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joecoolburrow · 3 days ago

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🏈 Joe Burrow x Y/N | 14k-ish words

request: Hi, whenever you have time, and if you want, could you write a Joe story?(He single and enjoying his single life with girls and meets the main character (because she moved to Cincinnati or something), who's bisexual, has a girlfriend, but they're in an open relationship (and things start to happen with Joe. She knows she's bisexual but she's never tried it with a guy because she's never been attracted to anyone enough.

P.S.: Personally, I'm also part of the community, but the first male crush that makes me feel something is Joe, and I'd like to see a story like that. 😊

Author’s Note: I was so excited to write this one. As someone who identifies as pan, it meant a lot to explore a story that reflects the fluidity of attraction and the possibility of something unexpected feeling totally right. I also really loved writing a dynamic where an open relationship isn’t about drama or conflict, but trust and support—and that it still ends happily, with everyone respected and cared for. That kind of softness and emotional honesty feels rare sometimes, and I wanted to write something that holds space for it.

This has barely been edited, so please forgive the mess. I was just too excited to get it out. Thank you for reading. Thank you for requesting this.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: read my other stories :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: join my taglist :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

💭 talk to me sweet

Y/N Y/L/N adjusted her polo shirt one more time as she walked through the parking lot of Camargo Club, grateful she'd chosen comfortable golf shoes over anything with heels. Three weeks into her new role as Community Impact Director at the Tri-State Food Bank, and she was still getting used to representing the organization at events like this. Back in Portland, she'd known every donor, every partner, every face in the room. Here in Cincinnati, everything felt fresh and slightly overwhelming.

The Joe Burrow Foundation's annual golf tournament and luncheon was her first major networking event, and she was determined to make a good impression. The foundation had been one of the food bank's most consistent supporters, and Y/N had spent her first few weeks getting up to speed on their partnership through grant applications and impact reports, but she'd never met Joe himself.

She pulled her phone from her purse as she approached the clubhouse, checking for any last-minute messages from Alex.

Alex: How's the schmoozing going? Remember, you're amazing at this even when you feel like you're not.

Y/N: Haven't even started yet. Wish me luck.

Alex: You don't need luck. You need to remember that you're passionate about what you do and that's infectious. Also, if anyone's rude to you, I'll fly there and fight them.

Y/N smiled at her phone. Even from two time zones away while Alex finished wrapping up her own work in Portland, her girlfriend had an uncanny ability to calm her nerves. They'd been together for three years, and Alex had been nothing but supportive when this opportunity came up—even encouraging Y/N to take the leap despite the temporary long-distance situation it would create.

The clubhouse was busy with activity as Y/N checked in, receiving a name tag and information packet. The morning golf portion was already underway, but the networking lunch was where she needed to focus. She'd prepared talking points about the food bank's current initiatives and had memorized statistics about food insecurity in the tri-state area, but mostly she hoped to make genuine connections with people who cared about the same issues she did.

"Y/N Y/L/N?" A woman in her fifties approached with a warm smile. "I'm Robin Burrow. We've been emailing back and forth about today's event."

"Robin! It's nice to finally meet you in person." Y/N shook her hand, immediately feeling more at ease. Robin had been nothing but welcoming in their email exchanges, and there was something naturally maternal and approachable about her in person.

"How are you settling in? Big change from Portland, I imagine."

"It is, but good so far. Everyone's been really welcoming, and I'm excited to dig into the work here. The need is significant, but so is the community support."

"That's exactly what we like to hear. Come on, let me introduce you to some folks. The golfers will be coming in soon for lunch, and then we'll have the presentation portion."

Robin led her around the room, introducing her to local business leaders, other nonprofit directors, and foundation staff. Y/N found herself relaxing into the conversations, her passion for the work overriding her nervousness about being the new person in the room.

"The food bank's mobile pantry program has been incredible," she found herself explaining to a group of potential donors. "We're able to reach communities that might not otherwise have access to our main distribution center. Last month alone, we served over fifteen hundred families through the mobile units."

"That's incredible," said one of the men, a local restaurant owner. "What's the biggest challenge?"

"Honestly? Awareness. People think of food insecurity and picture homelessness, but the reality is that one in eight people in our region faces food insecurity. That includes working families, seniors on fixed incomes, college students. It doesn't always look like what people expect."

The conversation continued, and Y/N felt that familiar energy that came from talking about work she truly believed in. This was why she'd moved across the country—not just for the career opportunity, but for the chance to make a real impact in a new community.

"Looks like the golfers are starting to come in," Robin said, approaching the group. "Y/N, I'd love for you to meet Joe when he gets a chance. He's been really invested in understanding the impact of our donations, and I think you two would have a great conversation."

Y/N nodded, trying to ignore the small flutter of nerves. She'd googled Joe Burrow when she'd first learned about the foundation partnership, of course. Hard not to notice that he was attractive, but she'd been more focused on understanding the foundation's giving patterns and focus areas. From what she could tell, they seemed to prioritize genuine community impact over flashy PR opportunities.

She was refilling her water glass when she noticed a small group entering from the golf course. Even if she hadn't known who Joe Burrow was, she would have noticed him—something about the way he carried himself, relaxed but confident. He was listening intently to something one of his golf partners was saying, a slight smile on his face.

He looked different than in the professional photos she'd seen. His hair was slightly messy from the golf course, and there was something approachable about him that the carefully posed media shots couldn't capture.

"Joe!" Robin called out, and he looked up, scanning the room until his eyes found hers. "Come meet Y/N from the food bank when you get a chance."

He nodded, finishing his conversation before making his way over. Y/N found herself straightening her blazer again, but not from nerves this time—from something else entirely that she couldn't quite name.

"Hey," he said, extending his hand. His handshake was firm, warm. "Joe. Thanks for being here today."

"Thanks for having me. And seriously, thank you for what the foundation does for us. It makes a huge difference."

"I'd love to hear more about that, actually. My mom mentioned you just moved here from Portland?"

"Three weeks ago. Still getting my bearings, but the work is incredible here. Your foundation's support has allowed us to expand our programming in ways that are really making a difference."

Joe's attention was completely focused on her as she spoke, a kind of intentional listening that was surprisingly intense. "What kind of expansion?"

"Well, the mobile pantry program I was just telling someone about—that's partially funded by foundation grants. But we've also been able to hire two new community liaisons to help connect people with other resources. Food insecurity is often connected to other challenges—housing instability, healthcare access, employment issues. Having people who can help navigate those systems makes a huge difference."

"That makes a lot of sense. I hadn't thought about the wraparound aspect as much."

"Most people don't, which is totally understandable. When you think 'food bank,' you think food. But often the families we serve need support in multiple areas."

Joe nodded thoughtfully. "How do you measure impact on something like that? The community liaison work?"

Y/N felt herself light up. This was exactly the kind of question that showed he was thinking seriously about the work, not just writing checks. "It's definitely more complex than counting meals distributed. We track things like how many families we're able to connect with healthcare enrollment, or job placement services, or housing assistance. But we also do follow-up surveys to understand whether people feel more stable six months later, whether kids are performing better in school when their families have more food security."

"Damn, that's a lot more involved than I realized."

"It really is. Food insecurity isn't just about hunger—it's about stability, dignity, opportunity. A kid who's worried about whether there's going to be dinner at home can't focus on homework. A parent who's choosing between groceries and prescription medication is dealing with stress that affects every part of their life."

Joe was quiet for a moment, processing what she'd said. "I grew up in a small town in Ohio. Different situation, but... I saw kids at school whose families were struggling, you know? It stays with you."

There was something in his voice—not quite vulnerability, but a recognition that felt personal. Y/N found herself studying his face, seeing something beyond the confident athlete she'd expected.

"So that's why this stuff matters to you."

"Yeah, it does. I've been fortunate, obviously. But I remember what it felt like to see friends whose families were struggling, and feeling like there wasn't much I could do about it. Now there is."

There was something genuine in his voice that caught her off guard. Y/N had worked with plenty of donors over the years—some genuinely committed, others more interested in the tax benefits or social cachet. Joe fell clearly into the first category.

"Well, you're definitely doing something about it. The foundation's support has allowed us to serve an additional four hundred families this quarter compared to the same period last year."

"Four hundred families," Joe repeated, as if calculating what that meant in practical terms.

"Which translates to roughly twelve hundred people, including about four hundred and fifty children."

Joe's eyebrows raised slightly. "That's amazing."

"It really is. And that's just our organization. I know the foundation supports other food-related initiatives too."

"We do, but I'd love to understand more about your work specifically. Would you be willing to give me a tour of your facility sometime? I like to see the programs in action when possible."

Y/N felt a flutter of something—professional excitement, she told herself. "Absolutely. I love showing people our operation. I'm still getting my bearings since I'm so new, but most people are surprised by the scale and the logistics involved."

"I'd imagine. What day works best for you?"

They were interrupted by Robin tapping a microphone at the front of the room. "If we could have everyone take their seats, we'd love to get started with the program portion of our event."

"We should probably grab seats," Joe said, but he didn't immediately move toward the tables.

"Definitely. I'll send you my contact information through Robin."

"Looking forward to it."

As they made their way to their respective tables, Y/N found herself glancing back at Joe once. He was being stopped by other attendees, but when their eyes met across the room, he gave her a small smile that made her stomach do something unexpected.

She settled into her assigned seat, only half-listening as Robin welcomed everyone and began introducing the various speakers. Her mind kept returning to their conversation—not just the content, but the way Joe had listened, the thoughtful questions he'd asked, the moment when his professional composure had slipped just slightly when he'd mentioned his childhood.

When it was her turn to speak about the food bank's impact, Y/N found herself scanning the room until she located Joe's table. He was watching attentively, and something about his focus made her feel more confident as she talked about the families they served and the difference the foundation's support was making.

"The foundation's contribution this year will allow us to provide the equivalent of one hundred and twenty thousand meals to families in our region," she concluded. "But more than that, it's helping us build a stronger, more resilient community where everyone has access to basic nutrition."

The applause was warm, and Y/N felt a flush of satisfaction as she returned to her seat. This was why she loved her work—being able to connect the numbers to real human impact, to help people understand that their support was changing lives.

As the event wound down, Y/N found herself exchanging business cards and making plans for follow-up meetings with several potential new partners. The afternoon had been more successful than she'd hoped, but she kept finding herself looking around the room for Joe.

She was packing up her materials when he appeared beside her table.

"That was really good," he said. "One hundred and twenty thousand meals - that's crazy."

"Thank you. I'm excited about the partnership and what we'll be able to accomplish this year."

"About that tour—I'm serious about wanting to see the operation. When would work for you?"

Y/N pulled out her phone to check her calendar. "I'm pretty flexible this week, if you want to come by before things get too crazy. We're always busiest at the end of the month."

"How about Thursday afternoon? Would two o'clock work?"

"Perfect. I'll send you some background information so you know what to expect."

"Sounds good." Joe paused, then added, "I'm really glad my mom introduced us. It's obvious you care about this work."

"I do. It's easy to care about something that makes such a direct difference in people's lives."

"I get that. Looking forward to Thursday."

They stood there for a moment, the conversation seeming to naturally wind down, but neither immediately moving away. Finally, Joe glanced toward where some other attendees were trying to get his attention.

"I should probably..." he gestured toward the group.

"Of course. Thanks again for today."

As Joe headed back toward the other guests, Y/N made her way to the parking lot, pulling out her phone to text Alex.

Y/N: Event went really well. Made some great connections.

Alex: Told you! Details when you get home. Proud of you.

Driving back toward downtown Cincinnati, Y/N found herself thinking about the conversation with Joe, the way he'd asked questions that showed he was thinking about the work, not just going through the motions of donor engagement. It would be good to have someone so committed to understanding their impact.

She was almost back to her apartment when she caught herself wondering what Joe would think of the mobile pantry operation. And whether he'd want to grab coffee after the tour again.

The thought made her smile.

Still, as she pulled into her parking spot, Y/N found herself already thinking about what she'd show Joe on Thursday. The warehouse operations, maybe the mobile pantry prep area. She wanted him to see how much his foundation's support actually meant in practical terms.

It wasn't until she was unlocking her apartment door that she realized she'd been smiling the entire drive home.

* * *

Y/N checked her phone for the third time in ten minutes. 1:58 PM. Joe would be here any minute for the food bank tour, and she was probably more nervous than she should be for what was essentially a professional meeting. She'd spent the morning reviewing statistics and operation details, wanting to make sure she could answer any questions he might have—though she was still learning some of the systems herself.

"You've got this," she muttered under her breath, straightening the visitor badges on her desk. Through her office window, she could see the main warehouse floor where volunteers were sorting through the morning's grocery store donations. The activity helped calm her nerves.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Alex: How's the VIP tour prep going?

Trying not to overthink it, Y/N replied. It's just a tour.

Mhmm. The fact that you texted me about what to wear for "just a tour" says otherwise. You've got this, babe. Show him why you're amazing at what you do.

Y/N smiled at her phone. Alex had been nothing but supportive about this meeting, even teasing her gently about her obvious nerves. She loved that she was with someone who encouraged her to appreciate attractive, interesting people rather than feeling threatened by it.

A knock on her office door interrupted her thoughts. "Y/N? There's someone here to see you," called Marcus, one of the volunteer coordinators.

"That'll be Joe Burrow," she said, grabbing her visitor badges and heading toward the front entrance. "I'll be right there."

Joe was standing near the reception desk, reading one of the posters about food insecurity. He was in jeans and a gray hoodie, and when he saw her coming, he smiled.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey, perfect timing," Y/N said, trying to ignore the little flutter in her stomach. "Ready to see what your foundation's support actually looks like in action?"

"Absolutely."

She handed him a visitor badge and clipped her own ID badge to her cardigan. "Fair warning—I'm still pretty new here myself, so if I don't know the answer to something, I'll find someone who does."

"That's honest. I appreciate that."

Y/N led him through the first set of doors into the main warehouse space. The scale of the operation was impressive—rows of industrial shelving stretching up to the ceiling, forklifts moving pallets of canned goods, volunteers in bright yellow t-shirts sorting donations at long tables.

"Wow," Joe said, stopping to take it all in. "This is way bigger than I expected."

"Right? When I was interviewing for the job, they told me we distribute about two million pounds of food annually, but seeing it is completely different." Y/N gestured toward the organized chaos around them. "This is our main sorting and distribution area. Most of the food comes from grocery store donations, food drives, and federal programs."

They walked deeper into the warehouse, Y/N pointing out different sections and explaining the flow of operations. Joe asked thoughtful questions—not just about the numbers, but about the logistics, the challenges, the people they served.

"So how do you decide who gets what?" he asked as they paused near a section where volunteers were packing family-sized boxes.

"Great question, and honestly, it's something I'm still learning the nuances of," Y/N admitted. "We have a client choice model here, which means families can actually shop for what they need rather than just getting a pre-packed box. It preserves dignity and ensures people get food they'll actually use."

"That makes sense. Nobody wants to feel like they're just getting whatever someone else decided they should have."

"Exactly. But it also means we need a lot more variety in our inventory, and the logistics are more complex." She paused near a volunteer who was restocking the choice pantry shelves. "Mind if we watch for a minute? I'm still figuring out how they manage the flow during busy periods."

Joe nodded, and they stood off to the side observing the organized system of clients moving through with volunteers to help when needed. Y/N found herself genuinely curious about the process, asking the volunteer coordinator questions about peak times and inventory management.

"You really are new at this," Joe said quietly, but not in a critical way. "I like that you're not pretending to know everything."

"Would that be more impressive?"

"No. This is better. Shows you actually care about getting it right."

They continued the tour, visiting the mobile pantry prep area where volunteers were loading trucks for community distribution sites. Y/N explained what she knew about the program and asked the staff member to fill in details about the routes and scheduling.

"We serve about fifteen different locations throughout the week," the staff member, Janet, explained. "Senior centers, community centers, schools. Basically anywhere we can reach people who might not be able to get to our main location."

"How do you decide where to go?" Joe asked.

"Community need assessments, requests from local organizations, that kind of thing. Y/N's actually been working on expanding our reach into some underserved areas."

Y/N felt a flush of pride. "It's preliminary research right now, but there are definitely gaps in our coverage, especially in some of the rural areas outside the city."

"What's the biggest challenge with expansion?" Joe asked as they walked back toward the main warehouse.

"Funding, mostly. Each new route means more trucks, more gas, more staff time. And then you need relationships in those communities—people who can help spread the word and coordinate." Y/N paused, realizing she was getting into details that might not interest him. "Sorry, I'm probably giving you way more information than you wanted."

"Are you kidding? This is exactly what I wanted to know. When I write a check, I want to understand what it actually does."

They'd reached the volunteer area where people were sorting through donated items, and Y/N noticed they were short-handed at one of the stations.

"Would you mind if we jumped in for a few minutes?" she asked. "I try to help out when I can, and it looks like they could use extra hands."

"Sure."

Y/N led him to a table where volunteers were sorting canned goods, checking expiration dates and organizing by type. She grabbed two chairs and explained the process—a simple but important quality control step to make sure expired items didn't make it to families.

Working side by side, their conversation became more natural and personal. Joe told her about growing up in Athens, about watching his parents work multiple jobs, about feeling lucky but never forgetting where he came from. Y/N shared stories about her previous job in Portland, about the career move to Cincinnati, about Alex and their decision to try long-distance while Y/N got established.

"That's got to be hard," Joe said, checking the date on a can of green beans. "Long distance."

"It is, but Alex has been amazing about it. She's the one who pushed me to take this job, actually. Said I'd be crazy to pass it up."

"Sounds like a good partner."

"She really is. She's actually excited about me exploring a new city, meeting new people, trying new things." Y/N glanced at Joe as she said this, wondering if he caught the subtle implication.

Joe's hands paused for just a moment in his sorting before he continued. "That's rare. A lot of people would be more possessive about that kind of change."

"Alex isn't most people. She trusts me, and she knows that me being happy and fulfilled makes our relationship stronger, not weaker."

They worked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the rhythm of sorting creating an easy intimacy. Y/N found herself hyperaware of Joe's presence beside her—the way he moved, the occasional brush of their hands when they reached for the same box, the subtle scent of his cologne.

"Y/N?" Janet appeared at their table. "Sorry to interrupt, but we've got a reporter here for that feature story about the mobile pantry program. Do you have a few minutes?"

Y/N glanced at her watch, surprised to see they'd been at the sorting table for almost thirty minutes. "Of course. Joe, I should probably—"

"Go ahead," he said. "I can finish up here."

"You don't have to—"

"I want to. Take your time."

Y/N felt that flutter again, this time at his easy willingness to stay and help rather than just observe. "I'll be right back."

The interview with the reporter took longer than expected—nearly forty-five minutes of questions about the mobile pantry program, statistics about food insecurity, and photos of the loading area. When Y/N finally made it back to the volunteer area, Joe was still there, now helping move sorted items to the appropriate storage areas.

"You didn't have to stay," she said, approaching him.

"I told you I wanted to see how this place actually works. Best way to do that is to work." He gestured to the organized stacks of canned goods. "Plus, it's kind of satisfying."

"Meditative, right? I've only been here a few weeks, but I can already see how the repetitive work would help clear your head."

They walked back toward the front of the building, the official tour portion complete. Y/N felt oddly reluctant for the visit to end, which was probably not entirely professional of her.

"So what do you think?" she asked as they reached the lobby area.

"I think I understand now why my foundation money makes such a difference. And I think you're really good at this job, even if you are still learning."

"Thank you. That means a lot, especially coming from someone who's clearly passionate about this work too."

Joe was quiet for a moment, seeming to consider something. "Can I ask you something that might be overstepping?"

"Shoot."

"Are you free for coffee? There's a place down the street, and I'd love to continue talking about some of this stuff. Maybe brainstorm about those expansion ideas you mentioned."

Y/N felt her pulse quicken. It was a perfectly reasonable request—foundation donor wanting to understand programs better. But the way Joe was looking at her suggested it wasn't entirely about the food bank.

"I'd love that," she said. "Let me just grab my jacket."

Twenty minutes later, they were settled in a corner booth at a local coffee shop, the conversation flowing easily between work topics and more personal territory. Joe was surprisingly easy to talk to—asking genuine questions, sharing his own experiences, making her laugh with dry observations about the differences between small-town Ohio and Cincinnati.

"So how long have you and Alex been together?" he asked during a lull in conversation.

"Three years. We met through work in Portland—she's a graphic designer, was doing some projects for nonprofits I was connected with."

"And she's really okay with you being here while she's still there?"

"More than okay. She's actually the one who convinced me to take the job."

"That's cool of her. A lot of people would be more worried about that kind of separation. Even if its just temporary."

"Alex isn't most people. She's very secure in our relationship." Y/N paused, then added, "We're pretty open about a lot of things."

Joe raised an eyebrow. "Open how?"

"We have an open relationship," Y/N said simply. "We trust each other completely, and we both believe that connection with other people can enhance rather than threaten what we have together."

Joe set down his coffee cup carefully. "That's... refreshingly honest."

"Is that weird to say?"

"No. I appreciate honesty. Saves everyone time and confusion."

They looked at each other across the table, and Y/N felt something shift in the air between them. Joe's eyes were steady on hers, and she found herself wondering what he was thinking.

"So you're both free to... explore?" he asked.

"We are. Though honestly, I haven't really taken advantage of that much."

"Why not?"

Y/N hesitated, not sure how much to reveal. "I guess I haven't really felt drawn to it before."

"But you're open to it?"

"I am." She met his gaze directly. "Theoretically."

Joe's smile was slow and warm. "Theoretically."

"Well," Y/N said, feeling heat rise in her cheeks, "maybe not just theoretically."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, both processing the conversation. Y/N felt nervous but not regretful about her honesty.

"This is all pretty new territory for me," Y/N admitted.

"I figured," Joe said. "For what it's worth, I'm interested in getting to know you better."

Y/N felt her heart skip. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. But no pressure. We can take things slow, see what feels right."

"I'd like that."

Joe's smile was warm and reassuring. "Good."

They finished their coffee talking about lighter topics, but the undercurrent of attraction remained, humming beneath every exchanged glance and casual touch. When Joe walked her back to her car, Y/N felt like she was standing at the edge of something entirely new.

"Thank you for today," she said as they reached her car. "The tour, the coffee, the sorting help. All of it."

"Thank you for showing me around. And for being honest about... everything."

They stood close together in the parking lot, the late afternoon sun casting shadows between them. Y/N could feel the pull to step closer, to see what would happen if she did.

Instead, Joe took a small step back, giving her space but keeping his eyes on hers.

"I'd like to see you again," he said. "Outside of work stuff."

"I'd like that too."

"How about dinner? Somewhere we can actually talk without interruption."

"When?"

"Saturday? If that works with your schedule."

"Saturday works."

Joe pulled out his phone. "What's your number?"

As they exchanged contact information, Y/N felt a mix of excitement and nervousness that reminded her of being a teenager with her first crush. Except this wasn't teenage infatuation—this was adult attraction with all its complexities and possibilities.

"I'll text you about dinner plans," Joe said.

"Looking forward to it."

Joe got into his car, but before pulling away, he rolled down his window.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"Alex is lucky to have someone who's brave enough to be honest about what they want."

As he drove away, Y/N stood in the parking lot for a long moment, processing what had just happened. She'd acknowledged her attraction to a man for the first time in her life. She'd been honest about her open relationship. She'd made plans for what was definitely going to be a date.

And instead of feeling conflicted or guilty, she felt excited.

She pulled out her phone to text Alex.

The tour went really well. Joe's amazing - so genuine about the work. We ended up getting coffee after and talked for hours.

That's awesome! I told you he'd be impressed by your passion. How was it getting to know him better?

Really good. Alex... he asked about our relationship.

And?

I told him we're open. He seemed interested in exploring that.

How do you feel about that?

Nervous but excited. That's normal, right?

Totally normal. Good for you. Talk tonight?

Definitely. Love you.

Love you too. Proud of you for being open to new experiences.

Y/N smiled at her phone, feeling grateful once again for Alex's support and encouragement. Whatever was developing with Joe, she knew she had Alex's blessing to explore it.

* * *

Y/N stood in front of her closet Saturday evening, holding up two different dresses and feeling ridiculous about how much thought she was putting into this. It was just dinner. With someone she'd already spent several hours with this week. Someone who'd seen her in work clothes sorting canned goods.

But it was also her first real date with a man, and she had no idea what that was supposed to feel like.

Her phone buzzed on the dresser—a FaceTime call from Alex. Y/N answered, propping the phone against her mirror.

"Okay, show me the options," Alex said without preamble, already settled in what looked like her favorite coffee shop in Portland.

"You don't even know what I'm deciding between."

"Babe, you've been texting me outfit updates for the past hour. I know exactly what this is about. Now show me."

Y/N held up the two dresses. "The black one is probably safer, but the blue one is more—"

"The blue one."

"You didn't even let me finish."

"The blue one makes your eyes look incredible, and more importantly, it's the one you actually want to wear. I can tell by how you're holding it."

Y/N looked down at the blue dress in her right hand. Alex was right—she'd been gravitating toward it all afternoon.

"What if I'm overdressed? We're just going to some Italian place downtown."

"Y/N." Alex's voice was gentle but firm. "You're spiraling. Take a breath."

Y/N sat on the edge of her bed, phone in hand. "I don't know why I'm so nervous. It's not like I've never been on a date before."

"But you've never been on a date with a man before. That's different, and it's okay to be nervous about different."

"What if I don't know how to act? What if it's weird?"

"Then it'll be weird, and you'll figure it out. But Y/N, from everything you've told me about Joe, he seems like someone who'd make you feel comfortable being yourself."

"He does. That's what's confusing me. I keep expecting it to feel strange or forced, but it doesn't."

Y/N was quiet for a moment, processing. "I keep thinking about Thursday. The way he looked at me when we were talking. I've never had a guy look at me like that before."

"How did it make you feel?"

"Like... like I wanted him to keep looking at me like that." Y/N felt heat rise in her cheeks.

Alex's smile was warm and knowing. "That's good, babe."

"Okay. Blue dress it is."

"Blue dress. And Y/N? Have fun tonight. Don't spend the whole time analyzing everything. Just see what happens."

After they hung up, Y/N felt better. She put on the blue dress, touched up her makeup, and was ready with five minutes to spare when Joe texted that he was outside.

She grabbed her purse and jacket, took one last look in the mirror, and headed downstairs.

Joe was leaning against a dark sedan, scrolling through his phone, when she emerged from her apartment building. When he looked up and saw her, his expression shifted into something warmer.

"Hey," he said, straightening up. "You look really nice."

"Thanks. So do you."

He was wearing dark jeans and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up—casual but put-together. It was the kind of effortless style that probably took no thought for him but looked intentionally perfect.

Joe moved to open the passenger door for her, his hand briefly touching her lower back as she got into the car. It was a small gesture, polite and natural, but Y/N felt hyperaware of the contact.

"So where are we going?" she asked as he got into the driver's seat.

"This place called Boca. It's in OTR—Over-the-Rhine. Have you explored that area yet?"

"Not really. I've been meaning to, but I keep getting caught up in work stuff."

"You'll like it. Good food, not too loud. We can actually have a conversation."

The drive to the restaurant was comfortable, filled with easy conversation about Cincinnati neighborhoods and Y/N's impressions of the city so far. Joe had obviously put thought into choosing somewhere she might enjoy, which felt considerate in a way that made her chest warm.

Boca was intimate without being stuffy—exposed brick walls, warm lighting, and tables spaced far enough apart for privacy. Joe had made a reservation, and they were seated at a quiet corner table away from the main dining room.

"This is really nice," Y/N said, settling into her seat.

"I was hoping you'd like it. I figured somewhere low-key would be better for a first..." He paused, seeming to consider his words.

"First date?" Y/N supplied, amused by his hesitation.

"I wasn't sure if that's what you'd call it."

"What would you call it?"

Joe's smile was slightly crooked. "I'd call it a date. If that's okay with you."

"It's okay with me."

They ordered wine and settled into the kind of conversation that had come naturally to them from the beginning. Joe asked about her transition to Cincinnati, her impressions of the food bank's operations, her plans for the mobile pantry expansion. Y/N found herself asking about his off-season routine, his foundation work, what he did when he wasn't being Joe Burrow the quarterback.

"That's an interesting question," Joe said, twirling pasta around his fork. "Sometimes I'm not sure there's much separation between the two."

"That sounds exhausting."

"It can be. But it's also just... who I am now. Hard to turn it off."

"Do you want to turn it off?"

Joe considered this. "Sometimes. It would be nice to go to a restaurant without wondering if someone's going to ask for a photo. Or to have a conversation without thinking about whether what I'm saying might end up on social media."

"Is that what you're thinking about now?"

"No." His answer was immediate and certain. "This feels different."

"Different how?"

"Normal. Like I can just be myself without thinking about it."

Y/N felt something flutter in her chest at the sincerity in his voice. "I'm glad."

Their conversation drifted to more personal territory—family, college experiences, travel. Y/N found herself sharing stories she didn't usually tell on first dates, feeling unusually comfortable with Joe's quiet attention.

"What about you?" Joe asked during dessert. "What do you do when you're not being Y/N the community impact director?"

"Honestly? I'm still figuring that out here. In Portland I had routines, favorite places, a whole life outside work. Here I'm still exploring."

"What did you like to do there?"

"Hiking, mostly. Alex and I would drive out to the Gorge or up to Mount Hood on weekends. I miss that."

"There's good hiking here too. Different, but good. Red River Gorge in Kentucky is about two hours away."

"You hike?"

"When I can. It's one of the few things that actually clears my head completely."

"I've been trying to figure out where the good spots are around here."

"I could show you some places. If you want."

The offer hung between them, loaded with implication. It was an invitation to spend more time together, to share something he enjoyed, to continue whatever this was they were building.

"I'd like that," Y/N said.

After dinner, Joe suggested they walk around the neighborhood instead of heading straight back to the car. The evening was warm for October, and Y/N found herself agreeing easily.

They strolled down the tree-lined streets, past converted townhouses and small galleries, their conversation becoming more relaxed and wandering. Joe pointed out places he liked—a coffee shop, a bookstore, a small park tucked between buildings.

"You seem to know this area pretty well," Y/N observed.

"I bought a place near here when I first got to Cincinnati. Sold it last year, but I still like the neighborhood."

"Why did you sell?"

"Wanted something with more space. The place I have now has an actual yard, which is nice when I need to decompress."

They'd stopped walking and were standing near a small fountain in the tucked-away park Joe had mentioned. The space was quiet, lit by vintage streetlamps that cast warm pools of light on the walkways.

"This is really pretty," Y/N said, looking around.

"Yeah, it is." Joe glanced around the small park. "I used to come here sometimes when I lived in the neighborhood."

"Y/N," he said, his voice quieter than before.

"Yeah?"

Instead of answering, Joe stepped closer. His hand came up to touch her arm, just above her elbow, his thumb brushing lightly against the fabric of her dress.

"Is this okay?" he asked.

Y/N nodded, not trusting her voice. The simple contact was sending heat up her arm and making her hyperaware of how close they were standing.

Joe's other hand came up to touch her face, his fingertips tracing along her jawline. Y/N felt her eyes flutter closed at the gentle contact, her breath coming shorter.

When Y/N opened her eyes, Joe was very close, close enough that she could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, close enough to feel his breath warm against her face.

Joe leaned down and kissed her.

It was soft at first, tentative, giving her time to pull away if she wanted to. But Y/N found herself leaning into the kiss instead, her hands coming up to rest against his chest.

Joe's lips were warm and gentle, moving against hers with a patience that made her melt. This was nothing like kissing Alex—different texture, different taste, different rhythm. Where Alex was soft and familiar, Joe was firm and new and thrilling.

When they broke apart, Y/N realized she was breathing hard.

"Wow," she said, then immediately felt foolish for such an inelegant response.

Joe's smile was warm. "Good?"

"Very good."

They stood close together for another moment, Y/N processing the newness of everything she'd just felt. Joe's hands were still on her face and arm, anchoring her while she adjusted to the rush of sensations.

"That was..." she started, then trailed off.

"Your first time kissing a guy," Joe finished gently.

"Yeah. Was it obvious?"

"Not obvious. Just... different."

Y/N felt heat rise in her cheeks. "Different how?"

"Like you were really present for it. Like you were paying attention to everything."

"I was. It was... a lot to take in."

Joe's thumb brushed against her cheek. "What did you think?"

Y/N considered the question seriously. What had she thought? The physical sensation had been different than she'd expected—Joe's facial hair creating a texture she wasn't used to, his mouth firmer than Alex's, his hands larger and rougher. But more than that, it had awakened something in her she hadn't known was there.

"I liked it," she said simply. "You're a really good kisser."

"Yeah?"

"I thought it might feel strange or wrong somehow. But it didn't. It felt..." She searched for the right word. "Natural."Joe's smile was soft and genuine. "I'm glad."

He leaned down to kiss her again, and this time Y/N was ready for it. She kissed him back with more confidence, letting herself explore the newness of his mouth, the way he tasted, the way his hands felt tangled in her hair.

When they separated this time, Y/N felt more confident but also more aware of the attraction between them.

"We should probably head back," Joe said, though he didn't sound particularly eager to move.

"Probably."

They walked back to the car hand in hand, a comfortable silence settling between them. Y/N found herself stealing glances at Joe, trying to process the shift in how she saw him. An hour ago he'd been attractive in an abstract way. Now she was hyperaware of his physical presence—the way he moved, the size of his hand holding hers, the memory of how he'd felt pressed against her.

When they reached her apartment building, Joe walked her to the entrance.

"I had a really good time tonight," he said.

"So did I."

"I'd like to see you again. Soon."

"I'd like that too."

Joe leaned down to kiss her goodnight, and Y/N found herself rising up on her toes to meet him halfway. This kiss was brief but warm, full of promise.

"I'll call you tomorrow?" Joe asked.

"I'll answer."

Y/N watched from her window as Joe drove away, then sank onto her couch to process the evening. She felt energized and confused and excited all at once.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Alex: How did it go?

Y/N stared at the question for a long moment, trying to figure out how to encapsulate everything that had happened.

He kissed me, she finally typed.

And???

I really, really liked it.

I'm so happy for you! Call me tomorrow with details?

Definitely. Love you.

Y/N set her phone aside and touched her lips, still able to feel the ghost of Joe's mouth against hers.

Tomorrow she'd call Alex and try to put words to everything she was feeling. Tonight, she just wanted to sit with the newness of it all—the discovery that attraction could surprise you, that desire could be broader than you'd imagined, that sometimes the most unexpected connections were the ones that felt most right.

* * *

Y/N had been thinking about Joe's mouth for three days.

It was becoming a problem. She'd catch herself zoning out during meetings, her mind drifting back to Saturday night in that little park, to the way he'd kissed her with such careful attention. She'd touched her lips more times than she cared to admit, still able to feel the ghost of his mouth against hers.

Joe had texted Sunday morning, then called Monday evening. Their conversations were easy and warm, but underneath was a current of something that made Y/N's stomach flutter every time her phone buzzed with his name.

Which was why, when he asked if she wanted to come over Wednesday night to cook dinner together, she'd said yes before really thinking about what that meant.

Now, standing outside his house in the suburbs with a bottle of wine and her heart beating faster than usual, she was very aware of what it might mean.

Joe's house was bigger than she'd expected—modern but not flashy, clean lines and lots of windows. He answered the door in sweats and a t-shirt, socks on his feet, looking more relaxed than she'd seen him before.

"Hey," he said, smiling as he took the wine from her. "You found it okay?"

"GPS is a wonderful thing."

"Come on in. I'm making salmon, nothing too crazy."

The house was warm and inviting, decorated in neutral tones with touches that felt personal rather than professionally styled. Y/N could smell garlic and herbs from the kitchen, and there was music playing softly in the background.

"This is really nice," she said, following him toward the kitchen.

"Thanks. It's probably too big for one person, but I like having space."

The kitchen was sleek and clearly designed for someone who actually cooked. Joe had ingredients laid out on the counter—salmon fillets, vegetables, what looked like seasonings and a marinade.

"Can I help with anything?" Y/N asked.

"You can keep me company. And maybe open that wine."

Y/N found a corkscrew and opened the bottle while Joe moved around the kitchen with easy efficiency. There was something attractive about watching him cook—the confidence in his movements, the way he tasted the sauce and adjusted seasoning without measuring.

"You know what you're doing," she observed.

"My mom made sure I could take care of myself. Said she wasn't raising a man who'd live on takeout."

"Smart woman."

"She really is. You'd like her."

The comment made her stomach flutter a little.

They talked while Joe cooked, the conversation flowing as easily as it had at dinner Saturday. But there was an undercurrent of awareness now, a charge in the air that hadn't been there before they'd kissed. Y/N found herself watching Joe's hands as he chopped vegetables, remembering how they'd felt on her face.

"You're staring," Joe said, not looking up from the cutting board.

"Sorry." Y/N felt heat rise in her cheeks.

"I didn't say I minded."

When Joe glanced up at her, his expression was warm and knowing. Y/N felt that flutter again, stronger this time.

They ate at his kitchen island, the conversation turning more personal as the wine relaxed them both. Joe asked about her family, her childhood, what had drawn her to nonprofit work. Y/N found herself sharing stories she didn't usually tell, feeling safe in the cocoon of his attention.

"What about you?" she asked as they finished eating. "What did you want to be when you grew up? Before football took over."

Joe considered this. "I was actually better at basketball growing up. Thought that might be my path for a while."

"Really?"

"Yeah, but football won out eventually. Sometimes I wonder what would've happened if I'd stuck with basketball."

"Any regrets?"

"Nah. This worked out pretty well."

Y/N smiled. "Just a little."

The easy conversation made her feel relaxed, but she was also aware of the way Joe was looking at her as he stood to clear their plates.

"I can help with those," she said.

"Leave them for now," Joe said, setting the plates back down. "They're not going anywhere."

Y/N slid off her barstool, suddenly needing to be closer to him. "Good point."

Joe's eyes darkened slightly as she approached. "What are you thinking?"

They stood looking at each other across the kitchen island, the air between them charged with possibility. Finally, Joe moved around the counter to where she was standing.

"What do you want, Y/N?" he asked softly.

It was the same question he'd asked in different ways before—always checking, always making sure she was comfortable. But this time, Y/N felt more certain of her answer.

"I want to kiss you again," she said. "And I want to see what happens after that."

Joe's smile was slow and warm. "I can work with that."

He leaned down to kiss her, and this time Y/N was ready for it. She kissed him back with more confidence than she'd had Saturday night, letting herself explore the taste of him, the way his mouth moved against hers.

Joe's hands settled on her waist, pulling her closer, and Y/N felt heat spread through her chest at the contact. When his tongue brushed against her lower lip, she opened for him, a soft sound escaping her throat at the new sensation.

"Okay?" Joe murmured against her mouth.

"Absolutely."

They kissed until Y/N felt breathless, her hands fisted in Joe's t-shirt, her body pressed against his. When they finally broke apart, Joe rested his forehead against hers.

"Come sit with me?" he said.

He led her to the living room, settling onto the couch and pulling her down beside him. The room was dimly lit, warm and intimate, and Y/N felt hyperaware of every point of contact between them.

"I keep thinking about Saturday night," Y/N said quietly.

"Yeah?"

"About how it felt. How natural it was." She paused. "I keep thinking about your hands."

"My hands?"

"The way they felt on my face. On my waist just now." She gathered courage. "I keep wondering what they'd feel like other places."

Joe's breath caught slightly. "Y/N..."

"Is that too much?"

"No. God, no. I just want to make sure you're sure."

"I'm sure. I'm nervous, but I'm sure."

Joe shifted to face her more fully, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. "We can go slow. Stop anytime."

"I know. I trust you."

When Joe kissed her this time, it was deeper, more intent. His hands moved from her face to her neck, her shoulders, skimming along her arms in a way that made her shiver. Y/N found herself leaning into his touch, craving more contact.

"Can I touch you?" Joe asked, his voice rougher than before."Can I touch you?" Joe asked, his voice rougher than before.

"Please."

Joe's hands moved to her waist, then slowly up her sides, his thumbs brushing just beneath her ribs. Even through her sweater, the contact sent heat shooting through Y/N's body.

"How does that feel?" he asked.

"Good. Really good."

Joe's hands continued their exploration, mapping the shape of her through her clothes with a patience that was both torturous and perfect. When his thumb brushed against the side of her breast, Y/N gasped.

"Still good?"

"Still good."

Y/N's own hands had found their way to Joe's chest, marveling at the solid muscle beneath his t-shirt. Everything about touching him was different than touching Alex—broader, harder, unfamiliar in a way that made her want to explore more.

"Can I..." she started, then tugged at the hem of his shirt.

Joe pulled the shirt over his head without hesitation, and Y/N felt her mouth go dry. She'd seen him shirtless in magazines and on TV, but seeing him here, in person, touchable, was entirely different.

"Jesus," she breathed.

Joe's laugh was low and pleased. "Good?"

"Shut up, you know it's good," Y/N said, putting her hands on his chest, exploring the planes of muscle, the texture of his skin. Joe's breath hitched when her fingers traced along his collarbone, and the sound sent a thrill through her.

"Your turn," Joe said, his hands finding the hem of her sweater.

Y/N felt a moment of nervousness—this was further than she'd ever gone with a man—but she nodded. Joe pulled her sweater off slowly, giving her time to change her mind. But Y/N didn't want to change her mind. She wanted to see what it felt like to be touched by him, to discover this new territory of her own desire.

"You're beautiful," Joe said, his voice soft with appreciation.

Y/N felt exposed but not uncomfortable. The way Joe was looking at her—with genuine admiration and barely restrained want—made her feel powerful in a way she hadn't expected.

"Touch me," she said.

Joe's hands were warm against her skin, tracing patterns along her ribs, her shoulders, the line of her collarbone. When his mouth followed the path of his hands, pressing soft kisses to her throat, Y/N felt her head fall back against the couch cushions.

"You taste good," Joe murmured against her neck.

Y/N was quickly losing the ability to form coherent thoughts. Every touch, every kiss was new and overwhelming and not nearly enough all at once. When Joe's mouth found that sensitive spot just below her ear, she made a sound she'd never made before.

"I like that sound," Joe said, his breath warm against her skin.

"I like what you're doing to make me make it."

They kissed and touched until Y/N felt completely undone, her body aching with need and hypersensitive to every brush of his hands. Joe’s touch was confident but reverent, slow and deliberate, like he was learning her by heart. His mouth dragged along her neck, down to her collarbone, his stubble rough against her skin in a way that made her breath hitch. When his hand slipped under the band of her bra and found her breast, she gasped—his palm was warm, his thumb circling her nipple until it tightened under his touch. He watched her face as he touched her, like he wanted to see every reaction, memorize every sound she made.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Y/N felt like she was seeing the world differently.

"Fuck," she said, still breathing heavily.

"Still good?"

"I'm good, I promise." Y/N looked at Joe, taking in his disheveled hair, his swollen lips, the way he was looking at her. "Joe?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I understand now. What I was missing."

"What's that?"

"This feeling. This... wanting." She paused, trying to find the right words. "I always thought I just wasn't attracted to men. But I think maybe I just hadn't met the right man."

Joe's smile was soft and genuine. "I'm glad it was me."

"Me too."

They stayed on the couch for a while longer, talking quietly, sharing soft kisses, Y/N's head on Joe's shoulder. There was an intimacy to it that felt both new and natural, like they were settling into something bigger than either of them had expected.

"I should probably head home," Y/N said eventually, though she made no move to get up.

"You don't have to."

"I know. But I think I need some time to process all of this."

"I understand."

Joe helped her find her sweater, then walked her to the door. They kissed goodnight on his front step, a long, slow kiss that left Y/N's knees weak.

"When can I see you again?" Joe asked.

"Soon," Y/N said. "Very soon."

On the drive home, Y/N called Alex.

"Hey babe," Alex answered. "How was dinner?"

"Life-changing," Y/N said without thinking.

"That good, huh?"

"Alex, I think I'm really attracted to him. Like, I'm attracted to a man."

"I can hear the smile in your voice. Tell me everything."

Y/N found herself sharing details she might have kept private before, but Alex's enthusiasm and support made it easy to be open.

"How do you feel about all of this?" Alex asked when Y/N finished.

"Excited. Nervous. Grateful that you're okay with me exploring this."

"Babe, I love seeing you discover new things about yourself. It doesn't threaten what we have—it makes you more you."

"I love you," Y/N said, meaning it completely.

"I love you too. Now get some sleep. You sound exhausted."

"Good exhausted."

"The best kind."

As Y/N got ready for bed, she caught herself smiling in the bathroom mirror. Her lips were still slightly swollen from kissing Joe, and she looked... different somehow. More alive.

* * *

Y/N had made it exactly three days before texting Joe again.

Not that she was counting, but Friday afternoon found her staring at her phone, trying to compose a message that didn't sound as desperate as she felt. She'd been thinking about Wednesday night constantly—the way Joe's hands had felt on her skin, the sounds he'd made when she'd touched him, the way her body had responded to his attention in completely new ways.

Are you free tonight? she finally typed, then immediately deleted it.

Want to hang out tonight? Delete.

I can't stop thinking about you. Delete, delete, delete.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming text from Joe: Been thinking about you. Want to come over tonight?

Y/N stared at the message. Thank god. Yes. What time?

Whenever you want. I'll cook again.

Perfect.

Y/N spent the rest of the afternoon in a state of nervous anticipation. She knew where this was heading—they both did. The question wasn't whether they'd end up in bed together, but how it would feel when they did.

She called Alex during her lunch break, needing to talk through her nerves with someone who understood.

"I think tonight's going to be the night," Y/N said without preamble when Alex answered.

"The night for what?" Alex asked, though her tone suggested she already knew.

"You know what."

"I want to hear you say it."

"I think Joe and I are going to have sex tonight."

"How do you feel about that?"

"Terrified. Excited. Like I might throw up."

Alex laughed. "That sounds about right for a first time. What are you most nervous about?"

"What if I don't know what I'm doing? What if it's weird? What if I don't like it as much as I think I will?"

"Babe, breathe. First of all, from everything you've told me about Joe, he's not going to judge you for being inexperienced with men. Second, you're allowed to not like things. You're allowed to ask for what you want. And you're definitely allowed to stop if something doesn't feel right."

"I know. Logically I know all of that."

"But?"

"But this feels really important. Like it's going to tell me something fundamental about myself."

"It might. Or it might just be good sex with someone you're attracted to. Both are okay."

Y/N took a deep breath. "You're right."

"I usually am. Now go have fun, be safe, and call me tomorrow with all the details."

"All the details?"

"Okay, maybe not all the details. But I want to know how you're feeling afterward."

"Deal."

Y/N arrived at Joe's house at seven on the dot, carrying a bottle of wine and trying to calm her racing heart. Joe answered the door looking relaxed and gorgeous in jeans and a simple button-down shirt.

"Hey," he said, smiling as he let her in. "You look nervous."

"I am nervous."

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I'll get it together."

Joe leaned down to kiss her hello, and Y/N felt some of her tension ease at the familiar warmth of his mouth. When they broke apart, he studied her face.

"We don't have to do anything you're not ready for," he said. "No pressure."

"I know. That's part of why I'm here."

They had dinner—salmon and vegetables again, because Joe said he'd been perfecting the recipe—and talked about their weeks. The conversation was easy, but Y/N could feel the undercurrent of anticipation between them.

"You're thinking really hard about something," Joe observed as they finished eating.

"I'm always thinking."

"What about specifically?"

Y/N set down her wine glass and looked at him directly. "About whether you're going to kiss me again tonight. About whether I want you to do more than kiss me. About whether I'm ready for that."

"And what are you deciding?"

"That I want to find out."

Joe's expression softened. "You sure?"

"I'm sure I want to try. I'm sure I trust you. I'm sure I'm attracted to you in ways I didn't know I could be attracted to anyone."

Joe stood and extended his hand. "Come here."

Y/N took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. He kissed her softly, thoroughly, his hands settling on her waist.

"If you want to stop at any point, you tell me," he said against her mouth. "Promise me."

"I promise."

Joe led her upstairs to his bedroom, and Y/N felt her heart racing. The room was clean and simple—dark furniture, white sheets, big windows. It looked like him.

"Second thoughts?" Joe asked, noticing her pause.

"No. Just... taking it in."

Joe sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her to stand between his legs. His hands rested on her hips, thumbs tracing small circles through her dress.

"We can go as slow as you want," he said.

"What if I don't want to go slow?"

Joe's eyes darkened. "Then we don't go slow."

Y/N leaned down to kiss him, putting all of her want and nervousness and curiosity into the contact. Joe's hands tightened on her hips, pulling her closer, and Y/N felt heat pool in her stomach.

"Can I undress you?" Joe asked when they broke apart.

"Yes."

Joe's hands were careful and reverent as he helped her out of her dress, pressing soft kisses to newly exposed skin. Y/N shivered under his attention, amazed at how different it felt to be undressed by a man—his hands larger and rougher than Alex's, his approach both gentle and possessive.

Joe let her undress him slowly, her hands exploring the broad planes of his chest, the definition of his arms, the line of hair that disappeared beneath his jeans. Everything about his body was different than what she was used to, and she found herself fascinated by the contrasts.

"You're staring again," Joe said, his voice amused.

"I'm learning."

"What are you learning?"

"That I really like looking at you. Touching you."

Joe groaned softly and pulled her down onto the bed with him. They kissed and touched until Y/N felt dizzy with want, her body responding to Joe's attention in ways that surprised her.

"How are you feeling?" Joe asked, his mouth against her neck.

"Like I understand what people write songs about now."

Joe laughed, the sound vibrating against her skin. "That good?"

"That good."

Joe's hands and mouth continued their exploration, finding places that made Y/N gasp and arch against him. When he asked permission before touching her more intimately, Y/N nodded eagerly.

"Yes. Please."

The first touch of Joe's fingers between her legs made Y/N cry out softly. The sensation was familiar but somehow completely different—his fingers longer and more insistent than Alex's, his approach confident in a way that made her melt.

"Feel good?" Joe asked, his voice rough.

"So good. God, Joe."

Y/N pulled Joe down for a kiss, tasting herself on his mouth and finding it incredibly erotic. Her hands moved to his jeans, fumbling with the button.

"Can I?" she asked.

"You don't have to—"

"I want to. I want to touch you."

Joe helped her get his sweats off, and Y/N felt her mouth go dry as she took in the full sight of him. She'd felt him through his clothes, but seeing him naked was different—bigger than she'd expected, harder, undeniably male in a way that made her stomach clench with want.

"You okay?" Joe asked, noticing her pause.

"Just... fuck."

Y/N reached out tentatively, wrapping her hand around him and marveling at the way he felt—warm and smooth and solid. Joe's breath hitched at her touch, and the sound gave her confidence to explore more boldly.

"Like this?" she asked, experimenting with different pressures and rhythms.

"Yes. God, yes."

Y/N found herself fascinated by Joe's responses—the way his breathing changed, the sounds he made, the way his hips moved seeking more contact. It was powerful knowing she could affect him like this.

"Y/N," Joe said, his voice strained. "I want to be inside you."

The words sent a jolt of heat through her. "I want that too."

Joe reached for protection, and Y/N watched as he put it on, her heart racing with anticipation and nerves.

"You sure?" he asked one more time.

"I'm sure."

Joe positioned himself above her, and Y/N felt her breath catch as she felt him against her. This was it—the moment she'd been both wanting and nervous about.

"Look at me," Joe said softly.

Y/N met his eyes as he pushed into her slowly, carefully. The sensation was intense—a fullness and stretch that was completely different than anything she'd experienced before. Joe paused, letting her adjust, his face tight with restraint.

"Okay?" he asked.

"Okay. Yeah, okay."

Joe began to move, slowly at first, letting Y/N get used to the rhythm and sensation. It was overwhelming in the best way—different than she'd expected but exactly what she'd needed.

"Feel okay?" Joe asked, his voice rough with effort.

"Yeah. Keep going."

As Joe's movements became more confident, Y/N found herself lost in sensation. This was what she'd been missing, what she'd been curious about. Not just the physical mechanics, but the emotional intensity of being connected to someone this way.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Joe said, his forehead pressed against hers.

Y/N could only moan in response, her body building toward another climax. When Joe shifted the angle slightly, hitting something inside her that made her see stars, she cried out.

"Right there?"

"Right there."

Joe maintained that rhythm until Y/N fell apart beneath him, her orgasm even more intense than the first. The sensation of her climaxing around him pushed Joe over the edge, and he came with a groan, his face buried in her neck.

They lay tangled together afterward, both breathing hard. Y/N felt overwhelmed and satisfied and amazed all at once.

"How was that?" Joe asked eventually.

"Life-changing," Y/N said, echoing what she'd told Alex after their first dinner. "Seriously."

Y/N turned in Joe's arms to face him. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being patient. For making it good. For helping me figure this out."

Joe's smile was soft. "Thank you for trusting me with it."

They talked quietly for a while, Y/N processing everything she'd just experienced. It wasn't just that the sex had been good—though it had been incredible. It was that she finally understood what she'd been missing, what her body was capable of responding to.

"I should probably head home," Y/N said eventually, though she made no move to get up.

"Stay," Joe said. "If you want to."

Y/N considered it. Part of her wanted to stay, to see what it felt like to wake up next to him. But another part needed space to process everything that had just happened.

"I think I need to go home tonight," she said. "But can I see you again soon?"

"Anytime you want."

Joe walked her to her car, kissing her goodnight under the streetlight. Y/N drove home in a daze, her body still humming from Joe's touch.

She called Alex as soon as she got to her apartment.

"So?" Alex said without preamble.

"So I definitely like men," Y/N said. "Or at least, I definitely like Joe."

"Details?"

"It was incredible, Alex. Different than I expected but so good. I understand now why people make such a big deal about sexual chemistry."

"I'm so happy for you. How do you feel?"

"Like I discovered a whole new part of myself. Like everything makes more sense now."

"That's beautiful, babe. I'm proud of you for being brave enough to explore this."

"Thank you for being okay with it. For encouraging me."

"I love you, Y/N. All of you. Including the parts you're still discovering."

After they hung up, Y/N lay in bed thinking about everything that had changed. A month ago, she would never have imagined she'd be here—sexually satisfied by a man, understanding her own bisexuality in a completely new way, grateful for the support of her girlfriend as she explored attraction she'd never known she possessed.

* * *

Three months later

Y/N was laughing so hard she could barely breathe, clutching her stomach as Joe continued his story about a play call gone wrong during practice.

"And then coach is screaming from the sideline, right?" Joe said, gesturing with his beer bottle. "But nobody can hear him because the music's too loud, so half the team runs the wrong route and I'm just standing there with the ball like an idiot."

"Oh no," Alex said from her spot on the other end of the couch, grinning. "Please tell me someone got that on film."

"Of course they did. It's probably still making the rounds on the internet."

They were sprawled across Joe's living room on a lazy Sunday afternoon, the remnants of the brunch Joe had made scattered across the coffee table. Alex was visiting for the weekend—her first trip to Cincinnati since Y/N had moved—and Y/N had been nervous about how this dynamic would work in person.

She shouldn't have worried. Alex and Joe had hit it off immediately, bonding over their shared amusement at Y/N's tendency to overthink everything and their mutual appreciation for good coffee. Watching them together, Y/N felt a warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with the mimosas they'd been drinking.

"I still can't believe you've been hiding cooking skills this whole time," Alex said to Joe. "Y/N made it sound like you lived on protein bars and takeout."

"Hey," Y/N protested. "I said he could cook fish. I didn't know about the whole Sunday brunch situation."

"Man of mystery," Joe said with a shrug, but his smile was warm.

The easy banter between the three of them was exactly what Y/N had hoped for. Over the past few months, things with Joe had settled into something she hadn't expected—close and comfortable, but not complicated.

They'd continued sleeping together for about six weeks after that first night, exploring Y/N's newfound attraction with an enthusiasm that had surprised them both. But gradually, naturally, things had shifted. Y/N had started dating other men—tentatively at first, then with growing confidence as she understood what she was looking for. Joe had been nothing but supportive, even helpful in navigating the sometimes complicated world of dating as someone in an open relationship.

"I should probably get going soon," Alex said, checking her phone. "Flight's soon."

"I'll drive you," Y/N said, starting to gather the dishes.

"Actually," Joe said, "would it be weird if I tagged along? I want to hear more about this gallery opening you're working on."

"Not weird at all," Alex said. "I'd like that."

An hour later, they were standing in the airport terminal, Alex's bag checked and her boarding pass in hand. Y/N felt the familiar tug of sadness that came with these goodbyes, even though Alex would be moving to Cincinnati permanently in just two months.

"This was really great," Alex said, pulling Y/N into a hug. "I'm so glad I finally got to spend real time with Joe."

"What do you think?" Y/N asked quietly.

"I think he's exactly what you said he was. Good for you, supportive, genuinely cares about your happiness." Alex smiled. "And I think you two have figured out something really special."

Over Alex's shoulder, Y/N could see Joe standing a respectful distance away, scrolling through his phone to give them privacy. The sight of him—patient, considerate, completely secure in his place in her life—made her chest tight with affection.

"I really love him," Y/N said, surprising herself with the admission.

"I know you do. And he loves you too, just maybe not in the way either of you expected."

Alex was right. What Y/N felt for Joe wasn't the same as what she felt for Alex, but it wasn't less meaningful. It was something else entirely—a deep friendship built on trust and discovery, seasoned with attraction but not defined by it.

"Thank you," Y/N said. "For being okay with all of this. For encouraging me to explore. For never making me feel like I had to choose."

"Babe, you never have to thank me for loving all of you."

After Alex's plane took off, Joe and Y/N drove back toward the city in comfortable silence. Finally, Joe spoke.

"She's really great."

"She is."

"I can see why you love her."

Y/N glanced at him. "How are you feeling about everything? The whole weekend, I mean."

Joe was quiet for a moment, considering. "Good. Really good, actually. It's nice to see you with her, to understand that part of your life better."

They pulled into Y/N's apartment complex, but neither made a move to get out of the car.

"Joe," Y/N said. "Can I ask you something?"

"Always."

"Are you happy? With how things worked out between us?"

Joe turned to look at her fully. "You mean am I disappointed that we're not dating exclusively?"

"I guess that's what I'm asking."

"Y/N, what we have is better than what I was expecting when I first asked you to dinner. You're one of my closest friends. You trust me with things that matter to you. We helped each other figure out things about ourselves we didn't know before." He paused. "Why would I be disappointed in that?"

"Because most people would want more. Or different."

"I'm not most people. And what we have isn't less than a traditional relationship—it's just different."

Y/N felt tears prick her eyes, overwhelmed by gratitude for this man who had helped her discover so much about herself and asked for nothing but her friendship in return.

"I love you too, you know," she said. "Alex was right about that."

"I know. I love you too."

"Different than Alex, but just as real."

Joe nodded. "I feel the same way."

They sat in the quiet of the car for another moment, both processing the weight of what they'd just acknowledged.

"So what happens now?" Y/N asked.

"Now you keep dating interesting people and figuring out what you want. I keep being your friend who you can call when you need to complain about bad dates or celebrate good ones. Alex moves here and you two build your life together. And we all hang out and drink too much and argue about whether pineapple belongs on pizza."

"It doesn't belong on pizza."

"See? This is why we work as friends."

Y/N laughed, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. "You're a pretty great friend, you know that?"

"I mean, I'm probably the best friend you'll ever have, but yeah."

Y/N leaned over to kiss Joe's cheek. "Omg. Thanks. For all of this."

"Thanks for trusting me with it."

As Y/N walked to her apartment, she felt good about how everything had worked out. It wasn't what she'd expected when she'd first met Joe, but it was exactly what she needed.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Alex: Landed safely. Joe's a keeper—as a friend and whatever else you two decide. Love you.

And another from Joe: Thanks for a great weekend. See you Thursday for that hiking trip?

Y/N smiled as she responded to both messages. Thursday's hike was with David, a teacher she'd been dating for a few weeks who shared her love of the outdoors. Joe had recommended the trail and offered to give David some pointers about the best routes.

Six months ago, Y/N would never have imagined her life could look like this—happily committed to Alex, confidently exploring her attraction to men, supported in that exploration by both her girlfriend and the man who'd helped her discover it. It wasn't conventional, but it was honest and loving and exactly what she needed.

As she got ready for bed, Y/N reflected on how much had changed since that first foundation event. She'd moved to a new city, started a new job, discovered new things about her sexuality, and built relationships she couldn't have predicted. Most importantly, she'd learned that love and connection didn't have to fit into neat categories to be real and meaningful.

Her phone lit up with one more text, this one from a group chat Joe had started with her and Alex: Next time I'm making pancakes. Y/N's in charge of coffee. Alex can provide commentary on our questionable life choices.

Deal, Alex replied almost immediately. But I want blueberry pancakes.

Obviously, Joe responded.

Y/N typed back: You two are never going to let me live down burning that one batch of pancakes, are you?

Never, they replied in unison.

Y/N fell asleep smiling, surrounded by love in all its beautiful, complicated forms.

#OMG this reader is so relatable bc I'm bi and have such a hard time finding guys I'm attracted to #fic rec

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