#bees asks

She/it, TMA, lesbian, 27 years old

Women are free to flirt and send pics in my dms! i prefer no unsolicited genitals pics tho.

And obviously, minors please don't interact!

Stuff I like: incest (sisters, moms, daughters, aunts, nieces, and sometimes brothers), petplay, feet, piss, nurses, princesses, maids, exhibitionism, older women, uniforms, vampires, armpits, scent, somno, soft domme, praise

Not into: scat, detrans, choking, suffocation, stuff related to loss of or demeaning of intelligence, breeding, mating press

You can find my selfies at #bees selfie and my answers to asks at #bees asks

"Robin, what are you doing here?" You quiz, "I think you've made it clear that you don't want anything to do with me."

Robin's speech is falling apart in her head, and her lips fall open only to produce two sad little words:

"I'm sorry."

Your brows twitch in disbelief.

"Is that all you have to say?" You demand, "You stood me up, Robin! Not only that- you lied about it too. If you didn't want to go on a date with me, you could have said no. Instead, you cancelled on me last minute and lied about having to work!"

"I- I know how it seems-"

"No, Robin! I went to the video store like an idiot in my nicest outfit thinking I could bring the date to you because you sounded so disappointed on the phone, only to learn from Steve that you never had to work at all!"

Robin flinches at the anger in your tone, though she knows she deserve it. She's grappling with the scraps of her well practice apology in her head, the one she made Steve listen to over and over, the one crumbling into nothing behind her eyes.

"And all you have to say is 'I'm sorry'?" You conclude, "What the hell, Robin?"

She promised herself she wouldn't ramble, that she'd be calm and collected and win you back for her stupid mistake, but as you stand there, with that hurt expression, the words come welling up her throat before she can process what they are.

"I'm an idiot, okay?" She gasps, "I-I panicked. I really like you- really, really like you, and you asked me out and I was so excited! Then, then I got in my head like I always do and I realised, I have nothing to wear, and I talk to much, and I would be a terrible date who talks to much next to the prettiest girl in the room."

As she talks, as always, with her hands, the roses sway back and forth, passed from one hand to the other, petals falling sadly to the ground. Yet, she can't stop, there's no turning back. And so she stands on your doorstep, and spills every single embarrassing secret.

"I told you I had to work, but really I stayed home with a pint of ice cream and half a dozen sad movies like a walking, crying, cliche." She rambles onwards, "Then when Steve told me you came by the store to try and cheer me up for missing our date I felt like such a loser. Who passes up a date with someone willing to do that?"

"Robin-"

"So then I listened to Steve's advice on how to apologise and he said to get you flowers, and I was going to get you something better than these stupid roses- I was trying to remember what flowers meant 'I'm sorry' and 'forgive me' but then I realised I don't have that sort of money anyway."

"Robin, please-"

"So now I'm here with these sad roses and I'm throwing the petals all over the floor, "Robin continues, voice tight with emotion, "and I had an entire thing planned but now I'm just rambling like I always do and I'm such an idiot-"

"Robin!" You interrupt, hands on her shoulder, holding her still. "Slow down, okay?"

It's not until your hands are on her cheeks, thumb grazing a path below her eye, that she realises she's worked herself up to tears, that you're gently wiping them away before she's even had time to process that they're there.

"Now I'm just embarrassing myself more," She sniffles weakly.

"No, you're not," You tut softly, dropping her cheeks with a sigh, "I don't know where to start."

"You don't have to," Robin mumbles, wiping her eyes on her jacket sleeve "I'm sorry, I'm making it worse."

"You're not," You repeat, taking her free hand in your own, "Robin, why would you ever think I would care about what you wear, or how much you talk? I asked you out for a reason, you know. I like your clothes and the way you talk… I like listening to you ramble, I think it's sweet."

Robin's eyes widen a little in surprise, nerves dissipating slightly at the way you smile to yourself, tracing your thumb across her knuckles.

"You really didn't just change your mind?"

Robin's heart twists at the uncertain, forlorn sound of you voice.

"No, of course not," She assures, "I'm so sorry I made you feel that way… I really did want to go, I just got so nervous and-"

"You panicked," You nod, "I understand now."

Robin stands there, heart in her throat. Awkwardly, she glances down at the dishevelled roses, grimacing at the sad sight of them.

"I won't insult you with the roses," She mumbles, going to hide them behind her back.

"What, no," You scold, reaching out for them with your free hand, "I want them… please."

Robin hands them over, blushing.

"I really am sorry, you know." She says, "Can I make it up to you?"

You lift your eyes from the roses to meet hers, lips quirking into a smile.

"You can take me on a date, Robin," You explain, "Wearing whatever the hell you want, because you always look perfect, and with the intention of talking my ear off… I'm sure I can cope."

Robin's lips split into a toothy grin, cheeks fading from embarassed red to flustered pink.

"I think I can do that,"