Romeo and Soviet

On the Brink(er) of Something Special

Karl laid to a hand to your face, then shied away. "Wait, this is all going so fast...I must get to know you first..." Anguish filled his eyes as he angstily turned away. "Don't get me wrong, I couldn't bear  to be without you, but I don't even know your favorite type of beet."

"Oh, that's easy, my favorite type of beet is y/f/t/b*. But you're right. Let's get to know each other a little bit better," you say, blushing furiously. "How does it to feel be a," you say as you caress his elbow, "published author?"

Karl giggles nervously, then gently grabs both of your elbows and starts caressing them with equal intensity.  You gasp, then quiet to hear what he has to say. "It's nothing compared to what I feel when your eyes graze my soul. And just so you know, I'm a chioggiaº type of man myself. I love their essence of candy canes they show in their," he grunts primally, "pattern. I have to ask you something," Karl mutters intently, looking into your eyes. "Have you ever been bear-back riding?"

"No, but it's always a dream of mine...a dream of mine to experience it for the first time with you." You flutter your eyelashes and sigh like the fall of a petal on the first day of spring. He grabs your hand and opens the door, leading you out into the hallway and out into the meadows.

He walks around the corner and grabs a rope. As he brings the rope closer to you, you realize it's attached to a giant bear. "Y/n, meet Petroshka van Bogololov. She's been my beary best friend since I was first able to suckle a breast." You look up at her impressive stature, and feel a pair of hands around your waist, lifting you up as if to kiss her snout. 

You snuggle up comfortably in the folds of her back, and Karl leaps up in front of you, taking the reins. He gently takes your hands and places them on his shoulders, whispering to you, "I've been a little...tense lately." You begin to massage them slowly, and he groans softly. He rattles the reins, and Petroshka starts ambling along, one paw in front of the other. 

As you waltz through the Russian countryside, he begins singing a melody softly to himself. "Славься, Отечество наше свободное..."ª he murmurs, and it sounds angelic to your ears. You reach up to stroke his weathered, elephant-like skin on his face, and he sighs. "Coddle my beard," he breathes, and you begin to run your hands through his thick mane of white. It is both wiry and full, and is truly luxurious.

He guides Petroshka over to a wooded area, and pulls on the reins to stop her. You look over and realize you've stopped at a beet garden. "This is the place of wonders...you can't beet it." 

He reaches up a hand slowly and caresses your plump cheeks. You exhale shakily and a whimper escapes. He leans in, his mustache trembling with anticipation and tickling your upper lip sensually. His slimy, frog-like lips lock onto yours and slide around madly. Your tongue entangles with his, and it feels like wearing a black shirt on a moist summer day.

All of a sudden, you hear a clatter, and a man with a face as round and pale as the moon emerges from the shadows. His hair is parted as deeply as the Red Sea (by Mozus), and his eyes are as beady as a mouse. He aggressively power-walks towards you, and screams, "GET OFF MY BEET FARM!"

You look at each other, and break into a run. As you speed along, you turn to Karl and ask, "Who was that?"

He looks at you with a stare as deep as the Russian government into debt and says, "Dwight K. Schrute."

* y/f/t/b = your favorite type of beet

º type of beet with candy cane stripes (its reel look it up >:3)

ª Soviet national anthem...Karl Marx actually invented it soo...

Author's Note: Hey guys!!!!1! i reely hope your enjoying the story so far. This week's subscriber shoutout goes to 1direction4eves...keep it coming ;3 Stay tuned for more updates, and know the plotline is as thiccc as Karl's beard!!!!!!