𝐅𝐀𝐖𝐍 • ᵉ ʲᵃᵉᵍᵉʳ

mr. ackerman

𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚘𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟹𝟶𝚝𝚑

"𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐭, 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭, 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭!" is all I've been thinking all. fucking. day. I should be focusing on getting to my 4:00 PM elective, but here I am, speed-walking through the hallways, mentally scrolling through every Halloween costume idea I've ever seen. I'm trying to figure out what will make me look the hottest for the party on Saturday, not learning about mental health, which is ironically what I'm supposed to be doing.

I weave through the crowd of students, dodging backpacks and avoiding awkward eye contact like it's a full-contact sport. Halloween is literally tomorrow, and all I have is a pile of laundry and a mess of half-cooked ideas dirtying my brain. I could go as a cat again—safe, predictable—but I really want something that'll make heads turn. Something all out, like a sexy leopard or a cute/ slutty version of Little Bo Peep. I can already picture it: white lace, a touch of baby pink, and just enough skin to leave them guessing.

Suddenly, I slam into someone, knocking my thoughts off track.

"Watch where you're going!" I snap, looking up to see who I nearly crashed into.

"Oh, sorry! Didn't see you there." It's a guy from my psychology class, his eyes wide with surprise. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I mutter, brushing it off. "Just trying to figure out a Halloween costume that doesn't suck and trying to manage getting to our stupid ass elective."

"Maybe just go as yourself? That always works," he grins, clearly trying to be funny, but all I can think is how infuriatingly unhelpful that is.

"Real original," I shoot back, rolling my eyes as I sidestep him and continue on my way.

As I head to class, I can't shake the feeling that I need to step up my game. Everyone else will be looking cute or cool or whatever, and here I am—Halloween rookie. It's not like I have much time left to figure it out, either. I can practically hear my friends' teasing voices already if I show up without a decent costume.

"Get it together, Y/N," I mutter under my breath, glancing at my watch. "You've got less than 24 hours to think of something."

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to focus as I enter the classroom, but all I can think about is what I'll wear and how I'll nail the vision. The bell rings, and I take my seat, my mind racing with ideas, each one a little more ridiculous than the last.

I set all my belongings down and slug into my seat, letting out a silent whine as I slump against the desk. The cold water bottle I'm nursing is the only thing keeping me from jumping out of my skin; each sip feels like a lifeline, grounding me while my mind spins over Halloween plans. After a few minutes, Mr. Levi Ackerman, my psychology professor, strides into the room with his usual stoic expression.

He's carrying a stack of papers that looks far too intimidating for a Thursday afternoon. As he drops them onto his desk, he gives us a curt nod, his gaze sweeping over the room like he's mentally assessing who actually did the assigned reading.

"Alright, settle down," he says, his voice firm but not unfriendly. "Today, we're going to talk about cognitive dissonance and why you can't seem to make a damn decision about anything." He gives me a pointed look, like he somehow knows that I've spent the entire day obsessing over a Halloween costume instead of thinking about anything remotely academic.