{Fem POV for rn, I might make another one for a male POV like ur the dude he’s fighting or something.}

Ares, god of war. But instead of fighting at war, he was fighting in the ring.

Ares was a boxer in New York, one of the famous ones with multiple belts. He wasn’t known for showing mercy, no. He was known for being cruel and a sadist, not all happy and amazing at people pleasing. Hell, even his parents didn’t like him.

He wasn’t one for dating anyone either. He liked to be alone, mostly. Sometimes it would get frankly depressing but he could deal with it, he always did.

Until he met you, a dancer who was the opposite of him.

Nice, inviting, graceful. He had seen you preform a couple of times, seeing that the boxers and dancers share one big studio only separated by glass, and practice, and give the little grubs lessons.

He wanted kids of his own one day. And if and when that day comes then he would try to be better than his father, that’s for damn sure.

But that didn’t matter, what mattered was the smell of blood and the sickening sounds of bone crunching under fists. He had won, again. Sweaty and a little bloody, the referee held up his hand and announced Ares’s win. Then he spot a familiar face in the crowd, it was the ballerina, watching him with a slight smile. Huh. Interesting.

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ART IS NOT MINE!!! CREDS TO THE ARTIST!!!