Strawberry Ice Cream|| Travis Konecny + Reader
Requested - ish? A blurb to cheer up a follower who’s having a hard week. Cheer up, babe.
A/N - grabbed a prompt from a random list and ran with it.
"We should go to the festival!" His voice is bright and excited, though a little rough and exhausted as the crinkle of the archaic newspaper is set on the top of the kitchen table.
You’re just putting the finishing touches on breakfast when he speaks, but you’re far too focused on the perfect smoothie bowl you’re making that you barely register the comment. It’s not until you’re placing his bowl and yours on the table that you even respond.
“What now?” You ask, finally looking up at him. His hair is pushed back under a backward snapback, hiding from view the sweaty tendrils. His cheeks are pink from the early morning run that his lungs are still partially recovering from. His outfit is in a similar state as his hair. You hadn’t gone with him for this workout, opting instead, to stay home and enjoy your Sunday morning by sleeping in.
“The festival,” he says again while he taps the newspaper. He must have picked it up on the way into the building. You didn’t have a subscription to a hard print paper. Why would you?
“What about it?” Your hand reaches for the paper, tilting it to the side so that you could read up on the little strawberry festival. They have it every year, but you’ve never been.
“Wanna go? Apparently, they have the best fresh strawberry ice cream around.”
You hum around a fresh buy of the banana chocolate protein smoothie bite you’d just stuck in your mouth. The fresh strawberries, crunchy granola, and pumpkin seeds burst in your mouth as you chew, making talking a no go. You nod rather than talk, but it's to the time of your chews. Travis laughs.
“Is that a yes? Or do you just approve of breakfast?” He’s next to take a bite, though his is a smaller bite and he’s got no problem talking around a mouthful of food. “This is good, but what about the festival? I want ice cream.”
“You just got done with a workout. That ice cream is going to blow that to hell.” You counter, but it's not because you don’t want to go to the festival. You just like giving your boyfriend a hard time.
“I deserve it! I worked hard on that workout. I earned a treat,” he tells you in his plea for the trip to the festival and the ice cream.
You laugh and sit back in your seat, “Are you five? I didn’t realize you were on a reward system.”
“C’ mon, Y/N, please?” His whine is nasally and pleading and wholly adorable. You can’t help but roll your eyes at him. Sometimes you’re pretty sure you’re dating a child not a grown man who plays professional hockey.
“Of course, yes. We’ll go. I need fresh strawberries for more of these smoothies anyway.” He hadn’t even needed to plead, the answer was yes before you finished your first bite of breakfast. “After breakfast and you take a shower and change.”
“Yes!” he says as he throws his hands in the air excitedly. “This will be fun. I’m telling you, the ice cream will be worth it.”
“Yeah, okay. Shut up and eat.” You point to his bowl and pick up the spoon to yours after a moment. He’s a grown child, but at least he’s yours. He was right, though. The festival would be fun. Travis and fun went hand in hand. It was almost as synonymous as Travis and chaos.
