tswrites0

[tswrites0]

The way I didn’t know people would read this Joe burrow fic outside of a few of my mutuals 😭😭😭

[tswrites0]

Jury’s Still Out - Pt. 2

Taylor’s pulse quickened at the way Joe looked at her—steady, unwavering, like he wasn’t going to let this moment slip away. She had spent years perfecting the art of redirecting conversations, of keeping things professional, but right now, she knew there was no dodging this.

Joe exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “You know, I did try to talk to you before.”

Taylor frowned. “What do you mean?”

His lips quirked, but there was something behind his eyes—something unspoken. “After our first interview. I messaged you.”

She knew exactly what he was talking about, but she still played it off, crossing her arms. “I have a work email for that kind of thing.”

Joe let out a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, see, what I wanted to talk about wasn’t work-related.”

Taylor felt warmth creep up her neck. She forced herself to keep her expression neutral, but the weight of his words settled deep in her chest. She had read his message the moment it came in—seen his name pop up in her DMs and felt something she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge at the time.

She had ignored it. Not because she hadn’t wanted to answer, but because she knew if she had, it would’ve been the start of something she couldn’t control. And she never mixed work with personal.

Still, standing here now, with Joe looking at her like that, she wasn’t sure she could keep running from it.

“Joe,” she started, but he shook his head.

“No, just—be honest with me,” he said, voice lower now. “Did you really not see it? Or did you just not want to answer?”

Taylor swallowed, gripping her notebook a little tighter. “It’s not that simple.”

Joe gave her a knowing look. “It kinda is.”

A beat of silence passed between them, the wind cutting through the air, but neither of them moved.

Taylor exhaled sharply, standing up and dusting off her pants. “I think we’re done here,” she said, keeping her tone neutral, professional.

Joe didn’t move right away. Instead, he stretched out a hand toward her, palm up, waiting.

Taylor arched a brow, staring at his outstretched hand before looking at him.

Joe smirked. “You’re not gonna help a guy with a knee injury?”

She sighed but took his hand anyway, pulling him up with ease. His grip was firm, but what caught her off guard was how he didn’t let go. His fingers lingered around hers, as if memorizing the way her hand fit in his.

Taylor’s breath caught for just a second before she tugged her hand free. “This is inappropriate,” she muttered.

Joe leaned in just slightly, voice low and teasing. “Then let’s be inappropriate.” His lips curled into a slow smile.

Taylor’s pulse jumped, but she shook her head, stepping past him without another word.

Joe followed, calling after her. “At least walk slower.”

Taylor smiled to herself and picked up her pace instead.

He groaned. “Really?”

She only stopped when she spotted his coach and athletic trainer up ahead. Instantly, her professionalism slipped back into place. She straightened, offering a polite smile as she greeted them. “Thank you again for the opportunity,” she said smoothly.

The brief pause gave Joe just enough time to catch up. “I’m done for the day,” he told them, stretching his arms.

His coach nodded, giving him a quick pat on the back before heading inside with the trainer.

Joe followed, but before disappearing into the locker room, he glanced at Taylor. She was already turning to leave, but he caught her hand again, fingers wrapping gently around her wrist.

“Stay,” he said quietly.

Taylor didn’t look at him. “I’m in a hurry.”

“Just give me a second.” His voice was softer this time, almost hesitant. “I just need to grab my stuff.”

Taylor finally met his gaze, her expression unreadable. After a long pause, she exhaled. “Fine. Hurry up.”

Joe smiled, releasing her hand as he disappeared into the locker room.

Joe held her gaze, his voice quieter but firm. “And that doesn’t mean I didn’t feel anything.”

Taylor exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “Joe, I was drunk.”

His lips twitched, almost amused. “The wine was non-alcoholic.”

She cursed herself internally, her jaw tightening. He had her there. She turned to him as they stepped out of the long hallway, the cool air outside hitting her skin. “What’s your aim here?”

Joe’s expression didn’t waver. “The things I said that night were true. And I know you—you’re not the type to lie.”

Taylor’s stomach tightened, but she kept her face unreadable.

Joe took a small step closer, laying it all out. “If you tell me you’re not interested in me, I’ll leave you alone.”

She blinked at him, caught off guard. Of all the things he could’ve said, she hadn’t expected that.

Taylor let out a slow breath, searching for the right words. “Whatever you’re trying to accomplish here…it can’t happen.”

Joe’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t back down.

“Do you know how much work I had to put in to get to this point?” she continued, her voice softer but still steady.

Joe nodded without hesitation. “I know. You’re a great worker. Determined.” Then, with a small shrug, he added, “But if you want something, you should go for it. Whether it’s in this industry or out of it.”

Taylor exhaled, shaking her head slightly. “You’re more of a gray area,” she murmured.

Joe smiled at that, slow and knowing. “Maybe,” he admitted. Then his gaze flickered over her face, studying her carefully. “But you still haven’t told me you’re not interested.”

Taylor’s face scrunched up, lips parting before she closed them again. Instead of answering, she straightened her shoulders and took a step back. “Rest up, Joe,” she said instead, her tone slipping back into something more professional. “The interview was great.”

Before he could say anything else, she turned and walked away.

Hey y’all!! So I started writing this fanfic bc my mutuals brought burrooks up and I found them so cute! I don’t have a plan when it comes to this fic nor do I know how long it’ll be but I have an ending in mind so let’s see how it plays out. Happy reading!

Jury’s Still Out - footballer x sports reporter

The wind swept through the empty stadium, carrying the crisp bite of late autumn as Taylor Rooks stepped onto the field. She immediately lifted a hand to shield her freshly straightened hair, her long strands whipping against her face despite her efforts. A Brazilian blowout wasn’t cheap, and she wasn’t about to let Cincinnati’s unpredictable weather ruin it before her segment even started.

Dressed in a sleek coat and knee-high boots, she walked with purpose, her eyes scanning the field until they landed on him. Joe Burrow was out there alone, save for a trainer watching from a few yards away. He moved carefully, testing his knee with light footwork drills, the kind meant to ease him back into action. Even in the simple motions, there was something undeniably sharp about him—focused, determined, the same guy who turned pressure into poetry on the field.

Taylor exhaled, shaking her head slightly as she stepped closer. She had interviewed him before, had seen the intensity in his eyes when he talked about the game, but this was different. This wasn’t post-game adrenaline or locker-room bravado. This was a man fighting his way back from injury, alone in the cold, with nothing but the sound of the wind and the weight of expectation pressing down on him.

A gust sent her coat flaring behind her, and she instinctively reached up to hold her hair in place again. That was when Joe finally noticed her. He slowed to a stop, his breath visible in the chilled air as he looked her way. A small, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Didn’t think I’d see you out here,” he called, his voice carrying across the field. “Braving the wind for me?”

Taylor let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Braving the wind for my job,” she corrected, though the teasing glint in her eyes said otherwise.

Joe tilted his head slightly, his gaze lingering. “I don’t know,” he said, wiping his hand over his sleeve. “Feels like you’re putting up more of a fight against the weather than I am against rehab.”

Taylor arched a brow. “And who’s winning?”

His smirk deepened. “Jury’s still out.”

Taylor glanced around the field, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as the wind settled for a brief moment. The place was eerily quiet, the usual sounds of practice—whistles, laughter, the heavy thud of cleats—conspicuously absent.

“No teammates out here today?” she asked, her gaze drifting toward the empty sidelines.

Joe took a slow breath, adjusting the sleeve of his hoodie. “They’ve already left,” he said casually, like it was no big deal.

Taylor’s brows lifted. “So why are you still out here?”

He gave a half-shrug, glancing down at his knee as he flexed it slightly. “Wanted to get some extra work in.”

Something about the way he said it made Taylor study him a little closer. There was no arrogance in his tone, no need to explain himself—it was just who he was. The guy who stayed behind when everyone else went home.

She hummed, slipping her hand into her coat pocket. “And how’s the knee holding up?”

Joe exhaled through his nose, shifting his weight onto his injured leg as if testing it again. “Better,” he admitted. “Some days are still rough, but I’m moving the way I want to again. Just gotta be patient.”

Taylor nodded, reaching into her other pocket and pulling out her recorder. The moment she clicked it on, Joe hesitated, his eyes flickering to the device.

“The interview,” he said, more to himself than to her.

She gave him a knowing look. “That a problem?”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Nah,” he said, rolling his shoulders. “Can we walk and talk?”

Taylor gestured toward the field. “Lead the way.”

Joe started moving at a slow, steady pace, and Taylor fell in beside him, her recorder pointed in his direction. The wind had settled, but the cold still lingered, and as they walked the length of the field, it was just the two of them, his voice low and thoughtful as he spoke about his recovery.

As they walked along the edge of the field, Taylor kept her gaze steady on Joe, watching the way he moved—controlled, deliberate, but still careful. The weight of what he’d been through was there, even if he wouldn’t outright say it.

She let a beat pass before asking, “How do you make a comeback after an injury like this?”

Joe exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw as he thought it over. “You don’t think about the comeback,” he said finally. “Not at first. At first, you just think about the next step. Then the next one after that.”

Taylor nodded, her recorder steady in her hand. “And when does it shift? When do you start thinking about the bigger picture?”

Joe glanced ahead, eyes narrowing slightly against the breeze. “When you stop feeling like you’re rehabbing and start feeling like you’re playing again,” he said. “It’s a mental thing. You have to trust your body, trust that all the work you put in means you can move the way you used to. Maybe even better.”

Taylor studied him, intrigued. “So, is that where you are now? Do you trust it?”

Joe hesitated, just for a second, then met her eyes with a small, knowing smirk. “Jury’s still out.”

Taylor huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “You love saying that, don’t you?”

He grinned. “Keeps things interesting.”

Taylor let his words settle before shifting her recorder slightly. “Alright,” she said, tilting her head. “Then how do you keep yourself motivated? Rehab isn’t exactly glamorous.”

Joe let out a quiet chuckle, his gaze fixed ahead as they walked. “No, it’s not,” he admitted. “Some days, it’s frustrating as hell. Feels like you’re working twice as hard just to get back to where you were before.”

Taylor studied him, catching the brief flicker of something deeper in his expression. “So what keeps you going?”

Joe exhaled, thoughtful. “I remember what it felt like to play free. To not think about my knee, not second-guess every move. That’s what I’m chasing.” He glanced at her then, his voice steady. “I know I can get back there. That’s enough.”

Taylor nodded, letting a small pause stretch between them. “You ever have moments where you doubt it?”

Joe hesitated just for a second, then said, “Yeah. But doubt doesn’t do anything for me.” He shrugged slightly. “So I keep going.”

Taylor considered his words, impressed by the quiet certainty in them. She didn’t press further—he had already said everything that mattered.

She looked away from him, pulling a small notebook from her coat pocket and jotting down a few notes. The recorder had caught his words, but sometimes it helped to write things down—little observations, details she might want to come back to later.

Joe watched her, his gaze steady as she scribbled something onto the page. After a beat, he tilted his head slightly and asked, “So, did you plan on interviewing me today, or were you just hoping to catch whoever was still out here?”

Taylor glanced up, catching the teasing glint in his eyes. She decided to play along, tapping her pen lightly against the notebook. “Well,” she said, drawing out the word, “I was hanging around outside the locker room, but Tee was my first choice. He was just faster getting out of here.”

Joe let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Figures,” he muttered, still amused. Without another word, he lowered himself onto the grass, stretching his legs out in front of him.

Taylor arched a brow. “Getting comfortable?”

Joe leaned back on his hands, smirking. “Might as well. No rush, right?”

Taylor glanced down at him, the corners of her mouth twitching. “No rush,” she echoed, tapping her pen lightly against her notebook.

Joe patted the grass beside him. “Then sit.”

She eyed the spot warily. “I’m fine standing. Not really trying to get my pants dirty.”

Joe smirked, tilting his head. “If you sit, I’ll give you the inside scoop on why Ja’Marr got evicted.”

Taylor’s eyes widened slightly, her curiosity flaring. “You’re lying,” she accused, narrowing her gaze.

Joe just leaned back, looking entirely unbothered. “Guess you’ll never know.”

Without hesitation, Taylor dropped down beside him, crossing her legs as she hit record again. “Start talking.”

Joe raised a brow, glancing at her with an amused expression. “Is this interview supposed to be about me or every other teammate on the roster?”

Taylor pressed her lips together, then straightened up, putting on her most professional voice. “You’re right. My apologies, Joe. This interview is solely about you, your greatness, and your heroic return to the field.”

Joe laughed, shaking his head. “Relax, I’m joking.” Then, with a small smirk, he added, “I’m just not great with sarcasm.”

Taylor gave him a pointed look. “That’s a shame. It’s a major part of my personality.”

Joe shrugged. “Guess I’ll have to keep up.”

Taylor shook her head slightly, as if resetting her focus. “I’m gonna have to cut this recording up,” she muttered, making a quick note in her notebook before glancing back at Joe.

He smirked. “Can’t have me rambling about Ja’Marr’s eviction making the final cut?”

She gave him a look but didn’t take the bait. Instead, she clicked the recorder back on and asked, “Alright, what’s your relationship with your receivers like?”

Joe’s smirk faded into something more thoughtful. He stretched his legs out, resting his arms on his knees. “It’s all about trust,” he said. “You spend enough time with them, and you start to understand how they move, how they think. A good quarterback-wide receiver connection isn’t just about talent—it’s about knowing, without hesitation, where they’ll be and when they’ll be there.”

Taylor nodded, intrigued. “And how do you build that?”

Joe glanced at her, a knowing look in his eyes. “Reps. A lot of them.”

��That’s why you want to get back out there so quickly,” Taylor murmured, more to herself than to him, her voice thoughtful.

Joe ran a hand through his tousled hair, nodding. “Of course,” he said, exhaling. “Being injured… it can feel isolating. You’re still part of the team, but not really. You’re on the sidelines, watching everyone else put in the work, and it just—” He paused, his jaw tightening slightly. “It feels like you’re not doing enough.”

Taylor studied him, the weight behind his words settling in. She knew that for a guy like him, someone who prided himself on his leadership and presence on the field, being forced to step back must’ve been frustrating.

“You have to make sure you’re good first,” she said, her voice softer now. “Your teammates understand that.”

Joe turned his head to look at her, his expression shifting. After a beat, he smiled—small, but real. “Yeah,” he said. “I know.”

A comfortable silence fell between them as he watched her jot notes down and the wind picked up again slightly, blowing a few strands of her hair into her face and sticking to her lip gloss. Taylor sighed before pushing her hair back.

“Can I?”

Taylor turned over to see Joe moving over closer to her to smooth her hair out. “It looks bad?”

“A few fly aways that’s all, you look beautiful…as always.” Even after saying that he kept his eye contact with her before she broke it, going back to trying to write but only coming up with a few random letters to make it look like she was writing.

“How long are we going to keep doing this, Taylor?”

That was the question that made her pen stop, “Doing what? The interview? We can stop it early and meet another day-“ She shut her notebook and cut off the recorder and by the time she looked up at him his eyes were already on her.

“You know what I’m talking about.” His voice was rough and he cleared his throat, “now that you got that recorder off let’s talk about us.”

Taylor shook her head and stood, “Joe.”

“Taylor please.”

[tswrites0]

Jury’s Still Out - footballer x sports reporter

The wind swept through the empty stadium, carrying the crisp bite of late autumn as Taylor Rooks stepped onto the field. She immediately lifted a hand to shield her freshly straightened hair, her long strands whipping against her face despite her efforts. A Brazilian blowout wasn’t cheap, and she wasn’t about to let Cincinnati’s unpredictable weather ruin it before her segment even started.

Dressed in a sleek coat and knee-high boots, she walked with purpose, her eyes scanning the field until they landed on him. Joe Burrow was out there alone, save for a trainer watching from a few yards away. He moved carefully, testing his knee with light footwork drills, the kind meant to ease him back into action. Even in the simple motions, there was something undeniably sharp about him—focused, determined, the same guy who turned pressure into poetry on the field.

Taylor exhaled, shaking her head slightly as she stepped closer. She had interviewed him before, had seen the intensity in his eyes when he talked about the game, but this was different. This wasn’t post-game adrenaline or locker-room bravado. This was a man fighting his way back from injury, alone in the cold, with nothing but the sound of the wind and the weight of expectation pressing down on him.

A gust sent her coat flaring behind her, and she instinctively reached up to hold her hair in place again. That was when Joe finally noticed her. He slowed to a stop, his breath visible in the chilled air as he looked her way. A small, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Didn’t think I’d see you out here,” he called, his voice carrying across the field. “Braving the wind for me?”

Taylor let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Braving the wind for my job,” she corrected, though the teasing glint in her eyes said otherwise.

Joe tilted his head slightly, his gaze lingering. “I don’t know,” he said, wiping his hand over his sleeve. “Feels like you’re putting up more of a fight against the weather than I am against rehab.”

Taylor arched a brow. “And who’s winning?”

His smirk deepened. “Jury’s still out.”

Taylor glanced around the field, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as the wind settled for a brief moment. The place was eerily quiet, the usual sounds of practice—whistles, laughter, the heavy thud of cleats—conspicuously absent.

“No teammates out here today?” she asked, her gaze drifting toward the empty sidelines.

Joe took a slow breath, adjusting the sleeve of his hoodie. “They’ve already left,” he said casually, like it was no big deal.

Taylor’s brows lifted. “So why are you still out here?”

He gave a half-shrug, glancing down at his knee as he flexed it slightly. “Wanted to get some extra work in.”

Something about the way he said it made Taylor study him a little closer. There was no arrogance in his tone, no need to explain himself—it was just who he was. The guy who stayed behind when everyone else went home.

She hummed, slipping her hand into her coat pocket. “And how’s the knee holding up?”

Joe exhaled through his nose, shifting his weight onto his injured leg as if testing it again. “Better,” he admitted. “Some days are still rough, but I’m moving the way I want to again. Just gotta be patient.”

Taylor nodded, reaching into her other pocket and pulling out her recorder. The moment she clicked it on, Joe hesitated, his eyes flickering to the device.

“The interview,” he said, more to himself than to her.

She gave him a knowing look. “That a problem?”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Nah,” he said, rolling his shoulders. “Can we walk and talk?”

Taylor gestured toward the field. “Lead the way.”

Joe started moving at a slow, steady pace, and Taylor fell in beside him, her recorder pointed in his direction. The wind had settled, but the cold still lingered, and as they walked the length of the field, it was just the two of them, his voice low and thoughtful as he spoke about his recovery.

As they walked along the edge of the field, Taylor kept her gaze steady on Joe, watching the way he moved—controlled, deliberate, but still careful. The weight of what he’d been through was there, even if he wouldn’t outright say it.

She let a beat pass before asking, “How do you make a comeback after an injury like this?”

Joe exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw as he thought it over. “You don’t think about the comeback,” he said finally. “Not at first. At first, you just think about the next step. Then the next one after that.”

Taylor nodded, her recorder steady in her hand. “And when does it shift? When do you start thinking about the bigger picture?”

Joe glanced ahead, eyes narrowing slightly against the breeze. “When you stop feeling like you’re rehabbing and start feeling like you’re playing again,” he said. “It’s a mental thing. You have to trust your body, trust that all the work you put in means you can move the way you used to. Maybe even better.”

Taylor studied him, intrigued. “So, is that where you are now? Do you trust it?”

Joe hesitated, just for a second, then met her eyes with a small, knowing smirk. “Jury’s still out.”

Taylor huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “You love saying that, don’t you?”

He grinned. “Keeps things interesting.”

Taylor let his words settle before shifting her recorder slightly. “Alright,” she said, tilting her head. “Then how do you keep yourself motivated? Rehab isn’t exactly glamorous.”

Joe let out a quiet chuckle, his gaze fixed ahead as they walked. “No, it’s not,” he admitted. “Some days, it’s frustrating as hell. Feels like you’re working twice as hard just to get back to where you were before.”

Taylor studied him, catching the brief flicker of something deeper in his expression. “So what keeps you going?”

Joe exhaled, thoughtful. “I remember what it felt like to play free. To not think about my knee, not second-guess every move. That’s what I’m chasing.” He glanced at her then, his voice steady. “I know I can get back there. That’s enough.”

Taylor nodded, letting a small pause stretch between them. “You ever have moments where you doubt it?”

Joe hesitated just for a second, then said, “Yeah. But doubt doesn’t do anything for me.” He shrugged slightly. “So I keep going.”

Taylor considered his words, impressed by the quiet certainty in them. She didn’t press further—he had already said everything that mattered.

She looked away from him, pulling a small notebook from her coat pocket and jotting down a few notes. The recorder had caught his words, but sometimes it helped to write things down—little observations, details she might want to come back to later.

Joe watched her, his gaze steady as she scribbled something onto the page. After a beat, he tilted his head slightly and asked, “So, did you plan on interviewing me today, or were you just hoping to catch whoever was still out here?”

Taylor glanced up, catching the teasing glint in his eyes. She decided to play along, tapping her pen lightly against the notebook. “Well,” she said, drawing out the word, “I was hanging around outside the locker room, but Tee was my first choice. He was just faster getting out of here.”

Joe let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Figures,” he muttered, still amused. Without another word, he lowered himself onto the grass, stretching his legs out in front of him.

Taylor arched a brow. “Getting comfortable?”

Joe leaned back on his hands, smirking. “Might as well. No rush, right?”

Taylor glanced down at him, the corners of her mouth twitching. “No rush,” she echoed, tapping her pen lightly against her notebook.

Joe patted the grass beside him. “Then sit.”

She eyed the spot warily. “I’m fine standing. Not really trying to get my pants dirty.”

Joe smirked, tilting his head. “If you sit, I’ll give you the inside scoop on why Ja’Marr got evicted.”

Taylor’s eyes widened slightly, her curiosity flaring. “You’re lying,” she accused, narrowing her gaze.

Joe just leaned back, looking entirely unbothered. “Guess you’ll never know.”

Without hesitation, Taylor dropped down beside him, crossing her legs as she hit record again. “Start talking.”

Joe raised a brow, glancing at her with an amused expression. “Is this interview supposed to be about me or every other teammate on the roster?”

Taylor pressed her lips together, then straightened up, putting on her most professional voice. “You’re right. My apologies, Joe. This interview is solely about you, your greatness, and your heroic return to the field.”

Joe laughed, shaking his head. “Relax, I’m joking.” Then, with a small smirk, he added, “I’m just not great with sarcasm.”

Taylor gave him a pointed look. “That’s a shame. It’s a major part of my personality.”

Joe shrugged. “Guess I’ll have to keep up.”

Taylor shook her head slightly, as if resetting her focus. “I’m gonna have to cut this recording up,” she muttered, making a quick note in her notebook before glancing back at Joe.

He smirked. “Can’t have me rambling about Ja’Marr’s eviction making the final cut?”

She gave him a look but didn’t take the bait. Instead, she clicked the recorder back on and asked, “Alright, what’s your relationship with your receivers like?”

Joe’s smirk faded into something more thoughtful. He stretched his legs out, resting his arms on his knees. “It’s all about trust,” he said. “You spend enough time with them, and you start to understand how they move, how they think. A good quarterback-wide receiver connection isn’t just about talent—it’s about knowing, without hesitation, where they’ll be and when they’ll be there.”

Taylor nodded, intrigued. “And how do you build that?”

Joe glanced at her, a knowing look in his eyes. “Reps. A lot of them.”

“That’s why you want to get back out there so quickly,” Taylor murmured, more to herself than to him, her voice thoughtful.

Joe ran a hand through his tousled hair, nodding. “Of course,” he said, exhaling. “Being injured… it can feel isolating. You’re still part of the team, but not really. You’re on the sidelines, watching everyone else put in the work, and it just—” He paused, his jaw tightening slightly. “It feels like you’re not doing enough.”

Taylor studied him, the weight behind his words settling in. She knew that for a guy like him, someone who prided himself on his leadership and presence on the field, being forced to step back must’ve been frustrating.

“You have to make sure you’re good first,” she said, her voice softer now. “Your teammates understand that.”

Joe turned his head to look at her, his expression shifting. After a beat, he smiled—small, but real. “Yeah,” he said. “I know.”

A comfortable silence fell between them as he watched her jot notes down and the wind picked up again slightly, blowing a few strands of her hair into her face and sticking to her lip gloss. Taylor sighed before pushing her hair back.

“Can I?”

Taylor turned over to see Joe moving over closer to her to smooth her hair out. “It looks bad?”

“A few fly aways that’s all, you look beautiful…as always.” Even after saying that he kept his eye contact with her before she broke it, going back to trying to write but only coming up with a few random letters to make it look like she was writing.

“How long are we going to keep doing this, Taylor?”

That was the question that made her pen stop, “Doing what? The interview? We can stop it early and meet another day-“ She shut her notebook and cut off the recorder and by the time she looked up at him his eyes were already on her.

“You know what I’m talking about.” His voice was rough and he cleared his throat, “now that you got that recorder off let’s talk about us.”

Taylor shook her head and stood, “Joe.”

“Taylor please.”

[tswrites0]

[tswrites0]

Check out my story on wattpad!!

[tswrites0]

Cute habits for this fall ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

• hot girl walks in autumn weather

• drinking tea in a cute mug, early in the morning

• study dates with the girls (library, cafe, so cute)

• meditating outside, breathing in that fresh autumn air girllll

• reading/book shopping

• gua sha + skin care routine + lash/eyebrow serum

• working out like a pink pilates muscle mommy

• journaling + self improvement/healing

• long soaks in the bath, epson salt, bubbles, essential oils, candles, everything girl

• manifesting/daydreaming (one of my favs)

[tswrites0]

everything is better when it's pink

[tswrites0]

My selfcare sunday/maintenance day routine

Eating clean as possible, thats a detox and light day

Wash and do a full haircare routine(pre-poo, shampoo twice, treatment, conditioner, leave-in, heat protection, style and oil)

Full body deep exfoliating

Shave just if i want to

Soft exfoliate, wash, dermaplain(shave), mosturize and layer serums for face skincare

Only loose and light clothes on that day

Fix the cuticles and paint the nails

Clean the bedroom if possible

Change bedsheets and pillow cases

Do a quick yoga session+meditation just to relax and prepare for one more week

Drink chamomile tea to calm down and sleep earlier

Gua-sha before bed

Pray thanking for another week and the beauty you've been blessed with

That's it for the day, being a hottie is a lifestyle and taking care of yourself is the prerequisite for this, luv ya🍵

[tswrites0]

𝓑𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓓𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶 𝓖𝓲𝓻𝓵

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

everyone has their own definition of a dream girl - a girl who is simply everything we want or everything we want to be. i strongly believe that discipline and the law of assumption can help anyone become their own version of a dream girl. so why not just manifest that into your reality?

start by figuring out exactly what it means to be a dream girl to you.

what's her name? what does she do for a living? how much money does she make? what about her education? where does she live? what does she look like? what does her body look like? what kind of clothes does she wear? what kind of person is she? what does her morning routine look like? what does her day look like? what does her night routine look like? what are her hobbies and interests? how does she see the world and other people? how do other people see her? what are her goals in life? what kind of people does she surround herself with? what does she do in her free time?

now the most important thing is to answer those questions like you're talking about yourself. not "she is..." but "i am...". i suggest you write it down somewhere just so you can come back to it whenever you need it.

answer those questions and add whatever details you want your dream girl to have. please remember that this is the version of a girl who is perfect to YOU. don't feel like your answers have to be something that other people consider perfect, just describe the version of yourself who is truly happy with her life.

now that you know what a dream girl is to you, tell yourself that you are that girl. i don't wanna hear any "oh but she's rich and i'm not" or "oh but she's this and that and i'm not". no! she is you and you are her. if you can imagine it you can have it. think about what your life would look like if you were that girl. daydream, make plans, journal, create vision boards, do whatever that helps you be in the dream girl state. you are your dream girl, that's it. you look like her, you talk like her, you walk like her, you are her. no matter what shows up in your reality, that doesn't matter, you're becoming your dream girl and nothing and no one can stop you.

something that will definitely help with that is doing the things on your list that are possible for you right now. if your dream girl wakes up early and you know that it's possible for you then start waking up early as well. if your dream girl does yoga and you have enough time and are physically able to do it, start doing yoga. you don't have to start with extremely expensive products and routines, just whatever is possible for you right now. do whatever will help you stay in that state and the rest will simply come to you :)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚