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“It really is quite simple. All women really want is to be needed, valued and loved above anyone else and they will make you a keeper. It's your actions she is paying attention to, not your words.”
― Shannon L. Alder

“I don’t want you. I love you, and that love surpasses all want in such a way I could never have you and still feel at peace. I could throw rice at your wedding, hold your firstborn, watch you live without me . . . and I’d handle it all perfectly well because love—this tether binding me to you—would endure.”
― Caroline George, Dearest Josephine

“I knew he and Tamlin were different. Knew that Rhysand's protective anger tonight had been justified, that I would have had a similar reaction. I'd been bloodthirsty at the barest details of Mor's suffering, had wanted to punish them for it.

I had known the risks. I had known I'd be sitting in his lap, touching him, using him. I'd been using him for a while now. And maybe I should tell him I didn't... I didn't want or expect anything from him.

Maybe Rhysand needed to flirt with me, taunt me, as much for a distraction and sense of normalcy as I did.

And maybe I'd said what I had to him because... because I'd realised that I might very well be the person who wouldn't let anyone in.

And tonight, when he'd recoiled after he'd seen how he affected me... It had crumpled something in my chest.

I had been jealous- of Cresseida. I had been so profoundly unhappy on that barge because I'd wanted to be the one he smiled at like that.

And I knew it was wrong, but... I did not think Rhys would call me a whore if I wanted it- wanted... him. No matter how soon it was after Tamlin.

Neither would his friends. Not when they had been called the same and worse.

And learned to live- and love- beyond it. Despite it.

So maybe it was time to tell Rhys that. To explain that I didn't want to pretend. I didn't want to write it off as a joke, or a plan, or a distraction.

And it'd be hard, and I was scared and might be difficult to deal with, but... I was willing to try- with him. To try to... be something. Together. Whether it was purely sex, or more, or something between or beyond them, I didn't know. We'd find out.

I was healed- or healing- enough to want to try.

If he was willing to try, too.

If he didn't walk away when I voiced what I wanted: him.

Not the High Lord, not the most powerful male in Prythian's history.

Just him. The person who had sent music into that cell; who had picked up that knife in Amarantha's throne room to fight for me when no one else dared, and who had kept fighting for me every day since, refusing to let me crumble and disappear into nothing.

So I waited for him in the chilled, moonlit garden.

But he didn't come.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“And what is it you want. Savannah?" His voice was low and rough.
I waited until he looked at me again. "Isn't that obvious? I want you. If you want that, too. I mean, us."
The corners of his eyes crinkled as a slow smile enveloped his face. "How can I not want someone willing to face their fears to rescue me? Someone who challenges me and makes me laugh? Someone who helps me be better but accepts me when I'm not?"
He'd said it perfectly. "You are, too, you know." I said. "All of that, for me."
One of his hands reached out and grabbed mine.”
― Becky Dean, Hearts Overboard