Would you be able to write a Dawn x Nick in which she meets him before he meets Judy during the events of the movie?
❝ DAWN BELLWETHER × NICK WILDE — PRE-MOVIE FIC ❞ an: i hope this is good anon !!
Nick Wilde is very good at reading people.
It is, arguably, the reason he is still standing.
So when a sheep in a perfectly pressed suit steps up to his popsicle stand and smiles at him like she already knows the outcome of the conversation, he notices.
Immediately.
“Well now,” Nick drawls, leaning casually against the cart. “That’s not a face I usually see around here.”
Dawn Bellwether tilts her head, polite and composed. “And what kind of face would that be?”
“The kind that doesn’t buy from me,” Nick replies easily. “Or at least pretends not to.”
Her smile doesn’t falter.
“Interesting,” she says. “And which category do you think I fall into?”
Nick hums, pretending to consider it. “Oh, definitely the third one.”
“And what would that be?”
“The kind that already knows exactly what I’m doing and is deciding whether or not it’s worth stopping.”
That earns him something.
Not a laugh.
Not surprise.
Approval.
Subtle, but there.
Dawn steps closer to the cart, gaze flicking briefly over the setup before returning to him. “You’re observant.”
“I have to be.”
“So do I.”
There’s a beat of silence that isn’t really silence. It’s assessment. Quiet, mutual, and very deliberate.
Nick straightens just a little. Not enough to be obvious. Enough to be ready.
“So,” he says lightly, “you here to shut me down, or just admire the craftsmanship?”
“Neither,” Dawn replies. “I’m here because I think you’re… underutilized.”
Nick’s ears twitch slightly.
Now that is interesting.
“Careful,” he says. “You’re starting to sound like you have a proposition.”
“I do.”
Of course she does.
Nick smiles, slow and sharp. “That didn’t take long.”
Dawn’s expression softens, just a fraction. Not warmth. Something closer to interest.
“You’re clever,” she says. “You understand systems. More importantly, you understand how to work around them.”
“Flattered,” Nick replies. “But you still haven’t told me what you want.”
“I want to know if you’d ever consider working within one instead.”
Nick lets out a quiet laugh.
“Now I know you’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
She holds his gaze steadily. There’s no hesitation there. No uncertainty. Just calculation, clean and precise.
Nick studies her right back.
“You don’t look like someone who jokes,” he says.
“I don’t.”
Another pause.
Then Nick shrugs. “Alright. I’ll bite. What system are we talking about?”
Dawn doesn’t answer right away.
Instead, she reaches out, picking up one of the popsicles, turning it slightly in her hoof as if inspecting it.
“You’ve built something small,” she says. “Efficient. Profitable. Hidden just enough to avoid attention.”
Nick’s smile tightens, just a fraction.
“And?”
“And I think you could build something much bigger.”
She sets the popsicle back down carefully, her movements precise.
“With the right support.”
Nick tilts his head, watching her. “Support usually comes with strings.”
“Everything does.”
“Yeah,” he says. “That’s the problem.”
Dawn’s gaze sharpens slightly.
“Or the opportunity.”
There it is.
Not kindness.
Not generosity.
Something else entirely.
Nick feels it settle in his chest, that familiar instinct that tells him when something is too smooth, too practiced, too intentional.
Danger.
Interesting danger.
“You don’t even know me,” he says.
“I know enough.”
“Do you?”
Her smile returns, small and controlled.
“I know you’re wasting your potential.”
That hits closer than it should.
Nick’s ears flick back for half a second before he smooths it over, grin sliding back into place.
“And you think you can fix that?”
“I think,” Dawn says, stepping just a little closer, “that you don’t like being underestimated.”
Nick huffs softly. “Who does?”
“No one who matters.”
Their proximity is different now. Not accidental. Not casual.
Measured.
Nick studies her face, searching for something genuine. A tell. A weakness.
He doesn’t find one.
Of course he doesn’t.
“And what do you get out of this?” he asks.
Dawn doesn’t hesitate.
“Results.”
Honest.
That, somehow, makes it worse.
Nick laughs quietly, shaking his head. “You’re something else, you know that?”
“I’ve been told.”
“I bet you have.”
There’s a pause.
Long enough to mean something.
Nick straightens, hands slipping into his pockets as he leans in just slightly.
“Here’s the thing,” he says, voice lower now. “I don’t work for anyone.”
Dawn doesn’t move.
“I wouldn’t ask you to.”
“Really.”
“I’d ask you to work with me.”
Nick raises a brow.
“Big difference,” she adds.
He considers that.
He really does.
Because for a moment, just a moment, it almost sounds reasonable.
That’s what makes it dangerous.
Nick leans back again, grin returning, easy and practiced.
“Tempting,” he says. “It really is.”
Dawn’s ears tilt forward slightly. “But?”
“But I like what I’ve got,” he finishes. “Small. Simple. Mine.”
Something shifts in her expression.
Not disappointment.
Adjustment.
“I see,” she says.
Nick nods once. “I’m sure you do.”
Another pause.
Then, unexpectedly, Dawn reaches out again.
This time, she doesn’t pick up a popsicle.
She adjusts his tie.
The motion is smooth, deliberate, and entirely uninvited.
Nick stills.
“There,” she says softly. “Presentation matters.”
Her hoof lingers for half a second too long before she steps back.
Nick watches her carefully now.
“That wasn’t part of the pitch,” he says.
“No,” she agrees. “It wasn’t.”
Their eyes meet again.
Something unspoken passes between them. Recognition. Understanding. A mutual awareness of exactly what the other is capable of.
“You’ll reconsider,” Dawn says, calm and certain.
Nick smirks. “Confident.”
“Accurate.”
She turns then, already done with the conversation in a way that suggests she got what she wanted anyway.
Nick watches her go.
He doesn’t call her back.
Doesn’t stop her.
But as she disappears into the crowd, he exhales slowly, ears flicking back.
“…yeah,” he mutters to himself. “That one’s trouble.”
And somewhere ahead, Dawn Bellwether smiles to herself.
Because she knows.
He didn’t say yes.
But he didn’t say no either.
