#roxanne potionomics

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A Rare Kind of Rhyming Triplet

"I have no rhyme for you. My flippers were not made for rhyming. My heart was not made for waiting, either, so I find I am short on both counts tonight."

Or: Rafta's poetry slam relocates to a new venue, and Sylvia ends up watching both her partners take the stage to recite love poems. Muktuk, who cannot rhyme to save his life, and Roxanne, who very likely has.

Fandom: Potionomics Ship: Muktuk/Roxanne/Sylvia Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Word Count: 6,000 Warnings: None

A/N: Written for PotionTrade2026. A gift fic for @gazulu as part of the blind art trade!

Thank you so much for the opportunity to write this request, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! 😁

Excerpt:

"This is going to be excruciating," Roxanne groused, folding her arms. "Watching amateur poets perform earnest self-expression should qualify as cruel and unusual punishment. And I've been good."

Sylvia laughed, nudging her shoulder as they walked along the cobbled street. "That's a sentence I never thought I'd hear from you."

"Neither did I, dear. Yet here we are." Her gaze flicked sideways, sharp and amused. "You're a terribly good influence."

"Not too good, I hope."

Roxanne hummed, dragging the sound out like she had all the time in the world. Then, without breaking stride, she reached over. Velvet-gloved fingers swept a stray lock of hair back behind Sylvia's ear as though dusting off a display piece she particularly admired, lingering out of habit.

“Mm.” Roxanne’s smile softened at the edges; candid in a way she rarely allowed outside closed doors. “I’d say you know exactly how to walk the line.”

Flushing instantly, Sylvia huffed a quiet snort out of sheer fluster. She didn’t quite manage to formulate a reply before the forge came into view, mercifully sparing her the attempt.

The familiar silhouette of Muktuk's massive sled loomed ahead, firelight spilling out to illuminate the surrounding plaza. Roxanne patted Sylvia's cheek lightly, punctuating the moment.

“I suppose I can suffer through it.” Her theatrical sigh carried a great deal of carefully curated suffering. “For you.”

Sylvia’s mouth twitched. That sigh was doing a lot. Namely, an impressive amount of heaving, and none of it accidental.

"Speaking of suffering," Sylvia dropped casually, "I bet it's going to be at least a hundred degrees in there. Muktuk said he'd keep the furnace roaring. Just for you."

Roxanne perked up almost imperceptibly. An unmistakable flick of her tail betraying interest, an easing of her shoulders, before the rest of her remembered dignity. She drew herself up with regal bearing; a queen graciously accepting tribute.

"Darling," she said, squeezing Sylvia's hand once in faux admonition, "you really should have led with that."

Sylvia grinned. "Unfortunately, it seems someone's penchant for drama has rubbed off on me."

Roxanne gave an elegant sniff and lifted her chin a fraction higher, as if the accusation were beneath formal response. Which, Sylvia noted with satisfaction, wasn't actually a denial.

Roxanne

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4 days until release !!