#strawberry jam

-@brambleintheburrow

Strawberries, jam jars & Rabbits

Bonus bunny:

Andrew ‘pope’ Cody x Fem!Reader

Masterlist

He looked like he didn’t belong there.

Andy stood at the edge of the strawberry rows with a basket hanging from his hand, shoulders squared, eyes moving—slow, scanning, like he was memorizing exits instead of scenery. People passed, laughing, crouching, filling their baskets with bright red fruit, and he tracked them without meaning to. Habit. Always habit.

And then there was her.

Already halfway down a row, sunlight catching in her hair, dress brushing against the leaves as she crouched, smiling like she’d been waiting for this exact moment all week.

“Andy,” she called, glancing over her shoulder. “You’re supposed to pick them, not guard them.”

He didn’t move right away. Just watched her for a second longer—how easily she fit here. How natural she looked, like she belonged to something soft.

Then he exhaled quietly and stepped forward.

“I am picking,” he said, even though he very clearly wasn’t.

She laughed under her breath, shaking her head, and turned back to the strawberries.

The rows stretched long and low, leaves brushing against his jeans as he walked closer. He stopped beside her, basket still empty, gaze drifting over the field again before settling—finally—on her.

She was focused, carefully turning each strawberry before pulling it free, dropping it gently into the basket like it mattered.

“Not that one,” she murmured to herself, moving a leaf aside. “Too small…”

Andy watched her fingers instead. Slow. Careful. Soft.

“You’re picky,” he said.

She glanced up at him, smiling. “They’re for something I’m making. I want the good ones.”

“For what?”

“Pie, maybe. Or something sweet.” She shrugged lightly. “You’ll see.”

He huffed a quiet breath through his nose, shifting his weight. “You dragged me out here for dessert ingredients?”

“I invited you,” she corrected, standing up just enough to nudge his arm with her shoulder. “And you said yes.”

He didn’t answer that.

Because she was right.

And he still wasn’t sure why he had.

She turned toward him fully now, holding out a strawberry between her fingers. “Try one.”

He looked at it like it might be a trick.

“…It’s just a strawberry.”

“I know that,” he said.

“Then eat it.”

He hesitated—just for a second—before leaning down slightly, letting her bring it to his mouth instead of taking it from her hand. His lips brushed her fingers without meaning to, and she stilled for half a breath.

Then he bit into it.

Sweet. Softer than he expected.

He chewed slowly, eyes narrowing just a little. “It’s fine.”

Her smile widened. “It’s good.”

He didn’t argue.

Instead, he reached down—finally—and picked one himself.

It wasn’t as carefully chosen as hers, but it was something.

And she noticed.

“See?” she said softly. “You’re learning.”

He glanced at her, something almost amused flickering across his face. “Don’t push it.”

But he didn’t stop.

—

It was quieter a few minutes later.

Not silent—never silent—but softer. The kind of quiet that settled when you stopped thinking too much and just… existed.

Andy wasn’t scanning as much anymore.

Not completely relaxed, but close enough.

And she noticed that too.

She straightened slowly, brushing her hands together, then looked at him—really looked this time.

The sunlight had shifted.

It hit his face differently now, warmer, catching along his cheekbones and across the bridge of his nose. And suddenly, his freckles stood out more. Faint before, easy to miss—but now—

Now they were impossible not to see.

Her expression softened.

“What?” he asked, noticing the way she was staring.

She tilted her head slightly, stepping closer. “You have more than I thought.”

His brows pulled together. “More what?”

“Freckles.”

He went still for a second, like he wasn’t expecting that.

“…So?”

She smiled, just a little, lifting her hand slowly like she was giving him time to stop her if he wanted to.

He didn’t.

Her fingers brushed his cheek—light, barely there at first.

He didn’t pull away.

“They look like strawberries,” she said softly.

His eyes flicked to hers. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does,” she insisted, tracing one gently. “Little ones.”

He huffed quietly, but there was no bite to it. “You’re reaching.”

“Maybe,” she murmured.

Her fingertip moved again, slower now, more intentional.

“One… two…” she started counting under her breath, barely audible.

Andy’s jaw tightened just slightly—not in discomfort, but awareness.

She was close.

Closer than before.

And she wasn’t stopping.

“Three… four…”

Her thumb brushed just under his eye, soft enough to make him blink once.

Still—he didn’t move.

Didn’t tell her to stop.

Didn’t break the moment.

He just watched her.

The way her lashes lowered when she focused. The small crease between her brows when she counted. The softness in her expression like this mattered—like he mattered.

“…I think I lost count,” she admitted quietly.

“Good,” he said, voice low.

But his hand had moved.

Settled lightly at her waist, steadying her without thinking.

She noticed.

But didn’t say anything.

—

A few minutes later, she crouched again, reaching for another strawberry.

This one was perfect—bright, full, warm from the sun.

She turned it in her fingers, smiling to herself before taking a small bite.

Juice gathered instantly, sweet and a little messy.

“Here,” she said, holding another out toward him again.

He took it this time.

Didn’t hesitate.

And when he bit into it, she watched—closer than before.

A small drop of juice caught at the corner of his mouth.

He didn’t notice.

She did.

“Hold on,” she said softly.

He frowned slightly. “What—”

Her thumb brushed his lip, quick but gentle.

He froze.

She wiped it away, slower now.

And then—

Without really thinking—

She pressed her fingers—still faintly stained—to his cheek.

A soft streak of red against his skin.

They both paused.

She blinked, like she hadn’t meant to do that.

“…Sorry,” she said quietly.

But she didn’t pull her hand away right away.

Instead, her thumb moved again—wiping it off slowly, carefully, like she was fixing something delicate.

Her touch lingered.

And Andy—

Andy didn’t move.

Didn’t stop her.

Didn’t even look away.

He just stood there, letting her.

Letting her be close.

Letting her take her time.

His grip at her waist tightened just slightly.

Not enough to pull her in.

Just enough to keep her there.

—

The farm stand sat near the front, shaded and busy.

Jars of jam lined the shelves, honey catching the light in soft gold, baked goods wrapped neatly with handwritten labels.

She moved between them slowly, still smiling, still glowing from earlier.

Andy stayed close behind her, carrying the now full basket like it weighed nothing.

“What about this?” she asked, picking up a jar. “Strawberry jam.”

He glanced at it briefly. “If you want it.”

“I do,” she said, setting it down carefully. “And maybe this too.”

A small container of something sweet—shortcake, maybe.

She hesitated, then picked up one more thing.

“This is for you,” she added, quieter now.

He looked at it, then at her. “For me?”

She shrugged, suddenly a little shy. “You liked them.”

He didn’t say anything for a second.

Then he took it from her hand.

“Alright.”

That was all.

But it was enough.

—

By the time they stepped away from the stand, the sun had dipped just enough to soften everything.

The field looked warmer now.

Quieter.

Like it was winding down.

She slowed her steps, turning toward him again.

And there it was—

The same light.

The same freckles.

The same way they caught her attention like they had the first time.

Her hand lifted again, almost automatically.

He didn’t question it this time.

Didn’t tense.

Didn’t hesitate.

He just let her.

Her fingers rested against his cheek, softer than before.

Familiar now.

“You still look like strawberries,” she murmured.

He shook his head faintly. “You’re not letting that go, are you?”

“No,” she said, smiling just a little.

And then—

She leaned in.

Slow.

Careful.

Pressing a soft kiss against one of his freckles.

Just one.

It lingered for half a second longer than it needed to.

Then she pulled back.

Andy didn’t move right away.

Just looked at her.

Something unreadable in his expression at first—

And then it shifted.

Subtle.

But there.

A small smile.

Rare.

Real.

His hand came up, brushing lightly along her jaw before settling at the back of her neck.

And this time—

When he leaned in—

It wasn’t hesitant.

His kiss was deeper, steadier, still soft but certain in a way hers hadn’t been.

Grounding.

Like he’d made up his mind about something.

When he pulled back, he didn’t go far.

His forehead rested briefly against hers.

And for once—

He wasn’t scanning anything.

Wasn’t thinking about exits.

Wasn’t anywhere else.

Just there.

With her.

His thumb brushed lightly against her cheek.

And the way she looked at him—

Soft. Bright. Like he was something worth stopping for.

Something worth noticing.

Something… sweet.

Andy exhaled quietly.

“…You know,” he murmured, voice low, almost thoughtful, “I didn’t care about any of this.”

She blinked. “The strawberries?”

“The place,” he corrected.

Her smile faded just slightly, unsure.

But his hand tightened gently at her waist, pulling her closer again.

His gaze didn’t waver.

“Still don’t,” he added.

A pause.

Then, softer—

“But I like the way you do.”

Her breath caught—just a little.

And he leaned in again, pressing another kiss to her lips, slower this time.

Not rushed.

Not distracted.

Just… hers.