A/N: Abridged summaries:
1. Klaus and Caroline are rival hitmen. Smut.
2. Deleted scene when Caroline kills the twelve witches + AU NOLA meeeting.
3. Sequel to "Relax" (Chapter 20). Smut.

"We're rival hitmen and I just shot you and this isn't personal, and I think you're super hot, but I really need to get away and your leg was RIGHT there" AU

Caroline laced up her combat boots tightly, stood up, and patted herself down to make sure her handgun was securely strapped to her waist under the jacket and the knives weren't going to slip out of their sheaths in her bra and cut into her chest. Her target would be on a date that night, and there was something to be said for being able to hide her weapons comfortably and not needing to be able to make a getaway in three-inch heels.

Taking one last look in the mirror, she fluffed her hair, threw her purse over her shoulder, and strutted towards the fire escape, her hands in her jacket pockets.

When she made it up to the roof, she attached her scope to the larger gun she stored in her purse, and stood at the edge of the roof waiting for her target.

She heard a rustle of shoes on stairs and her hand flew to her handgun in her coat as she whirled around to see Klaus coming up the stairs behind her in similar attire. He gave her a dimpled smile and walked up next to her.

"We need to stop meeting like this."

She snorted, turning back to watch the ground below while still looking at him through her peripheral vision, her hand close enough to grab her gun with just the slightest sudden movement on his part.

"I was here first," she pointed out.

"Are you after Isobel Flemming?"

"None of your business, though now I know who your target is."

"Which isn't any use to you unless you have the same target."

She nodded, conceding the point. "Which contractor are you with this time?"

"Private client, actually."

Caroline hummed in acknowledgement, inwardly seething.

There had been a few different parties that she knew of who had wanted to eliminate Isobel Flemming, only one of whom was an individual rather than an organization. It would figure that he would contract two people and pay whoever got the target.

In fact, that seemed to happen quite often.

She and Klaus had an odd working relationship—if you could even call it that—where they both worked alone, but somehow seemed to get hired for the same targets.

They were both incredibly well-regarded in their field (meaning that their assassinations were quick, clean, and generally untraceable), and therefore highly in demand.

If there was such a thing as a friendly rivalry between hitmen (or women), they had it.

However, she really was quite sick of it. She wanted to get her target, get her money, and get the hell out of dodge, and Klaus seemed to enjoy making her life infinitely more complicated than it needed to be.

Her plan had been to take Isobel out from the roof and then make her escape using public transit (much more difficult to trace, and easy to use as long as you knew how to properly hide your weapons). Now though, she had to be able to prove it was her bullet to get Isobel if she was going to get the reward money.

She noticed Klaus pulling out his own gun and reached out to grab his wrist, glaring at him. "Find your own easy vantage point. This is mine."

"I don't think I will," he said, smirking as he pulled his hand away and attached his scope to the gun he was carrying.

Rather than waste her time answering, Caroline checked her watch. Her—their—target was set to walk by in less than five minutes. She resisted the urge to mumble obscenities to herself as she tried to figure out what the easiest proof of kill would be.

An idea hatched in her mind and she had to fight down a smirk as she casually fished through her purse for some chapstick, making Klaus reach for his gun.

"Relax, will you?"

He gave her a wary look but moved his hand back to where it was.

"Look, I'll make you a deal."

"I'm listening," he said slowly.

"We both have the same target, and we won't be able to get a proof of kill if we're both shooting from the same area. I say we kill her and split the reward money. Sound fair?"

"Worried you'll miss, love?"

"I never miss," she said. "This deal is really in your favor."

"And why would you make it then?"

She shrugged. "I don't want to take any chances, and half of five million is still more than zero."

"True enough," he said, side-eyeing her. "I accept."

"Good," she said, smirking.

They stood there in silence for a few minutes, both watching the street, and Caroline raised her scope to her eye when she saw movement from the far end. It was Isobel, who was walking in quick strides, her eyes darting around to check for anyone following her.

She must have been warned somehow.

Caroline aimed carefully, very aware of the handgun she needed to use for the getaway on the inside of her jacket. She took a deep breath, aimed, and both she and Klaus fired at the same time.

Isobel went down, but there was a gunshot from a building on the other side of the street. Caroline and Klaus both instinctively dropped to the ground. "Bodyguards," he muttered. "We need to get out of here."

"I know," Caroline said rather breathlessly.

She'd guessed that this would happen, which was why she implemented the next phase of her plan. She scrambled to her feet just as Klaus did, and pulled out her handgun, shooting him in the leg, just enough to graze. He doubled over in pain.

"Sorry. Nothing personal. I just can't have them on my trail," she said quickly. "You'll be fine, I'm sure."

She ran.

XXX

Caroline had just cashed the check into her foreign bank account when there was a knock on her safehouse door. She stiffened, getting up slowly and grabbing her gun from the side table (she stored small weapons all over the house in easy to reach places. You never knew when you'd end up hiding behind the washing machine trying to escape a trained killer goat) (don't ask), and backing away. There was only one person it could be.

How had he found her?

There was another knock. "Caroline, I know you're in there."

She backed up a few paces, cursing herself for getting comfortable as soon as she got home, having kicked off her shoes and changed into a cotton nightgown, and was about to run when the door burst open, and Klaus came into the room, limping. "That was a dirty trick," he hissed, sinking down on the couch.

"Get out of my house."

"I think you owe me at least a rest, love. You might have permanently injured my leg."

"Fat chance," she muttered, walking over to shut the front door.

She did feel slightly bad. He'd been cordial, and she'd been a backstabbing bitch.

But wasn't that how the business worked?

He rolled up the cloth of his jeans on his injured leg and propped it up on the coffee table, and she winced at the bloody patch of skin. "Well, if you insist on intruding until you're patched up, I have some antiseptic in the bathroom. Hold on. Oh, and this is a shoes-off house. And don't get blood on my carpet. You're an easy kill right now."

He grunted to show he'd heard her, and she was fairly sure she caught an eyeroll before she disappeared to the bathroom, contemplating her options. She could run again, but it seemed rather silly to leave at this point. She knew that she'd already made her choice once she ended up back in the living room with her arms full of first aid supplies.

She dropped them on the couch next to him.

"Can you take care of yourself if I leave you with these?"

"I think you owe me some patching up."

"I owe you absolutely nothing, Klaus. You tried to steal my kill."

"And you betrayed me," he pointed out through gritted teeth.

She sighed, grabbing a washcloth. "This is the last nice thing I'll ever do for you," she swore, more to herself than to him, and she pretended not to notice the slight smile on his face when she coated the cloth in hydrogen peroxide.

He didn't even cry out when she pressed it against the wound. It wasn't deep (she'd made sure of that), but it was still very bloody. The washcloth was already turning red, and she had to replace it twice before she was able to wrap a bandage around it.

"There. All done. You can leave now," she said, trying to keep her voice business-like, ignoring the way his gaze settled on her bare legs.

She got up to wash her hands, knowing that he probably wouldn't move an inch, and she was proven right when she walked back into the living room to see him still on the couch. "You've overstayed your welcome."

He snorted and slowly stood up, testing the weight on his leg before walking towards her a bit stiffly. "Thank you," he said, though his voice was dry.

"No problem," she said, resisting the urge to move backwards when he invaded her personal space.

She'd faced down mob bosses, enemy assassins, drug cartel leaders, army generals, and a whole host of other dangerous people, but, despite the fact that she knew he'd never hurt her, Klaus Mikaelson was the only person that she was afraid of.

He made her feel things that she'd rather not.

The natural scent of him combined with a woodsy soap and his hot breath on her face as he leaned toward her overwhelmed her senses, and she rooted her feet to the floor, determinedly standing her ground.

"You shouldn't have done it, Caroline," he said, and the way her name rolled off his tongue made her breath catch.

His eyes darkened at the sound, and she saw a smirk twist across his face before he gripped her hips with his palms and pulled her against him, all flat planes and sharp angles. The current of attraction had always threatened to overwhelm them when they were together, but she had never felt it so fully.

Then again, he'd never turned up at her motherfucking secret safehouse and guilt tripped her into patching him up from a wound she'd inflicted.

Now he had.

They held each others' gaze for what felt like hours, and later she'd never be able to recall who moved first before she was pressed against the wall of her kitchenette, his lips roughly moving against hers as he lifted her so that her legs wrapped around his waist, using the wall to support her as he palmed her breasts through the thin cotton of her nightgown.

She moaned as he tweaked her nipples, biting harshly on her lower lip, and she felt the bulge in his jeans grow with every small gasp and sigh that escaped her. He bucked against her covered center and she rolled her hips against his, the lace of her thong barely stifling the hot jolts of pleasure shooting straight to her core.

She moaned into his mouth, one hand fisting the back of his t-shirt while the other wound into his hair, and he moved one hand to cup her ass, keeping her against the wall, while the other moved to unfasten his jeans. Before he managed to undo the button, she wriggled in his arms, and he pulled away to let her down, his glare of confusion turning into wide-eyed want when she pulled her nightgown off, her nipples pebbling in the cold air of her house, and bent to slide the scrap of lace covering her to the ground.

She was bare before him, and she shot him a dark, lustful glance before walking away to her bedroom, adding an extra sway to her hips.

She heard him following her, and pushed him onto the bed as soon as he was close enough, undoing the button of his jeans and pulling them down with his boxers, throwing them on the floor, his Henley soon following.

She straddled him, slanting her lips against his again, her breasts brushing against the hard muscles of his chest. She traced the tattoo on his shoulder, smirking as he moved to flip them over. "No. You're injured Klaus. Best not to exacerbate that."

He glared but obediently stayed still, making her grin.

She grasped his hard cock in her hand, stroking him a few times before sitting up on her knees and moving down to let him fill her, her head thrown back in pleasure. She rocked her hips against him, moaning, and she had to fight down a satisfied smirk when she saw him with his eyes closed, an audible swallow escaping him as she began to move.

His hands moved to steady her hips as she bounced on his cock, and he moved to look at her through half-lidded eyes as she cupped her breast in her hand, playing with her nipple, the other moving down to rub her clit.

She arched her back, content to put on a show for him (there was no rush like having him watch her with worship in his eyes like she was the fucking sun to his earth), and she moaned as she rubbed herself faster, close to her peak.

Her breaths came out in sharp pants, and he groaned as she moved more harshly, clenching around him. She swore as she came around him, rolling her hips against him as she rode out her climax, and he came soon after, his come dripping down the insides of her thighs as she lazily moved off of him, her nose buried in his neck.

"I really should be used to seeing you shoot people by now," he muttered, his arm wrapping around her to settle his palm against her hip.

"I don't know if I'd like that. You're an excellent fuck. I'd hate to lose that because you decided that me killing people didn't do it for you anymore."

He laughed quietly and shifted under her. "I doubt that would ever happen."

She sighed. This was the fifth time they'd fucked after a kill, and it had to stop soon. She couldn't get attached.

"You should rest," she said. "You need to be able to leave tomorrow."

"Why?"

"Because we can't keep doing this."

"That's what you said the last time. And the time before that."

"And I was right."

She felt his jaw set against her forehead. "Why, Caroline?"

"We can't get attached. Not in this business."

"I think it's a bit late for that, love."

He was right, but she'd never admit it.

"Never again," she reiterated before turning over, facing away from him.

They both knew she was lying.

Could you please do something set when Caroline kills the twelve witches to save Bonnie. It could be an addition to the scene or an AU take on it. I just found it quite interesting because it is sort of like a role-reversal, with Klaus being the rational one. I totally understand Caroline's reasoning, but I also get why Klaus was so angry. / Note: also for "Prompt - 'We're the same Caroline.' And no matter how much she wanted to deny it, Caroline knew Klaus was right."

"They were about to kill Bonnie," Caroline insisted stubbornly as she followed Klaus into his garage, where he grabbed a shovel from a toolshelf (she didn't really want to know what it was for).

"Yes, love. I'm aware. And how many times has your friend been resurrected? I'm sure you would have found a way."

"But we shouldn't have to."

He shrugged. "Sometimes the needs of the many outweigh the sacrifices of the few," he said darkly.

Caroline followed him as he stalked back to the clearing and walked a few yards away from the ritual site, beginning to dig.

"That's bullshit. You're only doing this so that people don't come from the other side and kill you."

"Or maybe I trust my brother's judgment of the situation, who had been alive longer than all of you combined, not counting the time he spent in a coffin with a dagger in his chest. Who you murdered."

"I didn't murder him. Elena did," Caroline said uncomfortably, keeping her eyes anywhere but on Klaus.

She still felt horribly guilty about that, and to be honest, she blamed Elena for the Originals hating all of them. She wasn't about to say anything, of course, since the Elena Fan Club would have her head immediately, but she did feel bad about Kol (and the thousands of vampires he sired) dying.

"Regardless, he's dead, and his dying wish was for Silas to stay petrified as well," Klaus growled, his motions becoming jerkier as he spoke.

"Look, the point is that they were about to kill Bonnie. I couldn't let that happen."

He sighed exasperatedly. "Yes, love. I heard you the first time. However, you still didn't have to kill all twelve. You could have just snapped the neck of the one who was holding your friend, took her, and ran. You needlessly completed the ritual."

Caroline felt her stomach drop, and her eyes fill with tears.

He seemed to hear her breath catch and turned around, and she saw the oh shit look on his face that all men seemed to get around crying women (though she'd never seen Klaus with it), and his face softened fractionally, before firming as he turned back to the grave, taking a few more shovelfuls of dirt to make it large enough before dropping the shovel and speeding back, throwing the bodies in the graves.

Caroline watched, feeling abnormally sick as the corpses were cast into the hole without regard, and she fought down the urge to vomit.

"There," he said roughly. "Twelve graves for twelve witches…"

She failed to fight back her tears as she heard his last words to her, and sped away, her breathing ragged.

She remembered his words.

We're the same, Caroline.

He was right.

5 years later...

She took a deep breath as she stood in front of the mansion door, her hands shaking slightly. She'd crossed the border to New Orleans barely half an hour before, and had managed to find the home of the Originals with little trouble. She reached up and knocked on the door.

She faintly heard someone walking down the stairs, and a man (who she assumed to be Elijah, based on the suit and the way he carried himself) opened the door, his face showing slight surprise when he saw who it was.

"Hello," he said cautiously.

"Hi. You must be Elijah…?"

He nodded. "And you're Caroline Forbes."

"May I come in?"

He stood aside, and she grabbed the handle of her suitcase and walked past him, trying to be as subtle as possible while she took in the decor.

"Niklaus is currently otherwise occupied. He will most likely return in less than an hour. May I have someone fetch a blood bag for you? Or perhaps some wine?"

"No thank you."

"I'll show you to the sitting room, then."

She followed him and he gestured to the couch.

"I have a small number of matters to attend to. Please, excuse me."

He left without waiting for an answer, and she was fairly sure that there was someone lurking outside the door to make sure that she didn't try anything. She pulled out her phone and stared at the screen before unlocking it to play a game to take her mind off of the upcoming meeting.

It had been three years since their...thing...in the woods, and she still had to suppress the impulse to rub her thighs together whenever she thought about it too much.

It had also been three years since Bonnie had died.

And Damon, but really, who cared about Damon…

She'd left Mystic Falls and gone out on her own little road trip. She'd been up and down the east coast now, stopping in each big city for a month or two to try to find a way to bring Bonnie back, but she'd had no luck.

And that was the thing that brought her to New Orleans.

Okay, fine, one of the things that brought her to New Orleans.

"Caroline?"

She turned around and saw Klaus in the doorway, and she stood up. "Hey."

"How are you?" he asked slowly, walking into the room.

"I'm...I don't know."

She burst into tears.

She'd barely cried over Bonnie, and when she had it had been alone into her pillow, but something about the way Klaus had approached her, cautiously like she was a wild animal, made her lose it. She was upset. She was tired. She was so fucking done with hiding how much she hurt.

Bonnie had been her best friend. She and Elena hadn't gotten along at all until Caroline was well into her vampirism. Bonnie hadn't exactly stuck by her through thick and thin, but all of her best childhood memories were associated with Bonnie.

Klaus gave her the same deer-in-headlights look he had the day in the forest when she'd killed the witches to save Bonnie (and that thought just sent her on a new wave of sobs), and he seemed to not know what to do.

Ugh. Men.

"I'm in need of comfort," she tried to joke through her tears, and took a step towards him. He seemed to gather himself suddenly at her words, pulling her into his arms.

"Is this...er...about the Bennett witch?"

Caroline sniffled and nodded. "I need to get her back."

He sighed, and rubbed her back. "I might know a witch or two. I don't know how much they'll be able to help, but I think that they might have at least an idea or two to get us started."

"Thanks."

"Of course. Is that the only reason you're here?" he asked casually, and Caroline knew how loaded the question was.

"No," she said, her voice honest.

He looked at her critically, and she sighed, her breath hitching a little as she did so.

"I've had to re-evaluate my morals a bit over the last few years. All the terrible things I did were to protect my friends, and I always knew that the people I was killing were the friends of other people, and I do try to keep the killing at a minimum, but I mean, I've killed or stood by and watched my friends kill so many people in the past few years. Our death toll must be higher than we realize, and...I think I get it now. We're not so different."

"What are you saying?" he asked cautiously, almost absent-mindedly wiping a tear from her cheek, making her smile.

"We're all terrible people, but we're all...not, too. The fact that you've killed people shouldn't stop me from wanting you, because I've done terrible things. We all have."

"So, you want me?" he asked, tonelessly.

It was a defense mechanism, she knew. He didn't want to get his hopes up, and she knew why. She'd spent so much time trying to fool him, trying to convince him that she liked him only to pull the rug out from under him. How could he trust what she said?

Actions spoke louder than words, she decided.

"Yes," she said softly, walking towards him.

He stood completely still, his eyes locked to hers, and when she finally-finally-pressed her lips to his, she found herself wondering how something could possibly be terrible when it felt that right.

YAAAAAS! Sequel to relaxation fic with cranky!blue balls Klaus pleeeeease :)

Caroline hummed to herself as she walked down the hallway, her mood having improved immensely thanks to her husband's tongue. She only felt slightly bad about leaving him alone and hard in their bedroom, but really, he'd practically fucked her at the top of their staircase within eyeshot of everyone and then distracted her from overseeing the party.

So not okay.

She walked around, inspecting the decorations (which were now flawless), and nodding as she checked everything off. Besides the food, the party was completely ready (which was good, since it was supposed to start in less than an hour).

She checked her make-up and clothes one more time and then made sure everyone was in their places for when Elijah finally brought Rebekah home from whatever he was distracting her with.

They didn't have to wait long.

She got a simple On our way text from Elijah, and gestured for everyone to be silent.

Rebekah walked through the door and dropped her shopping bags in surprise when everyone yelled out their congratulations.

The party was soon in full swing with all of their family friends in attendance, and Klaus managed to convince Caroline to take a break from her hovering to dance with him.

"That was a cruel trick earlier, my love."

"You deserved it," she said evenly, a small smirk on her face.

She gave him a chaste kiss as they swayed together before laying her head on his shoulder. His arms tightened around her and she felt the nip of his blunt teeth against her neck.

"Not in front of everyone," she scolded, pulling back to glare at him.

"Fine. Shall we retire somewhere more private?"

"I guess I'd be okay with that."

He smirked and twirled her towards the edge of the floor, making her laugh, and gently guided her to a lounge off the ballroom, locking the door behind them.

She found herself pressed against the wall of the room, the hard planes of his body pressing against her curves. He tugged the zipper of her dress down and let it pool to the floor and squeezing her breasts in his palms. She moaned, letting her head fall back against the wall as he nibbled the skin of her neck.

"It wasn't kind of you to leave me earlier."

"You took me away from my planning," she panted as he licked a particularly sensitive spot.

"Nevertheless, it was rude and disrespectful."

Oh, fuck.

"Was it?" she asked, moaning as one of his hands moved between her legs to rub her clit.

He hummed softly in affirmation before she found herself face down over his lap, her ass in the air. She let out a small gasp as he stroked the skin of her ass with his palm before tugging her thong down to her knees and running a finger between her folds, making her moan.

Did she know that this was coming when she left him alone? Yes.

Did she do it on purpose? Most definitely.

"Naughty girl, leaving me wanting for you, alone in our bed," he said, his voice low and soft.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, wriggling under the grip of his hand.

"No you're not. Lie still," he ordered, and she complied, moaning as he slipped a finger into her core.

"So wet already, and we haven't even begun. Do you like it when I spank you?"

"Yes," she breathed, spreading her legs as he added another finger.

"Naughty girl."

She moaned as he curled his fingers against her walls, and he took them away as she rolled her hips.

"You're going to count each strike, love. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

She let out a sharp breath at the first strike, and rubbed her thighs together as he continued to spank her, and she counted each strike, becoming more and more breathless as each landed.

"Klaus…I need…" she breathed, trailing off as he pushed two fingers into her soaking center, pumping them in and out, making her moan.

She could feel his cock through his trousers, hard and throbbing, and she panted out his name as he fingerfucked her, spreading her legs and trying to roll her hips against his fingers as he held her by the hip, whispering how good she looked slung over his lap.

"Naughty girl, so wet from my hand against your arse. You love being punished, being spanked, don't you?"

"Yes," she gasped out as he curled his fingers to brush against her walls, making her moan loudly in surprise.

"It gets you off that we're just outside the ballroom, doesn't it? That if you're not quiet, all the guests at the party will hear your husband punishing you for your insolence. They'll hear the slap of my hand against you and your screams of pleasure as I discipline you."

"Klaus…"

"Apologize."

"I'm sorry for…not reciprocating earlier," she said, choosing her words carefully. "I know that you were trying to help, and it was unfair of me to take what you gave but not give anything in return."

"Good girl," he breathed, rubbing her clit lightly, making her moan his name loudly, and whimper at the loss of his fingers as he pulled them away.

"Straddle me," he ordered, swatting her lightly on the ass.

She did so, cupping his face in her hands and kissing him softly.

"Tell me what you want," he mumbled against her mouth, his palms running over her waist and the swell of her hips.

"I want you to fuck me," she said quietly, reaching down to undo his belt.

"As you wish," he said, a smug smile spreading over his face.

She was flat on her back in an instant, her legs in the air as the lacy scrap of underwear fell to the floor and he filled her with his cock, his balls slapping against her skin as he moved.

He fit into her so perfectly, igniting sparks of pleasure that made her core tighten around him. Her breasts bounced as he fucked her against the floor, and her hands tangled in his hair, bringing him down to capture his lips with hers.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, moving with him as he palmed her breasts between them, pinching her nipples. She moaned his name as his lips moved to kiss and nibble her jaw, his stubble brushing pleasurably against her skin.

Her fingernails raked down his back as he started to move faster, and he swore as she clenched around him, close to tipping over the edge.

"Bite me," she breathed, tipping her head to the side, and he obliged, his fangs sinking into her neck as he drank from her. She returned the favor, indulging in the taste of him, and the feeling of him sucking the life out of her combined with the velvety copper sweetness of his blood on her tongue made her reach her peak, and she moaned against his skin as she came. He fucked her through her orgasm, spilling inside her soon after and rolling over to bring her naked body on top of him, pressing her against him.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed them. Thanks for reading.
Hugs!
-Angie