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spookypete-94 · 26 days

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Heels John PricexFem!reader

Thought for a long time about who I would rather write about in this scenario. The big intimidating but loving Ghost, or our rather caring and gentle man of a Captain. The more I thought about it, the more John fit into this better. So! I present to you a short story called Heels (inspired by a TikTok I saw but can no longer find) that lives in my brain rent free.

Trigger warning for language, implied smut at the end.

Working alongside the TF141 is generally anything but boring. This time however, it is radically outside your normal specialties of defensive tactics. Commonly, your multilingual self worked with the front lines. Either making peace or declaring war with the faces of many enemies in their native tongue. Always willing to follow up with your promise of violence with your knowledge of weaponry.

You should have known something was off by the way Laswell pronounced herself half way in front of your make shift office in the hotel you were staying in, blocking herself with the other half of the doorway to what you would consider an evil plan trick. Using the entry way as a blockade hiding the tight black dress in a bag in her other hand.

"I need you to do me a favor." By her tone you could tell she was addressing something, rather delicately but still trying to be direct. Still acting strange none the less.

"A favor? Or is this an order?" Your tone not believing her, looking up at her through your loose hair and up past your eyebrows over the stack of papers you had finished for her.

She sighed seeing the direction this was going sensing your attitude.

"It's a mission, one I've already assigned you to."

"I'm finishing the last report for you and now you're sending me on another mission? What the fuck, Laswell?" You asked confused sitting back in your chair.

"You see," she said beating around the bush, "the dress doesn't fit me so I can't do it myself." Side stepping from the door frame and exposing the dress bag that was in her hand.

A long pregnant pause filled your office as your heated gaze glanced back at her, and back to dress bag.

"What entirety of a shit show have you signed me up for??" Your question booming out of your office and spilling into the hallway where Price stood leaning. He was watching the interaction of you and Laswell, trying to keep his snicker to himself. Laswell seeing this out of the corner of her eye stepped in and shut your office door hoping to save her hide from the embarrassment.

Behind close doors she explained that you were needed for an undercover mission at a gathering. One that you needed to drop off a mic that would allow them to get information on a weapons runner, however with this being a Russian party, they felt they would be going in blind.

"I'm your translator, not your spy. This is espionage, isn't that more your forte?"

"Please, I need your help and already told John we would help his team. You're the only one that can bullshit your way through this."

A loud scoff left you as you snagged the dress from her hand. Pulling the bag apart you could see the sparkly black dress. As much as you didn't want to admit it, your heart skipped a beat at something so feminine, fingers running against the fabric catching on the stones periodically.

"It's the only dress we have on base... And it's your size."

"You fucking owe me."

Laswell zipped up the back of the dress leaving you to smooth out the material trying to make it longer on your skin.

"Looks nice."

"Mm." Was the only thing your brain could come up with.

Finding some heels you kept with your pant suit you wore with, you slipped those on. They were a little risque seeming as your pant legs were long enough to cover them, but with the dress you could definitely see the red velvet on the back of the black heels. The heel, a normal 5" inch shaft with a tight point at the end. You always thought they would make a nice weapon if needed and here you might just get your chance.

Stepping out into the hallway following Laswell, you joined Price who was waiting patiently still. You could immediately feel his eyes on you. Somehow, even though the bright blue was like the frozen tundra, they were warm... like you could stay there.

"You ready?" His voice grumbled out.

"As much as I'll ever be," you said side stepping the two ready for this to be over.

*********************************

In the thick of it, you had been let in to the "social gathering". Turns out, if you dress yourself up well enough- no questions are even asked. Looking around, it really was rich socialites. Most of them made rich from their dirty deeds, or the lengths of how far they are willing to sell their souls.

But Laswell was right, the ability of your capability to bullshit your way through this, was impeccable. How grateful you were fluent in Russian.

"Nearly there," Price said being overwatch for you, seeing you make your way into the meeting room of the house where you had learned TF141's target would be assembling his counsel.

Placing your mic and wire under a shelf in a bookcase near the desk, you then quickly slipped out the door and found a way out of the party, heading back to the hotel to help Price and Laswell with translation.

*********************************

The meeting had already started once you had walked back into the office off of Price's room this time. Price offered you headphones which you had put on, closing your eyes to listen. Thankfully with were you had placed the wire, you were hearing everything. Repeating everything that was being said as Laswell wrote it down and Price made sure it was recording in case needing to return back to the information later.

As the meeting called to an end, you had discovered they were doing a weapons drop off tomorrow. Later in the evening to be concealed by dark to be exact. From the work you had done, you had the amount of men that would be there down to the amount of guns and bullets being exchanged.

Laswell stood up ready to go call this in as she squeezed your bare shoulder, leaving Price's office quickly due to their recent break through.

Doing so left you and Price alone.

"Thank you, I know that wasn't easy for you," he said getting up and reaching into his desk pulling out 2 whiskey glasses and a bottle with ember liquid.

"Glad its over, don't ever wish to do it again. Didn't enjoy it," you replied shuddering thinking about the many eyes that were on you. Thankfully you had quietly left, all unscathed and without issue. The whole idea of being in the enemies den however, was a bit much for you. You preferred it to be at the hands of combat, where everyone knows where they stand on the battlefield- not waiting for your cover to be blown.

He gave a quiet single chuckle, sliding the glass to you his way of showing his gratitude. Eventually leaning on the front of his desk near you.

"Dress looks nice, you look nice," he said making you flush but you tried to hide it with the glass he had just supplied you with.

"How funny, Captain. I had men with their eyes on me and none of them brave enough to flirt with me there," you quipped trying to break the awkward tension that was rising.

"Can you really call them men then?" The question he gave only rising your flush further. You snorted, still trying to play this off as banter- not realizing his full intentions of getting you riled. Finding the question rhetorical, you did not answer. Instead you focused on how sore your feet where from trying to almost sprint in the heels away from the lions den.

Making a grimace, you reached down to slip them off. The heavy feeling of Price's hand on your shoulder pushing you back though made you look at him wide eyed.

"What are you doing?"

"My girl can let me do that." He said reaching forward grabbing the leg of the chair you were in and pulling it towards him abruptly. The whole idea of him making a motion looks so easy made you weak at the knees... good thing you were sitting down. Large fingers around the back of your foot, slipping the heel down and off, quickly removing the other one as well.

A sigh of relief left you as you sat back in the chair but quickly looked up as Price was still standing above you.

"Captain?" You asked face now feeling permanently red and warm. Maybe it was the bourbon...

"John. That's the name you're gonna being saying tonight, love." A promise he intended to hold you to.

Making your jaw go slack, his chest reverberated in his normal laugh all while he kneeled in front of you. The sight of it all feeling like a dream to you. Slowly, he left kisses up your legs, taking turns moving back and forth on each one. Finally resting at your thighs, he pushed your dress up revealing your panties that he pushed to the side and buried his face in gently. Tongue separating your warmth.

"John," was all you could say near whisper. Thank god John kept his promises.

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loadedberetta · 6 months

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Berry baby🖤

I hope you're doing well and *remembering* to hydrate.

I was just talking with a friend and i find i slip into other languages expressions while I'm speaking or even typing - I'm a polyglot (I know a good few languages) including South African Sign Language. It certainly takes alot of people by surprise since it's not something I go around speaking about.

How would TF141 + Alex Kelle react with this given they never were explicitly told about this skillet before hand?

I hope you enjoy your festive season and find yourself surrounded by the most peace and happiness Love🥀

hi lovie!! (sipping on magnesium water as we speak!)

having dipped my toes in language learning too, I bow to you, polyglot friend~ holidays are hard, thank you for the encouragement, same goes to you! decided to turn them into drabbles, it was much fun, thank you for the req! alright, here is (my first req stuff ever)

141 + Alex react to: polyglot Reader

rating: M (language, light flirting?)

warnings: smoking, interrogation [military inaccuracies]

[series with random headcanons about specific situations (involving the reader) and how CoD characters would react to them; mostly the 141, but Alejandro and Rudy, Laswell, Farah, König, and others will make appearances too]

other parts: [tattoo] [pregnancy] [knife tricks] [drawing] [foreign language]

find me on ao3 // masterlist

Price

A small note was attached to your file that Price seems to have overlooked in the year and a half since you were under his command; in Laswell's handwriting, which John knew already from the countless similar notes she left for him throughout the years. Yet, this one stood out; sign language? And how many languages again? He made a mental note to ask you over grub the next day.

Breakfast was always fast; after first drill, but before the day really began. And always with your mates, switching languages with ease to accommodate new members and brothers passing through, just on transfer at the base.

Price always ate at a separate table, always. Sometimes alone, sometimes with some higher-ups. But this morning, he sat by your table, which opened up a seat for him. Everyone's body language shifted to accommodate him among you. He didn't speak, and the conversation between you and a temporary transfer settled back into a comfortable flow. His ears perked up to each sound he didn't seem to have heard from you, as they weren't part of the English phonemic system.

He himself muddled in French and some Arabic and harboured a basic understanding of Spanish since his time in Mexico, but your confidence and knowledge shone through the effortless speech. You and your speaking partner seemed to share a lighthearted conversation in a language he could only guess.

Soon, you let yourself notice his glances in your direction, often settling on your lips for short moments. Smiling to yourself, you finished your coffee as your deskmate excused themselves from the table, having emptied their tray.

Instead of turning to another group being taught foreign swearwords by a new recruit (to which you had to resist the urge to share your favourites), you lifted your gaze to meet Price's.

"Enjoying yourself, Captain?"

He chuckled, raspy.

"How did this never come up?" He asked without much sugarcoating.

"What exactly?" You chuckled.

"That you know about a dozen languages, including… South African Sign Language?"

A small smirk formed on your lips, proud of the recognition and attention to detail.

"I don't go around flaunting it." You stated plainly. "It's not even on my file, it's… just something I do, as a person; it's not for the military or anything."

"Hm." That was all he replied to that. "-but…"

"Yes?"

"Could be useful."

You could see he was pondering something.

"What if I told you I have a spot for you on officer training, hm? They're looking for… intelligence."

Ghost

( I cannot resist using this gif--)

Finding yourself behind a counter, taking orders from businessmen, assistants, and university students; not exactly how you imagined life in the big city. It was a second job of sorts, only part-time, as you couldn't squeeze in anything else besides the academy.

It was a busy morning, your shift covering the entirety of it before classes began that day. The line was only growing, and the other shiftie beside you was struggling; some foreigners complained about their order, and another pair of customers speaking a third language just rolled up to him, totally overwhelming him. Calling out a name for an order, you waved to the next in line (a sweet old immigrant lady, with whom only you could chat out of the whole team, easily overstepping the language barrier), and told her to just hang on for a moment.

You addressed the complaining couple in a well-mannered way, quickly sorted out their issue with a complimentary muffin and a cookie, and switched languages with ease, freeing your shiftie partner from the agony that was speaking any other language than English for him.

The rush died down just the slightest after a few more hectic minutes, and the shiftie went for a break when you noticed a familiar figure standing by the counter as you turned back with another order.

He gave your unit a few lessons this semester and remarked on your capabilities in strategy and urban warfare. You remembered him, and it seemed like he did too.

The usual balaclava he wore when instructing was replaced by just a black cloth mask hooked behind his ears, revealing a few more details about his face than you'd seen before.

"Sir." You addressed him, conveying you respected the civil setting, yet communicating your respect toward him considering your short but memorable history. "What can I get you?"

"Didn't know you were fluent in that many languages." He remarked after describing his simple order, making your cheeks heat up at a moment's notice.

"It's nothing, really…" You tried brushing his words off with words that came out shakier than you meant to sound.

"How many do you speak?" He asked with a small tilt of his head.

His eyes widened for a moment at your answer. "…and South African Sign Language."

A chuckle, something you'd never heard from before stuck in your ear for a good few seconds, drowned out by the milk frother.

"I don't do lesson plans, you know?"

"What?" You lightly shivered with excitement at the fact how interested he seemed in your knowledge.

"Would you mind, you know… Doing a lesson? Sign language is a valuable asset. I can give you some time next Friday."

"I…" You stuttered a bit at his proposition.

"Nothin' fancy, don't worry, darling. Just some basics."

"Alright…" You found yourself saying after a moment when the light ringing in your ears faded.

"Maybe even tell your story… I'd be interested for sure."

And with that, he grabbed his coffee from your hand, putting some coin on the counter with the other, and was out the door before you could say anything else.

Alex

He didn't talk. Not to ULF soldiers, and bravely (maybe stupidly) not even to Alex. Farah's request for you to get to the scene was… interesting. She stated her presence was required in another part of the country, and in her encrypted message, she explicitly voiced how your assistance might help ULF break the man.

So you came. Alex greeted you on the airstrip with a smile and a hug, his frame towering over yours.

"Alex, a pleasure to see you." You smirked as the two of you walked back to the nearest building.

"Can only say the same." His tone was warm and welcoming, a staple to him. "You hoping to crack our guy?" He asked you directly about the matter at hand. The small carrier that brought you here whirred into the air in the distance.

"Exactly."

"And how's that gonna go? We haven't even gotten a word out of him, let alone information."

"That's why I'm here now."

"The stage is yours." He opened the door of the large building to you and ushered you inside.

A few hours later, he stood by your side, as you tried to find a crack on the prisoner's tough shell. After many unsuccessful attempts, the tired captive let his head fall, a small curse leaving his lips. Your ears perked, and Alex could only watch the scene unfold in front of him.

In a language he only heard on the TV before maybe once, you asked the prisoner something, to which he immediately lifted his head in confusion. Pressing on, you visibly exerted yourself to gather as much as you could on the man before he would shut down again.

After a few exerting rounds of questions, you stood up abruptly, and nodded for Alex to come with you. Closing the door to the room, you turned to him, but he spoke up faster than you did.

"What is and where." He crossed his arms and awaited your answer with a bite to his lip.

"I don't know yet, but he talked about a car rigged with charges, but he's going to shut down soon, fuck…" You clicked your tongue, exhausted from the rusty pieces of knowledge forced to work in your brain at high speed.

"Hold on… He had a detonator on him when we apprehended him… Are you sure it's a car?" He backed away, looking as if he was about to bolt somewhere.

"White, small, local model." You shouted after him as he disappeared down the corridor.

You stepped back into the room and closed the door behind yourself.

A day later, you were there as Alex switched the trigger, and the car about a mile away from your position, deep in the desert blew to pieces as the two of you watched.

"How the hell did you know from a damn single word?"

"It's a local dialect, where I happened to have stayed for a while, it's not important…" You dismissed the seemingly unimportant detail with a wave of your hand.

"So we just happened to luck out on this one?" He chuckled and turned to you.

"Well, I could have tried about half a dozen more languages, but hey, if this one worked…?" You looked up at him, a small smile tugging the corner of your lips up.

"And Farah knew this?"

"Her hunches are never wrong." You shrugged.

"Yeah… You're right about that."

Gaz

You and Kyle bonded during selection. Both of you were younger than most of the cadets, and yet, somehow competed for top scores. It wasn't even a test of endurance, it was a test of who could beat the other. DS were amused by how easily you passed hurdles, just to be better than the other one, paying no attention to other competition.

And after that, the two of you became inseparable. Like people who'd known the other since childhood or had been good neighbours for years. Phone calls when oceans separated the two of you were very common, and sometimes you found eachother in inopportune situations; yet these calls only strengthened your friendship. Keeping each other company, and slowly growing to know more and more about the other.

It was a spur-of-the-moment trip, catching the first plane when you finally got your leave. A country you've only seen in books so far, but a language you'd already mastered.

Kyle called you when you were out on the first morning, trying to fetch food from a market.

"Good morning, Kyle." Your chin was visible in the frame of the phone, and the blue sky above you.

"Morning yourself, except it's the middle of the afternoon. Where are you?" He asked in a surprised tone, his face coming closer to the phone, trying to discern some landmarks around you, to no avail.

"In a market. Got on a plane yesterday, and--" You quipped, looking down at Kyle, who was visibly confused about your whereabouts.

"Jesus wept, bug, you're insane…" He shook his head, almost missing as you started haggling, faint voices breaking through the line.

He quieted down and leaned forward on his couch to listen. For a good minute, he couldn't understand a word you were saying, only listening to your voice flow, lips dancing in unique patterns. Soon, you held your quarry up to the camera, something bundled in white wax paper.

You sat down and finally positioned your phone to show your face and upper body, and a bit of the busy scenery behind you.

"You're a wizard, you know that?" He laughed and lounged back again.

"A party trick if you will. I know a few more." You shrugged, and bit into your breakfast.

"Few more?" Kyle repeated, chuckling in disbelief. "What else, like, sign language?"

"Actually…" You laughed, somewhere in the background a bell tolled distantly.

"No fucking way." Kyle licked his upper lip and looked away. "I thought I knew ya."

"There's always more to know, friend."

Soap

Sharing a room with Soap was… an experience. He was a sound sleeper, not causing much fuss at night, so you were content in that regard. The other departments, however, not much.

He was unruly, to say the least, and it took some time to get accustomed to his schedule. One of you being a morning shower type in opposition to the other being a night shower person caused some friction in the beginning, but like everything else, it settled after a while. After all, this was supposed to last only the three months the unit was stationed at this base.

You hadn't known eachother that well before, but that changed at around the one-month mark.

Having been given a few hours of phone time by Price days before for this afternoon, you set up to call your best friend, a few thousand miles setting the two of you apart. You haven't talked in way too long, and before you knew it, you'd already spent an hour talking and laughing over Facetime, phone propped against the metal grate by the foot of the bottom bunk, you sitting on the mattress.

You acknowledged Soap coming in a few times for his notebook, cigs, or to grab his coat from the back of the chair, but didn't pay it much attention, being so absorbed in the conversation with your favourite human on the other end of the line, confined to the little screen by the foot of your bed.

It was already dark outside, when Soap burst into the room, and put his finger to his lips, signalling you to be silent.

Looking down at your best friend "I need to be silent. Wait a bit."

To which they replied with an "Okay, I'll wait."

Soap flicked the light off, and a few moments later, a few people passed the room; you could hear the footsteps.

"Random inspection." He whispered as he climbed up into his bunk, trying to remain silent.

Praying your room wouldn't be chosen, as you were still in uniform instead of nightwear, you settled on your mattress too. An idea flashed through your head, and turning the brightness on your screen to high, you continued your conversation over Facetime in silence, your best friend quickly catching on to what happened, as you explained the situation in sign by the dim light.

A few minutes later, Soap climbed down from the bunk and switched the light on.

"Gaz texted, they moved on to the next building… what are ya up tae?"

He looked back at you, as you caught his glance too while signing.

"Sign. South African Sign Language. I'm talking to someone."

"Right…" He chuckled bemused, and headed out again, probably for a cig with some other delinquents, to which you shook your head with a smirk on your lips.

Later that night, when you settled to sleep for real on your back, his overgrown mohawk poked out followed by his head from above you, overlooking you on your bed.

"'eard you speakin' earlier… And that sign language too… So… Mind teachin' me some?"

(alright that's all, hope you liked it, goodnight)

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