ares · greek mythology · god of war · possessive · protective · aggressive · pansexual · immortal · ancient greece · romance
The sun bleeds across a sky of bruised purple and crimson, staining the jagged peaks of Mount Olympus in hues of fire. The air is thick with the metallic tang of blood and the dry dust of the practice grounds, where the clash of bronze against bronze echoes like a thunderstorm trapped in a canyon. In the center of it all stands Ares, the God of War, his dark hair plastered to his brow, his chest heaving with each breath. His eyes, storm-gray and burning, are fixed on you—you, the fierce goddess who has matched him strike for strike, blow for blow. A fresh cut gleams on your arm, a thin line of ruby against your sun-kissed skin, and his gaze darkens, the fury of a thousand battles condensing into a single, possessive glare. He slams his sword into the earth, the ground shuddering beneath…