A/N: It’s been years since I’ve written PP fanfiction, but I just had to for this pairing, I love it too much. Of course, I’m a little off my game since for the past year all I’ve been doing is writing k-pop PWP fics, so cut me some slack. I’m working on it. Also, sorry if I butchered the German language. Google Translate only does so much, but it’s all I really have. Translations will be at the bottom, feel free to correct me on anything wrong.
Who says German isn’t a sexy language?
Most people consider German to be a very un-sexy language, and that sometimes irritated Beca Mitchell. Of course, it was a very hard and rough language, but that’s just how Beca likes it: hard and rough. And, of course, there’s nothing hotter than English spoken with a German accent. She was so passionate about the language that she studied it in depth in high school, going above and beyond to attain mastery of it, for reasons that were only slightly more than perverse. She played it off by asserting that it was her mother’s German heritage that inspired her intensive study. So, after a few years, she was fluent in the language.
Kommissar is Beca’s kryptonite. When she speaks to her for the first time, it throws her off badly. This is her German fantasy come to life, standing right in front of her at what she assumes to be around 6 feet tall. She’s never been so undoubtedly attracted to a human being in her life, not even Jesse.
Beca had always known she was bi; experimenting with Chloe behind the scenes had confirmed that for her years ago. Jesse just took all of her attention. They were in a dedicated relationship, and she had respected that, only making out with her best friend a few times during the course of their relationship (Chloe was very persuasive, especially when Beca was drunk). It was no surprise to her that Das Sound Machine’s captain had immediately stolen her attention, but she was absolutely unprepared for the statuesque blonde woman.
Chloe notices right away (her gaydar is impeccable) and drags Beca away from the situation as quickly as possible so the DJ will stop rambling off compliments.
“Beca, breathe,” the redhead says, holding her by the shoulders. “Breathe in, breathe out.”
The brunette does as told, calming herself down before losing her cool.
“She’s so hot,” Beca mumbles, running her hands through her hair. “God, I’ve never wanted someone to ram me up against a wall so badly in my life.”
“She’s the enemy, Beca, our number one competitor. You can’t let her get under your skin.”
“But I want her too,” the short girl whined.
“Beca Mitchell, so help me god, I will call up Aubrey right now and tell her-”
“No! No. I’m fine. Just let me get my bearings. I can do this.”
But they lose the Riff Off and she can’t do this. She can’t. Not with that woman moving so sensually in that mesh crop top with that body that looks like it was sculpted by Michelangelo himself, and god, those tight leather pants. Beca resigns herself to the bar and watches Kommissar dancing amongst her group.
Jesse picks this moment to slide up beside her, two drinks in hand.
“Hey there chicka,” he says, cracking a grin. “How’s about a little liquor?”
“I didn’t know I was dating a poet,” she says, accepting the glass.
“Germans got you down?” he asks.
More like up, she thinks, eyes flicking back over to catch a glimpse of Kommissar swaying her hips in a way that makes her go up even more.
“Yeah,” she mutters into her drink. “I just don’t know how we’re gonna beat them.”
“Have a little faith in yourself. And the Bellas. You’ll do great. I know you will.”
He smiles, and she smiles back at him. She can’t help but feel like a shitty girlfriend for lusting over her competitor like she is, but it’s not like she can stop herself from having feelings.
Twenty minutes later she’s drunk out of her mind and stumbling onto the dance floor with Chloe and Amy. Jesse is gone, and she should be too, but she won’t leave until DSM does. They join the fray, bumping bodies with the German singers. Somehow, her and Chloe end up face to face with Kommissar and Pieter, the latter of which still gloating over their win.
“Die Wettkämpfer sind nicht auf der Suche so groß,” Pieter says, earning a laugh from his comrades. “Sie sollten eine andere Karriere betrachten. Vielleicht … exotischen Tanz?”
The entire group laughed. Chloe stood confused. Beca glared at him.
“Ich würde gerne, aber ich würde nicht wollen, um Ihre Rampenlicht zu stehlen,” Beca retorted, earning expressions of shock and surprise from the German group.
“Du sprichst Deutsch?” Kommissar asked, eyebrows raised.
“Ja,” Beca answered, crossing her arms over her chest.
“How interesting, Little Maus. You have more tricks up your sleeve than I thought you capable of,” said the German woman, stepping forward from her posse.
“I aim to please.”
Kommissar smirks and turns away, guiding Pieter back to the bar. Beca’s confident composure drops and she turns to Chloe, eyes wide.
“Did I just do that?” she asks.
“I think you did.”
“I’m so drunk.”
When the Bellas take Worlds by storm and secure their place as aca-champions, the after party is massive and everyone goes, including DSM, who are much more amiable now. Competition is competition, and everything was fair and square, so they respect the Bellas and now try to form a bond with them. After all, they have a lot in common.
Jesse is somewhere and Beca could care less because she’s high off winning and drunk on success. She doesn’t even notice it when Kommissar sneaks up behind her.
“Glückwünsche,” she whispers in Beca’s ear, her hot breath causing a multitude of sensations to go shooting through the short girl’s body. “My Little Maus, you have won.”
Beca spins around, staring up at the blonde, who has changed out of her stage outfit into a black t-shirt and skinny jeans, which somehow manages to look extremely attractive on her.
“D-danke,” Beca stutters, distracted by her, well, everything.
“I was very impressed with you. You have talent and the skill to back it up. I admire that.”
“Psh, you admire me? I admire you way more. I mean, wait, what. What.”
Beca has lost the filter between her brain and her mouth and there’s no finding it now. Kommissar chuckles.
“Oh, my Little Maus, you are so adorable.”
“W-well, you’re so hot. I- Fuck- Shit! Fuck me.”
“Gladly,” the blonde murmurs in a low tone that makes Beca shiver.
Kommissar’s hands find her hips and Beca is pulled into an empty room. She hears a lock click behind them and she falls down on a couch. In the dim moonlight, she watches the German woman pull off her t-shirt and throw it to the ground. Beca bites her lip. Her fantasy is finally here.
“Du gehörst mir jetzt, Little Maus.”
“Finally,” Beca breathes.
Pieter: The competitors are not looking so great. They should consider another career. Maybe… exotic dance?
Beca: I’d love to, but I would not want to steal your spotlight.
Kommissar: You speak German?
Kommissar: You’re mine now, Little Maus.