7Guys! I can't believe I am finally here again. When I said that I was literally booked until April, I was not kidding. I have had the most amazing last few months with college, traveling, and getting to spend time with great company. But I am soo blessed to have a little break and come back to enjoying simpler things like this. Sadly, though, I am gearing up for finals season and have flights the next 3 weekends. So I might go MIA just a little longer!
But anyways, I present to you all this little one shot I have been writing over the past few days when school permitted. I (frustratingly) do not have enough time to step back into my other two stories for now, at least to create something I find presentable lol (i have tried if you can't tell). So for now, it may just be little one shots I think of and can complete quickly. But I do intend to come back to the other stories, no doubt!
As always, i hope you all enjoy!
Take a deep breath.
She reminded herself for what had to be the fiftieth time in the past hour, her hand seeking the cool touch of the pearls strung at her throat. Her fingers fumbled momentarily with the clasp, the fine string slipping once more before settling into place.
How strange, she thought, that these things – silk, satin, pearls – had begun to feel almost routine. Not natural, perhaps, but no longer foreign.
Straightening, Maria allowed her palms to glide down the sides of her gown in one smooth motion. It was, she had to admit, beautiful. A rich, navy silk dress that shimmered faintly under the light, catching each movement like moonlight on still water. The bodice fit close, sculpting itself to her torso in a way that was, to her, bold for a woman who had once spent her evenings chasing children through hallways. A soft sweetheart neckline held by small straps cradled her décolletage, hinting at the swelling curves of her breasts.
The dress was made for the kind of woman who walked into a ballroom and knew precisely what kind of impression she left behind. It was meant for a baroness or perhaps the daughter of a wealthy aristocrat. Not for the girl who had arrived at the villa from Nonnberg Abbey with no more than a guitar, a carpet bag, and a hopeful heart.
And yet here she stood, the fiancée of a naval captain, a baroness in all but name, and slowly learning how to hold her head high among Salzburg's elite.
She exhaled through her nose, slow and steady, but the nerves did not leave her.
She regretted letting her emotions get the best of her.
The brass bell above the door gave a sharp trill as Maria pushed her way into the dressmaker's shop, her cheeks already flushed with the trouble from simply having to come here again. The smell of fresh fabric and rose-scented starch filled the air. There was an intimacy to the space, a kind of plush elegance she had once found intimidating.
"Maria, darling!" came the unmistakably shrill cry from the back. "How good it is to see you again!"
Maria managed a small smile as Frau Hinterhauser bustled into view, pince-nez perched at the tip of her nose, arms outstretched as though greeting a wayward niece.
The Frau had, for the first few weeks of their acquaintance, regarded Maria with the cool distance reserved for governesses and poor relations. But something had shifted – perhaps Maria's refusal to cower before fine lace or her persistent honesty – and now the older woman had taken to calling her "darling" and "my sweet girl," even while prodding her sharply with pins.
"I trust the Captain is well?" the Frau asked as she gestured for Maria to follow her behind the curtain and onto the raised fitting platform. "Still sending you to me with apologies and orders, hmm?"
"He is well, yes, thank you," Maria replied, easing onto the platform and beginning to shrug off her coat. "And yes, I believe his exact words were that I ought to have something suitably spectacular for the gala.'"
The Frau gave a pleased sniff. "He is quite right."
As Maria stepped into the underdress and allowed the seamstress to begin pinning muslin along her bodice, the conversation turned – as it always seemed to these days – to the subject of society.
"You know," Frau Hinterhauser said lightly, "there has been no shortage of talk about you and your Captain. Especially after the Wintergarten affair. You danced three times, my dear. Three!"
Maria winced. "Is that… improper?"
"Improper? No. Delightfully scandalous? Entirely," the seamstress replied, mouth twitching. "Of course, we know the whispers began before the engagement was even formally announced. I'm afraid the aristocracy does so love to invent motives when faced with sincerity."
Maria's hands clenched softly near her hips. "Yes, I have heard the whispers."
The Frau did not press her, but the silence felt expectant.
"There was a lady at the last ball," Maria said quietly, staring at her reflection, "who referred to me as the 'unwed governess.' Not to my face, but… near enough that I heard it several times. And it was said with a smile each time."
Frau Hinterhauser's mouth puckered into something close to a snarl. "Ignorant peacocks, all of them. They cannot imagine a world in which love exists without calculation."
"I thought perhaps it would fade by now," Maria continued. "But there are still those who believe I must have – must have been –" She trailed off, unable to say it.
"Carrying his child?" the Frau said bluntly.
Maria's cheeks burned. "Yes."
"Which you are not," the Frau said, matter-of-factly. "Nor have you even been, unless your waistline deceives me."
Maria looked up sharply. "No, of course not. But…I just… I just wish there was a way to prove it. To walk into that ballroom and silence them without saying a word."
The Frau raised an eyebrow. Then, slowly, she turned back to her bolts of fabric.
"There may be a way."
Frau Hinterhauser's words had hung in the air like a wisp of perfume – intangible, provocative. Before Maria could summon reason or resistance, she found herself nodding – once, firmly – as though agreeing to something as commonplace as tea instead of what would become the most daring decision of her engagement thus far.
And that was how Maria found herself now, slipping into the midnight silk gown clinging to her like a second skin. The Frau's design had been… audacious, at first glance. Refined, certainly, but bold. The cut was elegant, yes, but calculated to make one thing very clear: the lady wearing it was confident, in possession of both poise and pride – and very much not with child. A woman untouched by rumor. Untouched, indeed.
But now – now, in the soft hush of her room, with her heart caught somewhere between defiance and dread – she wondered if she had made a terrible mistake.
He will think me some… some… wanton, she thought, miserably. He will take one look and assume I have lost all sense of modesty.
Georg was many things – stern, exacting, passionate – but never crude. And yet, she feared that this gown, this declaration of innocence wrapped in scandalous elegance, would send him reeling. Or worse, disappoint him.
The last thing she wished was for him to look at her and see a woman trying to provoke admiration, rather than earn it.
Maria pressed a hand lightly to her stomach, as though she might smooth away her nerves from inside. Her breath caught again.
What is he thinks I am trying too hard to belong? What is he sees through it all –
She let out a quiet sigh, too jagged to be composed and just shy of a growl. Turning from the mirror with a frustrated little huff, she moved to the vanity and reached for the small glass pot of lip-gloss. Her hands shook faintly as she unscrewed the lid, dabbing the sheen across her lips with practiced fingers. It was a small comfort, this final touch of polish before battle.
You're holding this off, Maria, she scolded herself, just making it worse. He is waiting. He is most likely checking his pocket watch every minute and pacing like a lion in the foyer. At this rate, he will send Gretl to drag you out by your hem.
She reached for her evening gloves – and then the door burst open.
Startled, Maria's hand flew to her chest, where her heartbeat was already thundering against her ribs. Her breath caught again – but it wasn't Georg.
"Oh, Fraulien Maria, you look a vision!" came the soft, dream-drenched voice of Liesl, who glided into the room with the weightless grace only a seventeen-year-old in love with life could possess.
Maria blinked, still bracing herself.
Liesl paused in the doorway, hands clasped over her heart as she gazed at her soon-to-be mother. "You look like… like one of those women in Father's old portrait books. You know, the ones with the gowns that seem to come alive when they move."
Maria tried to smile. "Do you think so?"
"I know so," Liesl said with certainty, walking in on slippered feet. "You look like you stepped straight out of Vienna's golden season. Father shall faint when he sees you."
Maria flushed and gave a tight laugh. "I rather fear he might."
Liesl tilted her head, catching the flicker of anxiety that Maria failed to fully conceal. "You're not truly nervous, are you?"
"I-well, I…" Maria turned slightly back toward the mirror, her reflection offering no comfort at all. "It is just… rather a bold choice."
Liesl gave a delicate shrug. "Perhaps. But you are no longer our governess, Maria. You're to be the Baroness von Trapp. It is perfectly acceptable to look… splendid."
Maria turned toward her, touched. "You truly think so?"
"I do." Liesl gave a decisive nod. "And more than that – I think he'll love it. He loves you. He's already halfway besotted every time you walk into a room. This will simply tip him the rest of the way."
At that, Maria laughed softly, her nerves easing – if only a little. "I do hope you're right, Liesl."
"Of course I am," the girl replied, turning toward the door with a grin. "Now come before Louisa starts placing bets on whether you've run away again."
TUWSTUWSTUWSTUWS
Maria paused just outside the heavy oak door, her fingertips brushing the cool wood paneling. Inside, she could hear the faint shifting of a decanter, the quiet rustle of paper or cloth – Georg must have poured himself a drink while he waited. She imagined him checking the clock with growing impatience, frowning with that tightly folded brow of his. She hadn't meant to keep him so long, but now that the moment had arrived, her feet refused to move.
She could still turn back. Change gowns. Slip into something simpler. Something safer.
But before the thought could take root, the door flung open.
The sudden burst of warm firelight caught the navy silk of her gown, making it shimmer like water at twilight. Georg stood in the doorway, framed by the glow of the study behind him. He had clearly come to fetch her – no doubt on the brink of taking Liesl's place as an emissary – but now he stood frozen in place.
The silence that followed was complete. A kind of reverent hush. Even the fire seemed to hold its breath.
His eyes found hers instantly – but did not stay there. They wandered lower, slowly, taking in the way the gown hugged her frame, the graceful slope of her shoulder, the soft rise and fall of her breasts beneath the sweetheart neckline.
He didn't blink. Didn't speak.
Maria, ever unsure of the silence, folded her hands at her waist and tried for a tentative smile. "I… hope I haven't kept you too long."
Georg blinked. Once.
Then his expression shifted. His eyes – cool blue and ever composed – softened around the edges. His lips curved, slowly, like he was trying not to smile but was far too enchanted to stop himself.
"I was beginning to think you'd locked yourself in with the intent of skipping the evening altogether."
Maria gave a nervous huff of laughter, grateful for the break in tension. "I nearly did."
"I suspected as much." He stepped across the threshold and beyond her, giving a slight, sweeping bow. "But then I remembered that you are far too conscientious to leave me to fend for myself among Salzburg's aristocracy."
She tilted her chin as she passed him. "Is that all I am to you? A nobleman's shield?"
"A most attractive one," he murmured, his eyes sweeping over her again.
She felt heat rise in her cheeks, though she managed a playful scoff. "You're staring."
"I'm admiring," he corrected, his eyes unwavering. "There's a distinction."
"And what distinction would that be, Captain?"
Georg tilted his head, his mouth twitching at the corners. "Admiring suggests restraint. Staring is what I will be doing from across the ballroom while pretending to hold conversations."
Maria let out a small laugh, her hand fluttering to the smooth fabric at her side. "I wasn't sure about it, you know. The gown."
Georg's expression softened further. "And now?"
"Now I'm still not sure," she admitted. "I've never worn anything like this before. It's hardly… me."
His gaze lingered for a beat. "No, it's not the you I met bowing to an invisible partner in the ballroom. But it is you. The you that's grown into this life with grace, and humor, and spine."
She looked up at him, eyes searching.
"Besides," he added with a glint of amusement, "it's entirely proper. Barely scandalous at all."
Maria raised a brow. "That sounds like sarcasm."
"It is," he said dryly. "But tastefully delivered."
She reached for her clutch, left waiting for her on a table outside the study. Georg watched her as if he still hadn't recovered.
"If I might be permitted one complaint," he murmured, moving to offer his arm.
He leaned in slightly, his voice low. "I shall have to suffer every young officer's gaze tonight and pretend to not notice them noticing you."
Maria slid her gloved hand into the crook of his arm, her touch light but certain. "Well then," she said sweetly, "I suppose you'll just have to stay close."
"Oh, I intend to, Maria," he promised, entirely serious now.
They both reached the front door now, where the light from the crystal scones glinted off her earrings and warmed the deep navy of her gown. Outside, the car waited for them, but she didn't make a move to cross into the courtyard.
Georg glanced down at her, sensing it too – that pull not to move, not yet.
Maria tilted her head, eyes full of mischief. "And may I offer my own complaint, since you've had your turn?"
He arched a brow. "If you must."
"I am suffering," she said solemnly, "knowing that I have not received so much as one kiss from my fiancée this evening."
He gave a gentle, low laugh, and turned toward her more fully. "A tragic oversight," he murmured. "One I shall rectify immediately."
And then, without ceremony or warning, he bent to her – not a hurried peck, not a mere brush of lips, but a true kiss. Gentle at first, devout, as though reacquainting himself with her warmth. But it deepened quickly, his hand rising to rest at her waist, gloved fingers curving gently into the silk. Maria leaned into him instinctively, one hand slipping behind the lapel of his coat.
The world around them faded into quiet. Even the night air beyond the door seemed to pause.
When he broke away, it was not because he wished to, but because he had to. He lingered for one breath longer – eyes closed, his forehead barely resting against hers – before stepping back.
Maria opened her eyes, dazed and just the slightest bit indignant. "That's it?"
He cleared his throat, straightening his jacket with effort. "Darling, if we continue, I fear we may never make it out the door."
She sighed dramatically. "What a shame."
He chuckled and leaned in again – this time, to press a slower, lingering kiss to her cheek. "I shall make it up to you. Later."
Maria raised a brow. "How much later?"
"Oh, not terribly," he said smoothly, offering his arm again. "But enough to give Salzburg time to recover."
She took his arm once more, barely biting back a grin. "You are wicked."
"And you are irresistible," he replied. "Which, as you know, is terribly inconvenient for a man trying to behave himself."
With that, they stepped out into the cool night together – her gown glistening beneath the lamps, his coat sharp in its perfect lines, and both of them glowing with something far warmer than candlelight.
TUWSTUWSTUWSTUWS
"Maria."
His voice cut cleanly through the quiet hum of the car, edged with exasperation and something almost like amusement.
She glanced over at Georg's voice, her fingers still rhythmically tapping against the polished edge of the door. "Yes?"
Georg flicked his eyes from the road to her hand and back again. "If I hear you tap on that trim once more, I may very well lose my mind."
Maria blinked, then looked down at her gloved fingers, which had taken on a life of their own. "Oh. Sorry."
He sighed – not heavily, but just enough to let her know he was watching her with that deeply perceptive gaze of his. The kind that could read her moods like sheet music.
"You've been to these things before," he said, gentler now. "You haven't been this nervous since the first time."
Maria turned her face slightly toward the window, the Salzburg skyline beginning to bloom beyond the trees like a field of golden stars. Her fingers twitched in her lap.
"I don't know," she said quietly. "It just feels different. I suppose… part of me regrets the dress."
Georg's hands remained steady on the wheel, but his head turned ever so slightly. "Regrets it?" he echoed, careful, gentle.
She gave a tender, nervous laugh. "Not because it isn't beautiful. It is. It's stunning. But that's the problem. It feels like… too much. I still just feel as though I'm pretending to be something I'm not."
He didn't answer right away, and the silence that followed wasn't judgmental – it was thoughtful. The kind of silence that wrapped itself around her instead of pressing in.
Then, without taking his eyes from the road, Georg reached across the narrow space between them and let his hand rest – warm, grounding – on her thigh, just above the sleek curve of silk.
"I think the only problem with that dress," he said, voice low and matter-of-fact, a gentle squeeze to her thigh emphasizing his point, "is that I won't be able to keep my hands off you all night."
Maria coughed, caught somewhere between a laugh and a scandalized gasp.
"Georg!"
He allowed himself the smallest smirk. "That wasn't meant to be indecent."
"You reached over and grabbed my leg while saying it," she argued, trying to suppress a grin.
"I rested my hand on your thigh," he corrected.
She gave him a look.
He gave her a look right back.
And then, without a word, he turned the wheel with one hand and guided the car gently off the main road, down a narrower lane lined with tall pines and the flicker of distant lamplight. The tires crunched softly over the gravel, the motor humming lower as he slowed to a quiet stop beneath the canopy of trees.
Maria raised an eyebrow, watching him switch off the engine with a calm, practiced flick of his wrist.
She leaned toward him with mock suspicion, yet anticipation lingered below. "Is this the 'later' you promised?"
Georg gave a soft, unhurried exhale, as though he'd expected the question. "Good heavens," he murmured, slanting her a sidelong look. "Look what I've turned you into."
She leaned in just slightly closer. "You can't very well whisper promises in doorways and then pull me off the road ten minutes later and not expect me to ask."
"I brought us here so you could breathe," he said, not without effort. "Not so I could test the limits of my self-control."
"Pity."
"Maria," he warned gently, though there was no real threat in it.
She lifted a hand to adjust one of her gloves with exaggerated innocence. "It's rather secluded here," she stated, glancing around. "What if someone sees us?"
"Hm." Georg's voice was low now, amused. "You weren't terribly worried about that a moment ago when you were leaning in like you meant to kiss me."
Her smile curled at the corners. "You didn't seem to mind either."
"I didn't," he admitted. "And I still don't. But I do happen to know how this ends."
"Oh?"
He leaned in just a little—not enough to close the distance, just enough to make her heart catch.
"It ends," he said, "just as I said earlier, with us never making it to the ball."
She blinked at him, half-scandalized, half-tempted. "And that would be such a tragedy."
"For them, yes," he said. "They'd lose their guest of honor."
Maria gave a mock sigh and looked out the window. "Well, if you're determined to behave, at least let me be dramatic about it."
"You may. I'll even allow one long-suffering sigh."
She turned back to him and gave him a very regal, slow blink. "Sigh."
He laughed, shaking his head. "Better. Now. We sit here until you've collected yourself."
"Iwascollected," she insisted.
"Your hands were trembling."
Maria opened her mouth to argue—but he reached across once more and took her hand in his. The moment stilled. His thumb traced a slow, steady line over the silk of her glove.
"I don't care what anyone else thinks tonight," he said, voice quiet. "But I wantyouto feel at ease when you walk into that room."
She met his eyes.
And for all her teasing, she was grateful. For the pause. For him.
"All right," she said softly. "Just a minute more."
"Just a minute," he agreed.
TUWSTUWSTUWSTUWS
The car rolled to a gentle stop in front of the grand hall, where Salzburg's finest stepped from their chauffeur's doors in clouds of smoke and draped in jewels. The stone of the building was lit from below, casting a golden glow up its columns, the notes of a distant waltz floating into the cool winter night.
Georg stepped from the car first and turned to offer his hand. Maria took it, gathering her gown in the other, her breath slow and steady.
She wasn't nervous any longer.
Not really.
Not with his warm hand enclosing hers. Not after what he'd said. Not after the way he'd looked at her in that quiet grove off the road, as though the rest of the world could vanish, and he wouldn't mind in the least.
They climbed the stone steps together, greeted at the doors with murmured names and a slight bow from the maître d'. And then they were off.
But Maria felt the subtle turn of heads before she even crossed the threshold.
She kept her spine straight, her chin lifted. Her fingers tightened just slightly on Georg's arm – the only sign of her tension. The rest of her was poised, regal, and unflinchingly radiant in the midnight silk.
Moments later, as they reached the inner circle of assembled guests, a distinguished gentleman intercepted Georg with a cordial nod and a raised glass.
"Ah, Captain von Trapp – at last," he said, extending a hand. "We were hoping to have a word regarding Vienna."
Georg gave Maria a small, apologetic smile, pressing his fingers briefly to hers. "Just a moment, dear. I'll return before the next waltz."
Maria inclined her head graciously. "Of course."
He stepped away, quickly absorbed into a cluster of navy and charcoal suits, leaving Maria momentarily alone to make her way to the edge of the floor.
She turned slightly toward a nearby display of floral arrangements, letting her eyes wander – more to appear occupied than out of genuine interest. It was in this moment of solitude that she caught the familiar cadence of conversation behind her. Not loud, not overt – but well enough to be heard by those close by.
"… well, perhaps she's not with child after all," came the cool voice of a woman, dry as gin.
A pause. Then a second voice, equally clipped: "Mm, perhaps. But I cannot imagine an innocent choosing to wear something so… assertive."
A quiet, knowing laugh followed.
Maria kept her gaze forward, her fingers tightening faintly on the clutch at her side. She could feel the weight of those words settle against her skin – not heavy, exactly, but familiar. She had worn that weight before.
But before she could fully retreat into herself, a familiar presence appeared at her side, soft as a breeze but solid as stone.
"Don't tell me you're letting them rattle you now," came her voice, low and dry.
Maria turned her head – and the knot in her chest loosened.
Clara Heinhardt.
Brilliantly dressed in a pale green chiffon gown, her auburn hair pinned in an effortless twist, Clara stood composed with a crystal glass in one hand and a knowing gleam in her eye. The wife of Karl Heinhardt – Georg's longtime friend from the navy – and, more importantly, Maria's most loyal ally since the second luncheon she'd ever attended.
Maria let out a breath that almost passed for a laugh. "I'm not rattled."
Clara took a slow sip of her drink. "No? Then you're fuming silently with remarkable elegance."
"You heard them."
"Of course I did. That's why they said it – so you and I would both hear." Clara leaned in a bit closer, not enough to draw attention, but enough to make it personal. "But really, darling. You've attended three galas, two ambassador dinners, and a terribly dull opera premiere. Are we going to start caring now?"
Maria shook her head, a little of her ease returning, yet they both knew she had never really stopped caring. "I suppose not."
Clara offered a sideways smile. "Good. Because I swear to you, half the women here wish they could wear something that daring and still look like a lady. And the other half are afraid you'll outshine their daughters or steal their husbands."
Maria laughed softly. "I do hope that's not true."
"Oh, it is. It's dreadful. Keep going."
Maria glanced toward the ballroom floor, where a new dance had just begun. "You know I'm not very good at this."
"Ballroom politics or ballroom dancing?"
"Both."
"Well," Clara continued breezily, "at least you're engaged to the man every woman here was hoping to trap sometime in the last five years. That gives you a bit of leverage, in a way."
Maria gave her a knowing look. "I don't think you were among them, right?"
"No," Clara said with a grin, "but I had the decency to be impressed when you managed it."
Just then, Georg's familiar silhouette reappeared at the edge of the crowd, unmistakable in his formal uniform, his blue eyes scanning until they found Maria across the ballroom.
His gaze softened the moment in landed on her.
Clara followed her line of sight and let out a low, knowing hum. "And there he is – Captain von Trapp himself, looking as though he can barely stand to be that far away from you."
Maria flushed slightly, trying not to let her smile bloom too wide.
Clara elbowed her gently. "Go on, before he forgets how to breathe."
Maria gave a half-nod of gratitude. "You're dreadful."
"I'm practical," Clara replied, giving her a playful shove forward. "And you are absolutely radiant. Now go on."
Maria started through the crowd with all the grace her heels would allow, weaving delicately between champagne flutes and sequins. But just before she reached Georg's side, a young gentleman in navy formalwear stepped into her path.
"Fraulein," he said with a smile, bowing slightly. "Would you grant me this dance?"
Maria hesitated – polite, but caught off guard. He looked barely twenty-three, all clean lines and flushed ambition. He clearly had no idea who she was.
She glanced toward Georg, who had paused mid-step and was watching the scene unfold with the faintest narrowing of his gaze.
"I- of course," Maria said with a soft smile, ever the graceful guest.
The young man led her onto the floor just as the orchestra slipped into the next waltz. He held her at a respectable distance and danced with practiced ease, chatting lightly – something about Vienna and the summer season. She smiled, nodded, answered kindly at the appropriate moments.
Another young man was waiting near the edge of the floor before the song even ended, offering his hand and another request for a dance. Maria cast a quick glance toward Georg, but he was no longer where she had left him.
She accepted again, out of decorum.
The second partner was a touch bolder, with a roguish smile and eyes that lingered a bit too long on her frame.
Maria did her best to remain pleasant – charming, even. But it was hard to focus with her pulse flickering and the growing weight of someone's eyes burning into her back.
And then –
"Pardon me."
The voice came low, smooth, and far too familiar to be ignored.
Maria turned just as Georg stepped onto the floor, his expression calm but firm, his eyes fixed – not on her partner, but on Maria herself.
The young man blinked in surprise. "Captain von Trapp."
Georg gave a polite nod. "May I cut in?"
There was no question in the tone. Only inevitability.
The young man stammered something agreeable and stepped aside, and Georg took Maria's hand with practiced ease, his other settling firmly at her waist.
He said nothing for the first few steps of the dance.
And then, very lowly, "Two partners?"
Maria tilted her chin upward, eyes glittering. "They asked nicely."
"They always ask nicely," he said under his breath.
"Are you jealous, Captain?"
He pulled her a touch closer – only just enough to make her breath hitch. "I'm simply surprised they didn't notice the ring."
Maria leaned in, just slightly, voice velvet. "Maybe they did. Maybe they just wanted to test their luck."
Georg's gaze dropped to her lips before flicking back to her eyes. "I don't share."
"I gathered that."
"I also don't particularly like waiting for my turn."
"Then perhaps," Maria said, her voice like the spark before a flame, "you shouldn't leave me alone at parties."
Georg gave a quiet, sharp laugh and spun her just slightly – just enough to remind the room exactly who she belonged to. The music rose around them, warm and fluid, as if the orchestra had taken a cue from their chemistry.
They danced in silence for a few more measures, the space between them barely worthy of mention.
Then Georg spoke, his voice pitched just low enough to be private. "I know their intent, you know."
Maria looked up, intrigued. "Oh?"
He gave a soft, sarcastic snort of amusement. "Those young men. Polished boots, polite smiles, all eager charm… but eyes far too appreciative. I know exactly what they're after."
She lifted an eyebrow, her mouth twitching. "Do you? You seem awfully familiar with their motives, Captain. One might even say… too familiar."
Georg raised a brow now. "Too familiar?"
"Well," she teased, her voice lilting, "perhaps this insight of yours comes from… personal experience?"
He exhaled through his nose, the faintest ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I have no idea what you could ever mean."
Maria arched an eyebrow. "Oh, no?"
"I was an exemplary young man," he said loftily. "Mild. Reserved. Entirely disinterested in courtship of any kind."
Maria tried – tried – not to laugh. "You've told me stories, Captain."
"Lies. Vicious rumors," he said solemnly. "Likely spread by admirals who envied my modesty."
Now she did laugh, quietly but openly. "If I recall correctly, you once said you received a handwritten note from a general's daughter and a baroness on the same day."
Georg tilted his head, mock thoughtful. "That does ring a bell."
She leaned in just slightly, voice dropping low enough to be meant only for him. "Well, I for one am grateful for your rakish past."
"You are?" he asked, amused.
She nodded. "If you hadn't gotten it all out of your system, I imagine you'd be intolerably repressed by now."
Georg gave a soft, pleased sound deep in his throat. "Is that what I am? Proper now?"
"Mostly," Maria said, her lips curling into a smile. "Though you do have your moments."
"Careful," he murmured, dipping her slightly. "Say another word and I'll have to remind you what those memories look like."
Maria blinked, surprised – and a little breathless.
"Promise?"
Georg's smile was slow and far too satisfied.
"Oh," he said, "you'll get your reminder."
And then they remained through dinner, of course. Despite the fact that both of them wouldn't have minded slipping out just then.
To leave too early would've caused exactly the kind of talk both Georg and Maria despised. So they went through the motions – he in full charm and commander mode, she poised and gracious, as they were seated between diplomats and decorated wives and the occasional wandering duke with very strong opinions on imported wine.
Maria listened attentively to every remark, smiled when she ought, even chimed in now and again with her warm, measured voice – but it was impossible to focus entirely. Not when, beneath the table, Georg's hand found her thigh and brushed – only once, lightly - against its inside.
She had the audacity not to react.
Until he caught her looking at him from the corner of his eye, and she offered a very subtle, very knowing smile over the rim of her wine glass.
He deserved it. After all, she'd spent the better part of the soup course listening to him speak with impeccable manners while casually letting his gaze drop to her neckline whenever she turned her head.
They were insufferable. And entirely unbothered by it.
Conversation turned to naval affairs. Maria offered a polite comment about sea routes and geography, which earned a raised brow from an older gentleman beside her. Georg, without missing a beat, simply said, "She's terribly well-informed. Comes from reading my correspondence over breakfast."
Maria nudged his foot beneath the table. He nudged back, deliberately.
It was all very civil. Very proper. And wildly, wildly maddening.
By the time the final course was cleared, Georg leaned in with what must've looked like a perfectly appropriate whisper – perhaps something about arranging the car.
Instead, his voice was velvet in her ear. "I've reached the absolute limit of my patience."
Maria turned her head ever so slightly toward him, her lips brushing just near his cheek. "Took you long enough."
He stood, offered her his hand, and excused them both with the kind of elegance that left no room for protest.
They moved into the foyer with easy silence, his steps measured, hers deliberate.
And then, suddenly, Georg turned a corner sharply, drew her into a quiet alcove off a service hallway, and kissed her like he hadn't had air in hours.
There was nothing restrained about it. Not careful ballroom distance. His hands framed her face, thumbs brushing her cheekbones, then slipping into her hair. Her arms curled around his neck, one gloved hand tangling briefly in his collar, as though she could pull him closer than close. Their tongues were clashed into a battle of dominance that either couldn't quite achieve.
It was the kind of kiss that made her toes curl in her heels and her heartbeat thrum louder than any orchestra could manage.
When they broke apart, breathless and still locked in each other's arms, Maria let her head fall back against the paneled wall, eyes closed.
"Georg," she whispered, "if we go back in there now, I swear I'll combust."
He laughed, low and quiet and entirely unraveled.
"Well then," he said brushing his thumb over her lower lip, "we'll have to make our escape."
The laughter and beginnings of new waltzes were drifting through the corridor when Georg stepped back, just enough to smooth her hair and gather his breath. Maria blinked up at him, cheeks flushed, lips parted – utterly breathtaking.
He didn't need to ask again. She was already nodding.
They moved quickly and without ceremony, weaving through a side corridor that led past the staff entrance and toward the stone vestibule tucked behind the main ballroom. One of the younger footmen blinked in surprise as they passed, but Georg gave a faint shake of his head—a look that said,don't you dare announce us,and the boy wisely said nothing.
Outside, the night air wrapped around them—cool and laced with frigidness. The contrast to the warmth inside made Maria shiver.
Without hesitation, Georg slipped off his formal coat and draped it over her shoulders. It dwarfed her a little, the sharp lines of the uniform softening as they hung over her silk gown. She gathered it closer with a small smile.
"Thank you," she granted, her voice barely more than breath.
"You've kept me tethered through entire evenings," he murmured, brushing her hair back from her face. "A coat is the least I can offer."
Maria looked up at him, the corners of her mouth lifting with affection and amusement. "You're getting sentimental."
"I've earned it."
They descended the steps slowly, the sound of their footsteps quiet on the stone. The car waited at the edge of the drive, dark and polished under the lamplight. Georg opened the door for her and helped her in, then rounded to his side.
Neither of them said a word as the engine purred to life.
The ballroom stayed behind them, the music growing fainter with every turn of the wheel.
Maria tucked herself deeper into his coat, her head resting lightly against the seat.
"You know," she said softly, "you were right."
Georg glanced over. "About what?"
She smiled without looking at him. "That dress wasentirelyproper."
He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head.
"And I fully intend," she added, "to remind you of what you promised."
Georg didn't miss a beat.
"Then let's get home, shall we?"
And they drove on into the night—just the two of them, no whispers, no chandeliers, no pretense.
TUWSTUWSTUWSTUWS
The front door closed behind them with a gentle thud, sealing out the wind and the glittering din of the night. The house had fallen into its usual post-event hush – lamplight flickering low in the entryway, the fire in the salon long since gone out. No footsteps, no voices. The hush of a house at rest.
Maria slipped off her gloves, her fingers stiff from the chill of the night air. She glanced up the staircase. The children's quarter was dark.
Beside her, Georg set his hat and coat neatly on the entry table. He looked upward, then toward the rear corridor, listening for any sound of staff.
Nothing.
He tilted his head, voice low and almost wry. "It appears everyone has gone to bed."
Maria glanced at him, her tone innocent. "How terribly irresponsible of them."
"I shall have to reprimand someone in the morning," he said, very seriously. "Preferably after I've had coffee."
She folded her gloves, keeping her expression composed. "I suppose we'll have to find a way to entertain ourselves."
Georg cast her a sidelong look, one brow raised. "Do you play cards?"
"Not with opponents who cheat."
He gave a soft laugh. "I beg your pardon."
"I've seen you. You bluff terribly. It's a wonder you're trusted with naval strategy."
Georg tsked under his breath. "And here I was about to suggest a game of gin rummy to pass the time."
Maria looked at him evenly, a faint smile curving her mouth. "You don't want to play cards, Georg."
A pause. His eyes darkened.
"No," he said quietly. "I don't."
The silence between them filled with something deeper than words, warm and long overdue. He took a step closer – not rushed, not bold, but certain.
"Would you join me in the study?" he asked, voice rougher now. "I've some decent brandy I've been saving for the right occasion."
She met his gaze, steady and unflinching. "Is this the right occasion?"
"I should like it to be."
Maria inclined her head, almost regally. "Then lead the way, Captain."
He offered his arm – not because it was needed, but because it felt right – and she slipped her hand through it as though it had always belonged there.
The door to the study clicked shut behind them with a gentle finality.
Georg moved first – not with urgency, but with purpose. He crossed to the cabinet and poured brandy with steady hands, offering Maria a glass before setting his own aside, untouched, and turned to start the fire.
The flames cast a low, golden light along the rug, shelves, the soft folds of her gown. She stood near it, the warmth brushing over her bare shoulders, her lips parted slightly as though the air was suddenly too thick to breathe.
Georg didn't speak. Not at first. He simply watched her, his expression unreadable save for the unmistakable weight in his eyes. And then he stepped closer, slow, deliberate, stopping only when he was close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin.
He took the glass from her hand, fingers brushing hers.
She didn't pull away.
"Maria," he said, so quietly it barely reached her ears.
She looked up at him, steady and unafraid. "Yes?"
He reached up and cupped her jaw with one hand, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek.
"May I?"
She didn't answer with words.
Instead, she leaned in and kissed him.
There was absolutely no hesitation this time. No distance. No careful pretense. It was the kind of kiss born of too many silences, of stolen glances over polished dinner tables, of whispered promises just beyond reach.
Her fingers slipped into his hair as his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her firmly against him. He tasted like brandy and something uniquely him – comforting and dangerous all at once, like standing at the edge of a storm you didn't want to escape.
A soft gasp escaped her as he deepened the kiss, her back somehow suddenly brushing the edge of this desk. Papers rustled. She didn't care. The world could crumble around them, and she wouldn't have noticed, not when his hands were tracing the line of her spine with aching reverence, like he meant to memorize every inch.
Her hands made their way underneath his jacket and gently pushed it from his shoulders, then fumbled with his tie in the front, each motion more desperate than the last. And then – suddenly – he lifted her. She barely had time to squeal in surprise before she was perched on the desk, her arms instinctively locking around his neck.
Their mouths collided again, a dance of longing and hunger. His hand tangled in her hair while the other gripped her waist, grounding them both. And yet, Maria felt like she was floating – untethered but alive, like the world had narrowed to heat of his touch and the sound of his breath.
Eventually, the need for air became more prominent than their need for each other, and they broke apart, gasping for air. Maria trailed a line of kisses down the side of his neck, landing on that one spot she now knew made him shiver. She smiled into his skin as her nimble fingers had finally freed his tie, leaving it to fall somewhere behind them.
"Maria." Georg whispered, the sound husky and strained. One of his hands hovered near the zipper of her gown, brushing against her back in a way that sent sparks up her spine. Maria arched at the touch, a soft moan slipping past her lips.
He groaned, forehead pressed to hers. "Maria. We need to stop now, or I won't be able to."
She stilled, blinking up at him with dazed, desire-clouded eyes. Her hands paused against the buttons of his shirt, then slid up to rest gently on his shoulders. His hands tightened around her waist in response, anchoring them both.
Her lips brushed his. "Please don't stop."
He groaned again, as if the sound came from somewhere deep inside him, and his resolve cracked. Their kiss reignited, hungrier this time, desperate. His fingers returned to the zipper, and hers to the buttons of his shirt, both too far gone to pretend anymore.
His hands remained gentle as they slid over her back, grounding her, worshipping her. There was a reverence to the way he touched her, like every inch of her skin told a story he didn't want to forget.
The gown slipped from her body, cool air brushing her bare skin. Georg's hand came up, not to undress her further, but to cup her cheek, anchoring her gaze.
"You are so beautiful," he murmured, his voice barely more than air. "I can't believe you're mine."
Maria's throat tightened. Her eyes glistened with something softer than desire – something raw, full of devotion.
"I was always yours," she breathed. "Even before I knew it."
He kissed her again, slower now. Like a vow.
Whatever followed wasn't reckless anymore. It wasn't hurried or forbidden. It was delicate. Tender. His jacket and shirt now lay forgotten on the floor. Her gown pooling further, now below her hips. The desk behind her had surrendered its neatness to the chaos of passion. But in the silence between their kisses, in the whispered names and trembling touches, it was not about lust – it was about love.
When Georg pulled her against him, her gown fell to the floor, leaving her in only a pair of lace panties, and he carried her to the couch. It wasn't with urgency but with care. Each step felt like a vow – his arms protective, his breath warm against her lips. He settled onto the cushions with her straddled on his lap, her hands instinctively wrapping around his neck, as though she were afraid he might let go.
Her bare chest pressed into his, the contact searing – electrifying in its intimacy. Both drew in sharp breaths, their moans mingling. Georg's hand roamed her side with intentional tenderness, fingers blazing a slow trail as they passed the soft curve beneath her breast, then settled firmly at her hips. He drew he even closer, securing her to him, pulling her further into his arousal. The feel of her – the heat of her skin, the way she molded against him – was enough to undo every ounce of restraint he'd worked so hard to maintain.
Maria's breath caught. A shiver coursed through her – not from the cold, but from the sheer vulnerability of being bare in front of him once again. And yet, there was no fear. Not with Georg. Only an aching, burning want wrapped in the safety of his arms.
Her hand slid over his chest, fingers weaving through the coarse hair there before trailing downward. She stopped just above the waistband of his pants, pausing only to meet his eyes. There was no hesitation in her gaze – only love, devotion, and the silent ache of a woman who trusted him completely.
With slow, somewhat familiar, movements, she undid the button of his pants, easing them down just enough. Her hand slipped beneath the edge of his briefs, and he groaned softly at the contact, hips twitching toward her instinctively.
"Maria…" he warned, voice low, wrecked with restraint.
But she didn't pull back. Instead, her other hand reached up to cradle the side of his face.
"I know," she whispered. "I know we are waiting. We will. I just – Georg, I need to feel you. Just that. Nothing more."
The words settled between them like a hush, sacred and pleading.
Georg's jaw clenched as he shut his eyes, breathing through the fire that lit his veins. She was undoing him – utterly. But she wasn't asking for everything. She was asking for closeness. For intimacy. For connection. And that, he could give her.
He shifted, laying her back gently against the cushions, hovering over her. Her bare body welcomed him, soft and warm against his skin. When he pressed down against her, she gasped – half from pleasure, half from the overwhelming intimacy of the moment.
There was fabric between them still – thin and all but useless now – but it was enough to keep the promise they'd made.
Their movements slowed, no longer frantic but deliberate. He rocked gently against her, and she arched to meet him, her hands splayed across his back, her legs wrapping loosely around his waist. Their sighs filled the space between kisses, each one spoken like a prayer.
It wasn't everything. But it was enough. Enough to feel. Enough to hold on just a little longer.
"Tell me if it's too much," Georg murmured, lips brushing her cheek, then her jaw, then her collarbone.
"It's not," Maria whispered breathlessly, eyes fluttering closed. "It's perfect. You're perfect."
He groaned into her skin, his forehead resting against hers as their hips aligned again. The friction was almost too much, and yet – he never wanted to stop. Not because of lust, but because in this moment, her body felt like home. Every soft sound she made, every quiver of her breath, reminded him of why he loved her so deeply.
They stayed like that for a while. Moving. Breathing. Kissing. Loving.
Their bodies rocked in a rhythm older than words, and in between the gasps and sighs were murmured confessions of devotion. Words, they'd said before, but somehow, they meant more now – stripped down not just in body, but in soul.
"I love you," she whispered, her hands tangled in his hair. "More than I thought was possible."
He kissed the corner of her mouth, his voice husky against her skin. "And I love you, mein Schatz. I don't think I know how to be without you anymore."
She smiled lovingly, blue eyes peering deeply into his. "Then don't."
"Never," he swore.
But as their movements slowed, as the fire dimmed to a warm glow and the night curled around them like a secret, Maria ached. Not just with need – but with the ache of being so close, and yet still holding back.
"Georg," she groaned softly, the sound muffled against his neck, "please. It's not enough."
Her hands, delicate and sure, slid down his sides, slipping beneath the waistband of his briefs. She teased the edges there with featherlight touches before easing them down his hips, just enough so she could feel all of him.
Georg let out a low, broken sound in response – half restraint, half surrender.
Somehow, at some point, her lace panties had been pulled away – neither of the could quite remember how, only that it had felt right. Natural. Like the rest of their clothes had simply fallen away in the wake of their wanting.
He didn't move to take more. He didn't press the boundary they'd both promised to honor. Instead, he let her guide the moment, let her pull him close – closer – and feel every inch of him, bare against her heat.
It was the most intimate thing they'd ever shared.
And as he rocked against her again, slower now, she arched beneath him – trembling, gasping – until her body gave in, a shiver rippling through her as she cried out his name.
The sound of her, the warmth of her, the way her fingers gripped his shoulders as if she'd fall apart without him – it undid him completely. His lips found hers as he groaned into her mouth, letting the wave overtake him too.
It wasn't everything.
But it felt like everything.
Eventually, when their breathing slowed and the world settled again, Georg tucked her into his arms, her body curled against his. He pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of her head, his hand stroking slowly down her back as if calming her heartbeat with his own.
"One more week," he murmured, his voice a promise against her skin.
She smiled sleepily, one hand drawing lazy circles on his chest. "And then I'll be yours completely."
"You already are," he whispered. "Every last piece of you. Mine"
And later, after Georg had finally coaxed Maria out of his arms and up to her room – though not without several more kisses, and one last lingering look – she stepped inside and caught her reflection in the mirror.
The navy silk was now wrinkled against her body, a testament to the night she had just shared with Georg.
And she couldn't help but admire the reflection. She couldn't regret it. Not anymore.
Once, the dress had felt like something daring. Something to prove. But not after this night. Now, it felt like a memory stitched into fabric. A symbol not of temptation, but of love – the kind that burned hot and holy and deeply real.
She peeled the dress off, leaving her body for the second time that night, and folded it with care, placing it gently on the chair by the window.
And then she climbed into bed, her heart still fluttering from the echoes of his touch, his voice, his vow.
I know this may seem a little bold for Maria, but in this story I see them at the very end of their engagement period and probably more than ready for it to be over haha. So that is how we got here! I fr hope y'all enjoyed it as much as I did writing it. Also - first time writing a more smuttier scene? I don't know how I feel about it lol.
I plan to update soon so hopefully this will not be the last of me for now! But so thankful for everyone who reads!
WAIT update - I just got around to reading all the reviews on the other stories and y'all are too sweet! I promise I will be working on updating them soon! Again so thankful!
PS - I own nothing of the Sound of Music :)