Outside Work We... •[TNN One-shots]•

It's Yours Anyways •|| WINTUMN ||•

Prompt: Autumn is forced to do something she doesn't want to.
[AU]

When Autumn first met Winter, it was all part of the plan.

The sole heir of the Fortune Syndicate was charming, sharp-tongued, and way too perceptive for his own good. He flirted like it was second nature, weaving words like silk, and most people never saw the blade hidden beneath his silver tongue. But Autumn Knight wasn't most people.

She had been raised to be a weapon, molded by R*ger's hands into the perfect successor of the Knight Mafia. And Winter? He was nothing more than a stepping stone on her path to absolute control.

Or so she told herself.

Their relationship began as a game of deception, each one trying to outmaneuver the other. Dinners filled with veiled threats disguised as sweet nothings. Dancing in dimly lit ballrooms where their eyes didn't quite reach their eyes. Kisses stolen in the dark, where neither had to face the truth of what they were.

It was thrilling, knowing that at any moment, one of them could end the other.

Then everything went wrong.

°•°•°--**--°•°•°

Autumn was bleeding.

A mission had gone sideways, and she barely made it out alive. She was losing blood fast, her vision blurring, but somehow- somehow- she ended up at Winter's doorstep.

He let her in without hesitation.

"I should be killing you," She rasped as he patched her up.

Winter smirked, pressing a cloth to her wound a little too hard just to make her wince. "You could've gone anywhere my sweet. But you came here."

She wanted to deny it. Wanted to tell him that it was a mistake.

But she couldn't.

Not when he was kneeling in front of her, not when his hands were covered in her, not when he was looking at her like she was something worth saving.

Not when he kissed her like he meant it.

Autumn should've killed him that night. Instead, she let him pull her into his arms, into his bed, into something dangerous and real.

For the first time in her life, Autumn let herself believe in something other than blood and violence.

For the first time, she loved.

°•°•°--**--°•°•°

T

hey had planned to run.

Autumn told Winter to meet her at the docks at midnight. She had everything prepared- new identities, safe houses, an escape route.

She was ready to leave the world behind for him.

But her father found out.

And when she came home that evening, he was waiting.

"You're not leaving," he said, sipping his whiskey like they were talking business. "Not unless it's over his dead body."

Her stomach twisted. "You can't-"

"I can. And I will. You have one chance, Autumn. Kill him yourself, or I will make sure he suffers before he dies.

Her blood ran cold.

She knew what her father was capable of. If he got his hands on Winter, he wouldn't just kill him. He would break him, make an example out of him, make her watch.

So she made her choice.

She didn't go to the docks that night.

Instead, she set the trap.

°•°•°--**--°•°•°

The warehouse was dimly lit, the scent of blood and gunpowder thick in the air. Autumn stood on one side, her grip tight around the dagger in her hand. Winter faced her, his own weapon drawn but lowered ever so slightly. The weight of their choices pressed down on them like an iron cage, trapping them in a moment neither of them wanted.

"We have to make it look real," Winter murmured, just loud enough for her to hear.

Autumn swallowed hard, nodding. "I know."

Then she lunged.

Their weapons clashed, steel against steel, but there was no real force behind the strikes. Every move was calculated— aggressive on the surface but careful underneath, neither willing to hurt the other. Autumn swung her blade towards his ribs, but Winter deflected it with practiced ease. He twisted her wrist just enough to disarm her, but instead of taking advantage, he hesitated. That moment of pause was enough for her to sweep his legs from under him, sending him crashing to the ground.

She hovered over him, her dagger at his throat. His blue eyes burned into hers, pleading, searching.

"Do it," he whispered. But there was no venom, no challenge. Just a quiet, broken plea.

Her hand shook. "I can't."

Boots thundered behind them— R*ger's men, coming to make sure she finished the job. Winter saw them before she did, his gaze flickering behind her. He took a slow breath, then guided her hand downward until the tip of her blade rested against his heart.

Patting her hand, he smiled softly, the ghost of something they once had lingering between them. "Go ahead. It's yours, anyway."

A choked sob tore through her chest as the world shattered around her.

Her vision blurred with tears.

She wanted to stop. Wanted to believe there was another way.

But there wasn't.

She did the only thing she could.

She plunged the dagger forward.

Winter gasped, his hands tightening around hers.

"Autumn," he rasped.

"Don't," she whispered.

He reached up, brushing a strand of wet hair from her face, leaving behind a smear of blood.

"Tell me you love me," he murmured.

A sob tore through her. "You know I do."

He tried to smile. "Say it anyway."

She pressed her forehead to his, her tears mixing with the rain.

"I love you," she whispered. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

Winter's lips parted as if to respond.

But no sound came.

His chest stilled.

Autumn let out a broken wail, clutching his lifeless body as if she could hold him together, as if she could stop time, as if she could take it back.

But it was too late.

She had killed the only person who had ever truly been hers.

And now, she had nothing left.

[A/N: Should I apologize?]