you're too young & eager to love

I truly believe that Game of Thrones is the best universe for smutty-minded fandom-writers. There is a plethora of characters to pair together and, subsequently, write about. I am addicted. I have plans upon plans upon plans! I need a white board to keep track of all the characters, though.

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Jon had never seen Ygritte shake before.
He had seen her stand, longer than most grown men, glaring and strong in the hard winds without even the tips of her fingers trembling. They had walked for days, headed to the Lord of Bones first, and even with the hood of her cloak pulled high the loose strands of her coppery hair had whipped across her cheeks, catching near the corner of her mouth. While his mouth blistered from the merciless frosted air, her mouth was pale and soft and somehow unlike the lips of other women. Noble or baseborn, it made no difference in his mind. He blamed, foolishly, her distinct way of smiling – more like an animal’s taunt than a smile at all. Mostly, he blamed himself for never having stopped to really look at a woman’s lips before. Now hers would be in his thoughts, unceasingly.
Before he had been made a prisoner, and much before he had been offered the choice of freedom behind the Wall, the Old Bear had told him about the wildlings and their King. With his raven chattering for corn in the drafty tower Jon had become so familiar with, Mormont had rubbed his strong jaw and given Ned Stark’s bastard a meaningful stare. “The wildlings, they have too much spirit and not enough pride. They’re likely to sell their first born if it would guarantee saving their head. May The Old Gods and the New grant mercy on the man foolish enough to try to claim one of those women. They’re nothing but ice and forest.”
Honor, Jon thinks now, must be different than pride.
And besides, there are no Gods behind the Wall.