Chapter 1: Over the Line
Chapter Text
Chicago, Special Investigations, 2:42 a.m.
The file slammed onto the desk like a gunshot in a quiet room.
“Don’t pull that ‘I’m protecting you’ crap again, Harry. Not here. Not now.”
Karrin Murphy’s voice didn’t need to shout to slice through the air. It carried that honed, flinty edge, sharpened by years of grit, and it trembled with a fury that could turn a desk lamp into a projectile. Especially with the supernatural contraband stashed in her filing cabinet these days.
Harry Dresden towered across from her, all six-foot-nine of lean, wiry frame, his leather duster soaked and dripping snowmelt into an angry puddle on the tile. His eyes burned with exhaustion and rage, a dangerous mix for a wizard like him.
“I didn’t pull anything,” he snapped, voice rough. “You’re the one storming into necromancer territory like it’s a damn donut shop stakeout.”
“You told Carmichael I wasn’t cleared to be there!” Karrin shot back, her five-foot, muscular frame coiled like a spring, a pixie-sized powerhouse ready to detonate. “You went around me. Again.”
“I told Carmichael you weren’t expendable!”
The words landed like a gut punch. Silence crashed into the room, heavy and suffocating, making the air feel like it was holding its breath.
Karrin’s jaw clenched, her blue eyes blazing. “You don’t get to make that call.”
“I have to,” Harry said, his voice low, raw, cutting. “Because if something happens to you, it’s not just bad—it’s the end of me.”
Her breath hitched, a flicker she buried fast. Karrin Murphy didn’t do vulnerable. Not ever.
“You think I don’t know what this job costs?” she said, stepping closer, her voice a controlled blaze. “You think I haven’t buried people I cared about?”
“I think if I lose you, it’ll be the last thing I survive,” Harry said, his words steady, sharp, like a blade laid bare.
That shattered something—not her resolve, never that, but the wall they’d built over years of dodging this truth.
She moved like a spark hitting dry tinder, closing the distance in a heartbeat. No space left between them, just heat and the raw ache of too many unspoken years. She grabbed his duster, her small, strong hands yanking the towering wizard down, and kissed him like she was claiming a debt long overdue.
Harry paused briefly, then kissed her hard, matching her intensity. His large hands grabbed her waist, lifting her easily despite her strong, compact build. Her legs hooked around his hips, pulling him close, their kiss growing wild, teeth clicking, tongues meeting, fueled by too many near misses.
They hit the desk, sending files flying and a mug crashing to the floor. Karrin’s hands tore at his shirt, buttons scattering, revealing his lean chest. Harry tugged off her jacket, tossing it aside, then ripped her shirt open, exposing her toned torso, skin flushed. “Murph,” he muttered against her neck, nipping her collarbone, hands pushing up her bra. She arched into him, nails scratching his shoulders, marking his skin. Her small, powerful frame contrasted with his tall, wiry build as she pushed him onto the desk.
The desk collapsed under them, papers scattering. Karrin straddled him, yanking his belt free with a sharp pull. Harry shrugged off his duster, pulling her pants down, tearing the seam. She kicked them off, her bra snapping under his grip. His pants followed, half-ruined in their rush.
The air was thick with need. Karrin’s hands guided him, her gaze fierce. Harry’s breath hitched, hands on her hips as she lowered herself, their connection deliberate, intense. They moved together, her strong form against his lanky frame, raw and unrestrained. Her moan met his low groan, their rhythm urgent.
Clothes lay in tatters, her shirt half-on, his pants crumpled. Their breaths filled the room, mixed with the sound of ripping fabric and creaking floorboards. Harry lifted her, pinning her against the wall, a framed certificate crashing down. Her legs tightened around him, their movements a mix of fight and need. The thin walls of Special Investigations carried every sound; chairs shifted outside, someone coughed. They didn’t care.
Later, they sat in the wreckage, breathless, spent. Harry’s shirt was a shredded ruin, barely clinging to his lanky frame. Karrin’s holster hung off a mangled filing cabinet, her torn shirt dangling open, exposing the curve of muscle and skin. The desk was obliterated, one leg stabbed through an evidence box, some unidentifiable goo pooling on the floor.
A sharp knock hit the door. No pause.
Lieutenant Rawlins pushed in, his face a mix of exhaustion and dry disbelief. He took in the carnage—the shattered desk, the scattered clothes, the unmistakable aftermath—and sighed.
“Well,” he said, voice flat, “at least you didn’t summon a demon this time.”
Neither spoke. Harry shifted, his long legs sprawled awkwardly in the debris. Karrin adjusted her torn shirt, her movements precise despite the flush still coloring her cheeks.
“I’ve got two junior officers out there wondering if SI’s filming a damn soap opera,” Rawlins continued. “And a civilian contractor who just voided a city contract by sticking it somewhere real unprofessional.”
Harry opened his mouth. “Look, I—”
“Nope,” Rawlins cut him off. “Whatever wizard speech you’re brewing, save it.”
Karrin stood, all five feet of her radiating control as she retrieved her holster and smoothed her hair. “I’ll handle the department,” she said. “Take the suspension. Seventy-two hours, standard cooling off.”
Rawlins nodded. “It’s seventy-two. And Dresden, your consulting gig’s on ice until the walls stop humming.”
Harry’s jaw worked, but he stayed silent. No arguing with that tone.
Rawlins backed out, shutting the door with a deliberate click.
Silence fell. Karrin exhaled, avoiding Harry’s gaze.
“That could’ve gone worse,” he said, aiming for a joke and missing.
She looked at him then, her eyes sharp but not cold. “You’d better start padding your side gigs,” she said. “SI’s not paying you until I untangle this mess.”
He nodded, rubbing his neck. “Got a were-rat job in Cicero. Pays in raw meat and hubcaps. I’ll push for cash.”
“Classy.”
He paused, his eyes tracing her, the strength in her small frame, the fire still smoldering. “I don’t regret it.”
She didn’t answer right away. Then, quietly: “Neither do I.”
Their eyes held, something softer flickering through. She glanced at the ruined desk, then back at him. “You better go,” she said. “Before I make another mistake.”
He hesitated, not wanting to leave what they’d just carved out. But he nodded, moving toward the door.
“Hey, Harry,” she called, just as he reached it. He turned.
“I don’t think this was a mistake.”
He gave her a smile—tired, real. “I know.”
And then he was gone.
Chapter 2: Rough Night
Chapter Text
Harry slammed the door of his basement apartment, the damp weight of his torn duster dragging at his shoulders. The day had been a mess—Karrin’s sharp words still stung, the desk they’d wrecked in her office a casualty of their latest clash, and Rawlins’ judgmental side-eye didn’t help. His shirt hung in shreds, a badge of the chaos. He kicked the door shut, wards buzzing to life, and tossed his staff into the corner with a loud clank.
“Bad day, huh, boss?” Bob’s snarky voice floated from the skull on the messy bookshelf, orange eye-lights glowing as they scanned Harry’s roughed-up look. “What, you wrestle a lawnmower and lose? Or was it a really angry raccoon?”
“Quiet, Bob,” Harry growled, peeling off his soaked duster. It hit the floor with a wet thud. “Not tonight.”
“Oh, you’re definitely in a mood,” Bob shot back, his tone all sleaze and suggestion. “That shirt didn’t shred itself. Spill it, Dresden—who’s the woman that got you looking like roadkill?”
Harry ignored him, stomping to the kitchenette to scrape together something edible. At six-foot-nine, he had to duck under the low beam, his boots scuffing the threadbare rug. The apartment was a disaster—books stacked everywhere, a half-melted candle dripping wax onto a table—but it was his.
A sharp rap at the door froze him mid-step, hand on a beat-up kettle. Nobody knocked this late unless they were bringing trouble. Or answers.
He cracked the door, peering out. Karrin Murphy stood there, her small frame wrapped in a long overcoat, blonde hair tucked under a cap. Her blue eyes were sharp but carried a flicker of something softer, almost nervous.
“Murph?” Harry’s voice came out gruff. “What’s up?”
“We need to talk,” she said, her tone steady but with a hint of something raw. “About earlier.”
He stepped aside, letting her in. The wards hummed as she crossed the threshold, her boots clicking on the floor. “Tea? I’ve got… something that might pass for it.”
She gave a short nod, and he shuffled to the kitchenette, muttering “Flickum bicus” to spark a flame under the kettle. He dug through the mess for a mug that wasn’t too gross, not much chance of that though.
“Hey, Harry!” Bob’s voice cut through the quiet, smug as ever. “Get your lanky self back here, you won’t believe this!”
Harry spun, nearly dropping the kettle. “Bob, I swear—”
He stopped cold. Karrin had ditched the overcoat, letting it crumple to the floor. Her clothes were a wreck; shirt torn to pieces, one sleeve missing, the other barely hanging on. Her pants were ripped, a strip of thigh peeking through, and her bra was done for, half-snapped and barely covering anything. Her skin was still flushed, her eyes a mix of bold and almost shy.
“You owe me new clothes, Dresden,” she said, stepping closer, her voice low and no-nonsense. “But first…” A small, real smile tugged at her lips, hesitant but sure. “Let’s finish what we started.”
Harry’s brain stalled. The kettle whistled, forgotten. Bob let out a low whistle. “Well, dang, boss. She’s a keeper.”
“Bob, be quiet,” Harry snapped, eyes locked on Karrin. His pulse hammered, the air thick with the same heat that had trashed her office. She wanted this. Again. And so did he.
He crossed the room in two long strides, hands finding her waist, lifting her like she weighed nothing. Her compact, muscled body pressed against his lanky frame, fitting like they were built for it. She didn’t wait, yanking at his torn shirt, ripping it clean off with a sharp tug. “Pants off, Dresden,” she said, half-order, half-tease, her eyes glinting. “You know what this is.”
No argument here. He ditched the rest of his shirt, kicked off his boots as she shoved at his pants, her small hands quick and impatient. Her clothes came off in a rush, torn shirt gone, pants shredded completely, the ripped seam giving up. She pushed him toward the bedroom, her strength catching him off guard like always, and he went, stumbling through the doorway.
They hit the bed hard, the frame groaning under them. Karrin shoved him down, straddling his hips, her toned frame a sharp contrast to his long, lean build. Her hands were everywhere, nails raking his chest, pulling a hiss from him as he tore off the last of her clothes, a stubborn pant leg, the wrecked bra, chucking them into the dark. His pants were gone, kicked off in a mess, and she leaned down, lips crashing into his, all heat and hunger.
“Murph,” he groaned against her mouth, hands gripping her thighs, feeling the muscle flex as she moved. She was relentless, guiding him with a fierce, sure touch, her breath catching as she pulled him into her, her heat enveloping him. It was raw, intense, their bodies syncing in a rhythm that was half-battle, half-need. Her small frame rocked against his towering one, the contrast sparking something primal, and he thrust up to meet her, matching her pace. Her moan was low, almost feral, and his rough groan answered, their heat building, no holding back.
The bedframe shook, the thin walls doing little to muffle them. Bob’s voice floated in from the living room, smug as ever. “Go get it, boss!” Neither of them cared.
The bedframe had gone quiet, the air heavy with the aftermath of their heat. Harry and Karrin lay tangled in the sheets, catching their breath, bodies still humming from the rush. Her compact, muscled frame pressed against his lanky sprawl, the contrast between them sharp as always. For a moment, they just breathed, the quiet softer than it should’ve been after the chaos they’d kicked up.
“Done yet?” Karrin murmured, voice low, teasing, but rough with exhaustion. She propped up on one elbow, blue eyes catching the dim glow of the bedside lamp.
Harry let out a tired chuckle, voice gravelly. “If we’re not, I might need a medic on standby.”
She smirked, sliding off the bed. “I need a drink.” She rummaged through his cluttered dresser, grabbing an oversized Cubs shirt that drowned her five-foot frame, the hem skimming her thighs. It was comically big, but she owned it, her strength turning it into something fierce.
Harry rolled out of bed, long legs unfolding as he snagged gray sweatpants from the floor, pulling them over his lean hips. “Coffee?” he called, heading for the kitchenette. “Or we sticking with tea?”
“Coffee,” she said, following, her bare feet soft on the worn rug.
The kitchenette was a tight corner of his basement apartment, lit by a single flickering bulb. Harry got the kettle going, digging through a tin for coffee grounds that weren’t too old. Karrin leaned against the counter, the Cubs shirt slipping off one shoulder, showing the curve of her collarbone. They didn’t touch the office fight, the broken desk, or Rawlins’ suspension. Not yet. They traded quiet words instead, about the cold snap hitting Chicago, a case Harry fumbled last week, her latest dojo sparring match. Normal stuff, or as close as they ever got.
Bob’s voice cut in from the bookshelf skull, oddly toned down. “Well, look at you two, all cozy. Should I start drafting wedding invites, or is this just a post-sex coffee break?”
“Bob,” Harry warned, not turning as he poured hot water into a French press. “Don’t make me regret leaving you out here.”
“Easy, boss,” Bob said, orange eye-lights flickering. “I’m practically a saint tonight. Keeping it tame.” A beat, then a sly, “Nice shirt, Murphy. High fashion.”
Karrin snorted, crossing her arms. “Keep talking, skull, and I’ll use you for target practice.”
Bob chuckled but shut up, his glow dimming like he sensed the shift in the air. Harry handed Karrin a chipped mug, their fingers brushing, and they stood there, sipping coffee that was too strong, too bitter, but it didn’t matter. The silence was easy, rare for them, and for a moment, they could just be.
Karrin set her mug down, eyes flicking to the counter behind her. She tilted her head, voice casual but edged with mischief. “This counter,” she said, tapping it with a finger. “Think it’s sturdy?”
Harry froze, mug halfway to his lips. Her tone was light, but those sharp blue eyes sent a spark through him. “Murph,” he said, voice roughening, “you’re gonna end me.”
She smiled, softer than her usual edge but not quite shy, and stepped closer, her small frame brushing his. “You didn’t answer, Dresden.”
He didn’t need to. He set his mug down, coffee sloshing, and closed the gap in one stride. His hands found her waist, lifting her onto the counter like she was nothing, her compact, powerful body radiating strength in his grip. She laughed as he kissed her, deep and hungry, lips claiming hers with the same fire as before. Her hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer, and she yanked the Cubs shirt off, tossing it to the floor. Her skin was flushed, muscles tight under his hands, and the sight of her, small, fierce, bare, lit him up.
“Finish it, Harry,” she murmured against his lips, voice a mix of command and need, legs hooking around his hips to pull him in.
He didn’t wait. His sweatpants hit the floor, kicked aside as she leaned back, hands braced on the counter, eyes locked on his. He gripped her thighs, the contrast of her petite, powerful build against his tall, wiry frame sparking something raw. She guided him, touch firm and sure, and when he entered her, her heat pulled a low groan from him, matched by her sharp gasp. The counter creaked but held, their rhythm fast, urgent, a clash of need that shook the cheap wood.
Karrin’s breath hitched, nails digging into his shoulders, body arching as the heat built. Her muscles tensed, eyes fluttering shut, and then it hit - a full-body rush that tore through her like a wave. She cried out, a raw, shuddering sound, her compact frame shaking against him. Her legs tightened, then went slack, and she slumped forward, trembling, overwhelmed. Harry’s arms shot out, his long frame bracing her, hands gripping her waist to keep her from sliding off. He held her close, his own breath ragged, feeling her tremors as she clung to him, face pressed into his chest.
“Murph,” he murmured, voice thick with concern and awe, steadying her as the aftershocks faded. She was fire and steel, but right then, she was open, trusting, and he felt the weight of it.
Bob stayed quiet, for once knowing when to keep his mouth shut. The apartment’s thin walls carried every sound, but they didn’t care. Not now.
Chapter 3: Splinters and Second Chances
Chapter Text
Morning light filtered through the grimy basement window, casting a soft glow over Harry Dresden’s cluttered apartment. The air carried the faint char of overdone toast and the sharp bite of coffee strong enough to jolt a coma patient awake. Karrin Murphy perched on a rickety stool at the counter, her compact, muscular frame swallowed by Harry’s faded Metallica tee, the logo barely legible. The shirt draped to her thighs, paired with his old gym shorts, cinched tight to keep from sliding off. She wore the mismatched outfit with the same steely confidence she’d bring to a brawl, her blonde hair catching the light as she sipped the bitter dregs of her coffee.
Her body hummed with a pleasant ache, a vivid reminder of the night before, a wildfire of passion that had left her clothes in ruins and her office desk a pile of kindling. Her work blouse was shredded, her pants torn beyond repair, and her bra was likely buried somewhere in Harry’s bedroom, one strap snapped like a broken promise. She smirked, imagining flashing the remnants at Harry to ignite another spark, but for now, she let him play domestic. He’d left earlier, her keys in hand, off to her apartment to grab her something practical; jeans, a tee, anything that didn’t scream “I survived a wizard’s laundry apocalypse.”
Harry’s towering frame had been a sight that morning, all six-foot-nine of him in fresh flannel and jeans, his dark hair a chaotic tangle as he wrestled with a skillet. “Morning, Murph,” he’d rumbled, voice thick with sleep and a warmth that made her heart skip. “My clothes look better on you.” She’d fired back about not being his personal clothing rack, but his lingering gaze had sent a shiver through her. Breakfast was simple, but the quiet between them was electric, heavy with unspoken truths. Bob’s skull sat silent on the shelf, its orange glow dim, as if even the spirit knew to keep quiet.
Now alone, Karrin set her mug down, the clink sharp in the stillness. Harry’s wards pulsed softly, a steady hum of magic, until a knock broke the calm, followed by a faint buzz as someone brushed the threshold. Her hand twitched for a gun that wasn’t there before she relaxed at the familiar voice. “Harry? You there? Got those runes you wanted.”
Molly Carpenter.
Karrin smoothed the oversized shirt and opened the door. Molly stood there, her athletic frame striking in jeans and a vivid, tie-dye sweater, her canvas bag bulging with books and papers. At twenty seven, five foot eleven, and with a presence that filled the room, Molly was no longer the lanky apprentice. Her hair, streaked with vibrant colors, shimmered in the dim light, and her sharp blue eyes widened as they swept over Karrin, Harry’s clothes, tousled hair, and the faint flush that screamed last night was intense.
“Murphy?” Molly’s voice caught, her gaze flicking from the baggy shirt to the precariously tied shorts. “You good? Where’s Harry?”
Karrin’s gut tightened, a flush of self-consciousness creeping up. Facing Rawlins over her wrecked office had been simple, his sarcasm was familiar terrain. But Molly, with her past feelings for Harry, was trickier. Those emotions lingered like an old scar, and Karrin felt caught off guard, exposed. “He’s out grabbing me clothes,” she said, voice steady as she stepped aside. “Coffee’s fresh if you want some.”
Molly hesitated, her eyes snagging on a scrap of fabric by the bedroom door. Karrin followed her gaze and cursed inwardly. Her torn blouse lay crumpled, one sleeve ripped off, beside her pants, split at the seams, and the remnants of her bra, its broken strap a glaring clue. The bedroom door stood ajar, revealing tangled sheets, a tilted bedframe, and a candle burned to a stub. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and desire, the room’s aura practically vibrating with the raw energy of the night before, unmistakable to Molly’s heightened senses.
Molly’s brows shot up, her cheeks tinting as she stepped inside, dropping her bag with a thud. “You and Harry,” she said, not asking, her voice low and tinged with something raw. “This is serious, isn’t it? Not just a fling.”
Karrin’s jaw tightened, not out of shame for what she and Harry shared, but for how it must hit Molly, whose old crush still stung. “It just… happened,” she said, her tone firm but soft. “We’ve been circling each other forever, Molly. Last night, it finally ignited. That’s it.”
Molly’s eyes widened, a mix of shock and a reluctant grin breaking through. “Ignited? Murphy, you—” She gestured at the bedroom, then the shredded clothes. “You broke your desk? Like, actually demolished it?” Her voice rose, caught between awe and amusement. “That’s some epic romance novel stuff.”
Karrin rubbed her temple, a wry sigh escaping. “Yeah, not my finest moment. Cheap office furniture doesn’t handle… enthusiasm. It just gave up.”
Molly’s lips twitched, a shaky laugh slipping out. “If it didn’t hurt so much to see, I’d call it legendary.” She paused, her expression softening, a rare vulnerability showing. “Can we sit? I need to say something.”
Karrin nodded, motioning to the sagging couch. She poured Molly a mug of coffee, handing it over as they settled in, the couch creaking under them. Molly fidgeted with the mug, her long fingers restless, her vibrant presence tempered by unease.
Molly took a breath, her voice quieter, almost fragile. “Seeing you here, in his shirt, with… all this,” she nodded toward the bedroom, “it’s hitting me hard. I’ve told myself I’m over Harry, that he’s just my friend, my mentor. But I’m not fully there. Part of me still wonders what it’d be like to be the one he chooses. Walking in here, seeing you two… it’s like the universe is shouting that it’s you. Always was.” She swallowed, her eyes steady despite their sheen. “But I’m happy for you, Murphy. Really. Harry’s been through hell, and you’re right for him. You ground him. I mean it, even if it stings to say.”
Karrin leaned back, Molly’s honesty washing away her unease. It stirred respect, tinged with a pang of guilt for the younger woman’s pain. Molly wasn’t just Harry’s former apprentice—she was a force, carving her own path. “I didn’t mean for you to walk into this,” Karrin said, her voice calm but warm. “If I’d known, I’d have at least hidden the evidence.”
Molly snorted, a small laugh breaking the tension. “Yeah, good luck with that. This place is like a magical neon sign screaming ‘Harry and Murphy got busy.’ The energy’s practically glowing.” She sipped her coffee, her shoulders easing. “I don’t blame you, or him. You’ve got something real, and I see it. I’m just… still sorting out my feelings. But I’m happy for you. You make him better, Murphy. He’s damn lucky.”
Karrin’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Thanks, Molly. That means something. And look, I get how Harry pulls people in—he’s like a damn magnet. But you’re not just his shadow. You’re Molly Carpenter, and you’re a powerhouse. You’ll find your own way, and it’s gonna be something else.”
Molly’s eyes flicked up, gratitude sparking in them. “Maybe,” she said softly. “I just needed to say it, you know? Clear the air. I’m rooting for you two, even if it’s bittersweet.”
“Bittersweet’s our thing,” Karrin said, her tone dry, drawing a grin from Molly. “By the way, I’m suspended for three days. Rawlins wasn’t thrilled about the desk—or the noise complaints. I told Harry to avoid SI until I can smooth things over. He’s grabbing clothes so I don’t look like I raided a dumpster.”
Molly’s grin widened. “Suspended? Damn, Murphy, you don’t mess around. Maybe stick around here, help Harry clean this chaos. He’ll need someone to talk to about… this.” She waved at the scattered papers and torn clothes.
Karrin chuckled, glancing at the mess. “Yeah, he’s not great at processing alone.”
They sat in a softer silence, the coffee cooling. The door creaked open, and Harry stepped in, a duffel bag over his shoulder. He froze, eyes darting between Karrin and Molly, sensing the heavy air. “Uh… did I miss something?”
Karrin stood, crossing to him with a fluid stride despite the oversized clothes. “Just talking,” she said, her tone light but her eyes carrying a trace of the conversation’s weight. “Thanks for the clothes.”
She slipped into the bedroom, unzipping the duffel to find jeans, a fitted tee, and a jacket—her style, practical and grounded. She changed quickly, the familiar fit steadying her. When she stepped out, she was Karrin Murphy again, not the woman lost in Harry’s wardrobe.
Molly stayed on the couch, cradling her coffee, her expression a mix of resolve and warmth. “I’m sticking around,” she said, her voice firm but kind. “Gotta finish this coffee and wrap up with Murphy. Plus, we need to go over those runes, Harry. They’re tricky, and I’m not letting you blow up the lab.”
Harry’s brow arched, a grin tugging at his lips. “Wow, Grasshopper, such faith in me.” He set the duffel down, leaning against the counter, his eyes flicking between them, catching the unspoken tension.
Molly sipped her coffee, her vibrant energy settling. “We’re good, right?” she said to Karrin, her tone earnest. “I meant it—I’m happy for you. My heart’s just… taking its time.”
Karrin nodded, her expression softening. “We’re good, Molly. Take all the time you need. You’ll get there.”
Molly’s smile was small but real. “Thanks, Murphy. You’re pretty badass, you know?” She stood, setting her mug down with a soft clink and slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Alright, wizard,” she said to Harry. “Meet me in the lab when I’m done here. We’re sorting those runes, and you’re not touching anything flammable.”
Karrin laughed, leaning against the doorway. “Keep him on a leash, Molly.”
Harry rolled his eyes, his grin widening. “Oh, great, now you’re both ganging up on me.”
“Get used to it,” Molly shot back, her humor bright as she headed for the trapdoor to the lab, her colorful hair catching the light. “Give me a sec with Murphy, then bring a broom—this place is a disaster.”
Karrin watched her descend, the trapdoor creaking shut. The air felt lighter, the tension fading. Harry turned to her, his expression soft but curious. “Everything okay?”
Karrin exhaled, setting the duffel aside. “Yeah. Just… us being us.”
He nodded, a quiet smile forming. “Our specialty.”
Chapter 4: Tangled Bonds
Chapter Text
Molly Carpenter trudged up the creaky stairs from Harry Dresden’s lab, her boots scuffing against the worn wood, the faint hum of magical wards tingling in her bones. Her canvas bag of runes swung at her side, heavy with potential, but her mind was heavier still—reeling from the raw energy of the apartment above, where Harry and Karrin Murphy had left echoes of last night’s chaos. She pushed open the door, the scent of old books, coffee, and something unmistakably them hitting her like a spell.
Karrin stood near the cluttered counter, adjusting the collar of her leather jacket, the morning light catching the blonde streaks in her hair. Her compact frame radiated a quiet strength, but her blue eyes held a storm—part exhaustion, part resolve. Harry loomed nearby, all six-foot-nine of him slouched against the counter like a lanky scarecrow, his duffel bag now empty at his feet, the remnants of Karrin’s shredded clothes peeking from the bedroom doorway like guilty secrets.
“Gotta head to SI,” Karrin said, her voice clipped but warm, carrying the weight of a night that had rewritten their rules. “Rawlins needs me to show face somewhere that doesn’t involve a busted desk or… us.” She shot Harry a look, half smirk, half warning. “Stay clear, Dresden. Suspension’s bad enough without you getting banned for life.”
Harry rubbed his neck, his dark hair a mess, his expression caught between sheepish and stubborn. “Yeah, yeah. Rawlins wasn’t exactly doing cartwheels. You sure you’re okay going solo?”
Karrin’s lips twitched, a flicker of gratitude softening her edge. “I’ll manage.” Her gaze slid to Molly, who lingered near the couch, her vibrant hair catching the dim light like a neon spell. “Molly, you mind sticking around? This place is a disaster, and Harry’s not winning any housekeeping awards. Plus…” She hesitated, her voice softening. “He could use someone to talk to. This is a lot, and you’re better at cracking his skull open than most.”
Molly’s brows shot up, a spark of surprise dancing in her eyes. “Me? Babysit the wizard and his mess?” She glanced at the chaos—scattered papers, a broken chair, those damn clothes screaming their story. “Sure, I was just gonna drop the runes and bolt, but… yeah, I’ll stay.” Her tone was dry, but her earlier vulnerability clung to her like a shadow, her fingers brushing the edge of her bag.
Karrin nodded, her eyes lingering on Harry. “And you—don’t just let Molly play shrink. She’s got her own stuff to unpack about… us. Listen to her, Harry. Really listen.”
Harry blinked, his brain clearly lagging behind. “Uh, yeah, sure thing, Murph.” He glanced at Molly, who offered a small shrug, her eyes dodging his like they held too much.
Karrin grabbed her keys, giving them a final look—sharp, steady, but with a crack of something softer. “Don’t burn the place down. I’ll be back after I deal with Rawlins.” She strode out, her boots echoing on the floor, the wards humming as she crossed the threshold, leaving a heavy silence in her wake.
Molly exhaled, her gaze sweeping the apartment’s wreckage. “Okay, first things first—those clothes need to go before they start summoning demons with their vibe.” She moved to the bedroom doorway, picking up Karrin’s torn shirt and pants with a grimace, holding them like cursed artifacts.
Harry grabbed a trash bag from under the sink, his long legs carrying him over in two strides. “Yeah, sorry. Things got… intense.”
Molly snorted, tossing the fabric into the bag. “Intense? Dresden, you and Murphy rewrote the Kama Sutra in here.” Her voice was teasing, but her fingers brushed his as she handed him another scrap, lingering a heartbeat too long. She stood close—too close—her shoulder grazing his arm, her warmth cutting through the chill of the apartment.
They fell into a rhythm, cleaning and bantering—about her runes, a case Harry was dodging, Molly’s latest magical experiments that might’ve singed her eyebrows. But her touches were deliberate, a hand on his wrist as she laughed at his bad joke, a casual brush against his side as she reached for a stray paper. Harry’s mind kept snagging on Karrin—the weight of last night, the new shape of their bond—but Molly’s presence was a live wire, sparking with history and unspoken things.
“You holding up?” he asked, pausing as they stacked books on a shelf, his voice gruff but earnest. “Karrin said you’ve got stuff to work through. About… me and her.”
Molly leaned against the bookshelf, her eyes meeting his, a storm of vulnerability and defiance swirling in them. “I’m fine, Harry,” she said, her voice low, almost too soft, like a spell whispered in the dark. “It’s just… a lot, seeing you two like this. You’re a damn hurricane, Dresden. Always have been.” Her hand rested on his arm, warm and steady, her gaze holding his with a weight that made his chest tighten.
Harry nodded, oblivious to the undercurrent, his thoughts tangled in Karrin’s absence. “Yeah, I’m a walking disaster. If you need to vent, I’m here, Grasshopper.”
Molly’s lips curved, a wistful smile tinged with frustration. “Thanks,” she muttered, then turned toward the kitchenette. “I’m grabbing water. You want?”
“Sure,” Harry called, sorting through papers, missing the shift in her stance, the way her shoulders tensed.
Bob’s voice sliced through the quiet, his orange eye-lights flaring from the skull on the shelf. “Smooth move, boss,” he drawled, sarcasm dripping like venom. “You’re denser than a troll’s skull. That was a pass, you moron. She’s practically waving a neon sign, and you’re playing janitor.”
Harry froze, a crumpled file in hand, his jaw tightening. “What? No way. Molly’s just… upset. She’s not—”
“Oh, spare me,” Bob cut in, his glow pulsing like a heartbeat. “That ‘hurricane’ line? The hand-brush? She’s unloading, sure, but she’s also fishing. Girl’s still got it bad, and you’re too thick to see it.”
Harry’s eyes flicked to the kitchenette, where Molly was filling glasses, her movements slow, deliberate, like she was casting a spell with every gesture. Karrin’s words echoed but now he wasn’t sure where the lines were drawn.
Molly returned, handing him a glass, her fingers brushing his again, her eyes flicking up with a mix of challenge and uncertainty. “So,” she said, her tone light but sharp, “you gonna help me clean, or just stand there like a lost puppy?”
Harry took the glass, his throat tight. “Let’s clean,” he said, his voice rougher than he meant. “And… talk. Whatever’s on your mind.”
An hour later, the apartment was less of a war zone, their conversation settling into an easier groove, though Molly’s fleeting touches, light, electric, kept Harry on edge, his thoughts split between her and Karrin. The door creaked open, and Karrin stepped in, her jacket rumpled from the precinct, her face a mix of exhaustion and steel.
“Hey,” she said, nodding to Molly before locking eyes with Harry. “SI’s handled. Still suspended, but I got your consulting contract on life support. Go sign some forms tomorrow. Rawlins is pissed, but he didn’t torch the deal.”
Harry exhaled, relief loosening his frame. “Thanks, Murph. I owe you big.”
“Damn right,” she said, a smirk tugging at her lips. She glanced at Molly, who was stacking books with a little too much focus, then pulled Harry aside, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Harry, are you blind?”
He blinked, his brain stuttering. “Uh… what?”
“Molly,” Karrin said, her tone sharp but laced with something softer, almost raw. “She’s practically climbing you, and you’re just standing there like a clueless giant. Look, last night was… intense. We burned through everything, no question. But Molly—she’s been through hell with you. You died on her, Harry. If she needs a moment, a piece of you after all this, maybe she deserves it.” Her voice caught, a flicker of guilt in her eyes. “I don’t know why I’m saying this. Maybe I feel like I… took you from her? But I still want you. I just want her to be okay.”
Harry’s mouth opened, then closed, his mind reeling. “I… noticed,” he admitted, his voice low, hesitant. “The touching, the way she’s acting. But I didn’t know how you’d feel, Murph. This thing with us—it’s new. I don’t want to mess it up.”
Karrin’s eyes softened, a rare crack in her armor. She glanced at Molly, then back at Harry. “You heard him,” she said, raising her voice just enough for Molly to catch, her tone steady but open, like a door left ajar. “And you heard me. It’s out there now.” She stepped toward Molly, her presence commanding despite her small frame. “Molly, if you need time with him, private time, I can step out. If that’s what you need.”
Molly froze, her hand on a book, her face flushing a deep crimson as the words sank in. Her eyes darted between Karrin and Harry, embarrassment warring with a spark of something bolder, something hungry. “I… uh,” she stammered, her usual swagger crumbling. “I wasn’t trying to— I mean, I didn’t—” She stopped, taking a breath, her gaze locking on Karrin with a mix of gratitude and curiosity. “You’re serious?”
Karrin nodded, her expression calm but not cold. “Dead serious. You’ve got history with him too. If you need to sort it out, I’m not standing in the way. Not today.”
Harry stood there, tense, caught in the crossfire of their words, his mind a tangle of loyalty, desire, and confusion. Molly’s flush deepened, but her eyes gleamed with a spark of possibility, the air crackling with what might come next.
Chapter 5: Raw Edges
Chapter Text
Molly froze, gripping a worn book, her face flushed as Karrin’s words hung heavy in Harry Dresden’s cluttered apartment. The air crackled with the hum of wards, last night’s intensity colliding with this new tension. Harry stood by the bedroom doorway, his six-foot-nine frame tense, dark eyes darting between Molly’s hesitant spark and Karrin Murphy’s steady resolve. Karrin, compact and grounded, stood with arms crossed, her blue eyes a mix of determination, envy, and something softer, navigating this uncharted moment. The room, strewn with papers and the faint musk of passion, felt like a pressure cooker.
Molly set the book down with a thud, breaking the quiet. “Okay,” she said, voice shaky but firm. Her tall, curvy frame moved toward Harry, vibrant hair catching the dim light. Her eyes met his, nervous but bold, her hand brushing his arm, lingering deliberately. She leaned in, lips grazing his in a soft, tentative kiss, testing the waters.
Harry stiffened, breath catching, his long legs shifting. The kiss lingered, fragile, until Molly pressed closer, her kiss deepening, years of unspoken longing spilling out. Her hands slid up his chest, tugging his flannel, pulling him down. The kiss turned hungry, her lips firm, a rush of need breaking free. Harry’s hands hesitated, then settled on her curved waist, cautious but responding, the air electric.
Karrin stood rooted to the rug, boots planted, chest tight with mixed feelings. Jealousy hit hard, watching Molly’s hands tangle in Harry’s hair, his frame bending to meet her. But heat flared too, unexpected, making her breath hitch. Damn, that’s hot. The sight, Harry’s hesitation, Molly’s boldness, stirred a strange fire. Move, Karrin. But her eyes stayed locked, torn between wanting Harry and the compassion that had led to this.
She started tidying, grabbing a stray paper, straightening a book, hands moving on autopilot. The act sparked a warmth, not just envy or desire. Is this… a service kink? The thought hit hard, but making space for them felt right, even as her heart wrestled with jealousy and want. She stepped to the bed, smoothing tangled sheets with care, like it could ground her. “This feels weird, but right,” she said, voice steady but awkward. “I want this to work. For both of you.” She glanced at them, lips quirking. “Need anything? Protection’s in Harry’s side table. Left drawer.”
Molly pulled back, breath uneven, eyes searching Harry’s. “Harry,” she said, voice soft but firm, “are you okay with this? Really okay? I need to know you’re in.”
Harry rubbed his neck, jaw tight, gaze flicking between Molly and Karrin. “Yeah,” he said, voice rough, a flush on his cheeks. “I’m damn lucky if this isn’t a fever dream. If you both can be happy, I’m for it. I don’t want anyone hurt—not you, not Murph.” His eyes lingered on Karrin, checking her, then settled on Molly, awe and uncertainty mixed.
Molly’s lips curved in a relieved smile, shoulders easing. She glanced at Karrin, who nodded, hands still fussing with the bed, smoothing a wrinkle to tame her emotions. Karrin’s heart twisted - envy, desire, and that strange warmth from shaping this space. She stepped back, giving room but staying near, her presence steady.
Molly turned to Harry, hands sliding to his shoulders, her kiss slower but intense, blending years of longing with new permission. Harry responded, hesitation fading as his hands tightened on her waist, pulling her closer. They moved to the bed, sitting on the edge, the frame creaking. Molly’s fingers traced his chest, popping another button. Harry’s hands slid under her top, cautious but bolder, their kisses a mix of need and discovery.
Karrin watched, breath catching, heat flaring despite the pang of envy. She straightened a pillow, mind a storm, jealousy, arousal, and a sense of rightness from clearing this space. Molly’s eyes flicked to her once, a silent nod of gratitude, before returning to Harry, tugging his shirt free. “Murphy,” Molly said, voice low, “you staying?”
Karrin paused, setting down a crumpled file, her eyes meeting Molly’s. “I’m staying,” she said, voice steady but soft. “I’m not giving him up, not after everything.” She gestured at the torn clothes, the broken desk, the night that changed them. “But you deserve something, Molly. After all you’ve been through with him. I’ll stay, but I’m not joining in. This is for you, and maybe for him. You both carry a lot. Maybe this helps.”
Harry’s jaw tightened, frame tense. “Murph,” he said, voice rough, “you sure? This is heavy.”
Karrin nodded, a bittersweet smile on her lips. “I’m sure, Dresden. I’m not leaving, but I’m not stopping this either. Not if it’s what you both need.” She resumed tidying, hands steadying as she straightened a book, the warmth of shaping this moment mixing with envy, desire, and resolve.
Molly leaned back into Harry, her kiss softer but intense, hands cupping his face. The wards hummed, the air thick with their shared history and the uncertain path they were navigating.
Chapter 6: Wards and Wants
Chapter Text
The air in Harry Dresden’s basement apartment was electric, a live wire sparking with the ghosts of last night’s chaos and the raw, uncharted heat of now. Molly Carpenter straddled Harry’s lap, her long legs tangled with his endless ones, her vibrant hair a wild halo in the dim light filtering through the grimy window. Her kisses were a storm, fierce, desperate, a decade’s worth of want pouring out as she clawed at his flannel, buttons pinging off like shrapnel. Harry leaned into her, his scarred hands sliding up her sides, fingers unhooking her bra with a mix of hesitation and hunger. The bed groaned under them, sheets a twisted mess, the room heavy with the musk of Harry and Karrin’s wreckage, the memory of shredded clothes, a busted desk, a night that had rewritten their rules.
Karrin Murphy stood at the bed’s edge, stripped to her jogging bra and boyshorts, the snug fabric hugging her compact, muscular frame. Her blonde hair was mussed, blue eyes burning with a cocktail of envy, lust, and a strange, selfless urge she couldn’t name. Watching Molly’s hands rake over Harry’s chest, Karrin felt a stab of possessiveness, but hell, the sight was hot; Molly’s pale skin flushed, Harry’s bending to her like he was caught in her gravity. Her mind spun. Is this a kink? Am I getting off on this? The heat in her gut pulsing stronger, drowning out the jealousy with a confusing mix of desire for Harry and a need to see Molly unravel.
Karrin leaned in, her lips grazing Harry’s neck, then biting softly, drawing a low groan from him. Her hands moved with purpose, one sliding down his chest, fingers pinching his nipple lightly, making him jolt against Molly. She shifted to Molly, her touch bolder, fingers brushing the younger woman’s inner thigh before gently rubbing her clit, eliciting a sharp gasp. Molly’s eyes flicked to Karrin, surprise and heat mingling, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she reached out, her hand catching Karrin’s arm, pulling her in for a kiss - soft at first, then deeper, a hungry edge that caught Karrin off guard. She didn’t hate it, the taste of Molly’s lips sparking something new, a flicker of connection that made her pulse race.
Karrin pulled back, her breath uneven, and resumed her role, guiding them through the awkwardness. She tugged Harry’s shirt free, her fingers lingering on his scars, then helped Molly shimmy out of her jeans, adjusting her position to straddle Harry more comfortably. The bedframe creaked, their bodies bumping clumsily; Harry’s elbow catching Molly’s arm, Molly’s knee slipping, but the passion drowned it out. Karrin’s hands roamed, biting Harry’s shoulder, pinching Molly’s nipple gently, her touch a bridge between them, stoking their fire while anchoring her own desire.
Molly’s gasps grew sharper, her hips rocking against Harry’s, his hands gripping her thighs as he thrust up to meet her. Their rhythm built, urgent and raw, the air thick with the wards’ hum and their shared heat. Karrin’s lips found Harry’s jaw, her kisses possessive, her hands massaging Molly’s shoulders, then Harry’s, keeping them fluid, focused. Molly’s hand caught Karrin’s again, pulling her into another kiss, this one fiercer, a shared spark that left Karrin reeling.
As their movements peaked, Molly’s breath hitched, a low moan escaping as her body tensed, her orgasm crashing through her. Harry followed moments later, a guttural groan rumbling from his chest, his hands tightening on Molly’s hips. Karrin watched, her own breath caught, the sight of their release hitting her like a shockwave. A sympathetic orgasm surged through her, unexpected and intense, her body shuddering as she gripped the bedframe, a soft gasp slipping out. Molly’s eyes, heavy with afterglow, flicked to her, a knowing smile curving her lips. Harry, still catching his breath, caught Karrin’s gaze, his expression a mix of awe and concern.
“You okay, Murph?” he rasped, his voice rough but warm.
Karrin nodded, her flush deepening, her body still tingling. “Yeah,” she said, her voice low, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Guess we’re all in this now.”
Molly’s smile widened, her hand reaching out to squeeze Karrin’s, a silent acknowledgment of the tangled, electric connection they’d all stumbled into.
Chapter 7: Basement Bonds
Chapter Text
Harry Dresden’s basement apartment felt close and warm, the air thick with the lingering intensity of their shared climax. The wards etched into the walls buzzed faintly, a subtle pulse that seemed to mirror the charged connection between them. Molly Carpenter slumped against Harry, her lean, tattooed frame slick with sweat, her vibrant, multicolored hair sticking to her shoulders and chest. Harry sprawled across the creaky bed, his scarred chest rising and falling heavily, one hand resting on Molly’s hip, fingers brushing the edge of a swirling tattoo. Karrin Murphy leaned against the bedframe, her compact, muscular build barely covered by a black jogging bra and matching dark panties, her skin flushed from a sympathetic orgasm. Her blue eyes flickered with awe, uncertainty, and a stubborn spark of desire.
Harry broke the quiet first, his voice rough from exertion. “Well, hell’s bells. That just happened.” He ran a hand through his dark, messy hair, glancing between Molly and Karrin, his expression caught between a grateful smile and stunned disbelief. “I’m still half-expecting to wake up in a cold sweat. You two okay?”
Molly let out a shaky laugh, sitting up slowly, her full breasts shifting as she moved. “Okay? Harry, I’m… freaking fantastic.” Her green eyes darted to Karrin, a mix of gratitude and hesitation in her gaze. “Murphy, you totally nudged us into this. I mean, I never would’ve guessed you’d… yeah. Wow.”
Karrin’s lips curved into a wry, almost sheepish smile, though her eyes stayed sharp. “Trust me, I’m as surprised as you are,” she said, her voice low but steady, with a faint rasp. “No clue why I pushed it. Just felt like you deserved this, Molly. And Harry… maybe he needed it too. Hell, I’m still sorting out what I need.” Her cheeks flushed deeper, her nipples pressing against the thin fabric of her bra. “But it was good. Really good, right?”
Molly nodded, her smile widening, a playful glint in her eyes. “Better than good. Like, mind-blowing.” She paused, then added, her tone earnest but with a teasing edge, “Maybe next time I’ll sit one out, let you and Harry have your moment. Seems fair. But right now, I need a shower—I’m a sweaty disaster.” She gestured at her glistening skin, the curve of her hips catching the dim light of the bedside lamp, and slid off the bed, her bare feet padding across the cold concrete floor to the bathroom. “Five minutes, max.”
The door clicked shut, followed by the soft hiss of the shower. Harry turned to Karrin, his brow creasing with concern. “Murph, you sure you’re okay with this? I’m still trying to wrap my head around… well, all of it.”
Karrin stepped closer, her small hand finding his, her calloused fingers grounding him. “I’m not sure of much right now, Harry,” she admitted, her voice soft but unflinching. “But I know I want you. Always have. And I wanted Molly to have this too. It’s complicated, messy, but it’s us.” She leaned up, her lips brushing his in a slow, deliberate kiss, her tongue teasing his, sparking heat. Harry’s hand slid to her waist, pulling her compact frame against his chest, their kiss deepening, bodies pressed tight, rekindling the fire between them.
The shower cut off, and Molly stepped out, a towel wrapped loosely around her, barely covering her curves. Her damp hair clung to her shoulders, droplets trailing down her collarbone. She froze, catching Harry and Karrin mid-kiss, their bodies locked together. A grin spread across her face, playful but warm. “Well, damn. You two don’t mess around, do you?”
Karrin pulled back, her cheeks red but her eyes bold, a challenge in her tone. “You gonna stand there, Carpenter, or get in on this?” she said, her voice husky. “Start with my shoulders.” She sat on the edge of the bed, her toned frame tense with anticipation, her jogging bra straining slightly as she leaned forward.
Molly hesitated for a second, her towel slipping just enough to reveal the curve of her breast, then moved closer. She knelt behind Karrin, her hands finding Karrin’s shoulders, fingers kneading with careful, slightly awkward. her breasts brushing Karrin’s back as she worked. The contact sent a jolt through both of them, raw and electric. Karrin leaned into Harry, her lips finding his in a hungry kiss, her tongue sliding against his as Molly’s hands moved, growing more confident, her thumbs pressing into the tight muscles of Karrin’s shoulders.
Harry’s hands slid up Karrin’s sides, slipping under and sliding off her bra, his fingers tracing the hard lines of her ribs before cupping her breasts, thumbs circling her nipples until she gasped into his mouth. Molly’s towel fell away, her naked body pressing closer against Karrin’s back, the soft weight of her breasts drawing a low moan from Karrin. In a bold move, Karrin turned her head, her lips brushing Molly’s breast, sucking gently on her nipple, making Molly shudder, her fingers tightening on Karrin’s shoulders. Molly leaned forward, capturing Harry’s mouth in a deep kiss, her tongue tangling with his as Karrin’s lips grazed her skin, teeth grazing lightly, sending sparks through Molly’s body.
Harry’s hand slid down Karrin’s stomach, fingers slipping beneath her panties, teasing her clit with slow, deliberate circles until she arched against him, her breath hitching. Molly’s hands wandered lower, tracing Karrin’s arms, her hips bumping Karrin’s back, the awkward contact only heightening the intensity. Karrin, caught in the heat, reached back, guiding Molly’s hand to her clit, urging her to join in. Molly’s fingers moved hesitantly at first, then with growing confidence, circling Karrin’s clit in sync with Harry’s thrusts, his cock sliding into Karrin with a steady, powerful rhythm.
The bed creaked under their movements, the air filled with gasps and low moans. Karrin’s panties hit the floor, torn again, Harry guiding her closer, his hands gripping her hips as he thrust deeper, their connection fierce and familiar. Molly, watching them, touched herself, her fingers slick as she rocked her hips in time with theirs. Karrin, nearing the edge, pulled Molly closer, her lips finding Molly’s inner thigh, kissing and nipping the sensitive skin. Harry shifted, one hand sliding between Molly’s legs, his fingers slipping inside her, curling just right as Karrin’s tongue flicked higher, grazing the edge of Molly’s core, amplifying the heat.
Karrin came first, a sharp cry escaping her, her body shaking against Harry. He followed moments later, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he spilled into her, his grip on her hips tightening. Molly, trembling with need, gasped as Harry slid down, his mouth finding her core, his tongue lapping with focused intensity. He sucked gently, then harder, his fingers working inside her as Karrin’s lips brushed Molly’s thigh, kissing closer to where Harry’s mouth worked, pushing Molly into a shuddering, breathless orgasm, her moan raw and loud.
They collapsed in a sweaty, tangled heap on the bed, the wards humming softly in the background. Molly laughed, breathless but warm. “Holy crap. That was… unreal.”
Karrin smirked, her voice rough. “Messy as hell, but totally worth it.”
Harry, still catching his breath, looked between them, his grin lopsided. “I’m just glad I’m not dreaming. I think.”
Chapter 8: Naked Truths
Chapter Text
Harry Dresden’s basement apartment reeked of sex and magic, the air thick with the raw aftermath of their collision. The wards buzzed, a low thrum echoing the heat still simmering in the room. Molly Carpenter sprawled across the bed, vibrant hair plastered to sweat-soaked skin. Harry slumped beside her, chest heaving, one hand resting on her thigh, his dark eyes dazed. Karrin Murphy leaned against the bedframe, nude and glistening, her compact, muscular body flushed from her own climax, blue eyes sharp with awe, confusion, and a stubborn spark of desire. The room stank of their passion.
Karrin cut through the haze, voice rough but all cop. “Alright, you two, we’re cleaning up.” She stood, sweat beading on her skin, authority unshaken. “Shower. Now. We’re a mess, and this place is a crime scene.”
Molly laughed, shaky, hauling herself up. “Yes, ma’am,” she teased, sliding off the bed, her long limbs unsteady. Harry groaned, dragging his gangly ass upright, flannel long gone. The bathroom was a tight squeeze, a clumsy tangle of elbows and hips, Harry banging the tiles, Molly’s curves catching Karrin’s arm. Water sluiced over scars and sweat, Karrin scrubbing Molly’s back, firm but careful, Harry rinsing his hair, eyes flicking between them, caught between gratitude and a deer-in-headlights stare. They didn’t linger, heat cooling under the need to scrub clean.
Back in the bedroom, they dressed; Karrin in jeans and a tee from her duffel, Molly in spares from her bag, Harry in fresh flannel and jeans, hair dripping. They attacked the mess, ripping off tangled sheets, tossing Karrin’s ruined clothes into a trash bag, wrestling the bedframe straight with half-laughs when it creaked. The chaos eased, the air lighter, but the weight of what they’d done clung like smoke.
They crashed on the sagging couch, wards humming low. Karrin sat between Harry’s sprawl and Molly’s curled-up frame, her compact body a steady anchor. Silence stretched, heavy with questions.
Harry spoke, voice gravelly, hand at his neck. “So… what’s this? A fling? A damn polycule? I’m half-waiting to wake up.”
From the bookshelf, Bob’s skull flared to life, orange eye-lights pulsing with glee. “Oh, boss, this is gold. I mean, I’ve seen some wild shit in my time—orgies in ancient Rome, faerie courts going full bacchanal—but this? You, the tiny cop, and your hot apprentice? Way beyond my expectations. Pervy as hell, yeah, but damn, it’s got legs.”
Karrin shot him a glare, but Bob barreled on, his tone shifting from lecherous to surprisingly earnest. “Look, if you want to keep this going—and hell, why wouldn’t you?—be smart. Harry, you’re a walking disaster magnet; fallout’s gonna hit hard. Set boundaries, talk it out, don’t let jealousy fester like a bad spell. Mitigate by being upfront—tell Butters, the Alphas, whoever needs to know, before rumors bite you in the ass. And for gods’ sake, use protection that ain’t just wards. This could be epic, but screw it up, and it’s heartbreak city.”
Karrin snorted, lips twitching. “You and me both, Dresden. Didn’t plan this shit.” She waved at the three of them, skin still flushed. “But it wasn’t a mistake. Not for me.”
Molly nodded, eyes darting between them. “Same. Intense. Fucking good.” Her flush crept back. “But what is it? I don’t want to screw you two up.”
Karrin leaned back, shoulder grazing Harry’s. “No clue yet,” she said, raw but steady. “Pushed you two together ‘cause it felt… right. You needed it. Maybe I did too. It’s messy, but it’s us.”
Harry exhaled, slumping. “Then we figure it out. No more stumbling into… whatever this was.” He glanced at them, serious. “Meet at your place, Murph, in a few days. Friday. Talk it out—really talk. Sort if we keep this up or call it a mistake. Be ready for more, or for walking away.”
Molly’s lips curved, amusement mixing with resolve. “Friday’s good. Time to think.” Her gaze steadied, nerves flickering. “We’ll cross paths before then—SI, cases. No secret meetups with just one of us ‘til we talk. Deal?”
“Deal,” Karrin said, voice like iron.
“Deal,” Harry echoed, hand brushing Karrin’s, then Molly’s, sealing the pact.
They sat, couch creaking, the apartment’s clutter a mirror for their tangled hearts. The talk wasn’t done, but they’d carved a path, fragile as hell, to navigate the fire they’d lit.
Chapter 9: Three Days Later
Chapter Text
The bullpen at Special Investigations thrummed with its usual chaos—phones blaring, officers hollering over each other, and the faint, bitter stink of burnt coffee lingering in the air. Harry Dresden, Chicago’s only professional wizard, slouched in a chair by Karrin Murphy’s desk, flipping through case files with a mix of curiosity and restless energy. His boots were propped on another chair, his duster slung over the backrest, looking as battered as ever. Murphy, fresh off her suspension, was back in her element, sorting through paperwork with her blonde hair tied back in a tight ponytail. Her return seemed to anchor the precinct, like a storm settling into calm.
“Welcome back, Murph,” Detective Rawlins called from his desk, his grizzled face splitting into a grin. “Missed you. Desk’s still in one piece, huh?”
Murphy shot him a mock glare, her blue eyes glinting with humor. “Yeah, well, they’re docking my pay for that desk, Rawlins. You gonna chip in?”
“Hell no,” he chuckled, leaning back with his ancient coffee mug. “You’re the one who went all wrecking ball on it.”
The bullpen laughed, the teasing warm and familiar, like a family that knew how to jab without drawing blood. Harry looked up from a file, something about missing pets and claw marks that didn’t add up, and smirked. “You know, Murph, I could magic up a new desk. Maybe one that ducks next time.”
“No thanks,” she said, not looking up. “I don’t need a desk with a personality. You’re enough trouble.”
The room chuckled again, and Harry grinned, unfazed. Their banter was as natural as ever, but there was a new ease to it, a warmth that hadn’t been there before. They were openly affectionate now, though they kept it professional at SI. Her hand lingered on his arm when she passed him a file, his fingers brushed her shoulder when he leaned over to point at something. It was subtle, but the bullpen noticed. SI wasn’t big on gossip, but the shift was obvious; Harry and Murphy were together, and the room buzzed with it.
Rawlins kept an eye on them from his desk, not hovering but watchful, his cop instincts sharp. Murphy caught his gaze once and, with a mischievous glint, leaned back in her chair, stretching just enough to let her shirt lift and flash a bit of midriff. She winked at Harry, who nearly choked on his coffee.
“Murph,” he coughed, wiping his mouth. “Trying to give Rawlins a heart attack?”
“Just keeping things lively,” she said with a smirk, steering clear of the desk like it was cursed. “Gotta keep you boys sharp.”
Rawlins snorted, shaking his head. “You two are trouble.”
The morning passed in a haze of case files and banter. Harry and Murphy worked through reports, most routine but a few with that eerie edge that screamed “Dresden’s problem.” They were relaxed, more than they’d been in years. Harry’s hand grazed hers under the desk, a quick squeeze, and she smiled, a real, unguarded smile that hit him like a spell. They kept it restrained but the way their eyes caught, the way they leaned into each other’s space, made it clear. The bullpen didn’t miss it, and by noon, the unspoken verdict was in: Dresden and Murphy were a couple. No one said it aloud, but the knowing glances and stifled grins said enough.
Later, they headed to a crime scene in an alley off Clark Street. The crisp fall air made Chicago feel sharp and alive. The scene was a mess; overturned trash cans, a smear of blood that didn’t look human, and a faint sulfur stink that made Harry’s nose twitch. He crouched by the blood, muttering as he extended his senses, while Murphy stood watch, hand near her holster.
“Anything?” she asked, scanning the alley.
“Something,” he said, standing. “Smells like brimstone. Not sure yet.”
“Demons again?” she groaned.
“Maybe. Or a really bad taco stand.”
She laughed, and before he could overthink it, Harry leaned in and stole a quick kiss. It was soft, fleeting, and left her cheeks flushed and his pulse racing. She swatted his arm, but her eyes sparkled.
“Focus, wizard,” she said, though she didn’t pull away when his hand brushed her shoulder as they headed back to the car. They couldn’t stop touching—small things, her elbow grazing his side, his fingers lingering on her back as they navigated the alley. It wasn’t sexual, but it was something, a warmth, a connection that felt right.
In the car, Murphy leaned back in the driver’s seat, hands loose on the wheel. “Ran into Molly the other day,” she said, her voice warm but thoughtful. “At that coffee shop on Division. She was all smiles, Harry. Happy to see me, I think, but… a little awkward. Not surprising, considering, you know—” She waved a hand vaguely, referencing the wild night just days ago, the threesome that had left them all reeling in its wake.
Harry raised an eyebrow, his expression softening at the mention of his former apprentice, now more. “Yeah, that’d make things weird for a bit. How’s she doing, though? Really?”
“Good,” Murphy said. “Really good. She’s got this energy, like she’s figuring things out. Just… navigating the awkward, I guess. I told her we’d stop by sometime, maybe chat while we’re out on patrol. Keep in touch, you know?”
Harry nodded, his smile fading into something more thoughtful. “Molly’s tough, but she needs people to keep her grounded. I try to be that for her, you know? Someone steady, even if I’m a mess half the time.”
“You’re good for her, Harry,” Murphy said, her voice firm. “You’re involved, but you don’t let her spiral. She needs that.”
“Thanks, Murph,” he said, his voice warm. “Means a lot. And yeah, I’d like that - keeping in touch with her. She’s family.”
Murphy reached over, resting her hand on his for a moment before pulling back. “She is. And she’s lucky to have you.”
They drove back to the precinct, the city blurring past, and for once, Harry felt like the world wasn’t teetering on the edge of disaster. He and Murphy were good—better than good. The wild night had cracked something open, and they were happy, openly so, even if they kept it restrained at SI. The bullpen might tease, Rawlins might watch, but none of it mattered. They had each other, and that was enough.
Chapter 10: No Going Back
Chapter Text
Harry Dresden’s apartment was a warzone of clutter—books piled like drunken Jenga towers, a couch that looked like it had been chewed up by a hellhound and spit out, and the faint whiff of old pizza and candle wax hanging in the air like a bad memory. The wards thrummed low, a familiar buzz in his skull as he sprawled on the couch, clutching a beer like it was the last lifeline to sanity. The hearth fire popped and hissed, throwing shadows that danced like ghosts across the walls. He was halfway through replaying that brimstone-stinking crime scene when a knock at the door hit him like a sucker punch.
“Harry, it’s me. Open the damn door,” Molly Carpenter’s voice cut through, sharp as a blade but with a wobble that made his gut twist.
He sat up, nearly spilling his beer. “Molls? Uh, I thought we said Friday?” he called, his voice rough with the weight of three nights ago—raw, wild, and so far out of left field it might as well have been in another dimension. That night with her and Karrin was burned into his brain, and not in a fun way. Well, not just in a fun way.
Bob’s skull, perched on its shelf, flared to life, orange eye-lights gleaming with smug delight. “Oh, ho, the punk princess graces us with her presence. What’s it gonna be, boss? Round two of the bed-breaking orgy?”
“Bob,” Harry snapped, glaring at the skull. “Your advice earlier was noted. Now shut it.” He turned back to the door as it swung open, revealing Molly in her black leather jacket, platinum hair streaked with purple and tied up in a messy bun. Her eyes, bright but wary, pinned him like a bug on a board. “Friday?” she said, stepping in and kicking the door shut with a thud. “You seriously think we can just sit on our hands for days after… that?”
Bob chuckled, low and filthy. “Kid’s got a point, Dresden. You don’t just waltz away from a threesome like it’s a bad Tinder date.”
“Bob, I swear to God—” Harry started, but Molly cut him off, her voice like a whip.
“Harry, that night was insane,” she said, arms crossed, still hovering by the door like she wasn’t sure whether to bolt or charge. “You, me, Karrin - all over, clothes shredding, the whole nine yards. And you think going radio silent is the play? I’m pissed you didn’t reach out.”
Harry winced, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Molls. I thought you and Murph needed space to… I dunno, process. I didn’t want to make it weirder.”
“Space?” Her laugh was sharp, bitter, but there was a crack in it, a raw edge that hit him hard. “Harry, I missed you. More than I expected. That night wasn’t just some fling, it was a fucking connection. And it hurt that you didn’t even ping me.”
Bob let out a low whistle. “Oh, Dresden, you stepped in it now. Emotional landmines, my favorite.”
Harry shot the skull a look that could’ve melted steel. “One more, Bob, and you’re kindling.” He turned back to Molly, his voice softening. “I didn’t know, Molls. I’m drowning here too. I’m sorry.”
She exhaled, her arms dropping as the fight bled out of her. “Yeah, well, fine.” She crossed the room and flopped onto the couch beside him, close but not touching, like she was feeling out the edges of this new thing between them. “Let’s just talk, okay? No stewing.”
“Smart move, princess,” Bob quipped. “Unlike your mentor, who’s allergic to communication.”
“Bob,” Harry growled, “sock drawer. Don’t test me.”
Molly smirked, her tension easing as she tucked one leg under her, her body angled toward him. “He’s not wrong, though.” As they talked, she softened, her hesitation melting into something warmer, more open. Her hand brushed his arm, then lingered, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his sleeve. She shifted closer, her knee pressing against his thigh, almost in his lap but not quite crossing that line. Harry didn’t pull away, his own hand settling on her lower back, steady and easy, like it belonged there.
“Work’s been a shitshow,” she said, her voice lighter now, her shoulder leaning into his. “The guys at the shop noticed I’m… different. Glowy, they said. Kept asking who I’m banging. I told ‘em I hooked up with someone new, but I’m not spilling yet. Didn’t mention it was you and Karrin.” She grinned, but it turned serious, her hand resting on his knee. “Explains the vibe, though. I can’t stop thinking about that night. About us. All three of us.”
Harry took a slow pull from his beer, watching her. “Murph said she saw you. Said you were smiling, but a little awkward.”
Molly snorted, her fingers tightening briefly on his knee. “Awkward’s putting it mildly. Three days ago, we… yeah. Hard to play it cool over coffee after that. I was happy to see her, but it’s weird.” She paused, her voice dropping, her body shifting closer until she was practically curled against him. “Harry, I gotta be straight with you. That night… it wasn’t just you. I’m feeling something for Karrin, too. Almost as strong as what I feel for you, but… different. It’s new, and it’s fucking huge, and I don’t think Friday’s gonna be us just calling it quits. Not for me. I can’t go back to ‘just friends’ with either of you.”
Harry exhaled, his hand still on her back, grounding them both. “I hear you, Molls. I’m… I’m feeling the same. Not just a one-off for me either. But, hell, I’m overwhelmed. This is a lot.”
She nodded, her eyes locked on his, her head resting against his shoulder now. “It is. And it’s scary as shit. I’m more nervous about this than I was when I started my apprenticeship with you. This could be a whole new future, Harry. For all three of us.” She leaned up, impulsive, and kissed him—quick, soft, but heavy with meaning. “I don’t know what this is yet,” she said, pulling back, “but it’s not nothing.”
Harry’s heart thumped, but he managed a crooked smile. “Yeah. Not nothing. But, uh… your parents. They’re gonna—”
Molly laughed, cutting him off with a playful shove. “Harry, stop freaking out like I’m still some teenager sneaking out. I’m twenty-seven. My parents need to be told, not begged for forgiveness. It’s gonna be messy—Mom’ll grill me, Dad’ll give you that knightly death stare—but we’re adults. We’ll deal.”
He chuckled, the panic easing. “Right. Twenty-seven. Not a kid anymore. Keeps slipping my mind.”
“Don’t let it,” she teased, her hand squeezing his arm, her warmth pressed against him. “We’ll figure out how to tell them. Together.”
Bob’s eye-lights flared. “Aw, look at you two, all cozy and grown-up. What’s next, matching tattoos? Or are we saving that for Karrin?”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Bob, I’m begging you, shut up.”
Molly grinned, her body relaxed against Harry’s as they kept talking, the fire dwindling to embers. They caught up; her tattoo shop chaos, his bizarre brimstone case, the SI bullpen’s relentless but respectful razzing about the desk incident. The crew had been merciless, tossing out jabs about “office renovations” and “anger management” after Harry and Murphy’s blowout over her safety had turned into desk-smashing passion, followed by more clothes-ripping insanity at his place that same night. Molly’s eyes gleamed with mischief when he told her.
“Sounds like they know you and Murph fucked up more than just a desk,” she said, smirking.
Harry groaned, but his smile gave him away. “Rawlins hasn’t let it go all week.”
They talked until the hearth was just glowing coals, Molly’s warmth pressed against him, her affection easy and unforced. They weren’t just Harry and Molly anymore, not just mentor and apprentice, not just friends. Something new was clawing its way to the surface, messy and thrilling and terrifying as hell. But for now, with Bob’s snark mercifully dialed back and the quiet of the apartment wrapping around them, they were content to talk, to feel it out, one raw, honest step at a time.