#I've been planning my O'knutzy week posts since 7pm

[oneluckygoose]

O'Knutzy Week Day 4

AHHHH DAY 4 MY FAVORITE OF EVERYTHING, ALL OF THESE FICS ARE SO GOOD Y'ALL!!!! [Again, this is a scheduled post and was written in June :')]

Credits to the writer, the myth, the LEGEND, @lumosinlove for all of these lovely characters and to @oknutzy-week-2024 for just being wonderful, (I'm sure they are, I don't actually know them, I've put them through enough at this point with the hell it is to schedule these things, and they haven't yelled at me yet, so I take that as a win)

Part two of my racing fic When We Can't Pretend (the name will probably make more sense now, poetic title and all) is out officially now, congrats to everyone who didn't read it yesterday as well. To all those who did, how'd ya like it? As with all Harvard Era FinLo, things are good and happy until they really aren't, this is the "really aren't" part, fair warning. ANYWAY, enjoy!

Summary: Finn confronts Logan about what happened in the car a few hours earlier and he gets his soul crushed.

Characters: Finn O'Hara, Logan Tremblay, Percy Lastname

Warnings: Cursing, Pain, Mentions of Past Injury, and emotional damage

Word Count: 2,096 (Preview of 238 under cut)

“Now explain to me again about this ‘natural talent?’” Percy questioned as they all settled at a table. They had decided to go to the nearby country club for dinner: it was large, doubled as a weird rich hangout, but it was supposed to have some good food, with a nice eating area. “I told you, not natural,” Finn retorted, rolling his eyes, “My grandparents lived next to a track up in Maine. Me and Alex would race all the time when we were up there for the summers.” Focus, focus, focus, Finn’s mind screamed at him as Percy kept talking. God, Finn couldn’t stop thinking about Logan, his mouth, his hands, the fire in his lips. It didn’t help that Logan was now pressed up against him in the tight booth. A waitress came up to get their drinks, and soon the conversation moved on from the racing. Finn could feel Logan beside him, reaching his hands up constantly to mess with his hat. It drove Finn wild, but he kept his eyes anywhere but Logan. He couldn’t look. Something, something, simmered inside of him; he couldn't name what, though. It got stronger every time Logan elbowed him, or threw his hand around his shoulder, or simply acted like everything was normal. Like Finn couldn’t still feel Logan’s hand in his hair and his teeth and tongue. It hurt, this game of pretend they were both playing.