The bass from Tommy Hagan’s house is already rattling the windows when you and Nancy make it up the driveway, laughter tangled with the noise spilling out into the cold October air. Porch lights flicker orange, fake cobwebs cling to the railings, and someone inside is screaming the lyrics to a song way off-key.

Nancy adjusts the little white wings strapped to her shoulders, halo tilted just slightly crooked over her dark hair. She looks almost painfully angelic in her all-white outfit—pants, shoes, T-shirt—like she stepped out of a magazine spread instead of a high school party. You, on the other hand, lean fully into the opposite energy.

Black leather pants hug your legs, a red tank top catching the porch light every time you move. The headband with red horns sits perfectly in place, a thin red tail flicking behind you when you walk. Your long brown hair falls loose down your back, tattoos peeking out along your arms and sides, piercings glinting—septum, snake bites, tongue, belly button—all of it unmistakably you. Confident. Unapologetic. Dangerous in the fun way.

“Ready, Satan?” Nancy teases, bumping your shoulder.

You smirk. “Always, Angel.”

Inside, the house is packed—costumes everywhere. A few people notice you right away, double takes and whispered comments trailing in your wake, but you don’t slow. Your eyes are already scanning the room.

And then you find him.

Eddie Munson is leaning against the kitchen counter, beer in hand, dressed in his usual version of a costume—leather jacket, ripped jeans, band tee—when his gaze flicks up. For half a second, his brain clearly doesn’t catch up to what he’s seeing.

Then his mouth slowly falls open.

Like, actually drops.

He just stares.

The music, the noise, the people around him all fade into the background as Eddie takes you in—horns, leather, red, confidence radiating off you like heat. His eyes widen, dark and stunned, and he straightens without realizing he’s doing it.

“Holy… shit,” he breathes, barely audible, eyes flicking from your face down and back up again like he’s trying to make sure you’re real. “Is— is that you?”

You raise a brow, lips curling into a knowing smile as you walk closer. “What, never seen the devil before?”

Eddie lets out a shaky laugh, running a hand through his curls, still staring like the universe just personally gifted him something unfair. “I— no, I just—” He swallows. “I might actually be dead. Like, this feels illegal.”

From behind you, Nancy clears her throat loudly. Steve appears at her side, equally stunned, though he recovers faster—typical.

Eddie finally snaps out of it enough to grin, wide and crooked and completely awestruck as he steps into your space. “Munson’s dating the hottest girl in Hawkins,” he says proudly, shaking his head. “Guess I won Halloween.”

The party rages on around you—but for a moment, it’s just you, Eddie, and the way his eyes never leave you, like the devil herself just walked in and chose him.