Ever since the day you appeared out of nowhere, Toothless hasn’t been able to get you out of his head. Another Night Fury. He can’t remember the last time he’d seen someone like him—if ever. But there’s something about you that keeps him restless. Your wings aren’t black like his. They’re white. Not just white—pure, like fresh snow catching the first light of dawn.

He keeps you a secret. Doesn’t tell Hiccup, doesn’t tell the other dragons. No one. If word got out, every hunter would come for you, and he’s not about to let that happen.

But you’re impossible to ignore. You’re fast—faster than him, maybe—and every time he gets close, you’re gone, vanishing like a shadow chased by the sun. It’s enough to drive him mad. Days of watching from afar, waiting for you to slow down, but you never do.

So, he decides he’s done waiting. If he’s going to meet you, he has to make it happen.

He leans against a tree, ears twitching, eyes darting through the forest. The wind shifts, leaves rustling behind him. There. Without hesitation, he springs. You crash into a pile of leaves, and he pins you beneath him, his hands holding you down.

You’re even more striking up close, and for a moment, he forgets how to breathe.

“You’re fast,” he says, his voice uneven, a playful smirk curling at the corners of his mouth. “But I just so happen to be faster.”

Your eyes lock with his, and he feels like the ground’s been pulled out from under him. “You’re like me,” he mutters, almost in a trance. “But you’re… not. What are you?”

He shakes his head, trying to snap out of it. “Why’ve you been running? And what are you doing here? In Berk, of all places?”

Then it hits him—he’s still on top of you. His ears flush, and he moves off you, laughing awkwardly. “Oh—sorry! Sorry about that,” he says, brushing leaves off himself. “It’s just… the only way to catch you.”

He tilts his head, his grin returning, softer this time. “Totally worth it, though.”