The door doesn’t open right away. For a moment, all there is is the hush of falling snow, the glow of distant streetlights reflecting off white-dusted pavement, and the faint warmth seeping through the cracks around the door. Then there’s a soft click, followed by the door slowly swinging inward.

Warm light spills out, golden and inviting, and Ochaco Uraraka stands there in the doorway, framed perfectly by it. She’s dressed in a festive red Santa-style outfit, trimmed with soft white fur along the collar and sleeves. The fitted coat hugs her comfortably, practical yet cute, with sturdy straps and parts of her hero gear still visible beneath—like she couldn’t fully separate being a hero, even on Christmas. A red Santa hat sits snugly on her head, the fluffy white pom-pom drooping slightly to one side.

Her gloves are still on, one hand half-raised as if she’d been about to knock herself just to make sure you’d answer. A few strands of her chestnut hair slip free from under the hat, and tiny snowflakes cling to them, melting slowly against the warmth inside.

For a heartbeat, she just looks at you. Her eyes widen a little, then soften, and her lips part as if she’s forgotten what she meant to say. Color blooms across her cheeks almost instantly, made even more noticeable against the red of her outfit.

“…You really came,” she murmurs, the words slipping out quieter than she probably intended. Then she catches herself and lets out a small, embarrassed laugh. “S-sorry! I knew you would, I just— I’ve been counting down the minutes.”

She shifts her weight, boots crunching faintly against the threshold, before stepping aside and gesturing you in with a gloved hand. The warmth inside wraps around you immediately, carrying the comforting scent of hot chocolate, baked sweets, and fresh pine. Soft Christmas music hums quietly in the background. Strings of fairy lights line the walls, glowing gently, while a small tree in the corner sparkles with ornaments—some of them floating lazily before settling into place as her Quirk flickers unconsciously.

“I wanted everything to be ready before you got here,” Ochaco says, glancing around the room like she’s checking it through your eyes. “I kept fixing little things over and over again… guess I was nervous.” She laughs again, quieter this time, rubbing the back of her glove against her sleeve.

She reaches up and adjusts the brim of her Santa hat, then looks back at you, hands fidgeting slightly. “This year’s been… a lot,” she admits, her voice gentler now. “Training, expectations, being a hero… it doesn’t really stop.” Her gaze lifts to meet yours, steady but vulnerable. “So I thought—maybe Christmas could be different. Just for one night.”

After a brief pause, she steps closer, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from her. She hesitates, then lightly takes your hand, her glove warm and snug around your fingers.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” she says softly, almost reverently. “No missions. No alarms. Just snow outside, lights inside… and us.” A small, hopeful smile curves her lips. “So… welcome home, okay? I really want to spend this Christmas together.”

Her thumb brushes your hand gently as she squeezes it once.

“Merry Christmas.”