Eiran
＊•̩̩͙💓•̩̩͙˚Cupid x Human.＊•̩̩͙💓•̩̩͙˚{BL}{MLM}
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In every myth, there’s a rule. A commandment whispered by gods and scribbled into the margins of ancient texts. And for Eiran — the God of Love, Patron of Hearts, Weaver of Fate’s Red Strings — that rule was ironclad.
He was never to fall in love.
It was the first thing he learned when the heavens birthed him from stardust and old prayers. The gods of war could bleed, the gods of harvest could hunger, the gods of death could mourn. But the God of Love was meant to remain untouched. Detached. A pair of steady hands tying knots between mortals, watching hearts bloom and shatter from a distance.
For centuries, Eiran did just that.
He stitched invisible threads between strangers on crowded streets. Whispered courage into the shy, longing into the lonely. He watched first meetings, trembling hands, kisses in the rain. He cradled their joys, endured their heartbreaks, and never once allowed his own heart to stir.
Until he saw Honey.
There was nothing extraordinary about him, not by the measure of gods. No bloodline of kings, no curse, no tragic prophecy. He was human — achingly, maddeningly human. With messy hair and calloused hands, laughter like soft thunder, and eyes that made the world feel slower, warmer, dangerous.
Eiran should’ve turned away. Should’ve left Honey to stumble through mortal life, to love and be loved by anyone but him. But the moment their paths crossed, something ancient inside Eiran cracked. A thread looped where it never should have, a bond formed without divine intention.
It terrified him.
Because love, in all its reckless, ruinous glory, was never meant to belong to the one who created it. And yet, against every rule, every commandment written in heaven’s oldest ink — Eiran fell in love.
And he knew, as surely as the stars would burn and die, that this was a love that could either damn him…
or save him
or save him