You get a haircut and you’re not sure Holtzmann is into it
Request (slightly edited): I'm 105% in love with Holtzmann and I'd like one where the reader has a pixie cut but doesn't know if Holtz likes it?
You touch the back of your head nervously, feeling the newly shortened strands in between your fingertips as your hairdresser whips the cape off your shoulders and steps back to admire their handiwork.
“So, [Y/N], what do you think?”
You nibble slightly on your lip, both excited for the change and a little anxious about what people will think. But mostly, you’re excited.
“I love it,” you wind up saying, noting the cool air around your neck in a way unfamiliar to you. You can’t help the grin on your face as you thank them, pay and leave the store.
Heading home, you feel as if there are more eyes on you in the street than usual. There isn’t, but you can’t shake the feeling that a haircut can change how people see you. You begin to wonder what Holtzmann might think about it, having had a bit of a crush on her for a while. You just can’t shake this thought as you continue to walk, and before you know it you’re knocking on her door, pizza in hand.
Almost instantly she opens the door, ushering you inside and smelling faintly metallic.
“Hey! I brought pizza,” you say, greeting her warmly and taking your backpack off from around your shoulders.
“Smells good,” she responds, leading you further inside. “I could really use a break.
Too hungry to ask what she’s working on yet, you throw yourself down on the couch and begin to open the box. She comes back in from the kitchen with glasses and plates, then stops, regarding you.
She places what she’s holding down on the coffee table in front of you and a small confused look appears on her face. She furrows her eyebrows, as if she’s trying to solve a complex problem.
“Stand up?” she asks, and you find yourself complying without question. You’re a tad besotted and would probably do anything she asked of you.
She circles you like you’re prey and you realize she can’t tell what’s different, but can see that something is slightly off. You feel her gaze trail around your body as she continues to try to work out the differences. Subconsciously you touch the back of your head, and her eyes follow the movement of your hand. She comes closer, as you’re a little overwhelmed with her scent and the ever so subtle warmth of her breath. She touches the shorter strands briefly, feeling them in between her fingertips. You can also smell the earthy leather of her gloves in her close proximity.
She stands very close, you almost frozen, and kisses you softly on the brow. It’s entirely affectionate and completely comforting. You find any hesitance you had about her possibly not liking your hair melt away. Stepping back abruptly, she kicks back on the couch and grabs a plate and a slice of pizza, leaving you standing and shocked.
“Nice hair, let’s eat,” she says, taking an enormous mouthful as you try to regain your composure.
