amy pieters


Results Team Giant-Alpecin at the worlds road race in Richmond:
Tom Dumoulin 11th, John Degenkolb 29th, Luka Mezgec 48th, Simon Geschke 90th and Lawson Craddock 109th, Amy Pieters 46th. 

A Day In The Life

Written for dlvpll (Thank you very much for letting me use your idea, I hope you like it! Sorry it’s so late.) 

 It’s a beautiful morning, the birds are singing, the sun is shining, and the wind carries the scent of pine.
Beca is miserable.
“Why are we hiking again?” She complains to the blonde woman walking in front of her.
She squints as a particularly blinding ray of sun breaks through the tree branches.
“And why so early in the morning? Saturdays are made for sleeping in.” Luisa chuckles at the pathetic whine coating her Bella’s voice, it’s endearing.
“There’s nothing more invigorating and refreshing than a morning hike, no?” She asks, happy as a lark to be out in the open air.
“No.” Beca says flatly.
“Grumpy maus. Enjoy the outdoors.”
“I can enjoy it just fine from my car.” She grumbles.
“Then think of it as exercise.”
“I could think of a better way to exercise.” Beca says, staring at the very nice view in front of her.
Skin tight spandex and a tank top hug toned muscles.
She’s a lucky girl.
“Eyes up front, soldier.” Luisa says.
“Never, Kommissar.” Beca says, grinning.
They stop talking, Beca needs oxygen a little more than flirting.
But only a little.
After what feels like forever, Luisa veers off the dirt path, pulling Beca with her into the trees.
A couple minutes and a few tree branches to the face later, they reach a clearing.
If Beca’d had any breath to spare, she’d have lost it.
They’ve reached a lake, as smooth and dark as black obsidian, it reflects the eternal blue expanse with its cotton candy clouds above it.
A perfect mirror.
A wetter version of the sky.
“Luisa, let’s go hiking more often.”
“Whatever you say, kleine maus.”

Chloe’s staring out the window, her fingers tapping impatiently on the table in front of her, waiting for Beca.
Fat Amy is humming, stopping every once in a while to giggle at some text Bumper sends to her.
It’s not annoying at all.
Chloe’s about to either scream or rip the phone from Fat Amy’s hands, or both, when Beca finally bursts through the coffee shop door, quickly ordering her coffee before hurrying to the girls’ table.
“Sorry I’m late.” Beca says, sliding into the chair next to Chloe. “Luisa’s a dork and forced me to hike this morning. It was actually pretty cool.”
“Whoa, hold the phone.” Amy says, letting hers fall to the table. The clatter causes several heads in the shop to turn.
“Beca Mitchell went hiking? The Beca Mitchell?” She screeches, several of those turned heads shush her.
“Oi, private conversation going on here. Go back to your lonely internetting.” She says, completely unfazed by the glares. “Now, where were we?”
“Beca went hiking. And liked it.” Chloe reminds her, a more subtle disbelief also coloring her tone.
Beca scowls at their teasing, crossing her arms as she huffs.
“I can be outdoorsy.” She mutters, Chloe snorts indelicately.
“Says the girl who freaked out when we went on a tiny little retreat and had to share a tent.”
“Hey, that was not outdoorsy, that was a smelly, personal space invading hell.” Beca protests.
“Gibmer Wein, your coffee’s ready.” A barista calls, Beca stands up, laughing to herself.
“Who’s Gibmer Wein?” Chloe asks, Beca laughs again.
“It’s this thing I do with Luisa. Gib mer wein in German means ‘give me wine’ and the baristas always think it’s a name. It happened once as an accidental joke, but then we kept doing it. They never catch it.”
“Ahhhh, funny. Totally get it.” Amy says, not getting it all.
Beca leaves to get her coffee, still chuckling.
“She’s turning German!” Amy hisses as soon as she’s out of hearing range.
“What?” Chloe asks, not following the Australian’s train of thought.
“Beca, Kommissar is turning her German!”
“I don’t think you can turn someone German.”
“Trust me on this. It’s happening.”
Chloe shakes her head, red curls swishing.
“Fine. Let’s make a bet.” Amy offers. “If Beca doesn’t say anything out of the ordinary, you win. But if she says three German-ish sounding things, I win.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Chloe says. “Let’s do it.”
Amy claps her hands once in enthusiasm, earning more glares from around the room.
“Oh and when I win you owe me twenty dollars.” Amy says quickly, Beca walks back before Chloe can even protest.
“So Beca,” Amy says, winking at Chloe. “How’re things with Luisa?”
Beca ducks her head, but not before the two other girls can see flushed cheeks and a smile.
“Gut. I mean, good. Things are good.” Beca coughs, feeling awkward as Amy smiles a half-moon grin at her.
She sips her coffee.
It burns her tongue.
“Ow.” She mutters, Chloe pats her arm in sympathy.
“So what are we doing today?” She asks, changing the subject off of her.
Chloe perks up.
“Actually, it’s what are we singing today. Emily asked us to visit and jam with the new Bella’s!”
“Cool. Whipping freshman into shape sounds like fun.” Beca says.
“Are you being sarcastic? Because I honestly can’t tell.” Amy says, squinting a bit, as if trying to read Beca’s thoughts.
“No, really. I’ve um- I’ve missed the Bella’s.”
“Aww.” Chloe squeals, hugging Beca tightly.
“I just miss bossing everyone around.” Beca jokes.
“Our American Kommissar.” Amy says, winking at Chloe again. Chloe rolls her eyes.
“Ja, definitely.” Beca says.
Amy whoops in victory, jumping out of her chair and startling all the poor hipsters in the coffee place.
“I won! You owe me twenty, Chloe.”
The redhead groans, pulling a twenty out of her wallet and begrudgingly handing it over to Amy.
“What?” Beca asks, flummoxed.
“Sorry Beca, Amy made a bet about you turning German. I lost.” Chloe says, Amy nods, still celebrating her win with enthusiastic fist pumping.
“I’m not turning German, that’s not a thing.”
“It’s totally a thing! And you proved it.” Amy says, Beca shakes her head.
“Weirdos. Let’s just go meet Emily.”
“You’re the boss…Komm-”
Don’t say it.” Beca warns Amy, Amy just grins like a Cheshire.

Luisa arrives precisely on time to Pieter’s apartment flat.
He answers the door after her first knock.
“Ready to find the first American DSM studio, Kommissar?” He asks in greeting, she nods.
“We’re taking my car.” She says, her keys jangling in her hands.
“Why not mine?” Pieter asks, following after her as she walks down the stairs.
“Because, you leave the top down.”
“That’s the purpose of having a- ah- a topless car.”
“They’re called convertibles.”
“Whatever.” He says dismissively, scowling as he bends himself into her black Mercedes Benz.
He feels so small in her car.
It’s an odd feeling.
“How is the kleine maus?” He asks as Luisa pulls into the street.
“Doing well. I finally took her hiking.”
“She liked it. She asked to go back to the lake again soon.”
“The fiesty maus is filled with surprises.” She smiles at that.
They meet their realtor at the first destination, an old dance studio.
It’s too small for what they need, so they move on.
The small warehouse they visit has more than enough room, but it’s too out of the way.
Another studio, another no.
Two more places, all unsatisfactory under the scrutiny of Luisa’s hawk-eyed gaze.
They stop for lunch, the poor realtor at a separate table, needing to look for new places on her laptop, and needing time away from the two intimidating Germans.
Pieter looks on in distaste as Luisa heaps a generous amount of ketchup on her food.
“I still do not know why they are called ‘chicken fingers’,” he says, gesturing to her plate. “Chickens do not even have fingers.”
“They are the only thing I recognize on this menu other than the hamburger. Beca seems to be quite fond them, as they are the only things in the freezer besides my food.”
“I take it the little maus is not the most diverse of chefs.”
“You have no idea.”
They finish lunch, and Luisa keeps noticing Pieter staring at her curiously every once in a while.
“What?” She asks, he dives straight to the point.
“Your maus has been American-izing you, no?” She scoffs.
“See you later.” The friendly waitress says as they walk out of the restaurant.
“See ya.” Is Luisa’s automatic response.
Pieter’s expression practically screams smug satisfaction.
“Not a word.” She commands, he shrugs, unfazed by her fierce glare.
“I’ve already been vindicated.”
A punch to the shoulder.
He pretends it doesn’t hurt.
“Realtor lady,” Luisa barks, every bit of her in Kommissar mode.
Annoyed Kommissar mode.
“If the next place we see does not please me, I will be sending you to my old DSM studio in Germany. In a box.”
The poor woman nods, literally shaking in her heeled boots.
Pieter actually feels something akin to pity for the lady.
An annoyed Kommissar is a scary Kommissar.

Thankfully, the next place is absolutely perfect. Even Luisa cannot find fault in it.
It’s an old art studio the size of the first warehouse they’d visited, with Van Gogh’s A Starry Night painted on the widest wall, great acoustics thanks to high ceilings, and a half floor that still allows view of everything that happens down below.
“It is flawless.” Pieter says to Luisa, after flipping round-off back handsprings around the room, checking for enough space.
“Then it is DSM’s new studio.” She says, sharing a smile with Pieter, both of them excited to find such a place.
It fits DSM.
It fits them.
“As much as I had looked forward to shipping you in a box, Realtor Lady,” Luisa says, all business and scary Kommissar again. “I believe we will take this place.”
The woman’s sigh of relief is audible.
Luisa and Pieter start to walk away, the woman calls after them.
“Wait! Don’t you want to discuss prices?”
“Find the price, imagine saying that price to my face, then find a better price and get back to me.” Luisa says, Pieter smirks.
His Kommissar is so much fun when she’s sassy.
They walk out of the studio, tall and proud.
Like giants roaming the earth.

Beca’s already at home and on the couch when Luisa comes back.
She smiles when Luisa saunters to her side, leaning over the couch to kiss her little maus on the forehead.
“There’s my tall blondie.” She says, her hands reaching up to undo Luisa’s bun as she kisses her properly.
It’s awkward, Beca’s back is painfully digging into the couch’s side as she leans backwards to kiss her girl, but the satisfied little smile on Luisa’s face is worth it.
“Did you find a studio?” She asks when Luisa straightens.
“I did. I cannot wait to show you, meine kleine maus.” Luisa says, excitement bouncing in her eyes, even as she collapses on top of Beca’s slight frame.
“Oof! I can’t wait to see it.” Beca says, smiling at the dork currently crushing her.
“A little tired, babe?” She asks, Luisa just mumbles incoherently.
“Luisa, you speak eight languages. Use one of them.”
Her reply is still muffled, but intelligible.
“I worked out with Pieter before I came home.” Beca nods, immediately understanding.
The two Germans are so competitive, they usually run each other ragged when exercising together, both loathing to admit when they’ve finally reached their limit.
“Oh, before you pass out from exhaustion, you ridiculous hottie, I have something to tell you.”
“Am I a ridiculous hottie because I’m hot and ridiculous, or ridiculously hot?” Luisa asks, slightly loopy from fatigue.
“The first one. Both. Babe, listen.” Becca says.
“I’m all of the ears.”
Beca doesn’t even bother to correct her, instead plunging ahead to say what’s been nagging at her mind all afternoon.
“Today, Chloe and Fat Amy told me I’m turning German because of you.”
Luisa laughs, tickling Beca with the motion of her shaking stomach.
“That’s not a thing.”
“That’s what I said! But apparently you’re rubbing off on me.”
“Pieter said something like that today. You must be rubbing off on me as well.”
“What do you think about that?” Beca asks, Luisa sighs.
“Many people who spend copious amounts of time together often find they’ve integrated with the mannerisms and idiosyncrasies of their preferred other.”
There’s a long pause.
Another sigh.
“We’re very, very close Beca.”
“You can say that again.” Beca interrupts, her fingers wiggling against the curves of Luisa’s waist and hips.
A sharp fingernail pokes her in the shoulder.
As I was saying, we’re close, so it’s only natural we’re starting to blend together a little more.” Luisa suddenly pushes herself off of Beca, hovering above her.
Beca almost whimpers from the loss of contact.
“You’re ok with that, ja?” Luisa asks, worried.
Beca’s fingers smooth away the wrinkles in Luisa’s forehead, stroking her cheek, outlining the shape of her lips.
“Ja, definitely.” She relaxes at that, sinking onto the small girl’s body again.
It’s quiet for a while, Luisa starts to doze, her warm breath coming out in little puffs onto Beca’s neck.
“Luisa?” Beca asks quietly.
“Mmhmm?” She answers, half asleep.
“I am ecstatic that we are starting to blend together.” Luisa raises her head, staring straight into doe brown eyes.
“Oh, meine liebling maus… Ditto.”
Beca’s body stiffens, Luisa settles back into her former position.
She smiles to herself, she can feel the little brunette’s indignation coming off in waves.
“That’s it?” Beca says, trying to contain her frustration.
“To quote a certain brown-haired Bella, yup.” Luisa says mischievously, her lips deliciously popping the ‘p’ into Beca’s neck.
“You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”
“Yup.” Luisa does it again, Beca groans.
“You’re impossible.”
“I try.”
“I hate that.”
“You don’t.”
She huffs, which turns into a squeal when her neck receives a little bite.
“What was that for?”
“Albern maus, my affections for you are vast.” Luisa says softly, laying a ghost of a kiss on the pinkening skin.
“Oh.” Beca says, the sweet and sincere words washing over her like a gentle sea.
She tries to find a reply with the same impact.
Luisa chuckles, the sound reverberating through every bone in Beca’s body.
“Go to sleep, kleine maus. Nap with me.”
“It’s six o'clock at night.”
“So when we wake up we won’t be able to go back to sleep for hours.”
“I’m sure we’ll find a way to wile away the time.” Luisa whispers against the shell of her ear, Beca shivers.
“How am I supposed to sleep when you say things like that?”
“Because you know that after we sleep, that can happen.”
Beca closes her eyes immediately, willing herself to fall asleep.
Luisa smiles, shifting herself so that only half of her is smushing the little Bella.
Beca misses the heat of her Kommissar blanket, but she’s slightly grateful.
It had been getting rather hard to breathe.
“Goodnight Luisa.”
“Goodnight kleine maus.”

Doo Wop (That Thing)

Another Becommissar story based on the following tumblr prompt (which I slightly adapted):

“i meant to text the contact one above you in my phone’s contact list for a booty call but i didn’t realize i hit your name until i sent it so now i’m just sitting here feeling those little three dots hardcore judging me” au

Find the story on AO3 or

I’m also working on a (smutty) sequel to Tsunami, so stay tuned for that one.

I’m drunk and lonely and confused and you need to get here asap and have sex with me, thank you very much. Staying at the Radisson Blu, room 2008. Hurry!

It was about 4AM, Beca was finally back in her hotel room, and, also, still pretty drunk from the Worlds’ afterparty, where she’d spent her time downing about four beers within fifteen minutes to distract herself from the gorgeous specimen that was Das Sound Machine’s lead.

The other team had taken their defeat surprisingly well—Pieter had even congratulated them, before getting everyone a round of drinks, and Kommissar… well. The blonde had danced. First by herself, swinging her hips from right to left and running her hands all over her own body, and then together with Stacie, which had her grinding her ass against Stacie’s crotch, all the while giving Beca what could only be described as a sultry look every now and then.

It had gotten worse, though, because, at some point—Beca had turned away a good thirty minutes earlier because seeing the woman she was definitely not crushing on basically making out with Stacie on the dance floor wasn’t one of her favorite things to do—she’d felt a hand on each side of her hips, and a set of lips close to her ear.

“Congratulations, tiny Maus. You know what they say: the winner takes it all. So feel free to do so.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Becommissar's first child. Do you think they would adopt? If not, who do you think would carry it? There's definitely a big arguement between all the Bellas and all of DSM as to who gets to be the godparents. What would they name the baby?

Family Matters Pt 1: Welcome to the Family, Kiddo

Also on AO3


Beca was sitting on the couch, wringing her hands in anticipation. This is it, she thought. She looked up as Luisa walked into the room, and stood to greet her. Their lips met briefly, the German smiling as they parted. “Are you ready, Mäuschen?”

The brunette took a deep breath, then nodded. The taller woman took her hands, pressing a soft kiss to them. “I’ll go get him. You will be entertaining our guests, ja?”


The doorbell rang as the blonde left the room, and Beca went to open the door. She smiled as Chloe and her other former Bellas teammates came into view, and invited them in.

Chloe grinned, hugging her friend. “Beca! Oh my god, it’s been, like, forever. Why haven’t we seen you guys?”

The brunette shrugged. “We’ve been pretty busy lately. I just finished a project at the studio, and–“

Fat Amy spoke up. “Well, that’s not a good excuse. I could say I’ve been out wrestling crocodiles- and that may or may not be true- but I’d still make time for you guys.”

Beca laughed, shaking her head. “Ok, ok, well… I’m glad you guys made it. We’ve got some… pretty big news…”

Chloe gasped. “Oooh, what is it??”

The brunette grinned. “You’re gonna have to wait a bit for that.”

The doorbell rang again. Beca raised her eyebrows. “Or not.” She headed back to the door, opening it for–

“DSM? What are you guys doing here?” Chloe looked at Pieter and his fellow teammates.

The man looked down at her, raising an eyebrow. “We could ask you the same.”

Beca stepped in between them. “Ohhhkay, let’s just… come on in, guys. Everyone, just sit, and settle, and… I’ll explain everything.”

The brunette ushered everyone into the living room, members of each party murmuring in curiosity. She turned to them, clearing her throat and waiting for everyone to settle down.

“So like I said, you’re all here because Luisa and I have big news.” She hesitated, starting to feel pressured from everyone watching her. “It’s-… it’s good news, so um… don’t worry. Uh… Luisa?”

“I’m here, darling.” The blonde had returned, walking over to Beca, and carrying a bundle in her arms. She turned toward all of their friends, revealing a baby wrapped up in the blanket she was holding.

The taller woman smiled as she heard several soft gasps sound throughout the room. She kissed Beca on the cheek, encouraging her to say something. The brunette leaned into the kiss, smiling in appreciation.

She focused back on her audience. “Everyone… this is Lukas. We adopted him three months ago.”

Beca looked at Chloe, who was on the verge of (happy) tears. The redhead mouthed “Congratulations”, and she smiled in thanks. Luisa chuckled as she noticed Pieter grinning widely. “Be sure not to stay like that too long. Your face will hurt later.”

Her friend shook his head, his grin toning down to a smile. “I’m just… we are all so happy for you.” The other DSM members expressed their agreement. Someone from the back of the room spoke up. “Who are the godparents?”

Fat Amy pointed to herself and the rest of the former Bellas. “Well, it’s gonna be us, of course.”

The DSM team broke out in varying expressions of disagreement, prompting the former Bellas to as well. Their bickering soon turned into a full-on argument, each party’s volume steadily increasing over the other’s.

Beca quickly sprung to action, trying to shush and calm everyone back down. “Shhh, guys, come on! You’re all gonna make Lukas cry, and I suck at calming him down!”


Everyone stopped immediately as Luisa’s voice cut through the tension. The woman’s eyes swept over them, casting a stern gaze. “It was already decided. Chloe will be the godmother. Pieter will be the godfather.”

Chloe squealed quietly in excitement and Pieter’s grin returned at full force. Their friends nodded and murmured in acceptance, congratulating them. Fat Amy raised her hand.

Beca looked at her. “Yeah?”

“So if I can’t be his godmother- or godfather- I’ll just be his cool aunt. Teach him how to wrestle crocodiles and stuff, yeah?”

“That’s… probably not a good idea, Amy…”

“Hm… you’re right. We should start with dingoes.”

Beca sighed, shaking her head. Luisa, meanwhile, had handed Lukas over to Chloe. Beca chuckled as she watched Chloe gently coo at the child. Pieter came over to see his new godson, taking one of the boy’s hands.

“He is so tiny…”

Luisa smiled. “He’s named after you.”

Pieter looked up, his eyebrows raised. “Really?”

The blonde nodded. “Lukas Pieter Mitchell.”

Chloe looked at Beca. “You gave him your last name?”

The brunette shrugged. “Only choice I got to make. I mean, I agreed with Lukas, but Luisa chose it. And Pieter too. Obviously…”

“Aww, this is all just too cute!” Chloe gushed. She handed the child back to Luisa, and pulled Beca into a hug. “I’m so happy for you two.”

The brunette smiled, returning her friend’s hug tightly. She looked over at Luisa, who was focused on the baby, the blonde’s eyes shining with adoration. Beca sighed contentedly. “So am I.”

Amy Pieters tijdens de koppelkoers dames tijden het NK Baanwielrennen. Een paar ronde na dat ze vies onderuit was gegaan (zie haar kapotte pak en schrammen)

Competition Isn’t A Thing, It’s Everything

Hi everybody! This is my first Kommissar fic, so I will get better in time. Enjoy. :)

It’s the after party at Worlds, and Beca swears Fat Amy is trying to kill her from embarrassment. She just had to tease Pieter about losing Worlds, and of course he had to challenge her on the dance floor. And of course that tall drink of water called Kommissar just had to accompany him, along with the rest of Das Sound Machine. 

So many levels of unfair. 

So there’s a dance off, and Beca’s swaying in the background. Swaying counts as dancing, right? Maybe not, but Fat Amy’s dancing enough for the whole group. Popping and locking, or some kind of enthusiastic equivalent. Either way, Beca’s too buzzed to care. 

High off of victory and tipsy from the open bar’s strong alcohols, Beca simply nods her head to the pounding beat and watches the competition going on. Well, it’s really just Amy and Pieter that are competing, everybody else is just dancing for the fun of it. Kommissar might be dancing to kill. 

Beca can’t help noticing how the motion of Kommissar’s hips is positively wicked. Her gyrating is smooth and dangerous and oh, what a way to go. If Kommissar’s dance skills really are lethal, Beca can’t imagine a better last image. 

She catches her self thinking that, chokes, and coughs like an idiot. 

Heads turn. 

Including Kommissar’s. 

Beca prays to the a cappella gods to let the dance floor swallow her. 

She just keeps coughing.


If she doesn’t die from the humiliation, her burning cheeks might melt the rest of her. 

She escapes to the bar. Oh sweet, sweet alcohol. She hopes to avoid everyone else till tomorrow, when the moment has been forgotten in a blurred mess of drunken memories. She has no such luck. 

“Is the kleine maus okay?” A sultry voice asks from behind the vodka-downing Bella, she nearly chokes again. 

“I’m fine.” She turns, her arms crossing to give her more personal space from the towering blonde. It works only minimally. 

“Good. I would hate for the leader of the Bella’s to, ah how do they say, croak on the dance floor the night of their victory. It would seem rather suspicious, no?“ 

"I’m fine.” Beca says, blushing an even deeper shade of red. She didn’t think that was possible at this point. 

“Don’t you have a dance floor to dominate?” She blurts out, flustered. Kommissar shrugs, an amused little smirk lifting her cheekbones even higher. 

Beca tries not to stare at them. 

She fails. 

“So you were staring at me. I knew it. Pieter owes me." 

"I was not! Besides, you’re so tall, it’s impossible to not look at you!" 

"Feisty maus, always so tense." 

"I’m not tense- and stop calling me a maus, I’m not a mouse. I’m a-a… Something else. I’m something else. Probably drunk.” She mutters that last bit under her breath. Kommissar hears it anyway and chuckles. 

“And why should I not call you that? You are so small, you can barely handle any alcohol." 

"I bet I can drink more than you.” Beca snaps, emboldened by pride and the two shots of vodka already warming her stomach. Kommissar quirks one immaculate eyebrow. 

“You’re challenging me. Really?" 

"Really, really.” She winces at that, her eyes squeezing as she internally berates herself for such an elementary grade taunt. 

“Fine. Let’s hope you can hold your liquor, häschen, as I’m not in the mood to be puked upon." 

"Did you just call me… a bunny rabbit?” Beca asks, confused. Kommissar smirks, her painted lips red and glistening under the flashing lights. 

“You said not to call you a maus.” Beca narrows her eyes, her fingers snapping distractedly at the bartender for a line of shots, her free finger points and shakes in Kommissar’s face sloppily. 

“If I win, you stop it with the names.” Kommissar’s flashes her teeth, almost a smile but not quite. 

“Fine. But you won’t win." 

It’s getting harder for Beca to see straight, the four empty shot glasses spinning in some kind of haphazard circle. 

"I think you’ve had enough to drink, kleine maus.” Kommissar says. A neat row of eight empty glasses sitting in front of her, her hair’s not even slightly mussed. 

“I thought you were gonna stop calling me that.” Beca says, her words slurring together. 

“You didn’t win.” Kommissar states dryly. A light and happy sound escapes from the brunette’s lips, it’s a giggle. 

“Not fair.” She mumbles. “I had two shots before this. And something else too. Dunno what…" 

"That’s still only six shots. You lost." 

"Well you’re inhumanly gorgeous, so… Yeah.”

“Alberne maus.” Kommissar says, though a smile softens her face. 

“You know, I know some German. You can’t keep calling me a bunny or a mouse or silly. I’ll know it.” Beca says, her finger bopping Kommissar on the nose. 

Well, at least that’s where she aims. 

She ends up poking her in the cheek instead. 

It’s really soft. 

“Then I’ll be sure it switch it up. Now come, you need some sleep.” Kommissar pulls Beca up from her chair and half leads, half drags her to the hotel they’re both staying at. 

“You don’t even know where my room is.” Beca says, trying to match Kommissar’s long legged gait. She stumbles and almost falls, but she’s saved by Kommissar’s steady arm around her waist. Her hand is hot and gentle against Beca’s hip. 

“Then tell me your room number." 

"Slow down there, buy a girl a drink first.” Beca mumbles, giggling again. 

“You’ve had too many already.” Kommissar says, not understanding the flirtatious meaning. 

“Never mind. I have a boyfriend, you know.” Beca says, not knowing whether she’s reminding Kommissar or herself. 

And then she’s safely in her room, Kommissar hovering at her door. 

“Go to sleep, silly maus. Do not do anything foolish.” She turns to leave, but Beca calls after her. 

“Hey, you never said what you wanted if you won.” She stops, turning back to the yawning Bella with a smirk. 

“I’ll tell you when you’re sober.” She says, winking mischievously. 

“Ok. Sure. I’ll do it then.” Kommissar starts to walk away again, only to be called back. 

“What’s your real name? You can’t really be named the commissioner.”

“You’ll have to beat me at something before I ever tell you. So, sadly, you will never learn it." 

"I beat you at Worlds.” Beca says, almost pouting, if she did that. 

Which she doesn’t.


“Doesn’t count." 

"You Germans are so competitive.” She grumbles. “It’s such a huge thing to you." 

"Competition isn’t a thing, it’s everything.” And with that, she leaves. 

Last night, Beca thought she’d embarrassed herself enough. 

Causing a scene, getting drunk in front of the forever unfazed Kommissar, and rashly promising to do whatever Kommissar thought up. 

But she was so wrong.

“No, I’m not doing this.” She hisses through clenched teeth. A devilish laugh is Kommissar’s response. Her head pounds, hangovers suck. 

“I’m really not. There’s no way.” She says, her head shaking in denial. She winces, movement is really a bad idea. 

“You have to. You promised." 

"I’ll do something else!” She pleads in desperation. She’s met with the iron gaze of a stubborn German. 

“Fine.” She huffs. 

She waves her hand, Kommissar’s phone starts recording. 

“Hey… So I lost a bet.” She gulps. 

“And my punishment for an understandably unfair game is…” She sighs, then addresses her film operator. 

“Do I really have to do this?” She’s met with silence. She sighs again. 

“My punishment is to sing I’m A Little Teapot… In German." 

Deep breath. 

"Ich bin ein wenig Teekanne…short and stout." 

A chuckle from behind the camera. 

"I don’t know it all, ok?” Beca says indignantly. 

She tosses her hair over her shoulder, feeling the last shreds of her dignity dying with each verse. 

“Hier ist meine Handgriff, hier ist meine Tülle…”

(A/N: I saw in an interview that Beca almost didn’t sing the Cups song in the first movie, instead she was going to sing I’m A Little Teapot. So naturally, I used this information for a completely ridiculous fic.)

Stage 2 of the 2014 Women’s Tour of Qatar in a single gif:

Giant-Shimano’s Amy Pieters stays fresh hovering at the back of a four-rider group, knowing that if their escape gets caught, her teammate Kirsten Wild retains the overall lead.

Rabo Liv’s Anna van der Breggen forced the selection 8k earlier following the final intermediate sprint, but it was downhill from there—the rested Pieters won the stage and took the GC lead, while the breakaway’s margin left van der Breggens’ best placed teammate, Iris Slappendel, 22 seconds further from the yellow jersey.