I must write a Police! England x Thief! Male! Reader with the Genre(s) drama and romance, with a Reader that is confident and possessive. It takes place on Valentine's day and must feature a book.

Valentine's day. You licked your lips in anticipation. No one expected a heist on a day like this. It was early morning, about 3:00 to be precise. It would have been nicer to start earlier, but you weren't one to complain.

You were currently pressing the button on your belt that would bring you up to the roof for your escape, crown jewels in your pouch. You went up and grabbed the rim of the hole in the roof with your gloved hands.

You were no normal thief. You struck on holidays. They called you Jewel Cat, since they said you were a cat burglar.

Well not anymore. You would be legendary. No one would ever look down on Jewel Cat again. You climbed down the roof and headed to your "guy". He was good about getting you good prices for things you'd taken. You were still getting bullshit, but he had to make a profit too.

You went home and changed, taking a shower and eating a nice breakfast. You laze around for a few hours before grabbing your backpack and putting the jewels inside, heading for a nice walk to your "guy".

You walked right in the pawn shop, looking for the owner. The place was open, but deserted.

'What the hell?' You thought. You shrugged and went through the back to wake up the bastard, he was probably napping.

A hand grabbed your shoulder and you were shoved against the wall, hands behind your back.

"What. The. Hell?" You hissed, cuffs being snapped on your wrists.

"Nice to see you to, Jewel Cat." He had a heavy British accent.

"Go blow a fag brit, let go, I ain't no burglar." You spat.

"Don't insult me. I know you stole the crown jewels last night bloke."

"You don't know shit!"

He reached in your backpack and pulled one out. "The real thing. I'd ask how you did it, but I don't really care."

"It's called talent. This won't hold up in court, and you can't drag me to jail on as little evidence as this. For all you know I bought the damn things and came to pawn them."

"You're right, but I can shove you into a cell till I get more proof."

"You won't."

"How do you know?"

"Because if I did it I wouldn't be stupid enough to leave evidence."

"Oh really?"

"Duh, I'm not an idiot."

"I hope you enjoy your new jewelry Jewel Cat." He replied, pulling you away from the wall and roughing dragging you out. He shoved you in the back of his squad car and headed off.

"You're not a fucking cop!" You shouted. "You're a fucking for hire!"

"I work for her majesty directly. She has very specific ways of punishing thief's."

"Like what?"

"You'll see."

"..."

You ended up stuck in the queen's dungeon for a month. Everyday the officer, you found out his name was Arthur, would come and read to you from a collection of Shakespeare.

Talk about a romantic. When you were finally released was when things took a turn for interesting. You'd really gotten to know Arthur while in "the slammer" and thought he was pretty cool. For an insider.

As soon as you were out of the cell he was kissing you fiercely, and mumbling about how amazing you were as a thief, how smart you were.

You smiled and kissed back, pulling away with a moaned "Mine!"

You were possessive of your things and as far as you were concerned, Arthur was yours. Forever.

First Date:

The next day Arthur took out for dinner. You were quite smitten at this point.

You arrived at the cafe and both ordered.

"So (Name)?" He asked.

You nodded. "Yeah?"

"How did you become a thief?" He asked cautiously.

"I needed money to go to school. But..." You sighed. "It became an obsession. I craves a bigger job, more fame, more money because it was satisfying. I was doing something worthwhile! It felt great. I only stole from the rich and I made sure to donate to charity, because I wanted to do good to."

He nodded. "I understand. I was on the real force for a while. My eldest brother was the police chief though and he loved making life hell for me. He gave me patrol duty, wouldn't let me help the detectives, and often had me doing paperwork. I was on his shite list to say the least."

You pursed your lip. "Your brother doesn't sound very nice."

He laughed. "Understatement of the bloody century. He was an ass, he hated my guts because my younger brother and I were mum's favourites."

"What's the rest of your family like?" You asked.

"Well there's my younger brother Peter, he doesn't like any of us very much. He's about 13 now and always calling me 'Jerk' and 'Limey-Bastard'. I have custody of him at the moment because neither of my three older brothers of my sister wanted him. He's a little brat. My big sister is a mean lass to say the least. She's always fighting. Her twin, my second oldest brother is the complete opposite. He's quiet and easily frightened. Then there's my other brother, Dylan, he's very excitable and nice, he loves animals. Last but not least is my younger step brother Alfred-"

"Alfred F. Jones?" You interupted.

He nodded. "You know him?"

You glared. "He was in a few of my high school classes. A jock if I remember. He was always making fun of my drawings."

"He's grown up quite a bit."

"I hope so."

Afterwards he took you to meet his brother.

As soon as Peter saw you he was asking questions like 'Who are you?' and 'Why are you with the jerk?'.

You laughed and answered each one truthfully. You sat on the couch with the two brothers and soon enough had Peter wrapped around your finger.

He loved your stories and was halfway in your lap listening.

"It's time for bed Peter." Arthur suddenly said, looking at the clock.

Peter glared and groaned. "Awwww man. Stupid jerk." He got up and left, leaving you with Arthur.

Arthur wrapped an arm around you and kissed you.

You giggled. "Jealous?"

"Mine." He replied.

You snuggled next to him and he turned on a movie. It was going to be a long night of fun and popcorn you were betting.