One shots: Wolverine/Logan Howlett X Reader

Seventeen

The wind cut through the empty plains of North Dakota like a knife, but that wasn't unusual. You had left everything behind for a new start. Your cabin, small and modest, sat tucked among towering pines and endless fields of dry grass. You needed space, quiet, the kind of solitude that only a place like this could offer. It was your escape from a past you wanted to forget.

It had been about a year since you arrived, and the routine was simple: wake up, chop wood, clear snow in winter, garden in the warmer months, and take occasional trips into town for groceries. There were no friends, no distractions. Just you and the vast, open world stretching out in all directions.

That afternoon, you are standing in the local grocery store—its dim lighting and faint smell of damp cardboard a strange comfort—when your phone buzzed in your pocket. You glanced down, half-expecting another unsolicited call about some sale you didn't care about. But it was Miss Janice. She was my nearest neighbor, a good woman in her late sixties, with more than enough stories to last a lifetime.

"Hello, Miss Janice," you said, trying to ignore the half-empty cart still in front of me, its wheels squeaking faintly as you stepped aside.

"Well, I don't know what to make of this," she said, her voice breathless with urgency. "I was lookin' out the window, y'know, just watchin' the snow fall, and I saw a man run straight into your shed. Naked as the day he was born."

You froze, the blood draining from your face. "What?"

"Yup," she went on, "looked harmless enough, but he was all frantic-like. I don't know if you're expecting company, but if not, I'd keep an eye out. The poor guy's got a wild look in his eyes."

"Thanks for the heads-up," you said, trying to keep your voice steady, but the idea of someone—anyone—at your place when you aren't home made your skin crawl. "I'll check on it when I get back."

You ended the call and stared at the aisle of canned beans in front of you. The man Miss Janice had described—naked and running into your shed—didn't make sense. But something in her voice had sounded genuine. You had a bad feeling.

You paid for the groceries quickly and sped back to the cabin. The road was still covered in snow, the tires of your old truck crunching over the frost as you passed the familiar stretch of land. When you reached the cabin, everything looked quiet. But something was off.

You parked the truck and grabbed the bat you kept behind the front door. Cautiously, you walked around the side of the cabin, toward the shed.

And that's when you saw him.

The man was sitting on the ground, his back to you, head hung low. His body was bruised and scratched, his skin pale and covered in what looked like strange markings. For a second, you thought maybe he was unconscious, but then he moved. Slowly, he raised his head, and when he looked at you, it felt like time stopped.

His eyes were a sharp, almost glowing green, and his hair was dark, messy, like he had been running through trees. His body was lean, toned in a way that spoke of survival, but there was something off about him. The air around him seemed to hum with a quiet intensity.

"Hey," you said cautiously, the bat still in my hands. "Are you okay?"

He didn't move right away. For a moment, you two just stared at each other. His gaze flickered from the bat to your face, and then he finally spoke, his voice rough, like he hadn't used it in a long time.

"I'm... sorry," he said, his words barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to intrude. They... they're after me. I need to hide."

You lowered the bat, though every instinct in you was screaming to be careful. "Who's after you?"