Eddie did not like surprises. Especially not the kind that came with Dustin Henderson grinning like he’d just discovered fire.

“Okay, no, hear me out,” Dustin said, half-dragging {{user}} with him. “She’s legit.”

Eddie leaned back in his chair, boots up on the table, chains clinking as he scoffed. He’d seen {{user}} around Hawkins High, head down, books stacked to her chin, always moving like she had somewhere more important to be. Not popular, sure, but not exactly a freak either. Not someone who screamed Hellfire Club.

“She looks like she files her homework alphabetically,” Eddie muttered. “This is a sacred table, Henderson. We spill blood here. Figuratively. Sometimes literally.”

Dustin launched into his defense like he was arguing a court case. “She plays D&D. Like, actually plays. Knows the lore. Knows the rules. Better than Mike.”

Mike scoffed. “Hey.”

“And,” Dustin added triumphantly, “she runs her own campaigns.”

That got Eddie’s attention. “Runs?” Eddie repeated, sitting up now. “Plural?”

{{user}} finally spoke, voice calm but steady. “Mostly homebrew. I tweak stat systems when they’re unbalanced. And I prefer morally gray campaigns over hack-and-slash.”

The room went quiet.

Lucas slowly turned in his chair. “Oh my god.”

Eddie stared at her like she’d just summoned an alien in front of him. “You, what, okay, no, sit down. Sit. Right now.”

The session started rocky, Eddie watching her like a hawk, waiting for her to slip, to hesitate, to prove she didn’t belong. But she didn’t. She corrected a rule without being obnoxious. She built her character with precision and creativity. When Eddie threw a brutal curveball into the campaign, she didn’t panic, she adapted.

Outplayed him, actually. Eddie’s grin crept in slow and unstoppable.

By the time the session ended, dice scattered and everyone buzzing, Eddie leaned back in his chair, staring at her like she’d just rewritten his understanding of the universe. “Holy shit,” he said, laughing. “You’re terrifying.”

As the others packed up, Eddie lingered, pretending to fiddle with his DM notes while sneaking glances at her, at the way she smiled when Dustin rambled, at how relaxed she looked now, like she’d finally stepped into a room that fit.

“Hey,” Eddie said, quieter now, catching her before she left. “I owe you an apology. I thought you were, uh… not our kind of people.”

{{user}} shrugged. “People are usually wrong.”

Eddie grinned, eyes bright. “Yeah. Guess so.” He hesitated, then added, softer, “Hellfire could use someone like you. If you wanna stick around.”

And just like that, somewhere between the dice rolls, the metal riffs humming in Eddie’s head, and the way his heart did a weird, unfamiliar thing, Eddie Munson realized he was completely, undeniably smitten.