Who Framed Roger Rabbit? (Male! Jessica Rabbit x Toon Detective Reader)

Chapter 1: There's No Business Like Show Business

Hello my lovely flowers & welcome to chapter 1.
I don't have much to say, so here we go!
Hope you enjoy ^^
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Third Person's P.O.V 

"Cut!"

Raoul J. Raoul, a producer for Maroon Cartoon Studios, furiously marched on the set of Baby Herman and Roger Rabbit. They were in the middle of shooting a short, but things weren't going well. Roger, a slender, white toon rabbit with a tuft of red hair, sat wedged inside a busted refrigerator. He's dressed in red overalls, yellow gloves, a blue bowtie with yellow spots, and tweeting birds flapping around his head as an appliance recently dropped on it.

"Cut, cut, cut, cut, CUT!" Raoul threw a copy of the script he had to the ground.

"What the hell was wrong with THAT take?" Baby Herman, a toon baby wearing nothing but a diaper and a pink bow in his hair, said while glaring irritably up at Raoul. The "child" is actually a 50-year-old man, which must suck when it comes to dating.

Raoul got down on one knee to Herman's level.

"Nothing with you, Baby Herman. You were great. You were perfect. You were better than perfect. Just Roger keeps blowing his lines!" The human man grabbed one of the toon birds, still flapping around Roger's head, and held it to him.

"Roger, what's this?"

"A tweeting bird," Roger replied, grinning nervously.

"A tweeting bird?" Raoul mocked before smacking the little bird on the ground and grabbing his script.

"Roger, read the script. Look what it says. It says, "Rabbit gets clunked. Rabbit sees stars." Not birds, STARS!" The man then directed his attention toward his crew since the music for the film never stopped. "Can we lose the playback, please?" He looked back at Roger. "Roger, you're killin' me. Killin' me."

Raoul walks away in a huff to his director's seat.

"For cryin' out loud, Roger! How the hell many times do we have to do this damn scene?" Baby Herman snaps at his costar as he marches off. 

"Raoul, I'll be in my trailer! Takin' a nap!"

Continuing his way, Herman passes through a woman's legs, making her yelp. A disgusting grin was present on his face as he glanced up at her skirt.

"'Scuse me, Toots."

After taking a sip of water and handing the glass to a woman massaging his shoulders, Raoul rose from his chair, barking orders.

"My stomach can't take this. This set is a mess. Clean this set up. And get him out of there or seal him up in it! Lose the lights. And say lunch." He demanded.

"Lunch!" A man in the crew yelled.

"That's lunch. We're on a half."

Raoul grabbed his coat from his chair and began to exit the set as a bell rang, signaling everyone's lunch period. Roger hopped out of the damaged fridge, following after him.

"P-please, Raoul, I can give you stars. Just drop the refrigerator on my head one more time." He begged, grabbing onto the man's coat sleeve.

"Roger, I dropped it on your head 23 times already," Raoul replied, snatching his coat away.

"I can take it. Don't worry about me." Roger once again grabbed hold of the coat sleeve.

"I'm not worried about you. I'm worried about the refrigerator." The man snatched his coat away again before entering his director's trailer.

"I can give you stars. Look!" Roger grabbed a frying pan from a crate of props a crew member was pushing somewhere. He repetitively bashed himself in the head with it.

"Look! Look!"

The poor guy saw anything but stars as he followed Raoul into his trailer, still hitting himself, unaware that two pairs of eyes were watching him. One pair watched in disdain while the other watched in sympathy.

"Toons..." The owner of the disdain eyeballs, known as Eddie Valiant, let out an exasperated breath. He then took a swig of whatever alcohol he had in a glass bottle.

Eddie is a stout Caucasian human man wearing a grey pinstripe suit and brown fedora that hid his balding dark hair. He has a hard-boiled disposition, comes across as stubborn and cynical, and if you haven't already noticed, he's not a fan of toons.

The owner of the sympathetic eyes, y/n Birman, looked at Eddie with a raised eyebrow. She is a toon, a feline being exact, and she's Mr. Sourpuss's partner as they are private investigators. She has soft s/c fur and long, luxurious h/c hair with a natural bouncy curl. Her e/c eyes are sharp and doe-like with long lashes and complimented by lovely f/c eyeshadow. As far as her outfit goes, y/n is sporting a simple white blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt, showing off her cleavage and hourglass figure. She's also wearing a black trench coat with a matching fedora and ankle-strap stilettos.

"Yes, Eddie?"

Eddie paused mid-way from taking another swig of his alcohol. His eyes cast down to his partner, who stared back at him with her arms crossed and her long, fluffy tail slowly flicking behind her.

"W-with exceptions, Birman." Eddie awkwardly cleared his throat, deciding enough with the liquor by stuffing the bottle into his unarmed gun holster.

"Mhm..." Y/n eyed him as she walked by and out of the studio to meet their newly acquired client. Hence, the reason the two were at Maroon Cartoon Studios in the first place.

Eddie soon followed after the animated female, but not before releasing a discreet breath of relief. Sure, y/n's claws result from pen and paper, but that didn't mean they weren't sharp. Dearest Sourpuss here learned that the hard way.

The two then head up to the very top level of the studio, where a human woman, an assistant of sorts, guides them to their client's office. The Head Honcho himself, R.K. Maroon.

"Mr. Maroon, Mr. Valiant and Ms. Birman are here too--" The woman was cut off by Maroon raising his hand, silencing her. He stood behind and peered over the shoulder of an editor as they watched a piece of film through a moviola.

The woman then turned to the two detectives.

"He'll be right with you." She said before leaving the office and closing its twin doors behind her.

Upbeat music played from the moviola with classic sound effects like bombs exploding and the whistling of something falling as the film played. Eddie stood waiting on Maroon while y/n waltzed around the cartoonist's office admiring the décor. Multiple awards and trophies complemented the shelves, pictures of Maroon with famous toons like Mickey & Minnie Mouse hung on the walls, a few posters of classic cartoons here and there, and this guy even had a private minibar.

The abrupt cut off of the moviola, followed by Maroon's displeasure, gained the two detectives' attention.

"No, No, No! Wait until he gets to his feet. Then hit him with the boulder." Maroon said to the editor, who nodded.

"Right, R.K." The man replied, grabbing the film from the machine before leaving the office. Maroon then turned to Eddie and Y/n, a neutral look playing on his aged face. He's dressed in a gray suit with a velvet red handkerchief neatly folded in the blazer's chest pocket. His hair, though greying and receding, is still full, and overall, R.K. seemed like an average older gentleman.

Keyword: Seemed.

Yes, he's a bigshot cartoonist with a massive reputation, but something about him made y/n's instincts tell her something was off. And her instincts were never wrong. A little superpower she's gained from not only being a detective but from being the mother of three young kittens-- Especially when it comes to her youngest. He's a little shit, but he's y/n's little shit.

"How much do the two of you know about show business?" Maroon asked before looking at y/n.

"You've been on stage before, haven't you, Ms. Birman?"

"I've dabbled in the paint a little. There's no business like it, and it gets quite pricey." The female toon replied, standing there with her hands on her hips.