Once, there was an island.... // MPHFPC one shots, imagines, and misc !

Thieves Honor { Millard Nullings x reader}

Y/Ns POV, Devils Acre, shortly after the events of Library of Souls//

I am a thief.

To say the least, I'm very good at what I do. The Acre is my home and prison all in the same, a perfect place to make a living among criminals and to loose normal police in the winding alleyways whenever the bastards decided they suddenly wanted to fix the Acre. Noon, every single bloody day. I tend to distract them, waste their time, make them really regret this job.
It gets boring after the first 3,000 times. 

I don't do it anymore, and something makes them go back at the same time anyways. What a waste of effort. 

I was the Acres Angel, so to speak, the thief even the rich folks feared, master confuser of wights and the one peculiar they had only heard of. At least, I was, until the birds showed up and made it clear that they wanted me on one of their stands. Ymbrynes, the bane of my bloody existence. 
I am peculiar, I should mention. Not outwardly so, and it's pretty damned useless, but I can see invisible things. In technicality, that means they're not really invisible if I can see them, but nevertheless. 

Yet again, I'm a thief, and the best one there is in this damned hellhole. That rich dudes house, with all the artifacts and the endless hallways? I've nicked countless things from there. Last time I checked it out, it was packed. It looked like some kind of party, with journalists and everything. Rich bastard acts like he's better than the rest of us, but he's Acre scum if he likes it or not.
I haven't been back since. Publicity, ick. 

Turns out, somebody saw me when I didn't see them, and now I find myself exactly where I am not supposed to be. Some makeshift courtroom in the old asylum, with those prick birds and some of their wards. Just a couple kids who barely looked older than me. A blonde boy dressed to the nines- what was his peculiarity, tailoring?-, a lost looking brunette girl who looked like she could throw a truck easily, and another boy, with choppy hair that was definitely cut blindfolded. At least they weren't nudists, I guess.

Truth be told, I wasn't expecting a fair trial. What, were these random kids supposed to be the jury? My knowledge on court systems were as rusty as rusty could get, yet this seemed way too rushed to be up to code. 

One of the ymbrynes, Miss. Avocet, wore a guarded expression that painfully reminded me of myself. Her eyes were narrowed, lips pursed in a flat line, hands folded in her lap. Oh, I am in so much trouble. The other one was the ymbryne in charge of the wards with her, Miss. Peregrine. I had heard plenty about her, and oh, the stories didn't do her justice. She looked like she was in her late 30's, with a cold aura and a crueler face. Pretty, I suppose, but too old for my tastes. 
" Y/N L/N." Miss. Avocet began, and I couldn't help but flinch. I tend to avoid my last name- the less people know about me, the better. " You're charged with petty theft, trespassing, and breaking and entering, consistently during your stay in the Acre."

" Well-" I said, shrugging. " It is a land without order. Hate to burst your perfect little bubble, but that won't change with your presence." 

" Oi!" The truck girl snapped, stepping forward. Yeah, she could totally throw me out of one of these windows without breaking a sweat. Good for her. " Show Miss Avocet the respect she deserves!" 

" Let her earn it." I reiterated, and Miss. Peregrine heaved a heavy sigh. All three of her wards looked up at her in unison.

" Miss Bruntley , though I appreciate your help, your input isn't necessary at the moment. Y/N, it's our job as Ymbrynes to reinstate some scraps of order. I understand this is a punishment loop, and it's extremely unlikely that we'll be able to do so with people like you actively working against us. We are trying to make a home for people who have lost theirs, and perhaps a home for you too." The Ymbryne kept a calm facade, as if she was practiced in talking like this. Prude bastards, the birds were.