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Loved Softly, Hidden Carefully — BTTWNS

Summary: In the sleepy town of Woodbrook, life feels safe, warm, and comfortably familiar — especially in the steady presence of Sam, the dependable local hardware store owner everyone trusts. Around you, she is softer than anyone expects: protective, affectionate, and quietly devoted in ways that make ordinary days feel impossibly gentle.

But as your relationship deepens, someone nearby begins watching more closely. Nigel, a familiar face returning to town, notices things others overlook — the strange tension beneath small moments, the unsettling intensity hidden behind tenderness, and the feeling that something in Woodbrook is not quite as peaceful as it seems.

As quiet jealousy, buried fascination, and dangerous secrets begin intertwining beneath the town’s cozy routines, love and trust blur into something far darker than they first appear.

Pairing: Samantha Strong x Reader

Genre: Slice-of-life, Domestic romance, Soft romance with unsettling undertones, Obsessive relationship drama, Psychological Thriller, Romantic Thriller, Dark Romance, Small-Town Mystery, Cozy Horror / Quiet Horror, Suspense and Character Study

Trope: Secret Double Life / Hidden Monster, “Only Soft For You,” Protective & Possessive Love Interest, Domestic Fluff with Dark Undertones, Obsessive Admiration / Unhealthy Fixation, Love Triangle (Psychological / Emotional Tension) and Morally Grey-to-Dark Characters navigating hidden violence, secrecy, jealousy, and dangerous devotion beneath an otherwise warm and peaceful relationship

Rating: M (Mature / +16 or +17)

!! Warning !! Beneath the Trees Where Nobody Sees is a cozy horror/psychological thriller graphic novel about a bear in a small-town who is secretly living as a serial killer behind a wholesome woodland façade. The target audience is older teens and adults (+17 / +18), especially for people who enjoy dark thrillers, horror, and twisted cozy settings.

The fanarts on the header belong to kayakoto enterprises on pinterest, go check it out and support their beautiful art <33

The bell above the door of the little hardware store chimed softly the moment you stepped inside, the warm scent of scented candles, raw wood, and canned paint settling around you almost immediately.

Outside, Woodbrook carried on with its usual sleepy rhythm — slow conversations on sidewalks, bicycles rattling past storefronts, the distant sound of someone laughing near the cafeteria across the street — but here, everything felt quieter somehow. Safer.

And at the front counter stood Sam.

She looked up the second she heard the bell, broad shoulders relaxing the moment her eyes landed on you.

The bear’s expression softened in that subtle way she always did around you, the corners of her mouth lifting into something gentler than the polite smiles she gave everyone else in town.

“Well, there’s my favorite customer,” she said warmly, one large paw resting against the countertop as she leaned forward slightly, voice low and smooth in a way that always made your chest tighten pleasantly. “You’re early today.”

You smiled back almost instantly, unable not to when she looked at you like that. “I didn’t know there was a schedule.”

“Oh, there is,” Sam replied easily, amusement flickering across her face while she straightened one of the canned paints displaying beside the register. “You just don’t know about it yet.”

The comment made you laugh softly under your breath, and Sam’s eyes lingered on you for a second longer than necessary afterward.

Not intense enough to draw attention from anyone else who might be in the store, not suspicious, not strange — just affectionate. Familiar. Like she’d already memorized every little expression you made.

That was the thing about Sam.

Everyone in Woodbrook loved her.

Parents trusted her. Elderly neighbors adored her. Children waved at her every morning on their way to school. She helped carry groceries for people without being asked, remembered birthdays without writing them down, checked on lonely neighbors during storms.

To the town, Samantha Strong was dependable, caring, steady as the trees surrounding Woodbrook itself.

And with you, she was softer.

Not dramatically. Sam was never dramatic.

But there were little things.

The way she’d automatically reach for your paw when nobody was paying attention. The way she always walked on the outside edge of the sidewalk beside you. The way her deep voice lost some of its roughness whenever she spoke directly to you, like she was handling something delicate without even realizing it.

You’d only been together for a few months, but it already felt strangely natural.

Easy.

Like the relationship had simply slipped into place instead of being forced there.

“Have you eaten lunch yet?” Sam asked casually, opening a small refrigerator under the counter before pulling out a glass of banana milk, specifically for you. “Or are you still surviving entirely on snacks and coffee?”

“I had toast this morning.”

Sam gave you a look.

You laughed again. “Okay, fine. One piece of toast.”

“Mhm.” She set the glass in front of you before folding her arms across her chest, one brow raising knowingly. “You’re lucky I like taking care of you.”

There was something so comfortable about the way she said it. No hesitation. No embarrassment. Just quiet certainty.

Your face warmed a little anyway, taking the glass in your hands and taking a quick sip, letting out a sigh of satisfaction at the taste.

Before you could answer back, the door chimed again.

A mouse stepped inside carrying a paper bag beneath one arm, smiling almost immediately once he noticed Sam behind the counter.

“There you are,” he greeted cheerfully, voice light and easy. “My mom said you forgot to take a slice of cake when you visited us.”

“Nigel,” Sam greeted, tone instantly familiar. Warm in a different way than it was with you, older and more nostalgic. “Tell your mother I said thank you.”

Nigel smiled wider as he approached the counter, adjusting the sleeves of his sweater absentmindedly. He looked young — much younger than Sam — with tidy fur, bright eyes, and the kind of friendly demeanor people instinctively trusted. The sort of person who laughed easily and greeted everyone first.

Even if half the town couldn’t quite remember him properly.

“Oliver, right?”

“Miguel?”

“Nathan?”

You’d heard it all before from various townsfolk.

Nigel never corrected them harshly. Just laughed politely and moved on.

His eyes shifted toward you then, and his smile remained perfectly pleasant.

“Oh,” he said lightly. “Sorry, I didn't realize I was interrupting.”

“You aren’t,” you answered quickly and smiled at him.

Sam rested one paw near yours on the counter. “We were just talking.”

Nigel nodded once.

Then his gaze dropped.

Just for a quick second.

To Sam’s paw beside yours.

And he stopped moving.

It was subtle enough most people probably wouldn’t have noticed. Barely even a pause. But something in his expression flickered strangely still before disappearing behind that same easygoing smile again.

“Well,” he said casually, setting the jar with slices of cake down. “Nice seeing you both.”

Sam hummed in acknowledgment while turning to place it next to the counter.

You missed the way Nigel looked at her then.

Not at you.

At her.

Quietly.

Carefully.

Like he was trying to understand something.

Or losing something.

The moment passed quickly enough that you didn’t think twice about it.

But Nigel lingered by the door a little longer than necessary before leaving.

And when he stepped back outside into the cool afternoon air, the smile finally slipped from his face.

Not entirely.

Just enough.

Across the street, townsfolk continued chatting beside flower displays and the newspaper stand, completely unaware of the way Nigel stood still beneath the awning for several silent seconds.

His grip tightened slightly around the empty paper bag under his arm.

Sam’s laugh drifted faintly through the shop window.

Soft.

Real.

Not fake.

Not the polite version she gave everyone else.

Something private.

Something meant for you.

Nigel stared through the glass a second longer before finally walking away.

Slowly.

Thoughtfully.

The first time Nigel saw Sam kill someone, he thought he’d imagined it.

It happened a while after he’d returned to Woodbrook to help his mother around the house. Everyone had welcomed him back warmly enough, even if most people barely remembered him properly anymore.

The cheerful mouse who used to follow Lola around as a kid. The quiet son who left for college and suddenly came back years later.

Nobody looked at him too closely.

Which made things easier.

He noticed Sam almost immediately after returning.

Of course he did.

His mother talked about her constantly.

“Sam helped fix the fence.”

“Sam brought soup over during the winter.”

“Sam checked on me yesterday.”

Always Sam.

Always wonderful Sam.

And Nigel had already admired her long before he truly understood her when he was just a little kid.

Because Samantha Strong never seemed fake.

Not really.

Not the way everyone else did.

The people in the big city smiled too much. Lied too easily. Pretended constantly.

Nigel remembered his college full of people like that — smug classmates with shallow voices and shallow morals, acting kind while mocking each other the second backs were turned.

He hated them.

Every single one of them.

But Sam…

Sam always felt genuine.

Even before he knew why.

Then one day in the small city, after he started stalking her while he was passing by her store from time to time, he followed her car after seeing she needed to buy new utensils for her store in the big city once again.

And watched her disappear into a small alley with someone else.

Curiosity kept him moving after them.

Nothing more.

At first.

He remembered the chilly air vividly. The concrete beneath his shoes. The silence between the tall apartment buildings.

Then—

A scream.

Brief.

Sharp.

Cut off suddenly.

Nigel froze behind a wall, heart pounding violently against his ribs while he stared through the darkness of the alley.

Sam stood over a body.

Breathing steadily.

Calmly.

A wet cloth in her hands, as she now carried the person's body in her arms to her car.

And she looked…

Relieved.

Not panicked.

Not horrified.

Simply satisfied.

Nigel should’ve run.

Instead, he watched.

Watched her drag the body into her car with terrifying efficiency. Watched her take it deep into the woods, kill the person instantly, with frightening precision. Watched her clean whatever stains fell on her hands and face afterward in the river. Watched her walk back to her car towards the town like nothing had happened.

And somehow—

Somehow—

He understood her better after that.

More than anyone else in Woodbrook ever could.

Because she wasn’t pretending.

Not entirely.

Underneath the kindness and the warm smiles and the pie dishes and neighborly concern, there was something vicious living inside her.

Something honest.

Something real.

Nigel never confronted her.

Never told her what he saw.

But he kept watching.

Not obsessively.

Not at first.

Just enough to confirm it hadn’t been a mistake.

Then enough to realize it was a pattern.

People disappeared in the nearby big city sometimes. Cruel people. Violent people. Ugly people hiding behind polite masks.

And every now and then Sam would leave Woodbrook for a day or two.

Then come back calmer.

Lighter.

Nigel understood more every time.

He admired her for it.

Admired how controlled she was. How careful. How unapologetically herself beneath everything.

And maybe…

Maybe he wanted her to notice him too.

Not as Lola’s son.

Not as the forgettable mouse nobody remembered correctly.

But as someone who understood her.

Someone like her.

Then you appeared.

And suddenly Sam started smiling differently.

“You’re staring again.”

Nigel blinked quickly, turning toward his mother from across the dinner table.

Lola sipped her tea calmly, whiskers twitching with amusement.

“At what?” he asked lightly.

“Towards Sam's store at the end of the street,” she replied. “You’ve looked out that window six times.”

Nigel smiled faintly. “Just thinking.”

“Mhm.”

Lola didn’t press further.

She rarely did.

The house remained quiet afterward except for the ticking wall clock and distant evening crickets outside the windows.

Nigel pushed food around his plate absentmindedly.

Thinking.

He’d seen you with Sam almost every day lately.

Walking together through town.

Sharing coffee outside the local bakery.

Laughing quietly while shopping for groceries.

Small things.

Normal things.

But Sam never acted like that with anyone else.

Not even with Lola.

And Nigel hated how much it bothered him.

Not because he wanted you gone specifically.

He barely even knew you.

But because Sam had let someone in.

Someone ordinary.

Someone unaware.

You looked at Sam with affection and trust while standing inches away from a predator you couldn’t even comprehend, and somehow, that closeness irritated him more every day.

Because Nigel understood her.

You didn’t.

Yet Sam chose you anyway.

His fingers tightened subtly around his fork.

Lola glanced at him again.

“You alright, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine,” Nigel answered immediately, a smile returning so naturally it almost convinced even him. “Just tired.”

But later that night, lying awake in his childhood bedroom, he found himself staring at the ceiling while thoughts twisted restlessly through his mind.

He remembered Sam in the woods.

Blood on her paws.

Breathing calmly.

Beautifully composed.

And then he remembered the way she’d looked at you earlier.

Soft.

Protective.

Possessive.

Something ugly curled low in his chest.

Not anger exactly.

Something deeper.

Something aching.

Because no matter how much Nigel watched her, understood her, admired her—

Sam still looked through him.

Like he was just another harmless boy from town.

And maybe that was the problem.

Maybe harmless people didn’t interest Samantha Strong.

And by late evening, the town had quieted considerably.

Woodbrook always slept early.

Streetlights cast soft golden pools over empty sidewalks while distant porch lights glowed warmly between trees, their light flickering faintly against rain-damp pavement. Somewhere far off, a screen door creaked shut. Crickets hummed softly beneath the steady rustle of pine branches overhead.

The cool night air carried the earthy scent of wet soil and pinewood through the sleepy little town.

You walked beside Sam at an unhurried pace, your paw tucked comfortably in hers while the two of you wandered down the near-empty street without any real destination in mind.

Her paw was huge compared to yours.

Warm.

Steady.

Protective without being overbearing.

Even the way she held your paw felt deliberate, her claws carefully tucked away while her thumb brushed slow absentminded strokes across your knuckles every few seconds like she couldn’t quite stop touching you once she started.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Sam observed softly after a while, her deep voice carrying easily through the stillness as she glanced down at you.

Her thumb caressed your paw again almost unconsciously, the motion gentle enough to make warmth bloom in your chest despite the chilly air.

You looked up at her through the dim streetlight glow, shoulders lifting slightly in a tired shrug. “Just tired.”

“Mhm.” Sam gave your hand one soft squeeze, her pace slowing instinctively to match yours more closely. “Long day?”

“A little.”

The answer was simple, but Sam still looked at you like she was trying to read the exhaustion hidden underneath it.

She always did that.

Always paid attention.

The bear slowed even further until your shoulders brushed lightly as you walked, her gaze lingering on your face with that same quiet attentiveness she wore whenever you seemed even remotely off. The expression softened her naturally intimidating features in a way nobody else ever really got to see.

“Are you sleeping okay?” she asked, voice lower now, quieter. Concern threaded naturally through the question while her ears angled slightly toward you, fully focused.

“I sleep fine.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your mouth after that, faint and sleepy but genuine all the same.

Sam noticed instantly.

Of course she did.

“There it is,” she murmured softly, the corners of her mouth lifting as she watched your expression change.

You blinked up at her. “What?”

“That pretty smile.”

The fondness in her voice made heat creep embarrassingly fast into your face, and Sam looked unfairly pleased with herself the moment she noticed your reaction.

A low amused hum rumbled quietly in her chest while she looked forward again, though her grip on your paw tightened just slightly.

“You know,” she said casually after a moment, though the teasing warmth never left her tone, “you get embarrassed awfully easy for someone who flirts with me constantly.”

Your eyes widened immediately. “I do not flirt constantly.”

Sam snorted softly under her breath, shoulders shaking faintly with contained amusement. “You absolutely do.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, trying — and failing — to sound annoyed.

“And you like me anyway.”

You glanced at her again then.

At the easy confidence in her expression.

At the softness hidden underneath it that only seemed to appear around you.

And your chest tightened pleasantly before you answered in a quieter voice, honest without even trying to be.

You giggle. “I do.”

Something shifted in Sam’s expression then.

Tiny.

But real.

The teasing faded just enough for something warmer to settle underneath it instead, her eyes softening while she looked down at you beneath the dim glow of the streetlights.

The bear’s pace slowed until you were both nearly standing still beside the sidewalk, cool wind stirring the fur along her shoulders while distant night insects buzzed softly somewhere in the grass nearby.

Then Sam lifted your joined hands carefully between both of hers.

The motion was slow enough to make your heartbeat stumble before she even did anything else.

And then—

She lowered her head and pressed a kiss against your knuckles.

Gentle.

Deliberate.

Lingering just long enough for warmth to spread all the way through you.

Your breath caught quietly in your throat.

Sam noticed immediately.

Always noticed.

“There’s that look again,” she murmured, her voice dropping lower with quiet amusement as she lifted her gaze back to yours. Her nose brushed lightly against the back of your paw before she let your hand fall back between you again.

You tried to recover despite the way your face burned. “What look?”

“The one that makes me want to spoil you.”

You laughed softly at that, a little breathless around the edges, but Sam kept looking at you afterward with such open tenderness it nearly made your chest ache.

Like you were something precious.

Something worth handling carefully.

Worth protecting.

Her paw slipped from yours, only long enough for her arm to settle around your shoulders instead, naturally pulling you closer against her side as the two of you resumed walking.

The warmth of her body bled easily through your clothes, grounding and comforting all at once.

You leaned into her automatically.

And Sam’s entire posture softened the second you did.

Across the street, partially hidden beside the darkened local florist shop, Nigel stood motionless beneath the shadow of the awning.

Watching.

His expression remained calm.

Neutral.

But his stomach twisted painfully at the sight before him.

Sam never looked distracted around other people.

Never vulnerable.

Neither gentle in ways that felt real.

Yet here she was, beneath soft streetlights with you tucked safely against her side, holding your hand like it genuinely mattered to her. Looking at you with warmth so natural it almost seemed impossible coming from someone like the Samantha Strong.

Nigel’s chest tightened sharply.

He hated it.

Not because Sam looked happy.

But because someone else had managed to reach her first.

His gaze lingered helplessly on the way Sam touched you despite her size — careful, restrained, instinctively protective.

The way her broad frame subtly shifted whenever a car passed by, automatically placing herself between you and the street without even seeming aware she was doing it.

Protective.

Affectionate.

Real.

And suddenly Nigel understood something terrible.

You weren’t temporary.

This wasn’t casual amusement or fleeting affection.

Sam genuinely cared about you.

The realization settled heavy and sickening inside his chest while he remained hidden in the dark, rainwater dripping quietly from the edge of the awning above him.

Then Sam’s ears twitched slightly.

Nigel stiffened instinctively.

For one brief moment, her eyes shifted toward his direction.

Sharp.

Alert.

The same eyes he’d seen in the woods.

Predatory.

For a split second it felt like being pinned in place beneath the gaze of something ancient and dangerous, something that saw far more than it should.

But then you said something softly beside her, your voice gentle and sleepy as you leaned more fully into her side.

And the expression vanished almost immediately.

Sam looked back down at you instead, her features softening with almost frightening ease before a small smile tugged faintly at her mouth again.

Nigel stayed perfectly still until the two of you disappeared farther down the street together, Sam’s arm still wrapped securely around your shoulders while your laughter drifted faintly through the cool night air.

Only then did he finally move.

His heartbeat felt strangely loud.

Uneven.

He looked down slowly at his own trembling hands.

Small mouse paws.

Harmless.

Forgettable.

Unless—

Unless he changed that.

Slowly, Nigel’s fingers curled into fists at his sides.

Because maybe understanding Sam wasn’t enough anymore.

Maybe he needed to prove something.

Not to the town.

Not to himself.

To her.

That he wasn’t soft like everyone else.

That he could understand the ugly parts too.

That he could become someone worth noticing.

And somewhere deep inside him, beneath the cheerful smiles and polite laughter and harmless small-town demeanor, something dark quietly began unfolding its wings.

The rain started sometime after midnight.

Not heavy.

Just steady enough for the sound to settle across Woodbrook in a soft endless hush, tapping against rooftops and gutters while the town slept beneath layers of fog and darkness. Streetlights glowed dimly through the rainwater, blurring gold against wet pavement and empty sidewalks beyond the windows.

Sam liked nights like this.

People stayed inside when it rained.

Curtains closed. Doors locked. Everyone tucked safely away in their warm little homes pretending the world outside stopped existing after dark.

It made things quieter.

Cleaner.

And tonight, with you curled against her side on the couch beneath a blanket, the sound of the storm almost felt domestic.

Normal.

The television murmured softly in the background, some old black-and-white detective movie neither of you were really paying attention to anymore.

One of your legs rested lazily over hers while Sam sat reclined into the corner of the couch, broad arm draped comfortably behind your shoulders. Every so often her claws lightly brushed the fabric of your sleeve whenever she shifted, careful even in unconscious movements.

Large.

Warm.

Safe.

To you, at least.

“You’re staring again,” you murmured sleepily without opening your eyes, your voice muffled slightly against the front of her sweater while your fingers lazily curled against her chest.

Sam’s gaze didn’t move from your face. “Can you blame me?” she asked quietly, the deep rumble of her voice softening around the edges in a way it only ever seemed to around you.

“You say that every time.”

“And I mean it every time,” Sam replied immediately, a faint amused smile tugging at her mouth while her paw drifted absentmindedly through your fur. The motion was slow and repetitive, soothing enough that she doubted you even realized she was doing it anymore.

You huffed a quiet laugh beneath your breath, shifting slightly closer until your shoulder pressed more firmly into her chest.

Sam adjusted immediately to accommodate you without hesitation, one arm tightening instinctively around your waist to keep the blanket from slipping off your shoulders.

That was another thing you loved about her.

Sam looked intimidating to outsiders sometimes — towering height, broad frame, deep voice that could make most people straighten up automatically when she spoke — but she handled you like something delicate without ever making it feel patronizing.

Like she genuinely wanted to be gentle with you.

One of her paws rested lazily against your knee now, claws tucked safely away while her thumb rubbed slow absentminded circles through the fabric of your pajama pants. The repetitive motion made warmth spread sleepily through your chest every single time she touched you like that.

“You know,” Sam said quietly after a while, eyes still fixed on your face like she couldn’t help herself, “you could stay here tonight.”

You finally glanced up at her then, brows lifting slightly with sleepy amusement. “I practically already live here.”

“Mhm.” Sam’s mouth twitched faintly as she looked down at you. “But technically you still leave sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” you agreed teasingly, smiling when Sam gave your waist a light squeeze in response.

“You say that like I’m supposed to be happy about it.”

“You miss me that much?”

Sam snorted softly, though her gaze warmed immediately at the sound of your laugh. “You say that like you don’t text me the second you get home.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

You opened your mouth to answer.

Paused.

Then frowned dramatically instead. “Stop making good points.”

A low laugh rumbled quietly in Sam’s chest beneath your cheek, warm enough that you felt the vibration through her sweater. Without really thinking about it, she leaned down and pressed a brief kiss against the top of your head afterward.

Affectionate.

Natural.

The kind of thing she’d started doing without even realizing it lately.

Outside, thunder rumbled somewhere far away.

Then—

Three sharp knocks echoed from the front door.

You blinked in surprise, lifting your head slightly from Sam’s chest.

Sam didn’t move immediately.

But something subtle shifted in her posture beneath you.

Not dramatic enough for most people to notice.

Just stillness and alertness.

Her paw stopped moving against your knee while her eyes flicked briefly toward the hallway.

“Who’s visiting this late?” you asked softly, pulling the blanket closer around yourself while glancing toward the darkened doorway.

“No idea,” Sam answered, though she already sounded distracted now, ears angled toward the sound of the rain outside.

The knocks came again.

Polite.

Measured.

Sam sighed quietly through her nose before squeezing your knee once, her touch lingering there for half a second longer than necessary.

“Stay here a second,” she murmured.

You nodded, sitting up enough for her to stand, though your fingers caught lightly against the sleeve of her sweater before letting go.

Even relaxed, Sam moved with a kind of natural heaviness that made floorboards creak softly beneath her weight. She crossed the living room calmly, one paw briefly brushing the small of your back as she passed the couch — a tiny absentminded touch that still made your chest warm embarrassingly fast.

You watched her glance through the narrow window beside the front door before finally opening it.

Rain drifted in immediately from outside, cool air slipping into the warm apartment.

And standing beneath the porch light was Nigel.

His sweater and fur were damp from the storm, little droplets of water clinging to his whiskers while he offered Sam an apologetic smile that looked almost sheepish beneath the yellow porchlight.

“Sorry,” he said lightly, though his voice sounded quieter than usual tonight. One paw rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I know it’s late.”

Sam leaned one shoulder against the doorway, broad frame nearly filling it completely. “Something wrong with Lola?”

“No, no,” Nigel answered quickly, shaking his head. “She’s fine. It's just…” His eyes flicked briefly past Sam toward the living room before returning to her face again. “Mom realized she gave you the wrong slices of cake she made.”

Sam stared at him for a moment.

Then sighed softly through her nose, sounding deeply unimpressed.

“Nigel.”

“I know it sounds stupid.”

“It’s midnight.”

“I noticed that on the walk over.”

Despite the dry response, Nigel smiled a little anyway, small and easy in a way that made him look younger than he already was.

You watched from the couch while Sam reluctantly stepped aside enough to let him inside. Rainwater dripped softly from Nigel’s sleeves onto the wooden floor as he entered the house carefully, paws tucked into his pockets against the cold.

Then his eyes found you.

“Oh,” he said pleasantly, expression warming instantly. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you greeted with a small smile, pulling the blanket more securely around yourself. “You’re still awake too, apparently.”

“Barely,” Nigel admitted with a quiet laugh, rubbing tiredly beneath one eye. “Your timing’s better than mine though. At least you’re already warm.”

Sam shut the door behind him with slightly more force than necessary.

“You could’ve brought the right cake tomorrow,” she muttered while locking the door again.

“I could’ve,” Nigel agreed easily, shrugging out of his damp jacket. “But then I would’ve had to listen to Mom complain all morning.”

Sam rolled her eyes faintly, though there was an old familiarity there that made the exchange feel practiced somehow.

The familiarity between them stood out immediately whenever they talked. Older than your relationship with Sam. Older than most things in town, honestly.

Nigel had known her practically his entire life.

You remembered Lola once mentioning Sam used to babysit him occasionally when he was little.

The image was strangely adorable.

“You want some hot chocolate?” you asked politely as Nigel hovered awkwardly near the doorway.

Nigel looked genuinely surprised by the offer, ears lifting slightly. “Oh. Sure, if it’s not a bother.”

“Oh of course not, it’s fine.” You smiled softly before slipping out from beneath the blanket and standing from the couch. Sam instinctively reached out to steady your arm when your sock slid slightly against the wooden floor, her paw lingering against your elbow until you regained balance.

“Careful,” she murmured automatically.

Your chest warmed immediately at the quiet concern in her voice.

Nigel noticed that too.

You disappeared into the kitchen a second later while the two remained near the hallway.

The moment you were out of sight, Nigel’s smile faded slightly.

Sam noticed immediately.

“What?”

Nigel looked at her quietly for a second.

Up close, the differences between them felt even more obvious tonight.

Sam was huge compared to him. Confident. Steady. Every movement deliberate and controlled. Meanwhile Nigel still carried that soft youthful awkwardness people instinctively overlooked.

But his eyes weren’t awkward right now.

They were sharp.

Studying her carefully.

“You like them a lot,” Nigel said softly, voice almost thoughtful.

Sam’s expression flattened almost instantly.

“Is that any of your business now?”

Nigel lifted his paws lightly in surrender, though his gaze never fully left her face. “Just making conversation.”

“You’re bad at it.”

A small smile tugged faintly at the corner of Nigel’s mouth despite the cold response.

“She makes you different.”

Sam’s gaze narrowed slightly.

“Careful.”

There it was.

That tone.

Low.

Warning.

Nigel felt his pulse jump violently at the sound of it.

Not fear.

Never fear.

Excitement.

He loves that feeling.

Because underneath the warm shopkeeper routine, the real Samantha Strong he knew was still there.

The real version.

The dangerous version.

And Nigel wanted her to acknowledge him so badly it physically hurt sometimes.

“She’s good for you,” he said quietly after a moment, glancing briefly toward the kitchen where your voice hummed softly beneath the sound of cabinets opening and plastic packages being opened.

Sam stared at him for another long second before answering.

“She’s none of your concern.”

The words should’ve stung more than they did.

Instead, Nigel found himself staring at the way Sam’s posture shifted subtly toward the kitchen while speaking. Protective without even thinking about it.

Protective of you.

Something ugly twisted inside his chest again.

You returned moments later balancing three mugs carefully in your hands, steam curling upward into the warm dim apartment air. The tension in the hallway vanished so quickly you almost thought you imagined it entirely.

Nigel smiled at you immediately, warm and harmless again.

“Thanks,” he takes the mug from your hands, using the warm temperature around it to warm his own hands.

“No problem.”

Sam took her mug last, though her eyes remained on Nigel longer than necessary before finally moving back toward you. Her free paw brushed briefly against the small of your back once you sat beside her again, instantly pulling you close enough that your shoulder rested comfortably against her arm.

The mouse sat cautiously on the edge of the armchair across from the couch afterward while rain continued pouring steadily outside.

Conversation came easier once you started it.

Mostly because you were good at that.

You asked Nigel about his mom. About how he’d been settling back into Woodbrook. About whether he missed the city.

Nigel answered smoothly enough, smiling politely while drinking his hot chocolate absentmindedly.

But every now and then, you noticed him glancing toward Sam.

Watching her.

Not openly enough to seem strange.

Just… frequently.

And every single time Sam noticed too. Even when she pretended not to.

“You know,” Nigel said suddenly, looking toward you with a faint grin as he cradled his mug between both paws, “Sam used to terrify and amaze me at the same time when I was a kid a little bit.”

You looked delighted immediately, turning toward Sam with open amusement sparkling in your eyes. “Seriously?”

Sam groaned softly and leaned back against the couch cushions. “Don’t start.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Nigel continued, clearly enjoying himself now. “She used to stare at rude people until they backed up.”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

“You were dramatic.”

“You chased a raccoon with a hammer once.”

“He stole Lola’s tomatoes.”

Nigel laughed openly at that, shoulders shaking slightly while you stared at Sam in disbelief.

“You chased someone with a hammer over tomatoes?”

“He deserved it, Lola started planting her own vegetables and fruits only a month before.”

“You are unbelievable,” you laughed, nudging lightly against her side with your shoulder.

Sam looked unbearably smug about your reaction instead of embarrassed, one paw lazily settling over your knee again while the corner of her mouth lifted faintly.

And for a moment, everything almost felt normal again.

Warm.

Comfortable.

Domestic in a strange quiet way.

Until Nigel smiled faintly into his hot chocolate and said, “You know what I always liked about Sam?”

Sam visibly stiffened.

Not enough for you to notice.

But Nigel noticed.

Of course he did.

“She never pretended to be nice,” Nigel continued softly, eyes lowering toward the steam rising from his mug while rain tapped steadily against the windows behind him. “Most people do. Especially in places like this.” His smile dimmed slightly. “But Sam’s honest underneath it all.”

Silence settled briefly across the room.

You looked toward Sam curiously, leaning slightly against her side beneath the blanket again. “What does that mean?”

Sam answered before Nigel could.

“It means he’s tired and talking nonsense, maybe it's time for him to go home to sleep, my love,” she said smoothly, though her voice had lost some warmth now.

Nigel’s eyes flicked back toward her.

And there it was again.

That warning.

Sharp enough this time that even he finally backed down.

“Probably, the icy rainwater left me exhausted.” he agreed lightly.

But underneath the table, his fingers tightened hard around the ceramic mug.

Because Sam knew.

Not everything.

But enough.

Enough to realize Nigel saw parts of her nobody else did.

Enough to realize he wasn’t entirely harmless anymore.

And somehow—

Somehow—

That made him feel closer to her than ever before.

Even if she still looked at you with tenderness she’d never once directed toward him.

Later, after Nigel finally left and the house grew quiet again, you stood beside the kitchen sink drying dishes while Sam wiped down the counters nearby.

“You two sure have weird conversations,” you commented casually, glancing over your shoulder toward her with faint amusement.

Sam snorted softly under her breath. “You noticed that, huh?”

“He seems nice though,” you can't help but smile when you think of the young man, who seems to have a bright and peaceful future in the small town with his mother.

Sam didn’t answer immediately.

The silence stretched just slightly too long while she continued drying her paws carefully with the towel.

“He’s lonely, there aren't many young people of his age around here, the other neighbors are usually younger or older than him.” she said finally, voice quieter now.

You glanced toward her. “You don't sound too sad about that.”

Sam kept her eyes on the countertop while folding the towel slowly between her paws.

“Nigel grew up here,” she said. “Then left. Came back expecting things to feel the same.” Her expression flattened faintly. “And they didn't.”

There was something oddly distant in her voice suddenly.

Thoughtful.

You leaned lightly against the counter beside her, shoulder brushing her arm. “You care about him, even if just a little bit.”

Sam looked at you then.

Directly.

And whatever emotion had been lingering in her expression softened almost immediately once her eyes met yours.

“I care about very few people,” she said quietly.

Your heartbeat stumbled a little at the honesty in her voice.

Sam stepped closer afterward, large paw settling carefully against your waist while her thumb brushed slowly over the fabric of your shirt.

“But I care about you.”

The words came so simply.

So honestly.

No dramatics. No hesitation.

Just honest truth.

Your entire expression softened instantly. “That’s good,” you murmured, reaching up to smooth your fingers lightly against the front of her sweater.

Sam’s gaze dropped briefly to your mouth before lifting again.

“You trust me a lot,” she murmured, her voice lower now.

“I do.”

“Even though I’m older than you.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Even though half this town probably thinks our relationship is awfully uncommon.”

You laughed quietly, stepping closer until you were nearly pressed against her chest. “You literally run a carpentry store for years and help old ladies cross the street, I don't think anyone would judge our relationship because of our age difference.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

You tilted your head slightly before resting it lightly against the front of her shoulder.

“I just know you treat me well,” you admitted softly. “You make me feel safe.”

Something complicated flickered across Sam’s face then.

Gone almost instantly.

But heavy enough that you noticed.

“What?”

Sam stared down at you quietly for a second before one paw lifted to gently tilt your chin upward.

“Nothing,” she murmured.

Then she leaned down and kissed your forehead softly.

Lingering there for just a moment longer than necessary.

Like she needed the contact as much as you did.

But later that night, long after you’d fallen asleep curled against her side upstairs with one arm draped loosely across her chest, Samantha Strong remained awake staring at the rain beyond her bedroom window.

Thinking.

About Nigel.

About the way he looked at her and talked about you.

As if you were a problem in their relationship.

About the dangerous curiosity growing sharper behind his cheerful little smiles.

And worst of all—

Regarding the fact that he reminded her that she must remain vigilant so that nothing and no one takes away the peaceful life she now has with you.

It doesn't matter who she has to remove from her path.

You will be kept in the dark about who she really is.

Author's note: I AM NOT BACK FROM MY HIATUS BUT I LOVE SAM AS A CHARACTER SO MUCH. SHE WAS SO WELL WRITTEN ON THE FIRST BOOK GRGRGRR. I totally recommend the first book for adults to read, it's genuinely amazing and everything that happens in it grabs your attention completely until the end. I loved everything from beginning to end, I have no complaints about the first book whatsoever.

Some of my followers here are my friends and mutuals on discord, so you guys know I'm a huge lesbian for Shelly, so it's no surprise here the main character in BTTWNS grabbed my attention INSTANTLY the moment I saw her, I HAD to write a fanfic of Sam in a romance with us so I could rest in peace knowing she never learned what love is and never will, this is who she really is, an emotionless serial killer.

I hope whoever read this enjoyed it <3

#beneath the trees where nobody sees #bttwns #samantha strong #x reader #nigel albright #lola albright #fanfic #writers on tumblr