Manburg has a lot of problems. From constant bar fights in our local saloon, the Crooked Raven. To the secret gambling den beneath our bank that Quackity swears isn't his—even though he's the sole owner of the building.

But the biggest problem of all comes from the individual known as Dream; a notorious bandit with a taste for destruction and mischief.

He's been around for almost two years, appearing briefly to cause mayhem only to vanish like a ghost days later. He's a slippery fellow to catch. Which would explain why half the town is out on the street now, cheering and booing and throwing stones at my latest catch as he's pulled along behind my horse, his wrists bound and his hat pulled low over his mask.

"Fuck you, green boy!" Tommy, one of our local troublemakers yells a little too happily, and throws a rock.

It skims Dream's head, cutting up the shell of his ear. The man doesn't the even flinch. He just lowers his head further.

I frown.

"Alright, that's enough rock throwing," I call over the crowd, pulling my steed to a halt and dismounting.

The reins are taken up by Ranboo, a tall kid with mismatched eyes and pointed ears. He likes horses, and tends to hang around the stable yard. He's a good friend of Tommy and Tubbo. The three of them have caused almost as much trouble as Dream since getting together.

Untying the rope from the saddle I allow Ranboo to lead the horse away.

"Nice job, Sheriff," Phil says, his arms crossed and an impressed smirk on his lips.

"Thanks, I got a few new bruises but he eventually came quietly."

Phil grins and the large black wings on his back twitch. Phil owns the only saloon in town; the Crooked Raven. His two sons help him run it, Tommy and Wilbur. Though Wilbur seems to be going through his musical phase and spends more time on the saloon piano than behind the bar serving drinks. He's a great pianist though so nobody really minds. A good singer, too.

"Don't let the doctor hear you. Ponk has been dying to find a patient to try out his new 'remedies' on for days now."

"And risk losing a limb? I think I'm good."

We smile and I receive a pat on the back as Phil returns to his saloon, dragging Tommy along with him.

The crowd send their last few glares and spit-wads Dream's way before they depart, returning to their drinks, hookers, or in some cases jobs.

I tug at Dream's hands as I lead him through the rest of town and to the one building I ever truly feel at home in.

The sheriff's office.

My office.

Sam is sitting at my desk, flipping through our collection of wanted posters when I enter with my prize.

"I thought I heard some noise outside." He muses, his nose and mouth hidden behind a green bandana. "Should have guessed it was you riling up the townsfolk again."

I shrug, smiling. "Not my fault I'm good at my job."

"Mm. Nice catch, by the way. I was wondering when you'd bring in the bandit king himself. It's been a while since you two caught up."

I roll my eyes good-naturedly, leading Dream to the small jail inside our office. It only has two cells, separated by iron bars. A single bed and a bucket are the only furnishings, which is still more than some jailhouses have.

Our local arsonist currently occupies one of the cells.

"'Sup, Dream." Sapnap smirks, tipping his hat to the masked man. "Fancy seeing you here."

"I don't plan to make it a habit," Dream responds, greeting his old friend as he's settled into the opposite cell.

Sam's red eyes glance between me and Dream and I nod.

He understands my wordless command and stands, stretching his arms over his head. The pistol in his belt glints under the lamplight.

"C'mon, Sapnap. It's your lucky day; I'm taking you to the bar tonight."

The black-haired male perks up, his eyes alight with excitement. "Woah, for real? I can get pissed? What's the occasion?"

"He is." Sam jerks a thumb at Dream. "The sheriff likes to celebrate her victories with a quiet drink, so you and me are going to hit the road and let her do just that."

"Dude, you don't need to tell me twice!"

Sapnap all but skips from his cell, flashing Dream the finger as he exits the building with Sam right behind.

"Make sure he's too drunk to run," I advise Sam. The male smiles beneath his bandana and nods.

"That shouldn't be hard."

The door closes and I'm left in silence with the masked man himself.

"He totally knows we're fucking, doesn't he?" Dream muses, sitting back against the wall of his cell.

"A crude way to put it, but yes."

I reopen the cell—which I hadn't locked to begin with—and undo Dream's restraints with ease.

He stretches out, flexing his wrists and fingers. "You did the knot tighter this time. Was that on purpose?" He questions, glancing up at me.

"I had to get you back somehow for all the bruises you gave me." I shrug, pulling free the small yellow neckerchief on my throat to reveal a ring of love bites. "I told you to wait till we made it back to town."

"But you're so biteable." He teases.

"Well if I had known you were going to bite me I wouldn't have let you sit behind me on the ride here." I huff, removing his hat and placing it to the side. "Now let me have a look at that ear."

Obediently the man tilts his head to the side, giving me a better view of the slice Tommy had caused with his rock.

"Tommy's aim has gotten better." Dream notes nonchalantly, enjoying the gentle touch of my hands against his head.

"Unfortunately. You should see him frisbee a cow pat through Mayor Schlatt's second-floor window. That man almost had an aneurism."

Dream laughs, his voice breathy. "Now that I want to see."

"That can be arranged," I say, sliding my hand down to grip his chin. I tilt his head back and plant a small kiss to his mask. "After all, I plan to keep you here a while."

"That's the first sensible thing you've said all day."

Slipping his mask up to his nose I press my lips to his. He hums and lifts his palms to rest on my hips, hooking his thumbs into the curve of my belt.

"Careful. I've got some dangerous equipment in there." I murmur into the kiss.

Dream smirks. "I know."

Laughing, I take his hands in mine and press them up above his head.

And then a soft click echoes through the room.

A pair of heavy metal cuffs sit around Dream's wrists, where they connect to an iron loop nailed into the wall beside his bed.

He tries to move his hands but the chain is short, leaving them suspended over his head.

His lips pull into a confused smile.

"Uh, new toy?"

I smile and stand straight, admiring the shiny cuffs. "Aren't they nice? Came in on the train last week. They're the new thing in the big cities. I knew I just had to get myself a few pairs for our more... Troublesome guests."

Dream shrugs, "I am troublesome."

"Yes. You are." I dip my head and place a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "So? How are they? Comfortable?"

He pretends to ponder my question, "I'd give 'em a five out of ten. They're terribly clunky. How am I supposed to sleep?"

The smile I give him is one that suggests he'll be doing something better than sleeping tonight.

"But first, some alcohol." I say, patting his flushed cheek and exiting the cell.

He stares after me, red-faced as I pull open the bottom drawer of my desk and frown.

"Sam." I mutter, withdrawing the empty bottle of whiskey. "Sit tight, I'll be right back," I say, setting the bottle aside and redirecting my path to the door.

"And go where?!" Dream asks incredulously. "Wait, where are you going? At least unshackle me first. These things are actually starting to itch."

I just wave over my shoulder, exiting the building and heading across the road. Not to the saloon, but the bank.

"Quackity?" I ask, creaking open the door. The place is empty, save for the loud noise of a gramophone playing somewhere beneath my feet.

I roll my eyes and approach the counter, reaching through the bars and ringing the service bell very loudly.

The music stops with a squeak and I hear hushed chatter. Then there's quick footsteps and a door clanks open somewhere behind the counter.

"We're closed." Are Quackity's immediate words as his head peers around the counter from another room.

And then he sees me and blanches.

"Uh, Ares. Heeeey." He grins, a bead of sweat sliding down his temples.

"Relax, I'm just here to pick up some alcohol," I say.

The boy perks, an odd glint entering his eyes. All nervousness leaves him as he straightens and slides up to the bar. He reaches into a front pocket and pulls out a fake moustache, attaching it to his upper lip.

"So," he says, his voice dropping into a husky whisper as he leans forward, "you want the good stuff?"

I manage to stop myself from laughing.

"The best you have."

He hums in approval and drops out of view. A moment later he reappears with a bottle in hand. He dusts away the straw and slides it onto the counter.

"How 'bout this? I'll give you ten percent off for it."

I take the bottle and smile.

"How about a hundred percent for me not busting your ass for gambling with bank funds?"

He blanches. "Ugh. I really hate you sometimes."

"Yes. I know."

"Fine, you can take the bottle. Now get out of here."

Pleased with my deal, I leave the bank, the gramophone music starting up the moment I step outside.

"I'm back~" I chide, poking my head back into my office.

Dream sighs dramatically and rattles his chains. "You really like to leave me hanging, don't you?"

"You're starting to sound desperate, dear." I muse, entering the cell and setting my bottle beside him. I sit across his lap and plant a firm kiss to his lips, feeling him tense up beneath me. His chains clink as he tries to push himself against me.

"You're a tease." He mutters.

"I'm also a sheriff." I hum, running a nail down his neck and to the green scarf hanging from his shoulders.

Just as things are about to get good, someone yells out, and a bell rings with urgency.

"Fire." I sigh, standing and leaving Dream's warmth once more.

"I'm going to kill Sapnap." He mutters, clenching his fists.

"I'll help you hide the body."

Dream smirks. "You would've made a great bandit queen."

I smile, patting his cheek. "How about I be the king and you be the queen? I clearly get things done faster than you."

"I love you."

"I know."

BONUS SCENE

"I can't believe Sapnap burnt down the entire station platform and George just... Slept through it." Quackity marvels, his arms crossed.

A small group of us stand around George's little station master box, our hands covered in soot and ash smudged across our cheeks.

"I don't know if I should be impressed or not." Phil says.

"I suppose we should tell him his station has burned down." I sigh, reaching into the wooden shed and shaking the man's arm. "Hey, George! Wake up!"

The brunette starts, flailing around on his wooden chair. He'd been snoozing with his cap pulled down over his eyes, and now panics in his half-asleep state, unsure where he is.

On instinct he grabs for the whistle around his neck and blows heavily into it, shattering the ear drums of everyone around.

"All aboard!" He yells frantically. He must think a train has pulled into the station?

"Ack. Stop that!" Quackity smacks the whistle out of George's hand.

The guy goes still, then sheepishly lifts his hat up, his innocent brown eyes surveying the group.

"Oh, hi guys. What are you all doing here?"