one stuck doing paperwork for three weeks over a joke I didn’t even make.”

“Carrots—”

“No! Don’t you ‘Carrots’ me,” she cut in, lowering her voice as a couple of zebras passed by. “I’m stuck spending three weeks behind a desk because you couldn’t not insult the Chief’s mother.”

“…In my defense,” he started carefully, “it was a really good setup—”

Judy scoffed. “That’s it! You know what? Just—ignore me. I don’t want to talk to you right now. Not tonight. So please, go hang out… somewhere I’m not.”

Nick blinked, ears twitching slightly as he studied her.

“Damn,” he said, a little more careful now,“You’re really mad, aren’t you?”

Judy didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at him.

She just pushed the bar door open and stepped inside. 

Warmth hit her first—then the noise. Music, laughter, the low hum of overlapping conversations filling the space. It wrapped around her instantly, familiar and loud and easy in a way she desperately needed.

The bar itself was small and cozy, with a long counter running along one side and scattered tables filling the rest of the room. Mammals of all sizes crowded the space—some perched on stools, others gathered in tight-knit groups, drinks in paw, voices rising and falling over one another.

Toward the back, pushed together around one of the larger tables, her coworkers had already claimed their territory in their usual spot.

Behind her, she heard Nick.

“Carrot cake—c’mon, don’t do that,” he started, slipping in after her. “You can’t just—okay, wow, silent treatment now? That’s cold, even for you.”

She kept walking and ignored him completely. It took effort not to react, not to roll her eyes, not to snap back. But she forced herself to keep her focus forward, weaving through the crowd like she had a destination, like she wasn’t hyper-aware of the fox trailing right behind her.

She walked towards the cluster of familiar faces gathered on one of the corners of the bar—uniforms traded for casual clothes, drinks already in paw, laughter loud and unrestrained. 

Clawhauser was there, of course, animated as ever, gesturing wildly as he told some story. A few other officers were gathered around, fully invested.

Judy straightened her posture as she approached smiling, like nothing was wrong.

“Hey, guys!” she said brightly, stepping into the circle like she hadn’t just been arguing outside two seconds ago.

A chorus of greetings met her immediately.

“Hopps! Wilde!”

“Hey guys, you made it!”

Clawhauser lit up the second he saw her. “Judy! Oh my gosh, you have to hear this—”

Nick slipped in beside her a second later. 

Ugh. Couldn't he just go somewhere else?!

She didn’t look at him.

“…and then he just drops the tray—like, completely—” Clawhauser continued his story, oblivious to everything.

Judy laughed right on cue. Nick shifted beside her. She could practically feel him trying to get her attention. Like he was deciding whether to say something.

Judy nodded along to the conversation, adding a comment here, a laugh there, slipping seamlessly into the rhythm of it all. If anyone noticed anything off, they didn’t show it. And for a moment it almost worked.

Until—

“Hey, Wilde,” one of the officers—Wolfard—chimed in with a grin, glancing between them. “Heard you pissed off Bogo big time today.”

Judy rolled her eyes before she could stop herself.

Nick, completely unfazed, just smirked. “Oh, you know… some mammals just don’t appreciate my refined sense of humor. I’m a deeply misunderstood soul.”

Judy huffed under her breath.

Wolfard’s grin widened as his gaze shifted to her. “Too bad you dragged down the missus with you.”

Missus? Which missus—

Wait. Was he referring to her?!

Judy’s head snapped toward him so fast it almost hurt.

“I’m not his missus,” she said sharply.

Why did their coworkers always make those pointed little comments whenever it came to her and Nick—like they were one shared lunch away from making out and filing joint taxes? 

You know what? Whatever.

They were clearly just teasing her and trying to get under her fur. She was absolutely not going to take the bait.

“Ohhh,” Wolfard dragged out, turning back to Nick with a wicked grin. “The missus is really mad.”

Nick sighed, “She is.”

Oh, sure, Nick—encourage him. Why don’t you?

A couple of the others snorted making her ground her teeth, her ears burning from pure embarrassment.

She crossed her arms, shooting Wolfard a look that should’ve wiped that teasing little smile right off his face. It didn’t.

“Okay!” Clawhauser suddenly chimed in, a little too loudly, clearly sensing the tension in the air. 

“So—uh—who’s ordering food? Because I’m starving, and if I don’t eat soon, I’m going to start making bad decisions.”

A couple of officers laughed, and just like that, the conversation shifted. Judy let out a quiet breath as she nodded along, pretending to listen.

Then—

“Psst.”

Her ear twitched. 

She ignored it.

“Pss—Carrots.”

Nope.

Not happening.

She kept her eyes on Clawhauser, nodding at something about mozzarella sticks like it was the most fascinating topic in the world.

“C’mon… I’m sorry,” Nick whispered beside her, his voice low, almost brushing her ear. 

“For real this time.”

Nothing.

Not even a glance.

“I’ll bring you lattes,” he tried again, quieter. “Every day. For the entire duration of the sentence.”

Judy reached for one of the beers on the table like she hadn’t heard a single word.

“Fluff, please.” Her grip tightened slightly around the glass. 

“Cotton tail.” Still nothing.

“You know I have abandonment issues. If this keeps going,” he murmured, making her want to throttle him, “I’m gonna go nuts. I’m gonna die.”

Judy didn’t even blink at that, because if there was one thing she had learned about Nick Wilde, it was that the more attention you gave his dramatics, the worse they got, so instead she turned calmly and leaned toward Clawhauser like she hadn’t heard a single word.

“So what were you saying about the mozzarella sticks?” she asked, faking excitement.

Clawhauser answered her excitedly, already wondering how many orders they should put in—considering he’d probably end up eating at least five all by himself.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught it anyway.

The puppy eyes.

Weaponized and deployed at full force. Nick had gone completely still, his head tilted just slightly, ears lowered a fraction—not in submission, not really, but in that careful, calculated way he knew made him look softer, cuter, just a little unfairly vulnerable. His green eyes were wide, impossibly bright in the low light, the usual sharpness gone, replaced by something open, almost pleading, like he was asking without actually saying a word.

And then there was the mouth—soft, just barely parted, the lower lip pushed out in a subtle, deliberate pout. It was ridiculous. Manipulative. Super intentional. And worst of allP it was devastatingly effective.

Usually.

But right now? Right now she was mad. So not today, Satan.

Not. Today.

So you wanna play dirty, Slick. Cool. Unfortunately for you, I’m not that easy to break, she thought, with just a hint of vengeance curling through it.

Judy kept her gaze fixed straight ahead, posture composed, expression carefully neutral—so convincingly unbothered it bordered on performance art. If anyone had asked, she would’ve sworn under oath there was absolutely nothing of interest to her right. No fox, no red fur. Just empty space. A void.

That seemed to do it at last. Nick must’ve realized his most lethal weapon wasn’t working—because when she didn’t so much as twitch in his direction, when not even a flick of her ear acknowledge him—she heard it. A soft, quiet defeated sigh. And just like that—

Victory.

A few minutes passed like that—where she nodded along absently to Clawhauser and his enthusiastic monologue about the best appetizers on the table, offering the occasional “mm-hm” and polite smile while only half listening. And then, without really meaning to, her eyes flicked sideways.

Just a quick glance. Just to confirm. But—Nick wasn’t there anymore.

The space beside her—where he’d been leaning, hovering, trying every trick in the book just seconds ago to get her attention—was empty now.

Her smile didn’t falter, didn’t even flicker, but she couldn’t help the small, unexpected twinge of disappointment in her chest, which she brushed aside quickly.

Because good, honestly? Very good—he’d finally taken the hint. He'd finally backed off and stopped lurking around her like she was going to magically forgive him if he just stood close enough. About time.

She took a sip of her drink, doing her best to tune back into her coworkers’ conversation about the department’s wildly competitive office potluck—apparently Francine had been dethroned, and tensions were high.

Until—

“Ahem. Ladies and gentlemammals, may I have your attention, please?”

Judy froze mid-breath. She knew that voice.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, she turned toward the source of it, and there—under the dim lights near the back of the bar, standing on the small makeshift stage with a microphone in his paw like this was the most natural thing in the world—was Nick Wilde.

Her brain stalled for a full second.

What on earth was he doing?

“Is that Wilde?” Johnson said.

She looked around as if searching for answers from the others, only to find a sea of confusion and helpless shrugs.

“Good evening,” Nick continued smoothly, far too comfortable for someone who absolutely should not be up there. “My name is Nick Wilde, officer of the ZPD, Precinct One—”

He pointed casually toward their table, and immediately their coworkers erupted into cheers and whistles, raising their drinks like they were part of some official introduction rather than… whatever this was.

Judy just stared at him, equal parts horrified and baffled, because this didn’t make sense—Nick didn’t do this, didn’t draw attention to himself like that unless there was something in it for him, and right now there was absolutely no angle she could see.

“And,” he went on, glancing around like he was about to deliver very serious news, “I have a confession to make.”

Oh no.

No, no, no—

“Today, I was a complete idiot to my partner, Judy Hopps.”

And then he looked at her.

Every single mammal in the bar followed his gaze, and just like that, all the attention shifted, landing squarely on her in a way that made her ears heat instantly as she shot him a look that could only be described as: what the hell are you doing.

Nick, of course, only winked at her. Because naturally.

“So,” he continued, entirely unbothered, “to properly express how sorry I am…”

He gestured toward a zebra sitting behind a laptop at the corner of the stage. “Hit it.”

Judy blinked, her brain trying—and failing—to catch up. Hit what?

A soft piano melody filled the bar. And suddenly, everything clicked into place in the worst possible way.

No.

No, absolutely not.

Nick Wilde did not sing.

He had a habit of making fun of the precinct’s monthly karaoke night—roasting both the eager volunteers and the poor souls who got dragged into it. He’d even said he’d rather die than make a fool of himself like that. So why was he…

Judy stared at him, eyes widening despite herself, one incredulous thought echoing in her head.

Is he actually going to—

Nick closed his eyes like he was about to deliver the performance of a lifetime. He looked so confident. So serious.

Oh my God… was he actually good at this? Since when was this a hidden talent? How did she not know about this?

And then, opening his green eyes, he started singing. 

“Everybody need a little time away, I heard her say, from each other… Even lovers need a holiday far away from each other”.

Sweet cheese and crackers, that was horrific.

Painfully off-key, slightly off-tempo, delivered with a level of confidence that somehow made it worse, like he genuinely believed he was doing something impressive instead of sounding like—

Well. Like claws against a chalkboard.

“Hold me now…” he sang—looking at her. “It’s hard for me to say I’m sorry… I just want you to stay…”

Judy snorted. She couldn’t help it.

“After all that we’ve been through…” Nick continued, pointing directly at her like she was the only mammal in the room. “I will make it up to you… I promise to—”

Oh. Oh, he was serious. He was really singing Hard to Say I’m Sorry by Chicago. No, scratch that. He was butchering Hard to Say I’m Sorry by Chicago.

Judy pressed her lips together, as she fought to keep a straight face.

Their coworkers, who were apparently deaf, started cheering like he was singing with the voice of an angel instead of commiting an auditory crime.

“Wilde, you got this!”

“Sing it!” 

Judy blinked, still trying to process the fact that Nick Wilde—never let them see they got to you Nick Wilde—was currently serenading a room full of strangers.

And then—

He jumped off the stage.

He landed with an easy little hop, never missing a beat, and started making his way through the tables, still singing—still looking straight at her.

“And after all that’s been said and done… you’re just the part of me I can’t let go…”

The officers lost their minds.

“Wilde, please have my babies!” Johnson practically roared, half out of his chair.

“Take off your shirt, Wilde! Show us your tits! Give the people what they want!” Wolford howled with zero shame.

“Oh my God, is he finally confessing to Hopps?” Fangmeyer whisper-shouted excitedly like this was premium reality TV.

Someone wolf-whistled. Someone else started banging the table like they were at a concert. And Judy very seriously considered transferring precincts.

She looked around. As thrilled as the ZPD officers were, the rest of the bar? Not so much.

Because while the precinct table was absolutely thriving, every other table was slowly turning to look at Nick like he’d personally wronged them—expressions ranging from mildly annoyed… to deeply offended… to viscerally disgusted. A few mammals were already covering their ears.

Nick, blissfully unbothered, kept going.

“Couldn’t stand to be kept away, just for the day from your body—”

A chorus of boos started rising from somewhere in the back.

“Wouldn’t want to be swept away, far away from the one that I love—”

“Shut it, fox!” someone yelled.

“Get out of here!” another voice said.

“You suck!”

From a nearby table, a goat launched a crumpled napkin with surprising accuracy, smacking Nick right on the side of his head.

Nick reached down, picked it up off the floor and kept singing—

“Hold me now, it’s hard for me to say I’m sorry—”

Then, with perfect timing, he snapped his wrist and sent the napkin flying straight back, hitting the goat square in the face.

“I just want you to know…”

Nick kept moving toward her, making direct eye contact. 

Judy lasted… maybe two seconds. Her paw flew up to her mouth, shoulders starting to shake as the laughter finally broke through. Because there was just something about seeing Nick Wilde willingly make a complete fool of himself as some kind of over-the-top apology that hit her right in the chest.

Yes, it was ridiculous and embarrassing. But it also was… weirdly, painfully adorable.

“Hoooold me nooow, I reeeaaally waaant to teeeell you I’m soooorrry… I coooould neeeever leeeet you gooo—”

And on that last note—

Oh no. He held it, he really held it. Badly.

Judy physically winced, her ears flattening as the note went from questionable to a full-blown attack on her ear drums. 

Finally he reached her and dropped dramatically to one knee.

The precinct erupted into cheers—loud, obnoxious, completely on his side—while the rest of the bar answered with an even louder chorus of boos, whistles, and exaggerated groans. 

A fresh wave of crumpled napkins came flying in his direction, not just one or two now but a full-on barrage, pelting his back, bouncing off his shoulders, some missing entirely and hitting nearby tables. One clipped his ear. Another hit him square between the shoulder blades. 

Aggressive little paper missiles.

And still—Nick didn’t even look at them. He just lifted a paw toward her, finally lowering the mic from his mouth. 

“Judith Laverne Hopps, I was a complete ass today.”

She bit her lip, trying to hold back the smile that was already threatening to break free.

“I solemnly swear to permanently retire all yo’ mama jokes directed at our boss.”

Judy broke. A laugh slipped out—then another. 

“And I promise that for the next three weeks we’re stuck on desk duty, I will be your humble, hardworking, extremely underpaid servant. You can ask for anything.”

He tilted his head just slightly—and there it was again.

The puppy eyes.

Wide, bright, and just a little too soft, the usual sharpness dialed all the way down—replaced with something so painfully, strategically vulnerable it should’ve come with a warning label. His ears dipped just a fraction, his whole expression smoothing into that look that hovered right on the edge between innocent and please don’t abandon me outside in the rain like a sad, soggy stray fox with no home and no hope.

“So… can you forgive me?”

That was his final attack. And apparently, she’d severely underestimated her opponent, because whatever comeback she thought she’d made earlier? Gone. 

If she’d won the last battle… Nick had just won the war.

Judy shook her head smiling despite herself, pretending to think it over while the entire bar hovered somewhere between joy, anger and emotional investment.

A few seconds of suspense. Then—

She nodded and placed her paw in his.

Around them, their coworkers lost their minds—cheering, clapping, whistling like they’d just witnessed the most important historical event since the founding of Zootopia.

Meanwhile, the rest of the bar?

“Get them out of here!”

“Take it outside!”

“Leave his ass, bunny! He's a terrible singer!”

Nick pushed himself to his feet, set the mic down on the nearest table, and shot her a crooked grin.

“The things a fox has to do to get forgiven.”

Judy scoffed, folding her arms. “Please. This is the direct consequence of your actions and your terrible yo’ mama jokes.” She tilted her head, giving him a pointed look. “And just so we’re clear? I am absolutely taking you up on that offer.”

Nick’s ears twitched. “...That sounds dangerous.”

“For the next three weeks,” she continued, her tone turning dangerously sweet, “I am not lifting a single paw. Not one. You, Officer Wilde, are doing all the desk work.”

She paused just long enough to let that sink in, her eyes narrowing with quiet satisfaction before she leaned in the slightest bit closer.

“And when I say all,” she added, voice soft but absolutely merciless, “I mean all of it. Every report, every form, every painfully boring, soul-crushing piece of paperwork that crosses that desk…”

A tiny, triumphant smile curved at her mouth.

“…is yours.”

Nick winced. “Okay. Yeah. That’s… fair.”

“And,” she added, raising a finger, “you’re bringing me lattes. Daily.”

Nick nodded solemnly, like a fox accepting his fate. “And,” she said, barely holding back a grin now, “we’re going to watch the recording of this moment every single day.”

Nick blinked. “...What recording?”

Judy didn’t even have to answer—she just pointed. Across the room, Higgins stood there, phone out, very obviously filming.

She turned back to Nick, smiling way too innocently. “He started recording the second you got on stage. So yeah… we’ve got the whole thing. For posterity, handsome.”

Nick looked at her horrified. “Carrots… you can’t do this to me.”

“Sorry.” Before he could argue, she stepped closer, grabbed his tie, and tugged him down just enough to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

Nick froze. Actually froze. Eyes wide, mouth slightly open.

Judy pulled back, satisfied. “Don’t worry. If you behave, I might let you delete it…”

She paused, letting it hang. “...after 48 hours.”

Nick huffed a laugh, shaking his head, a slow grin spreading across his face.

And Judy—

Judy smiled right back. Somehow, in the middle of the chaos—the cheers, the boos, the napkins still flying, the bar on the verge of collective mutiny, it all seemed to fade. 

He stepped closer, closing the distance between them, and she placed her paws against his chest. Their eyes met, and just like that they both broke. Laughter spilled out of them at the same time, easy and unrestrained, the kind that dissolved whatever tension had been lingering between them, leaving something lighter in its wake.

And in that moment—caught in the warmth of it, in him, in them—she realized something. Maybe… just maybe—

Gime me some PAAAAAAIN

A little bit of angst with a happy ending.

Bunny Hero Complex

Nick slammed the patrol car door so hard it echoed down the block.

Then he ran.

Not a jog. Not controlled. He sprinted like his life depended on it, straight toward the building.

Sirens were off, but the scene was already alive—flashing lights washing the street in red and blue, yellow tape stretched tight across the entrance, officers clustered in tense, uneven groups. 

His lungs burned almost instantly but it didn't matter. His heart was already outpacing everything—wild, uneven, slamming against his ribs like it was trying to break out.

Please be okay.

Please be okay.

Please be okay.

The words looped, over and over. A relentless silent prayer.

He ducked under the tape without asking, ignoring the shout behind him, pushing past uniforms, past his colleagues, none of it registering.

“Wilde—!”

He didn’t stop. Didn’t even look.

Nick spotted them ahead—Officer Johnson and Fangmeyer—standing near the edge of the scene, both of them turning at the same time as they noticed him. Surprise flickered across their faces.

Nick didn’t slow down.

Didn’t greet them. He couldn’t breathe properly. 

“Where’s she.” 

Johnson blinked, clearly caught off guard, his eyes darting for half a second like he was trying to figure out how to say something he didn’t want to say. Which—instantly—made everything worse.

Nick’s stomach dropped.

No. No no no no no.

Johnson must have caught the look on his face, because he immediately threw his paws up, like he was trying to placate him.

“Wilde, calm down, she—”

“Where is she?!” 

He snapped. Loud enough to cut through the noise and make a couple of nearby officers glance over.

Johnson exhaled slowly, like he was bracing himself, then lifted a paw and pointed.

Toward an ambulance.

Nick followed the gesture—

—and everything inside him just…stopped.

No.

His vision tunneled. The noise around him dulled into something distant and hollow.

Nononono—

He was moving before the thought even finished forming. Running again. Faster.

“Wilde, wait!” Fangmeyer called after him.

He didn’t. Couldn’t.

Nothing existed except the white of the ambulance. The open doors. The flicker of movement inside.

His pulse roared in his ears.

Please be okay.

Please be okay.

Please—

Judy please be okay.

Nick reached the ambulance at a full sprint and then stopped so abruptly it almost sent him staggering.

There she was.

Judy.

The grey bunny was sitting on the edge of a stretcher inside the open back of the ambulance, shoulders hunched slightly, fur a complete mess—dust, ash, and bits of rubble clinging to her like she’d been dragged through the collapse itself. Her uniform was scuffed, torn in places, streaked with gray.

Alive.

A paramedic, a goat with steady hands and a no-nonsense expression was wrapping a bandage around her arm.

She was alive.

And just like that, something inside his chest snapped back into place. Air rushed into his lungs. His heart, still racing, finally found something close to rhythm.

God.

There she was.

His Judy.

Her ears twitched. She looked up—and froze when she saw him.

“Nick! When did you arrive?”

Nick didn’t answer. He had no words. He just stood there, staring at her like he needed to confirm it was real, that she was real. Like if he blinked too long, she might disappear.

The paramedic finished tying off the bandage and gave Judy a pointed look. “Stay here, Officer Hopps. We’re not done with you yet. No sudden movements, understood?”

Judy nodded obediently. “Yes, of course.”

The goat stepped out, leaving them alone. 

Silence fell between them for half a second. And suddenly she was talking fast. Words tripping over each other like she couldn’t get them out quickly enough. “Nick! Oh my gosh, I’m so glad you’re here. It was insane! You have no idea. Everything happened so fast and I—”

“Are you okay?”

She blinked. Stopped mid-sentence. Her eyes widened slightly.

“Yes—yeah, I’m okay,” 

His gaze dropped immediately to her arm. The bandage. The way her sleeve had been pushed up.

“You’re not hurt anywhere else?”

“It’s just a scratch,” she said, almost dismissive. “I’m completely fine.”

He exhaled. A long, shaky breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

Thank God.

But then—

“Besides, it was worth it,” she added, a spark of pride creeping into her voice. “We got the suspect, and—”

Judy looked… fine. More than fine. She was smiling—bright, a little breathless, eyes still shining with leftover adrenaline like this had all been nothing more than an intense, exhilarating story she couldn’t wait to tell. Like her life hadn’t just been in danger. Like she hadn’t come this close—

That’s what made something inside him snap.

“Are you out of your mind?”

The words came out low. Rough. Almost like a growl.

Judy blinked, clearly caught off guard.

“What?”

His jaw clenched, ears pinning back slightly as he stepped closer.

“Why the hell did you walk into a hostage situation alone?” he demanded. “No backup. No call-in. Ignoring every single protocol we have.”

Her expression shifted—confusion tightening into a frown.

“Nick, I couldn’t wait. I was nearby, I heard the shots, people were screaming and—”

“And you couldn’t wait for the nearest unit to get there?!” he cut in sharply.

Her ears flattened.

“Well no,” she shot back, defensive now, voice rising. “Because if I had waited, I would’ve been too late to help them! Those people needed someone right then, Nick. Not five minutes later!”

His paws flexed at his sides. He was already shaking.

“Really? So after hearing those shots your brilliant plan was to go in alone? No weapon, no gear, nothing to protect yourself?!”

“Well—yes!” she fired back. “There wasn’t time!”

He let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

“No time?” he repeated. “No time? Why is it always like this with you? Why do you always throw yourself into situations like this without thinking for one second about what happens after?”

Judy looked around, searching desperately for an answer. “Nick I—”

“That bear was armed, Judy,” he continued, voice rising now. “He was unstable. He was violent. You could have died.”

Her eyes flashed. Judy pushed herself off the stretcher, hopping down despite the paramedic’s warning, and marched toward him.

“Well, I’m sorry to inform you, Officer Wilde,” she shot back, her voice just as sharp now, “but protecting people is our job. And I’m sorry you’re not aware of that, but I wasn’t about to stand outside doing nothing while civilians got hurt.”

She lifted her chin, defiant. “And they didn’t,” she added. “So I’d say it worked.”

“Worked?!” he barked. “You think that worked?! Do you even hear yourself right now?! Do you not value your life at all?!”

“Of course I do!” she shot back immediately. “The criminal—”

“But nothing, Judy!” he cut in, voice raw. “He shot at you! He aimed his gun at you and fired—three times! He tried to kill you! You almost—”

He couldn’t even finish that sentence. 

“And yeah, you walked out of it this time,” he went on, his voice dropping lower. “Maybe it was some miracle, some insane stroke of luck—but it’s not always going to go like that. It can’t always go like that.”

She was staring at him, straight to his eyes, not backing down.

“All because you’ve got this damn hero complex that won’t let you stop and think for one second before you throw yourself into danger!”

Judy lifted her chin a little higher.

 “Why are you like this? This thing you’ve got where you keep acting like you’re some kind of unstoppable superhero—like you can just charge in and everything’s going to work out because you believe hard enough.”

Judy’s eyes widened.

“Newsflash, Hopps—you’re not invincible. You don’t have those kinds of capabilities. You’re fur and blood like the rest of us.”

His chest heaved, breath uneven.

“And pulling stunts like that? Going in alone, no backup, no plan?”

He stepped closer, every word sharper than the last, lifting a finger toward her with each point.

“That doesn’t make you brave. It doesn’t make you heroic.”

A beat.

“It makes you reckless.”

Another.

“It makes you irresponsible.”

And then—

“It makes you a fucking bad cop!”

There was silence. Thick and charged. Judy stared at him, breathing hard—and for just a second, something flickered in her eyes. Not anger, hurt.

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them instantly. He wanted to take them back but it was too late.

Judy broke eye contact first and Nick knew it that moment he’d crossed a line. Because being a cop wasn’t just a job to Judy, it was everything. Her purpose and identity. It was the thing she had fought her entire life to become. 

And he had just looked her in the eye and told her she was bad at it.

Oh no.

“Hopps, ready to make your statement?”

They both turned. A hippo officer—Higgins—stood a few steps away, clipboard in hand, glancing between them with mild confusion.

“You want to give your statement now or…?” he added, then flicked his gaze toward Nick.

Judy nodded slowly.

“Yeah. I can do it now.”

She stepped past Nick—then hesitated just for a second. Then she leaned in, close enough that only he could hear her.

“I was just trying to do the best I could,” she whispered, eyes full of sorrow. 

Then she pulled back and walked away with Higgins without another word.

Nick stood there, frozen. Watching her go. Every instinct in him screamed to follow. To call her back. To fix it. But she kept walking and the distance between them grew with every step.

Too late.

His shoulders dropped, all the fight draining out of him in one heavy exhale. He dragged both paws over his face, pressing hard.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

A couple of hours later, Nick stood outside Judy’s apartment, paws shoved deep into his pockets. He had walked most of the way there, not because it was close, but because he needed the time to think. 

He stared at the door for a moment longer than necessary, then knocked twice, already knowing she was inside. The soft glow from her window had been visible from the street.

A few seconds later, he heard movement. The faint shuffle of steps. The quiet shift of something being moved aside.

The door opened.

Judy stood there, framed by the dim light of her apartment. She wore a simple tank top and shorts, her fur clean now. 

She looked… fine. Almost like she hadn’t just been caught in a hostage situation where she’d nearly lost her life taking down a 1,200-pound bear. The only giveaway was the bandage still wrapped around her right bicep.

They looked at each other.

“I’m sorry,” Nick said, barely above a whisper.

Judy didn’t hesitate.

She closed the distance between them in a single, impulsive movement, throwing herself at him—and he was already there, already reaching, waiting for her.

The impact knocked the breath out of him for half a second. Then his arms tightened around her.

He closed his eyes, his grip instinctive, almost desperate as he pulled her closer, like he needed the contact to be real, to ground him, to prove to himself that she was here, safe, whole.

Judy buried her face against his neck, pressing in without holding back, and Nick’s hand immediately came up to cradle the back of her head, fingers threading gently through her fur while his other arm locked around her waist, anchoring her against him.

There wasn’t even a sliver of space left between them. Neither of them seemed willing to allow it.

“I’m sorry, Judy,” he repeated, his voice rougher now, quieter against her ear. “I shouldn’t have said that, but… I—I thought you were—”

She shook her head against him, cutting him off, her voice muffled as it came out against the fur of his neck, too soft and tangled to fully make out.

Nick huffed a small breath that almost turned into a laugh, realizing belatedly that she was talking into his throat and he couldn’t understand a word.

Still holding her, he shifted his weight and started moving, guiding her gently backward into the apartment without letting go. He reached behind himself blindly until he found the door, pushing it closed with his foot.

He walked them the few steps toward the bed in her tiny apartment, then let himself fall back onto it, bringing her down with him, still wrapped tightly in his arms.

Judy didn’t let go. If anything, her grip tightened, her arms locked around him as she pressed closer.

Nick adjusted slightly beneath her, one hand still resting at the back of her head, the other firm at her waist, holding her there, steady, solid, real.

And for a moment they just stayed like that. Just the sound of their breathing and the faint, soft melody drifting from the radio somewhere in the corner.

Nick’s paw remained at the back of her head, while the other stayed firm at her waist, keeping her close.

“Judy… you’re not a bad cop,” he said quietly, his voice softer now, stripped of all the sharp edges from before. “I really shouldn’t have said that.”

She shook her head against his chest.

“You were kind of right,” she murmured. “I know I shouldn’t have gone in alone like that.”

A small pause.

“Trust me… you weren’t the only one,” she added. “Chief Bogo gave me an earful.”

Nick winced instinctively.

“He did?”

Judy nodded against him.

Silence settled again for a moment, the music filling the space between them, their breathing a little steadier now. 

She spoke again. “Did you get scared?”

Nick let out a quiet, incredulous huff.

“Scared? Judy, I almost had a heart attack. And I’m not exaggerating.”

That made her lift her head slightly, just enough to look at him. Her eyes searched his face. Nick swallowed, his gaze flicking away for half a second before settling back on her.

“Clawhauser called me,” he said, his voice tightening again, though he tried to keep it controlled. “He told me there was a hostage situation with an armed bear… that you’d gone in alone… that shots had been fired.”

His grip on her tightened.

“And that he didn’t even know what state you were in.”

Judy shook her head.

“For a moment I thought…”

Her breath caught. “Oh Nick…I’m sorry. I didn’t even think—”

“You need to understand something, Carrots,” he said quietly. “If something happens to you…”

He swallowed “I’m done.”

Judy frowned. “What? Nick don't say that, I—”

“I mean it,” he said, meeting her eyes now, completely serious. “There’s no version of this, of me, where you’re not in it.”

His jaw tightened.

“No job. No city. No anything.”

A beat.

“...so please,” he added quietly. “Please, I’m begging you… don’t ever do that again. Don’t ever go into something like that alone.”

Judy bit her lip, her gaze flickering for a second, uncertainty passing through her expression. 

“Nick…”

“I’m not asking you to stop being brave. I’m not asking you to stop doing your job. That’s not what this is.”

His paw moved, slow and careful, tracing lightly along the edge of the bandage wrapped around her arm.

“I’m just asking for five minutes,” he murmured.

His thumb brushed softly over the fabric.

“Five minutes for you to call for backup… to not be alone… to be as safe as you can be before saving the day.”

A small pause.

“Please.”

Judy looked at him for a long second, then she gave a small nod. They were tiny movements of her head, but it was enough. More than enough.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

And they stayed there still wrapped around each other, the world outside shrinking to nothing. Time blurred at the edges, stretching quietly as the radio hummed in the background and their breathing fell into sync, slow and even, like neither of them was in any hurry to move.

Eventually, Nick cleared his throat, just slightly, the sound breaking the stillness.

“Well Carrots…” he murmured, a hint of his usual tone creeping back in, lighter now, teasing at the edges. “About the bear.”

Judy huffed a quiet laugh against his chest.

“How the hell did you manage to overpower a guy that size all by yourself?”

She lifted her head just enough to grin, something bright and familiar returning to her expression.

“Oh, you know,” she said, shrugging lightly. “Superior technique.”

Nick raised a brow. “That's what we’re calling it now?”

Judy rolled her eyes.

“They told me you knocked him out,” he added, incredulous.

Her grin widened, just a little smug. “Damn right I did.”

He let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. “Alright,” he said after a moment, glancing down at her with a crooked smile. “Tell me everything.”

Judy’s eyes brightened instantly, that familiar spark returning as she shifted more comfortably against him.

“Well,” she began, “I was on my way to the supermarket when I passed by the bank, and then I heard these shots—”

Nick sighed, already shaking his head. “Of course you did.”

She smacked his chest lightly. “Hey—listen!”

“I am listening,” he said, amused. “Go on.”

And she did. She told him everything, walking him through it piece by piece, from the moment she heard the gunshots to the second it was over. He didn’t interrupt much after that, just the occasional comment under his breath, a quiet curse here, a disbelieving huff there, his hold tightening around her at certain parts he didn’t like.

She skipped over a few details—smoothed the rougher edges, softened the parts that would worry him too much—but he could tell. Of course he could tell. Still, he let her. Because she was here and she was okay. And for a while, nothing else mattered. Just this. Just them. Held together in the quiet, like nothing in the world could pull them apart. And for now—

How about H+B+D + "Shut up and dance with me"

Can't wait to see what you can do with it!

Hey! So....

Mutual pining idiots + Gala / fancy event + Tension so thick it hurts + "Shut up and dance with me".

Here you go! Hope you like it ❤️

_

For months, the ache had been a constant, low-frequency hum under her ribs, intensifying every time he laughed, every time their shoulders brushed in the squad car, every time he looked at her with that lazy, easy warmth that meant everything to her and nothing more than friendship to him.

It was, by any objective standard, a disaster. And tonight, trapped in the glittering, suffocating opulence of the City Hall gala, it was unbearable.

Nick Wilde in a suit was a public health hazard. He stood across the ballroom, his charcoal wool jacket cutting a sharp, effortless silhouette against the ambient gold of the room.

The gala was an exercise in extreme wealth, a sprawling mosaic of ice sculptures, cascading lights, and Zootopia’s elite, that felt entirely foreign to her. But Nick? Nick wore the room like a second fur.

She hadn't meant to track him. It was muscle memory at this point, the way her eyes sought him out in a crowd. He was deep in conversation with a cluster of their coworkers, ears tilted in that familiar, conspiratorial way that meant he was about to land a joke.

Stop it, she scolded herself. She really needed to stop staring at him like she was auditioning for the role of Most Pathetically in Love Mammal of the Year.

This wasn’t professional. It wasn’t even rational. It was a reckless, headlong slide toward ruining the one thing in her life that actually mattered: their friendship. Because if he ever noticed—really noticed—the way her pulse spiked every time he said her name, the way she memorized the cadence of his voice, there wouldn't be a sweeping, romantic story.

No. She knew better.

And she would stand there, nodding politely, acting as if he hadn’t just quietly dismantled her entire world, only to go home and dissolve into a puddle of absolute misery.

He’d say, “C’mon, Fluff… you know I don’t see you that way. You’re just… confused. It’ll pass. I promise.”

All while gently, kindly, and very firmly, escorting her right back to where she belonged: the friend zone.

Judy could handle a lot, public failure, dangerous cases, Bogo’s grumbling...but she couldn't handle that kind of pity.

That's why right here, at this gala? She needed to breathe. She needed to pull it together.

Judy smoothed the front of her pink dress and pinned a breezy, effortless smile onto her face.

It was her uniform, a thin, polished veneer of friendly indifference she applied every morning alongside her badge. She had to believe in it. She had to be the officer who didn’t wish, the partner who didn’t hope, the friend who didn’t lose her composure just because a fox happened to look unfairly good in a tailored jacket.

Just look normal, Hopps.

“It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

The voice was smooth, polished, and entirely foreign. Judy blinked, pulled sharply from her internal monologue. An Arctic fox, impeccably groomed, stood before her, offering a smile.

“I… uh… yes?”

He dipped his head. “I’m sorry. This may sound a little forward, but I saw you walk in and thought you were absolutely breathtaking. I couldn't let the moment pass without saying it to you.”

Heat flared at the base of her neck, blooming hot and fast until her ears burned.

“Oh! Well… thank you!” she stammered, the words tripping. “That’s… very kind.”

Was he… flirting? Like, actually flirting with her?

Her internal alarm bells went from a gentle chime to a full-blown siren. She glanced toward the dance floor, then back at him, her mouth opening and closing.

“Care to dance?” he pressed, all smooth confidence and perfectly timed charm. “I have a feeling this song would be spectacular if I could share it with a bunny as lovely as you.”

Oh. He was definitely flirting.

“I…” Judy began, panic rising.

“She is going to dance with me.”

The voice was behind her.

She pivoted slowly, her heart doing a frantic, traitorous flip, to find Nick standing directly in her personal space. He was leaning there like he owned the room, one shoulder angled, one paw tucked deep in his trouser pocket, the other hanging loose.

He wore a saccharine, devastatingly charming smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Sorry, pal,” Nick murmured, his gaze never wavering from the stranger. “She already has a partner.”

The arctic fox blinked, clearly thrown. “Partners?”

Judy’s brain short-circuited. Partners? I mean, yes. Technically. But the way he said it—that wasn’t ‘we share a squad car and paperwork’ partner. It was a declaration of ownership that made her knees feel entirely too loose.

By the time her brain caught up, the white fox was already backing away, offering a strategic, apologetic smile before vanishing into the crowd.

Judy turned on her heel, indignant. “Why did you say that?”

Nick looked down at her, one brow arched, radiating a calm that she found deeply suspicious. “What? I lied?”

“No—well—no, but—”

“I told him the truth,” he said smoothly. “You are my partner.”

“Yes, but the way you said it—”

The way you said it made my heart do a backflip, you absolute idiot.

“What way, Carrots?” He tilted his head, all innocence and challenge wrapped into one.

“Don’t play innocent.”

“I’m not. Please, enlighten me.”

She huffed. “Nick!”

“Carrots,” he shot back in a drawn-out whine, clearly just to get under her fur.

She rolled her eyes, but the sting was gone. Moments like this were why he was a certified pain in the ass—both charming and impossible. And, apparently, completely unaware of the fact that every little thing he did landed somewhere dangerously close to her heart.

She turned away, focusing on the dance floor. It was safer there. Just a sea of couples swaying under soft lights. Nothing complicated. Nothing like the mess of her feelings.

Beside her, Nick finally went quiet. He didn’t move away. If anything, he settled closer, his shoulder brushing hers, the lingering warmth of his jacket seeping into her bare fur.

Then, quietly—

“You look beautiful, you know?”

The whisper was so soft it was almost lost to the music. Judy turned, but Nick didn’t face her. His eyes were locked forward, tracking a couple spinning near the center of the room. He looked serious, his jaw set in a line she didn’t often see when he was bantering.

Her heart, that stupid, traitorous muscle, decided to slam into her ribs with reckless abandon. “Thanks,” she squeaked. She hated how a single, casual compliment could reduce her to a trembling schoolgirl.

They spent another minute in silence.

“I’m sorry about that, Judy. The comment earlier. You were right. I just… I got frustrated.”

“Why?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, still not looking at her. “It’s a pattern, you know? Every time we go to a fancy party, some random guy ends up hitting on you before I can even…” He trailed off, his shoulders tightening.

She frowned. Before you can even what?

“Are you referring to the Zootennial gala?”

“Yep.”

“Who flirted with me there?”

“Pawbert Lynxley.”

Her mouth fell open. “He wasn’t—”

“He totally was.”

“No! And even if he was, he’s… he’s a jerk. He was probably approaching me with villain intentions.”

Nick sighed, a deep, weary sound. “It’s frustrating, Judy. You don’t even realize how many mammals hit on you. You just… walk through the world like you’re invisible to that kind of thing.”

Judy snorted, attempting a laugh to dispel the heavy pressure in the air. “Come on, Nick. You’re being dramatic.”

“It’s the truth.” He shrugged. “Sometimes I feel like I have to be on guard. Like if I turn my back for a second…”

He couldn’t be serious. He wouldn’t. Not in that way. She searched for the punchline, for the inevitable ‘gotcha’ that would turn this into a joke.

But it didn’t come.

“Otherwise what, Nick? They’re going to snatch me right out from under your nose? Are you jelous?”

“Yes.”

The word was a stone dropped into a deep, dark well.

The air between them vanished. Her pulse stopped, then hammered a frantic, heavy rhythm against her eardrums. She looked at him, searching for a trace of a smirk. There was nothing. His gaze was raw, intense, and terrifyingly unguarded.

He wasn’t joking.

The realization crashed over her with a warmth that felt dangerously like sunlight.

Then, she saw the shift. Across from her, Nick swallowed hard. His composure cracked, the smooth mask faltering as he realized what he’d said.

“Judy… I—look, I’m sorry. I didn’t… it’s just… that time… and obviously, I just don’t want you to feel…”

Was this really happening?

Watching him unravel—nervous, awkward, and completely exposed—did something to the knot of tension in her chest. The fear melted away, leaving something lighter, something daring.

A smile, slow and genuine, bloomed across her face.

Because that word, that yes, that confirmation made her feel something she never thought she’d feel toward him.

It was hope.

A stupid, reckless, beautiful little spark of it.

Judy reached out, grabbing his paw with a firm, decisive grip and before he could process it, she pulled him toward the center of the dance floor.

“Judy! Wait—what are you doing?”

She laughed, the sound bubbling over. She tugged him into the sea of swaying couples, not letting go until they were in the middle of the room. She stood right in front of him, close enough to see the gold flecks in his green eyes.

She smiled at him—wide, unfiltered, like a lunatic.

Pick one from each category and drop your choices in my ask box 👇

1. TROPE A. Fake dating B. Only one bed C. Jealousy D. Friends to lovers E. Hurt/comfort F. Accidental confession G. Forced proximity H. Mutual pining idiots

2. SETTING A. Rainy night B. Gala / fancy event C. Work D. Trip E. Apartment / domestic F. Stakeout G. Elevator H. After a fight

3. VIBE A. Soft & romantic B. Angst C. Flirty & teasing D. Tension so thick it hurts E. Comedy / chaos F. Protective instincts G. Emotional confession H. Slow burn in 500 words or less

4. BONUS (optional) Add a line, word, or detail I have to include (a song, a quote, a specific action, etc.)

I don’t know how to transmit how good of an experience reading this story is. I was a little worried that the time between chapters 7 and 8 would make me forget details, or even worse, kind of lose the vibe or forget this weird feeling or mix of feelings (in a good way) I get when I read your story. Thankfully, somehow, the moment I start reading, that feeling just clicks back on like a light switch. (I’m not saying it was a longtime, to be honest it was an impressive short time to get this level of quality, but I’m a forgetful person and I tend to lose track of things).

I do have a couple of questions because I can’t stop thinking about your story (If you feel like answering):

I think you mentioned there might be about two chapters left. How do you figure that out? Do you plan specific start and end points for each chapter? Or do you write and rewrite until it just feels like the right place to end? And how do you decide the length of each chapter? I absolutely love the long chapters you’ve been giving us. But now I’m worried I’m going to get used to them. I feel like a spoiled child, haha. Are you planning to keep them this long, or will they go back to less words?

Thank you for Chapter 8 :)

Hi! Thank you so much for asking 😊

I think I have the main plot points of the story planned out. For example, I knew there had to be a scene where Judy sees Nick kissing someone else. There also had to be this gala scene that would end with their first kiss. I also planned for there to be this constant push-and-pull between them in every chapter, so that when that kiss finally happens, they go from zero to a hundred (hooking up).

I also know what the final conflict they’ll face is, and how the story ends. But like I said, those are the main plot points. Before writing each chapter, what I do is make bullet points of everything I want to accomplish in that chapter and the scenes I want to include, and then I start writing from there.

Honestly, I didn’t plan for the chapters to be this long, they just came out that way. I don’t know if the next ones will be the same length? but I do know what’s going to happen.

I don’t think I’ve ever written a fic all the way through and then not published it.

I only have two examples that kind of fit this. One is a fic I started after watching Bridgerton, set in the Regency era, and I wanted to call it Zootropolis. But I never finished it because it felt like it wasn’t going anywhere.

The other idea was a fic built around the fake marriage and forced proximity tropes.

The premise is that Judy and Nick go on a mission where they have to pretend to get married. What they don’t realize is that the judge marrying them is actually legitimate, and a few days later they find out they’re legally married. But instead of annulling it or getting a divorce, complications come up, and they decide to keep pretending they’re in a relationship in front of everyone. And of course, that would eventually turn into real romance.

I hope you are doing fine. I hope I don't come off as greedy, but I saw the list of questions you share and I wanted to ask these two:

20. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever gotten?

22. What aspect of your writing do you most enjoy to see praised?

If you don't feel comfortable answering one don't do it.

I also wanted to ask what made you write zootopia fics?

I think I already answered the other question, so as for the nicest comment I’ve received… honestly, there have been so many since I started posting. I’ve gotten some really beautiful messages, and a few have stuck with me over time.

One in particular always comes to mind, not because it’s “the best,” since they all mean a lot to me, but because it really stayed with me.

Hi, thanks so much for your question. I think what I care about most is characterization—making sure readers can really connect emotionally with the characters.

Now...I’ll admit I’m a bit of a drama queen, so I enjoy intense moments, especially when everything spirals and emotions run high.

22: What aspect of your writing do you most enjoy to see praised?

and conversely, if you feel comfortable, what aspect of your writing do you feel is the weakest/you want to improve on?

Hi, thank you so much for asking ❤️

I think one of my biggest challenges is that English isn’t my native language, and sometimes it frustrates me how slowly the words come. I usually think everything in my first language, then translate it in my head, and only after that try to put it into English, so the whole process feels a lot slower. It makes me feel like I can’t write as fluidly or as quickly as I’d like.