Some imagines and oneshots of shows, cartoons, movies and series.
PG-13!
1. **Language:** Mild to moderate profanity, but not extreme or pervasive.
2. **Violence:** Some intense or realistic violence may be present, but it's not graphic or excessive...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Pov Nobody
The moon hung low over the sprawling metropolis of Zootopia, casting an eerie glow on the city's dark alleys and towering skyscrapers. The distant hum of traffic and the occasional shout from the streets below were the only sounds that broke the silence as Nick Wilde, ZPD officer and former con artist, approached the latest crime scene.
"Another one, huh?" Nick muttered to himself as he slipped under the yellow police tape. The stench of blood hit him like a punch to the gut, forcing him to swallow the bile that rose in his throat. He had seen his fair share of crime scenes, but this one was different—brutal, savage, and unsettlingly personal.
As he crouched beside the body, his sharp eyes took in the details: deep claw marks across the victim's chest, a look of terror frozen on their face. The victim was a well-known business leader, someone who should've been miles away from this part of town. Nick's gut told him that this was more than just a random act of violence.
"Late to the party, Wilde?" a voice drawled from behind him.
Nick looked up to see Y/n, a seasoned detective with a reputation for getting too close to the edge, standing over him. Her expression was as hard as the asphalt under their feet, her eyes scanning the scene with a cold, calculating gaze.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Nick replied, standing up. "Looks like we've got ourselves a real mess here."
Y/n lit a cigarette, taking a long drag before blowing the smoke into the night air. "Mess doesn't even begin to cover it. This isn't just some random attack—this is personal. The kind of personal that makes you question why the hell you even get out of bed in the morning."
Nick raised an eyebrow. "You're in a cheery mood."
"Always," Y/n said dryly, flicking ash onto the ground. "Let's just say this case is already giving me a bad feeling. And I don't get bad feelings unless there's a damn good reason."
As they examined the scene, Nick's mind wandered back to his days as a con artist. Back then, he knew every dark corner of Zootopia, every seedy establishment where the city's worst came to play. But now, standing beside Y/n, he realized just how much he had changed—and how much the city had stayed the same.
"You know, Wilde, I didn't peg you for the squeamish type," Y/n remarked, catching the faraway look in his eyes.
"Not squeamish," Nick replied, shaking his head. "Just... reflective. This place, it brings back memories."
"Memories, huh?" Y/n smirked. "Bet you've got a few stories to tell."
"More than a few," Nick said, his voice tinged with something Y/n couldn't quite place—regret, maybe, or nostalgia.
The investigation led them deeper into the city's underbelly. They visited shady nightclubs, dodgy back alleys, and underground fight rings, all the while piecing together the clues that pointed to a sinister pattern. The more they uncovered, the more dangerous the case became. It wasn't long before they realized they were being watched—followed by unseen eyes that lurked in the shadows.
