Roleplay Cop Novels & Stories

I murmured, lowering my gun. “Uh-huh. Good observation,” he commented, dropping his hands on his side. Now that I’m not looking like a hostile bitch, his lips stretched into a smirk. “You lost or something?” I shook my head, cheeks burning at the hostile way I acted. “I’m working,” I say, tucking my gun into the waistband of my jeans, where it’ll be a lot easier for me to pull it out if I need to. “I’m a cop.” “Ah. You do look familiar.” He turned to grab the deer and squirrel.

Alex stood, turning to a graying man with a crooked grin— Jamie Torres, his badge read. “I’m Alex, new transfer,” he said, offering a nod. “Jamie, detective,” the man replied, sinking into a chair. “You’re on the Romano case?” Alex nodded. “Yeah. Looking for an edge.” Jamie’s eyes softened. “Watch your back, son. Those bastards are dangerous. Been in this city for years, dodging every trap. Power buys them out, and they trample on anyone in their way.” Alex’s fist clenched. “I’ll prove they’re not above the law.”

"Oh, I wasn't talking about you. Although, that goes without saying. I meant I don't share my steak, or my ice cream, or my chips. Actually, if you want to earn sexual brownie points, bring me home some chips, with dip if you want me to lick it off you." "Fair enough. I don't share the remote." "Typical," she muttered. "Now for the ground rules. One, I am a cop, not a very important one I'll admit, I mostly patrol parks, the downtown strip and hand out tickets, but still, one day, I might make it to the one of the cool squads, and if I do, I expect you to respect that even if it's dangerous." "Or I could keep you barefoot and pregnant." Surely he feigned that level of nonchalance?

The vinyl was cold. "Coffee," Cody said. "Regular or decaf?" "Black." "You look like hell," she said. She poured it into a thick mug. "It’s a long night." "The rain sucks. My roof is leaking. Landlord’s a bum." "They’re all bums." She stopped wiping. "You a cop?" "Does it matter?" "You have the look. Like a funeral." "I’m a detective. I'm finishing a case." "Catch the guy?" "Not yet."

So, I stood tall and turned to face the man on the platform. "I could've left, but I had to talk to you," I said, locking eyes with him. The boss, intrigued by my fearless attitude, beckoned me closer. I swallowed my panic and walked up to him, trying to remain calm. "I'm a cop. If you don't want to escalate this, you'll let me leave safely." Out here, my identity was whatever I claimed it to be. I said it with conviction, as if I was the one in charge. The big boss looked me over, his expression shifting from curiosity to uncertainty. He narrowed his eyes.

I’m getting too old for this and I’m only thirty-two. If anyone told me when I signed up to catch bad guys that being a cop consisted of eighty percent report writing, ten percent putting up with political bullshit, and ten percent catching bad guys, I would have decided on tree trimming. I come from a long line of men in law enforcement and they omitted a few details about this job. I stare down at the words in my report from my standing position. Victim: Maddy Hilcox Gender: female Date of Birth: 07/24/1993

Nervous. Nervous cop. Envelope. Four-minute meeting behind a closed diner. I swallowed, forcing my mind to stay sharp. Get photo if safe. Roger: Working. Another message hit immediately after. And Jordan—this wasn’t friendly. Mason was smiling. Cop wasn’t. My jaw clenched. A cop afraid of criminals wasn’t unusual. It was human. It happened. A cop doing business with criminals and looking afraid meant leverage. Blackmail. Compromise. Or greed. Any of it opened a door I didn’t like.