junmyeonz
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His eyes trailed Jude's beautiful skin, radiating under the gold of noon. His gentle hand writing down tasks that needed to be accomplished, quotas that must be met, letters yet to be sent.
And in that moment, Prince Erling had a brilliant idea.
"Could I not ask for your hand in marriage instead?"
"Pardon, my liege?"
Or: Prince Erling Haaland of Orsund is exhausted at the useless formalities he must conform to in order to secure a mate. So, why not wed his royal advisor?
Bookmarked by junmyeonz
24 Jul 2026
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Victory is bittersweet.
Jude can’t seem to find comfort in the makeshift hotel nest as the late night settles in despite the scent interwoven into it. He should be overjoyed. England is headed to the semifinals! He scored two goals to make it possible, yet there is a tight feeling in his chest and a sour tint to his scent that makes it impossible to enjoy the win to the fullest.
or, jude has mixed feelings about beating erling on the world stage but erling will make sure there is no sadness.
Bookmarked by junmyeonz
17 Jul 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
so sweet.... the description that they were made for each other hit me HARD 😭😭
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Jude Bellingham's heat was always going to come around the quarter finals and he was always going to play through it with a mouthful of suppressant and God's will. No the real issue is that he was never going to have to play against his own mate. That's the real issue. ; or,
Jude's heat gets out of hand because Haaland's in the same city, and because he's an international athlete, it has to be discussed in actual meetings.
Bookmarked by junmyeonz
17 Jul 2026
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Jude knows a handful of things by heart - how to run down a football pitch, how to get through Birmingham train station without losing your phone or your teeth and what Erling texts him after the game with Argentina.
Post-game phone sex and some going to the (Cheshire) cottage vibes.
References to current (15/07/2026) state of Manchester - alternate reality where Håland flies to North West instead of Norway.
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Summary
"Don’t." Jude gasped, already scrambling out of the booth. His legs nearly buckled, the world tilting with need. "Headache. Tired. I’m—I’m going. Don’t follow."
He fled before Erling could respond, shouldering through the crowd, hot and dizzy and terrified.
Every step sent a jolt of emptiness through him, his hole clenching around nothing, slick soaking his boxers. The omega inside him was screaming, crying, begging to turn around and crawl into the alpha’s lap. Jude bit his lip until he tasted copper and kept moving.
Erling watched him go, heart pounding a war drum against his ribs. Every instinct he had demanded he chase— the omega was in distress, his omega, entering heat in a dangerous place.
But Jude had said don’t follow.
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Bookmarked by junmyeonz
15 Jul 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
so sweet :,) im a sucker for praises #thosewhoknow