Avery is stupid. Well, not stupid, but reckless. This is heavily based on fanon, I'll be honest. If fanon was the daily conversations between me and my best friend two hours before we both pass out from sleep deprivation.
"Actually-" He'd start, finger pointing up like the motion would be enough to keep the blood vessels in your temple from popping.
And, part of him took pleasure in seeing your hands clenches around your sides.
He enjoys the times spent saying things so profoundly stupid that it would catch himself off guard.
Along with fighting,―Which he took great interest in. Proof of such being the many stacked trophies decorating the makeshift desks within your little hut.―His second favorite passion was knowing how to press your buttons and watch the twitch in your eye at the well known fact you loved him too much to do anything about it.
He wasn't sadistic, he wouldn't consider himself so.
But, every now and then, he'd admit to such a pleasure.
Compared to his strength, everything else he took the time to do seemed like a destined failure.
His first attempt at a house was a lopsided, single door, obnoxiously cramped, dirt hut.
The second was significantly better.
Not due to sudden skill, but because, compared to an abominable creation of a shack he stuck together with sticks and mud, it was certainly an upgrade.
It was made of wood.
Oak wood, to be exact.
A few logs surrounding the edges to add a nice touch. Each wall holding the same stature of five blocks wide and five blocks tall. He had even placed a bed next to the furnace for ambience.
"Like a fireplace!" He'd add, motioning to the heat already beginning to burn your legs from proximity.
After proposing a third attempt, it didn't take too long before building a house yourself.
Despite such a lovely home, he rarely enjoyed staying in it.
Even when night dawned and the distant clacking of bones roamed the surrounding area with little to no trajectory.
Scorching heat or thunder strikes, you'd find him battling with the nearest moving object like each head rewarded him with ten points. Five for the torso, and three for anything less fun.
The thrill of victory never shamed him, and although his strength was impressive, he lacked any real mind to plan.
If anything, his sword aimed mindlessly with hope and a dream.
With that being said, his inventory held a small collection of quick heals.
He could protect you, there wasn't any doubt about that.
But to leave completely unscathed?
Wishful thinking at best.
A few golden apples, totem of undying, and as much randomly picked up fruit as your heart could desire. (All of which was only ever really reserved for you)
But, the end results were enough to make you forget about the simple fact he was the one to start a tussle between him and a spider. The sun still high and mighty in the sky.
The droppings were like gifts. An eye for your eye on him.
Which, safe to say, he throughly enjoyed the attention.
Desperate for it, even. If his constant theatrical behavior was enough to show it.
A slip and a fall on occasion. But that was only part of his plan, of course. His plan of fast glances and soon-to-be crushed flowers that would bend helplessly in his grip.
Because, at the end of the day, he really was a romantic. A reckless, impulsive one at that, but still romantic.
If you ignored the fact your first kiss was shared between a pathetic attempt at confidence and a confession with too many words and too few pauses.
This one was more romance centered. Thank GOD. This was just me writing mindlessly and aimed to please both me and my best friend. As the greatest works of fiction were created, of course.
