Written in one hour and posted with minimal editing. This time I chose the prompt:

- Why can't you just do what I ask you?
- Because you're so cute when you get annoyed

PierreJ92 chose the pairings: Charlie Weasley/Nymphadora Tonks or Oliver Wood/Daphne Greengrass.

Make sure you read the accompanying one-shot PierreJ92 wrote as well!

Daphne entered her flat, tired after a long day's work at Gringotts. She loved her job, but dealing with Goblins could be very exhausting. She knew Oliver was home already as soon as she set one foot inside. The hallway floor was littered with dirty clothes and pools of mud, a broomstick tossed haphazardly against the sideboard instead of placed in the broom cupboard and Keeper's gloves crunching under her feet.

Her bag and purse dropped on the floor with a thud. Her hands curled into fists and she pressed her lips together to try and fight the tears. It was too much. It was all too much. She couldn't handle this right now. Not after six hours of negotiating new terms for a Ministry loan. Not after spending all week walking on eggshells around the Goblins in a desperate attempt not to offend them before the final negotiations.

She'd wanted to come home, curl up on the sofa with her boyfriend and have a glass of wine, and just enjoy the evening together. Now she would have to clean first, to make sure the mud wouldn't leave stains on their wooden floorboards, cook, because Oliver clearly hadn't remembered it was his turn, and only then she'd be able to relax. It was too much.

At that moment, the door to the bathroom opened and Oliver stepped out, a towel slung low around his hips and his chest and hair still dripping wet from his shower. The steam rose up from his body and twirled away into the bathroom. He smiled at her, and, as always, she forgot for just a second how annoyed she was with him and enjoyed the sight. He was quite handsome.

He was also a git.

"I thought I heard something," he said, with a grin. "Want to join?"

But Daphne couldn't return the smile. "How many times have I had to tell you not to leave your dirty quidditch gear out in the hallway? How many times have I asked you not to leave mud on the floor?" She took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears of fatigue and frustration that threatened to fall. "I would love to join you, you know, but I just can't. I need to clean because my boyfriend is such an irresponsible, immature pig." She'd wanted to scream but started sobbing instead, unable to hold back any longer.

Two strong arms came around her and pulled her into a hot and damp hug. "It's just some mud, my love, don't worry about it," he murmured in her ear.

She shook her head with stubborn determination, but leaned into the hug anyway. She hid her face in his neck, trying to stop the tears. She knew she was overreacting. She was just too tired to care. "Don't you see? It's not just some mud. It's me doing this cleaning thing every single time you come back from a rainy training and I just can't deal with it right now! Is it really so hard to Apparate into the bathroom? Is it so hard to clear your broom out of the way?"

Oliver held her even closer and began to pepper kisses on her cheek and neck and behind her ear, any place he could reach. "I'm sorry," he said between kisses. "I'll make it up to you. Don't worry."

Daphne wanted to object, wanted to scream, wanted to cry some more, but when she lifted her head from his shoulder to face him, the words of reproach died in her throat. The hallway was spotless. The broom was shuffling into its cupboard among the others. There was no trace of mud or dirty clothes left. "How?"

Oliver chuckled. "I practised my wandless magic. I'm sorry, my love, I should have done this before I entered the shower but I was just so cold. You know what these winter trainings are like."

Daphne shook her head in disbelief. "Why can't you just do what I ask you the first time round?"

Oliver tipped her head up and brought their lips close together. "Because you're so cute when you get annoyed." Before she could react, he kissed her, his lips slowly, insistently, devouring hers.

She sighed into the kiss and let him take over, anticipation and desire bursting through every vein in her body until a fire settled low in her abdomen, pulsing, thrumming, longing. The anger and frustration of moments before transformed into a violent hunger only he could satisfy. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer, careless of the water that soaked through her silk dress, but very, very aware of the hard length that poked her thigh. Her hands slid down his chest to the towel that did little to hide his erection, and she dropped it to the floor. He gasped when her hands closed around him and started stroking slowly, deliberately, until his body arched into her and he bit her neck with a possessive growl to stop from calling out her name.

Her hands stopped their caresses. "Not yet, you don't," she muttered, still a little angry over the whole mess he had left, even though he had cleaned it up by now.

Oliver kissed and soothed the sting of his bite in apology, then began to unbutton her dress. "Join me?" he asked again. His fingers slid the dress off her shoulders, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

She sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. "I should leave you like this, all fired up. I should just leave. Go to sleep."

Oliver swallowed heavily. "You wouldn't be so cruel." But Daphne's burning gaze met his and he shuddered helplessly at the challenge in her eyes. "Please?"

Daphne's pulse quickened. She always loved to hear him plead. She gave him a calculating look. "Maybe I can be persuaded," she purred in his ear. "Maybe you can begin by taking me to the bathroom?"

Oliver didn't need much more encouragement. He picked her up and carried her across the hallway, her dress slipping off her body and leaving a trail of water-stained silk on the floor. She kicked off her shoes, too, before they made it into the bathroom. He put her down carefully on the bath rug and stepped back, his eyes taking in her body with obvious appreciation. She was suddenly glad she'd decided on red lingerie that morning. He did love his old house colours.

"And now?" Oliver asked, his voice gruff with arousal.

Daphne smiled. "Now I think I might take a shower." She turned her back to him and began to undo her bra, slowly, teasingly, one hook and one strap at the time, until she could hear Oliver growl in frustration and need. She looked over her shoulder and smirked at him before she tossed him her bra. He caught it, of course, with his quick Keeper reflexes. Then she took off her knickers, so slowly her back muscles almost trembled with the strain of bending down. She looked over her shoulder again before tossing him the knickers. "Take care of those for me," she said with a laugh. "You know they're my favourite."

Then she stepped into the shower and turned on the water. For a moment she forgot all about her game of seduction, she just let the water beat down on her face and body and washed off the frustrations of the day, until a cough and movement behind her reminded her of the man waiting for her commands.

She turned to face him, noting the blush of arousal on his chest, the gleam of desire in his eyes, and, of course, the erection straining in her direction.

"Could you help me wash my back, you think?"

Oliver didn't need more invitation than that. He stepped into the shower beside her and began to soap her back with slow, strong movements, massaging the tension out of her muscles until she almost sagged against him. Then he moved his attention to her arms, her shoulders, her neck. She couldn't help the little appreciative moans that escaped from her lips.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly. "I forgot you'd had such a horrible week. It was the wrong time to tease you."

Daphne shrugged and turned around. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him fiercely. "It's fine," she said when their lips parted. "I'm sorry I overreacted."

Then she ground her hips against his. "Weren't you supposed to convince me of something? I can hardly recall."

Oliver drew in his breath sharply, then lifted her up in one quick movement. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he leaned them against the wall. "Hmm, I don't remember either," he said, his hand sneaking around underneath her and teasing her slit. "Is it this you want?"

Daphne tried to move her hips to create friction but he put his hand back on her waist and grinned at her.

"You know that's not what I want. Don't tease me, Oliver."

He paused only to give her another heated kiss before positioning himself at her entrance and nudging his way in without pushing through. She whined in frustration and bit his shoulder. "Don't tease me," she repeated, more forcefully.

Oliver captured her lips with his and at the same moment that he thrust his tongue in her mouth, he entered her. She gasped with pleasure and moaned into his mouth.

"As you wish," he murmured. Then he began to thrust into her, his hand sneaking down between them to circle her nub until she was trembling in his arms and cried out his name. He came immediately after her, unable to hold back any longer. They slid down on the shower floor, his legs unable to carry them both, the hot water still beating down on them.

Daphne leaned her head on his shoulder and tangled a hand in his hair, toying with it. She knew he loved it when she did that. "That certainly wasn't bad," she murmured happily.

"Not bad? You wench," Oliver said. "I'll show you not bad!"

Daphne laughed and reached over head to turn off the shower. "Later. Let's get some food first."

"Take out?" Oliver suggested. "Then neither of us have to cook. And I'll take care of dinner tomorrow."

Daphne snuggled deeper into his embrace, not quite ready to get up yet. "That would be nice," she sighed.