⚖️ ROMANCEAHOLIC COURT
What exactly are we prepared to forgive because we fell for him?
CASE NO. 001
THE READERS v. FINN O’CONNELL
Finn by BJ Alpha
Mafia · Second-Chance Romance · Jealous/Possessive Hero
The defendant has entered the courtroom.
Unfortunately, so has his attitude.
Before anyone starts yelling guilty, Romanceaholic Court has one rule:
You don’t get to judge the man until you understand the man.
So before we examine the threats, the possessiveness, the jealousy, his questionable relationship with the word mine, and what can only be described as a complete lack of interest in reasonable conflict resolution, we need to talk about Finn O’Connell.
Because this case is about to get complicated.
BEFORE WE JUDGE HIM, YOU NEED TO MEET FINN
Finn O’Connell is not subtle. He’s possessive, jealous, stubborn, protective, dangerous when provoked, and completely incapable of behaving reasonably where Angel is concerned.
He doesn’t quietly pine.
He doesn’t stand across a crowded room wondering whether Angel still feels the same way.
He doesn’t journal.
He doesn’t write sad poetry.
He doesn’t stare wistfully out of windows contemplating lost love.
Finn retrieves.
Nearly nine years ago, the girl he loved disappeared from his life when he needed her most. There was no explanation that made the loss easier and no neat ending that allowed him to put Angel safely somewhere in his past.
There was simply Angel.
And then there wasn’t.
Finn never really got over it.
That matters.
Not because nine years of heartbreak permits this man to do whatever the hell he wants when she returns.
It absolutely does not.
Finn, sit down.
Your trial hasn’t even started.
It matters because by the time Angel comes back into his life, we’re dealing with a man who has spent almost a decade carrying the absence of someone he never stopped loving.
And the Angel who returns isn’t the girl preserved in his memory.
The almost-white blonde hair is now cherry red. She’s tattooed, foul-mouthed, scarred, guarded, and carrying secrets Finn doesn’t understand. She’s survived things he knows nothing about and built an entire life during the years they spent apart.
She’s different.
Finn doesn’t care.
Well.
That’s not entirely accurate.
Finn cares very much about why she’s different.
He wants to know what happened. Why she’s afraid. What she’s hiding. Why she won’t let him close. And once he begins realizing someone hurt her, he becomes extremely interested in finding out who.
But whether any of those changes make her less his Angel?
Finn has apparently already ruled on that matter himself.
No hearing.
No witnesses.
No opportunity for appeal.
“I’ll never let her go again, that’s for sure. She’s mine now. Mine.”
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is approximately when Romanceaholic Court received the case.
WHY IS FINN O’CONNELL ON TRIAL?
Because there is loving a woman.
There is being devoted to a woman.
There is being a little possessive about a woman.
And then there is Finn O’Connell.
Finn seems to operate under the belief that once he finds Angel again, the universe has corrected a nine-year clerical error and everyone else should kindly get out of his way.
Angel included.
Romanceaholic Court has therefore reviewed the evidence and filed the following charges:
Possessiveness in the First Degree
Aggravated Jealousy
Premeditated Angel Retrieval
Reckless and Excessive Use of the Word “Mine”
Criminal Disregard for Personal Space
Threatening Anyone Who Has Ever Hurt His Girl
Refusal to Recognize “I’m Leaving” as the End of a Conversation
and, perhaps most alarmingly—
Conspiracy to Acquire a Wife and Expand the Family Without Proper Committee Approval.
The defendant has been informed of the charges.
The defendant does not appear concerned.
In fact, Finn would probably like us to hurry this up.
Angel is somewhere without him.
BUT WHY THE HELL ARE WE DEFENDING HIM?
Excellent question.
The prosecution would prefer that everyone stop asking it.
Because Finn would be considerably easier to convict if all that possessiveness were the only thing there.
It isn’t.
The woman Finn finds after nine years isn’t simply older. She’s carrying wounds he doesn’t understand, pieces of a life he wasn’t there to witness, fears she isn’t ready to explain, and scars that tell him something happened during all those years he wasn’t there.
And Finn doesn’t look at this changed woman and demand the old Angel back.
That matters to me.
He remembers the innocent girl he loved. He remembers her long, almost-white blonde hair. He remembers who they were together.
But he doesn’t require Angel to become that girl again before he can love her.
The red hair doesn’t send him running.
The tattoos don’t.
The mouth certainly doesn’t.
The scars don’t.
The complications don’t.
Finn’s reaction is essentially:
Okay. You’re different. You’re still Angel. Now tell me who hurt you.
Which is
Dammit.
That’s going to be a problem for the prosecution.
Because underneath Finn’s spectacular inability to respect a reasonable amount of emotional distance is a man discovering that the woman he loves survived a life he knew nothing about.
His question begins as:
Why did you leave me?
But eventually another question becomes far more important:
What happened to you?
And that’s when this trial stops being easy.
📁 THE EVIDENCE LOCKER
EXHIBIT A — THE GIRL HE REMEMBERS
“Her fucking long blonde, almost white hair was beautiful. She looked like a goddamn goddess, my fucking beautiful, innocent Angel.”
This is Finn’s memory of her.
His beautiful, innocent Angel.
And we need this entered into evidence because the entire case eventually hinges on what Finn does when the woman standing in front of him no longer matches that memory.
Does he love Angel?
Or does he love the version of Angel he’s carried for nine years?
Those are not necessarily the same thing.
Keep this exhibit open.
We’re coming back to it.
EXHIBIT B — THE WORD “MINE” ENTERS EVIDENCE
“I’ll never let her go again, that’s for sure. She’s mine now. Mine.”
There it is.
Mine.
Twice.
The prosecution would like that underlined.
The defense would like everyone to remember the nine years.
Carmen has been instructed not to interfere with either side.
For now.
EXHIBIT C — THE RETRIEVAL MISSION
“I’m coming for ya Angel and I’m bringing you home, darlin’.”
Notice anything?
I’ll give you a second.
There is no question mark.
Not:
Would you like to come home?
Not:
Can we talk about what happened?
Not even:
Perhaps we should explore whether reconciliation would be emotionally appropriate.
No.
I’m coming.
I’m bringing you home.
Finn has apparently mistaken a second-chance romance for a retrieval operation.
The Court has concerns.
Some members of the jury appear to be biting their lips.
Please stop that.
EXHIBIT D — FINN DISCOVERS PERSONAL AUTONOMY
He rejects it.
“You don’t have a choice anymore, Angel. You’re mine and I’m never letting you go. Never!”
Finn.
Sweetheart.
We are trying to defend you.
Could you perhaps refrain from committing additional offenses while Court is in session?
The defendant has declined.
🖤 AND THEN THE CASE CHANGES
Up until this point, we can laugh at Finn’s possessiveness because it’s so spectacularly Finn.
But eventually he begins seeing something underneath Angel’s resistance.
Fear.
Something happened to her.
And when Finn starts putting those pieces together, the possessive man who wants his Angel back begins confronting the reality that Angel has been hurt.
“It’s clear now someone hurt my girl, hurt her so badly she’s terrified to give herself over to me fully.”
This is where I need the jury to pay attention.
Finn’s first instinct is rage.
Of course it is.
He’s Finn.
But underneath the rage is recognition. Angel isn’t simply being difficult. She isn’t simply refusing to come back to him. She’s scared.
And once Finn understands that, his obsession with getting answers begins becoming something else.
Protectiveness.
Not necessarily the healthy, carefully communicated variety.
We’re still talking about Finn.
But his attention shifts. The question is no longer only what Angel did to him when she left.
Now it’s what happened to her while she was gone.
That shift matters.
And unfortunately for the prosecution, the defendant is becoming emotionally inconvenient.
CARMEN HAS LOST HER DAMN MIND
Okay.
No.
Stop.
Everybody stop talking.
I was doing perfectly fine when this trial started.
I had evidence.
I had charges.
I had boundaries.
Then somebody reminded me that Finn lost Angel for almost nine years, finally found her again, discovered somebody had hurt her, and said:
“There’s no fucking way I’m leaving. You’d have to kill me first.”
And apparently my first thought was supposed to be:
Finn, this behavior seems emotionally unhealthy.
It wasn’t.
My first thought was:
EXACTLY. DON’T YOU DARE LEAVE HER.
Your Honor, strike that from the record.
Actually
No.
Leave it.
Because who exactly is supposed to leave now?
Finn?
Absolutely fucking not.
He already lost her once.
We’re not doing that again.
The prosecution would like to remind Carmen that this is precisely the sort of thinking we’re supposed to be investigating.
The prosecution can mind its business.
And YES, I heard him say:
“You don’t have a choice anymore, Angel. You’re mine and I’m never letting you go. Never!”
Is that controlling?
Yes.
Do I have a defense prepared?
Also yes.
HE LOST HER FOR NINE YEARS.
Nine.
Years.
This man has been emotionally unsupervised for almost a decade.
Of course he’s saying mine.
At this point I’m surprised he hasn’t had it embroidered on a throw pillow.
And everybody keeps bringing up the threats.
Someone hurt Angel.
Finn wants them dead.
I fail to see how this helps the prosecution.
Next charge.
No, seriously.
Next.
Because you’re also telling me that he sees the tattoos, the scars, the mouth, the fear, the secrets, and everything that’s different about her…
…and he still wants her?
Not the memory?
Not the innocent girl?
Her?
Your Honor.
I can no longer serve impartially.
Give me the evidence.
I’ll explain all of it.
Possessive?
Committed.
Jealous?
Emotionally vigilant.
Overprotective?
Prepared.
Controlling?
…
We’re going to circle back to that one.
Threatening murder?
Protective extracurricular activity.
Constantly saying mine?
Your Honor, this is a mafia romance.
Please stop wasting the Court’s time.
OBJECTION
Carmen, you’re supposed to be prosecuting him.
Oh.
Right.
Well.
I resign.
📁 EXHIBIT E — “MINE” BECOMES PLURAL
Then we receive additional evidence.
“They’re mine; they both are.”
Oh.
Oh, no.
The Court would like to remind everyone that fictional men discovering they have people to love is a well-documented form of emotional manipulation.
The jury would like the Court to shut up.
And then Finn makes his intentions even clearer:
“Gonna knock you up and put a ring on your finger.”
FINN.
We were making progress.
Could you express one emotion without making it sound like a hostile takeover?
The defense requests that everyone focus on:
put a ring on your finger.
The prosecution requests that everyone focus on:
gonna.
Carmen requests that both parties stop speaking until she regains the ability to make rational decisions.
This request is denied.
EXHIBIT F — WE HAVE ESCALATED TO MURDER
Then Finn learns one of the most devastating truths about what happened to Angel.
His response is immediate:
“I’m going to kill the motherfucker.”
Legally?
Problematic.
Emotionally?
…
Next exhibit.
NEXT EXHIBIT.
I invoke my Fifth Amendment rights.
🖤 THE EVIDENCE THAT ACTUALLY RUINS OUR CASE
For all the threats, all the possessiveness, all the outrageous things coming out of Finn’s mouth, one of the quietest moments tells me more about him than almost anything else.
He watches Angel with his mother.
And this cold, brutal man thinks:
“My cold, brutal heart warms at my girl, being where she belongs, where she always belonged.”
And there he is.
That’s the bastard who ruins the prosecution’s case.
Not the mafia man threatening everyone.
Not the jealous man saying mine.
Not even the man determined never to lose Angel again.
It’s the man looking at the woman he loves becoming part of his family and realizing:
She’s home.
For all Finn’s talk of possession, what he ultimately wants isn’t simply to get Angel back.
It’s permanence.
It’s family.
It’s belonging.
He wants the woman he lost woven back into the life he once imagined she would share with him.
And now he’s discovering that the life they might build cannot simply be a restoration of the one they lost.
It has to include everything that happened in between.
Everything Angel brings with her.
That’s considerably harder to prosecute.
Dammit.
ANGEL TAKES THE STAND
There is only one person in this courtroom who truly understands what it means to be loved by Finn O’Connell.
Angel.
And if Finn has spent this entire trial insisting that she’s his, Angel deserves the opportunity to remind everyone, including Finn, that she is very much her own woman.
The Angel who returns to Finn isn’t the girl he remembers. Nearly nine years have passed, and the differences run much deeper than cherry-red hair, tattoos, and a foul mouth. She’s carrying scars Finn can’t immediately see, secrets she believes she has to protect, and fear that has taught her not to hand herself over easily to anyone.
Even him.
Especially him.
Angel knows exactly how dangerous Finn can be. She knows the world surrounding him. She knows what getting close to him could risk, and she has reasons for keeping distance between them that Finn doesn’t initially understand.
The problem is that Angel also knows Finn.
She knows the stubbornness.
The temper.
The possessiveness.
The complete inability to hear leave me alone without apparently translating it into try harder.
And she knows that once Finn decides someone belongs inside his heart, removing yourself from that position requires considerably more paperwork than Romanceaholic Court is equipped to process.
But Angel isn’t some helpless woman being swept along by Finn’s obsession.
That’s important.
She argues. She pushes back. She keeps secrets when she believes keeping them is necessary. She calls him on his bullshit. She isn’t intimidated by every growl, threat, or declaration of ownership that comes out of his mouth.
And she certainly isn’t afraid to tell the defendant exactly what she thinks of him.
Her expert assessment:
“You’re fucking insane, Finn. Insane!”
Finn’s response?
“You’ve no fucking idea, darlin’.”
Sir.
That was not a denial.
In fact, the defendant appears almost proud of the allegation.
But Angel’s testimony matters for another reason.
Finn keeps talking about getting his Angel back.
Angel’s journey quietly forces him to confront the fact that the woman standing before him cannot simply step backward nine years and become the girl he lost.
And she shouldn’t have to.
She has lived an entire life without him. She has survived things he wasn’t there to protect her from. She carries consequences from those years that neither of them can erase simply because Finn has finally found her again.
So Angel becomes more than Finn’s great weakness.
She’s the test of his devotion.
Can he love the woman who exists now instead of the girl he’s been missing?
Can he make room for everything she brings with her?
Can my Angel eventually mean this woman, rather than the woman I remember?
That’s the testimony Romanceaholic Court actually cares about.
Because Finn can call her mine until the court reporter runs out of ink.
That doesn’t prove love.
What he does when he finally sees all of her does.
And Angel doesn’t make that easy for him.
Good.
She shouldn’t.
She makes Finn confront the difference between getting someone back and actually building something new with the person they’ve become.
That’s why she belongs on the witness stand.
Not to tell us Finn is innocent.
God, no.
If anything, she has provided excellent evidence for the prosecution.
But she helps us understand why this relationship is more complicated than:
Possessive mafia man refuses to let woman go.
Angel has changed.
Finn has to catch up.
Their past still exists, but it cannot be their entire future.
And somewhere inside all the fighting, secrets, fear, possessiveness, and second chances, Finn has to prove that when he says he wants Angel back, he means Angel as she is now.
Not simply the girl he lost.
So when Angel looks at him and declares:
“You’re fucking insane, Finn. Insane!”
Romanceaholic Court has reviewed the evidence.
We agree.
Finn agrees.
Angel certainly agrees.
The defendant is insane.
But perhaps the more important testimony is this:
Angel knows exactly who she’s dealing with.
And Finn has to learn exactly who he’s loving.
Now we’re ready for deliberation.
No further questions.
JURY DELIBERATION
And now we arrive at the question Romanceaholic Court was created to ask:
What exactly are we prepared to forgive because we fell for him?
The jury has been instructed to consider all evidence carefully, remain impartial, and reach a verdict based solely on the facts presented during these proceedings.
That instruction lasted approximately thirty seconds.
Finn’s possessiveness?
The jury is whispering.
His jealousy?
Someone nodded.
The threats?
We’re losing them.
The constant declarations of mine?
Oh, they’re gone.
His complete inability to accept losing Angel a second time?
Someone in the back just yelled:
“LET HIM HAVE HIS WOMAN.”
Excuse me?
Another juror immediately objects.
“SHE ISN’T HIS PROPERTY.”
Thank you.
Finally.
Someone remembers why we’re here.
From the other side of the room:
“HE DOESN’T MEAN IT LIKE THAT.”
Oh, really?
How exactly does one incorrectly interpret the word mine when the defendant has used it approximately eight thousand times?
“HE LOST HER FOR NINE YEARS!”
That’s not a legal defense.
“IT IS TO ME.”
It absolutely is not.
“HE LOVES HER.”
WE KNOW.
THAT’S THE PROBLEM.
The foreperson has lost control of the room.
One juror is rereading the evidence. Another has apparently started highlighting Finn’s declarations of possession as though they’re romantic passages rather than evidence submitted by the prosecution.
Juror Four would like everyone to remember the threats.
Juror Seven would like Juror Four to remember:
“There’s no fucking way I’m leaving. You’d have to kill me first.”
Juror Four:
“THAT IS LITERALLY ONE OF THE PROBLEMS.”
Juror Seven:
“THAT IS LITERALLY WHY I LOVE HIM.”
Your Honor?
We may need assistance.
THE JUDGE HAS HAD ENOUGH
Order.
The courtroom goes quiet.
Mostly.
One member of the jury is still muttering something about nine years.
The Judge would like to remind everyone that this is a court of law.
Well.
A Romanceaholic Court of law.
Which admittedly has questionable accreditation, but we have standards.
You have been presented with a defendant who is possessive, jealous, threatening, controlling, dangerously protective, and alarmingly comfortable making decisions on Angel’s behalf. You are not to ignore that evidence simply because the defendant also happens to be devoted.
You are not to reinterpret every questionable decision as romantic because he calls her darlin’.
You are not to dismiss possessiveness because his favorite word is mine.
And you are absolutely not permitted to acquit a man because:
“But he waited nine years.”
A voice from the jury:
He did, though.
WHO SAID THAT?
Silence.
The Judge continues.
Devotion does not magically transform control into healthy behavior. Protection does not automatically excuse ignoring someone’s choices. Jealousy does not become reasonable simply because the man experiencing it is fictional, emotionally damaged, and extremely committed to the woman causing it.
And loving someone fiercely does not give you ownership of them.
The jury will therefore disregard Finn O’Connell’s wounded heart, his devotion to Angel, his refusal to abandon her, his willingness to accept the woman she became, his desire to protect her, his—
The Judge stops.
Looks down at the file.
Looks back at the jury.
Dammit.
No.
We’re not doing this.
The jury has been specifically instructed not to fall for the defendant.
THE JURY IMMEDIATELY IGNORES THE JUDGE
“But he doesn’t want the old Angel back.”
Here we go.
“Exactly! He wants HER.”
Someone pounds the table.
“THE TATTOOS. THE RED HAIR. THE MOUTH. THE SCARS. ALL OF IT.”
Another juror fires back:
“THAT DOESN’T CANCEL THE CONTROL ISSUES.”
“NOBODY SAID IT DID.”
Oh.
Well.
That was unexpectedly reasonable.
For the first time, the room quiets.
Because maybe that’s where the actual deliberation begins.
Not with pretending Finn’s questionable behavior disappears because we understand him.
And not with pretending his devotion means nothing because some of his behavior deserves prosecution.
Both things are sitting in the evidence locker.
Finn can make us swoon and still deserve the charges.
We can understand where his possessiveness comes from without pretending possession is the same thing as love.
We can love the fact that he refuses to abandon Angel without pretending every way he tries to keep her is acceptable.
We can understand why mine makes the romance-reader part of our brain lose all common sense while the functioning adult part quietly raises a hand and says:
“Excuse me, we should probably discuss that.”
That’s why Finn is here.
If everything he did were perfectly reasonable, there would be no case.
And if there were nothing underneath his behavior worth defending, there would be no deliberation.
We would simply convict him and go home.
But we haven’t.
Because the prosecution keeps placing evidence on the table…
…and the defense keeps pointing to his heart.
THE FIGHT FOR FINN O’CONNELL
The jury tries again.
FOR THE PROSECUTION:
He’s possessive.
FOR THE DEFENSE:
He lost her once.
PROSECUTION:
He doesn’t respect every boundary Angel tries to put between them.
DEFENSE:
Because he knows something is wrong.
PROSECUTION:
That does not permit him to decide for her.
DEFENSE:
Agreed.
Oh.
Moving on.
PROSECUTION:
He threatens people.
DEFENSE:
People who hurt Angel.
PROSECUTION:
STILL ILLEGAL.
DEFENSE:
We didn’t say innocent.
We said understandable.
Carmen slowly looks up from her notes.
Wait.
That’s it.
That’s the case.
We’re not trying to prove Finn innocent.
God knows we don’t have enough evidence for that.
We’re trying to understand why, after seeing everything he’s guilty of, we’re still fighting over who gets to represent him.
Because somewhere underneath all the threats and possessiveness is the part of Finn that makes this difficult.
He doesn’t discover Angel’s scars and recoil.
He doesn’t learn that her life continued without him and decide it’s too complicated.
He doesn’t insist she become the innocent girl he remembers before he can love her again.
He sees the woman who came back.
And eventually, he understands that loving her means loving everything that came back with her.
The courtroom goes quiet.
The prosecution looks at the defense.
The defense looks at the prosecution.
The Judge closes her eyes because she knows exactly where this is going.
Someone from the jury whispers:
“So… we’re defending him?”
The Judge immediately responds:
NO.
Carmen:
…define defending.
CARMEN.
What?!
I’m simply asking for clarification.
You are not helping the jury acquit this man because he has a heart underneath all the possessiveness.
I would never.
A pause.
I am helping them understand the mitigating circumstances.
The Judge stares at Carmen.
Carmen stares back.
The jury waits.
Someone quietly slides Finn’s file toward Carmen.
She takes it.
Fine. I’ll represent him.
CARMEN!
WHAT?
LOOK AT THE EVIDENCE.
The Court erupts again.
And somewhere in the middle of all the shouting, objections, wildly questionable legal arguments, and one increasingly irritated Judge, we finally have our answer.
Romanceaholic Court isn’t asking us to pretend Finn did nothing wrong.
We’re asking why we keep wanting to forgive the bastard anyway.
And I know exactly why.
THE VERDICT
GUILTY AS HELL.
After reviewing the evidence, hearing witness testimony, surviving jury deliberations, and repeatedly asking Carmen to stop assisting the defense, Romanceaholic Court finds Finn O’Connell guilty.
Very guilty.
Finn is hereby convicted of:
Possessiveness in the First Degree.
Aggravated Jealousy.
Premeditated Angel Retrieval.
Criminal Overuse of the Word “Mine.”
Threatening Anyone Foolish Enough to Hurt His Girl.
Complete Disregard for the Concept of Letting Go.
And being exactly the kind of fictional man who causes otherwise reasonable readers to construct wildly unreasonable legal defenses.
We are not rewriting the evidence because we fell for him.
Finn is possessive.
He’s controlling.
He’s threatening.
He has the emotional subtlety of a battering ram.
And his understanding of boundaries occasionally appears to have been learned exclusively from other mafia men.
But Romanceaholic Court was never really asking:
Is Finn reasonable?
Please.
That trial would have lasted six minutes.
We’re asking something far more dangerous:
Why did we forgive him anyway?
And with Finn, the answer lives underneath all that possessiveness.
Devotion.
Messy.
Excessive.
Sometimes completely unhinged.
But devotion nonetheless.
Finn loved Angel before she disappeared. He carried her absence for nearly nine years. And when she finally returned, changed by everything that happened while they were apart, he didn’t ask her to become the girl he’d lost.
He loved the woman who came back.
The red hair.
The tattoos.
The scars.
The mouth.
The secrets.
The fear.
The family.
All of her.
That’s the evidence that destroyed our case.
Finn O’Connell is guilty.
But nobody in this courtroom is pretending we wanted him innocent.
THE COURT DECIDES HIS FATE
Finn O’Connell is hereby sentenced to:
Life in the Romanceaholic Court archives.
No possibility of parole.
Mandatory anger-management classes he absolutely will not attend.
A lifetime limit on the word mine that he absolutely will not respect.
And permanent supervision by Angel, who appears to be the only person remotely qualified for the position.
The defendant has been advised of his sentence.
He would like to know whether Angel is included.
Finn.
Court is still in session.
Sit down.
🖤 CARMEN’S CLOSING ARGUMENT
I would like the record to reflect that I tried.
I really did.
I came into this courtroom prepared to prosecute Finn O’Connell. I had charges. I had evidence. I had standards. I had an entire case built around possessiveness, jealousy, threats, questionable decisions, an alarming relationship with the word mine, and a man who seems to believe boundaries are merely suggestions other people make before he ignores them.
This should have been easy.
Finn should have been easy to convict.
Then I remembered why I love him.
And that’s where everything went to hell.
Because I don’t love Finn because he’s reasonable.
God, no.
I love him because when Finn loves, he loves with everything he has.
There is nothing halfway about this man.
He doesn’t give Angel the convenient pieces of himself. He doesn’t love her when it’s easy and retreat when loving her becomes complicated. He doesn’t spend nearly nine years without her, finally get her back, discover she’s carrying an entire life he knew nothing about, and decide this version of Angel isn’t the one he wanted.
That’s the part of Finn that got me.
The girl he remembers is almost frozen in time: long blonde hair, sweet, innocent, his beautiful Angel.
Then the woman standing in front of him is different.
Cherry-red hair.
Tattoos.
Scars.
A foul mouth.
Fear.
Secrets.
Pain.
A life that happened without him.
Finn could have spent the entire story chasing the girl he lost.
Instead, he has to love the woman who came back.
And God, I love him for that.
Because underneath every ridiculous mine, every threat, every growl, every moment that makes me want to grab this man by the shoulders and yell FINN, YOU CANNOT JUST DO THAT, there is something about his devotion that gets me every damn time.
Once Angel is his person, she is his person.
Not because she’s perfect.
Not because she’s easy.
Not because she remained exactly as he remembered her.
Because she’s Angel.
And when Finn begins understanding that someone hurt her during all those years he wasn’t there, something about him breaks my heart.
He can’t go backward.
He can’t protect the girl he loved from things that have already happened.
He can’t recover those nine years.
He can’t erase her scars.
He can’t change the fact that when Angel needed to survive, he wasn’t there to do it for her.
But he can be there now.
And Finn’s answer to that realization is essentially:
Then you’re never doing it alone again.
That’s where you lost me, sir.
Case over.
Take my badge.
Because I understand the charges.
I do.
His possessiveness can cross lines. His protectiveness can become control. His jealousy isn’t magically healthy because it comes from a man I love. And mine is not a substitute for listening to the woman you’re saying it about.
I know.
I still love Finn.
That’s the uncomfortable little truth Romanceaholic Court was created to make me admit.
Sometimes I don’t fall for the fictional man because I approve of every choice he makes.
Sometimes I fall because somewhere inside all his terrible decisions is a kind of love that hits me directly in the heart.
Finn’s does.
His devotion says:
You changed. I’m still here.
You’re scarred. I’m still here.
You’re angry. I’m still here.
You’re afraid. I’m still here.
You have secrets I don’t understand yet. I’m still here.
And when everything finally comes into the light?
I’m. Still. Here.
Maybe that’s why:
“There’s no fucking way I’m leaving. You’d have to kill me first.”
destroys whatever impartiality I had left.
Because underneath the very Finn way he says it is something I will always be weak for:
He stays.
When love becomes difficult, he stays.
When Angel pushes, he stays.
When the truth hurts, he stays.
When the woman in front of him no longer matches the memory he’s been carrying for nearly nine years—
he stays.
And I am always going to have a weakness for the man who stays.
So yes, Your Honor.
Finn O’Connell is guilty.
Possessive?
Guilty.
Jealous?
Absolutely guilty.
Threatening?
Have you met him?
Questionable decision-making?
We would need another trial.
Dangerously devoted to Angel?
GUILTY AS FUCKING CHARGED.
And that’s the charge I’m willing to stand beside him for.
Because I’m not going to rewrite Finn into a safer man so I can defend loving him.
I don’t need to.
I know who he is.
I know exactly what is sitting in that evidence locker.
I personally helped put half of it there.
And I’m still taking his case.
Not because Finn is innocent.
Because Finn is Finn.
Messy. Possessive. Infuriating. Dangerous. Protective. Stubborn. Completely unreasonable.
And when it matters most
devoted.
That’s the man who got me.
That’s the man I lost my heart to.
And that’s the man I will continue standing up in this ridiculous courtroom and fighting for, even while the Judge threatens to have me removed.
So if defending Finn O’Connell makes me an accomplice…
Fine.
If refusing to abandon the defense gets me held in contempt…
Fine.
If the Court intends to charge me with knowingly, willingly, and repeatedly defending a fictional man despite overwhelming evidence that I should know better…
Your Honor
Save yourself the paperwork.
I PLEAD GUILTY.
Put my name right beside his.
Because Finn isn’t walking into the Romanceaholic Court archives alone.
I’m going with him.
And I’d do it again.
No appeal.
No regrets.
No further questions.
🖤 Carmen A
Defense counsel. Accomplice. Completely compromised.
And still prepared to fight for Finn O’Connell.
⚖️ CASE NO. 001 — CLOSED
The defendant was found guilty.
His defense counsel somehow ended up charged too.
The jury remains emotionally compromised.
The Judge has requested a vacation.
And Romanceaholic Court has officially learned its first lesson:
Falling for him doesn’t erase the evidence.
It just makes sentencing a hell of a lot more complicated.
🖤 Romanceaholic Court
What exactly are we prepared to forgive because we fell for him?
Love stories. Taken seriously.
If it’s here, it earned its place.