Okay so, I'm giving you some fluff. Just accept the fact that historically and in reality this is fan-fiction, so I'm acting as if instead of the Church of Emeritus, Papa was a nickname for a bar owner and the ghouls are loyal friends with him. You danced with Swiss at the club, but then Swiss and the others got drafted into WWII.

It's been five years since the boys were drafted, six since the war started. You go down to the speakeasy once in a while to reminisce about the times you shared with them. Papa, the owner, would talk with you and try to get your mind off of the boys, especially Swiss who you were seeing, but nothing helped. You work in a munitions factory making shells. You always wondered if the boys got your bullets. Swiss was drafted first to France. He wasn't on the frontlines immediately, but his battalion was called two years later. Aether and Rain went at the same time. Sodo and Mountain were the last ones to be drafted. Swiss made them promise to watch over you while he was gone, but with no one left to watch you, it made your state more concerning. You worked like a dog, day and night your hands would bleed and be callused from the harsh metals. You'd grab a drink and chat with Papa about life, his kids, his wife, and try to live through his stories of happiness, family, and love.

The day was February, 1945. You sat at the bar as usual, "Papa. Can I get an old fashioned?" Papa stood in front of you, "Y/n. It is eleven in the morning, no drinking till at least four, you know my rules." He sternly said, "Yes I know. Today is the day the boys come back." You say with as much joy you can muster. The boys used to send you letters often. However, about two months ago, all contact stopped. All of their families didn't live in New York, so if they died you had no clue, "Yep." He said, popping the p, continuing to wipe down the counter, "Y/n." You look up at him, "You know that if you need a place to stay my house is open. My wife and you are close, my kids love you, and dare I say you make my home happier." You smile, "Thank you Papa." He nods and continues to wipe down the bar.

You turn up the volume of the radio, carefully listening to any information on your soldiers, "This just in" The voice says, "The last American soldiers have left France." You start to cheer and cry. Finally, after six years, they'd be home.

Soldiers arriving home from New York were ordered to come through Times Square. Swiss promised you that he would meet you right in front of the club which was in Times Square. He always reminded you in every letter to wear his favorite red dress and smile so he would be able to see you.

Two days have passed since the announcement on the radio, and for two days you have waited all day and night, red dress, hair done, lips red, heels worn. Your soldier was not home yet, but you couldn't accept that he was dead. You just couldn't. It was now the third day of waiting. You call off of work...again. Tying a red bandana around your head makes you tear up, what if he is dead. Did they find his body? Is it even recognizable? Did they tell his parents? What about his siblings? Will you ever know? You shut the thoughts up as your radio in your room comes in with a breaking announcement, "The last of the soldiers have come back to New York!" Then they played Vera Lynn's We'll Meet Again. Tears fill your eyes, Swiss and you had your last dance before he left to this song. He made promises then that you wish he would keep now. You continue applying your makeup trying to remember how his hands felt on your waist, his chest against yours, his smile against the crook of your neck, but to no avail. The memory was too old. The clock chimes; eight am. You sigh looking at yourself in the mirror, mentally preparing yourself for the worst. You leave, ready to accept any fate.

You walk down to the club, Papa is scrubbing away at the bar as normal, but now there are four guys sitting down in uniforms. You walk in and all heads snap to you. There they are, Aether, Sodo, Rain, and Mountain. They all stand from their stools and hug you, "Welcome back guys!" You say laughing as they each spin you around and squeeze you. Once they all have had their moment you step back and look around, "Wheres, wheres Swiss?" you say confused. They all looked at you with sad eyes, "We thought he'd be back by now." Aether admitted. Your face fell into pain, but you quickly fixed it to be calm, "He'll be back today." Sodo sighed and looked at you with pity, "No. No Sodo, do not give me that look." You say through gritted teeth while tears run down your cheeks, "I'm going to get him from outside this building and I'm not coming back in here without him." You storm out and stand to the left side of the door like you swore to him all those years ago.

You watch as several soldiers hug their children and wives, some with an amputated leg, scars across their faces, and all with tears of relief and joy in their eyes. You try to scan the crowd for one lone soldier, but the scenes of rejoicing in love only makes your heart hurt more. You keep a smile plastered across the mask that covers your true emotion. Your feet throb from the constant standing, your calves burn, and the back pain from keeping your posture perfect for hours everyday finally became too much. The sun had set. You slouch your shoulders and sit on the bench in front of the bar, leaning back against the chilled metal, a nice contrast to the heat. The streets became less and less crowded as families went home, arm in arm with their soldiers, ready to have dinner, relax, and have fun. Your eyes get heavy, you try to fight off sleep, but to no avail. Your body is too tired. You fall asleep.

You start to wake up and go to sit up, but you are in bed. You quickly sit up and look around, you're in your bed. Was yesterday a dream? No it couldn't have been, you're wearing the same dress, but your makeup is wiped off. You hear humming coming from the kitchen, the light from the crack in the door isn't enough to get a good vantage point. You quietly stand on the hardwood, hoping it doesn't creak.

You slowly open your bedside drawer and grab the hand held revolver. Swiss gave you it before he left for war just in case someone was to break in. You take a breath and start to slowly walk over to the barely opened door. You gently push it open and see a man wearing an old tank-top and worn, light green khaki military pants. He was humming Vera Lynn's We'll Meet Again. Your heart flutters thinking that it is him, that Swiss was alive, and here, but your logic tried to convince you otherwise. The man was cooking something on the stove, swaying to the melody he was singing. You push open the door more, still wondering if your brain was making you imagine the man. You draw the gun in front of you, using two hands to steady your aim, just like he taught you. You pull the hammer, fingers on the trigger. The man stops singing and instantly stiffens. He starts to turn around. You line up your shot to his chest,

"Wow. Y/n. Drawing a gun on me is my welcome home?" Swiss says hands raised, smile big. You slowly lower the gun, still not believing he is here, "Swiss..how..no. No you're not here, I'm still sleeping on the bench outside of the bar...no..no." You drop the gun down to the floor. You start hitting yourself, "Come on y/n wake up. WAKE UP!" You start to scream and cry. You couldn't believe how evil your conscience was to make you dream that he came back, he had to be dead. There was no way he was here right now.

Swiss quickly walked over to you and held you against his chest, "No, no y/n I'm here, I'm really here." He said trying to comfort your emotional outbreak. You take a deep breath and look up at him while his hands keep a tight grip on your waist. His eyes were still bright and full of love, his hair was kept neater than before, his jaw was stronger than before probably because of the stress of war, and his cheek has a large scar going from lip to ear. You studied his face and stopped crying. Still in shock, you gently lift both of your hands up to cup his face. The instant your fingertips grazed his skin you knew that he was real.

You cry again and throw your arms around his neck, crying into the side of his face. He laughs and starts to tear up at your reaction. He squeezes you against his body, not wanting to let go. After a while you whisper in his ear, "I thought I lost you forever, you...you didn't respond to my letters." He pulls back and looks into your eyes confused, "You didn't get my letters?" You shook your head also in confusion, "Oh my God." he says, squeezing you back to his chest. He can't understand how you felt. Thinking he died, not knowing when he was coming back, "I'm so, so sorry love. I thought they sent. That bastard said they were sent." He started getting angry, "It's okay, It's okay I never thought that you were gone." His eyes softened and a small smile now rested on his face, "I waited everyday." You say voice cracking and tears spilling over again, "Shh, don't cry anymore I'm here, Papa told me you never gave up. He told me how you would stand there in this red dress everyday, smiling, and always looking for me" You bury your head into the space between his head and shoulder. You inhale his scent, the smell you hadn't enjoyed in years, "I would never give up on you." You mumble into his neck. He squeezes you and starts to tear up at how loyal you are to him, "Well, get changed." He says finally letting you go. You still cling to him, "Why?" You say pulling back. He removes your hands from around his neck into his hands, "We are going to Papa's to party, and there is a surprise for you later." He smiles his big goofy grin, you laugh realizing that he is here to stay, "A surprise?" You ask again. He nods like a child, "You have to help me get dressed." You explain as you drag him into your bedroom.

Swiss sits on the bed facing away from you. Although you had been together for a long time, you weren't married and hadn't had sex yet. Swiss understood how you wanted to wait till marriage and respected your choice. You quickly take off the red dress and put on his other favorite. It was an olive green dress that matched his uniform color. He loved the color on you before the war, and you hope that wearing it will be a sign of your loyalty to the soldier that came home. You would have worn it while he was away, but the dress has a small corset that you can't lace by yourself. You slip into the fabric and hold it up and you move to stand in front of the floor length mirror, "You can come over now" You say to Swiss. You watch him stand slowly through the mirror, and watch as he winces in pain when he first puts weight on his legs. You turn around, "Are you okay? Did you get hurt?" He looks at you with a sad expression. He leans over and pulls up his right pant leg to show a bullet hole wound in his shin, "It didn't go through, so they left it in, sometimes it hurts when I stand, but I promise you I'm okay" You look at him with concerned eyes, scanning for any sort of lie he could have told, but you assume he's being honest and turn back to face the mirror. He carefully zips up the dress, "My other favorite huh?" He smiles, making eye contact with you through the mirror. You blush slightly and smile back. He wraps his arms around your waist and gently places kisses all over the left side of your neck, "Swiss," you moan softly, "Yes my love" he whispers into your skin, "I missed you so much." Your hand finds the back of his head, holding him against your skin as you enjoy the sensation his lips leave on your skin. He pulls away, "Although I would love to stay here with you," You groan at him walking away to grab the corset belt, "We have a surprise to go to." He gently wraps the belt around your waist as you center it, then laces it up not too tightly, but enough to help accentuate your waist. He leaves a kiss on the top of your head while he walks over to his closet picking out his Green Dress Jacket.

You walk over and help him into it, he goes to button the front, "Let me." You say, stepping in front of him. He smiles and moves his hands. As you button up his uniform, you remember when you helped him dress for when he left. You stood just like this, same outfits, same room, only difference was five years time. Once you finish buttoning, you dust off his shoulders and step back to look at his now more decorated uniform. You smile with pride knowing that he served his country well and is still alive. He offers his arm, you intertwine your with his, and leave to head to the bar.

When you arrive, instead of walking in right away. You both stand in front of the bench and Swiss gives you a long, passionate kiss, "Remember. Don't get too drunk, you have a surprise." You nod, blushing and both walk into Papa's hand in hand. The bar was packed, music was blasting, soldiers wearing all different types of uniforms sat at the bar, women wearing bright colored dresses were lined up, flirting with the men. You notice the group at the usual table and drag Swiss to them. They all cheer and welcome you two to sit at your normal spots around the round table. They all start exchanging war stories, information, and funny moments that happened during their deployment. Each guy explained in detail where their new scars came from. Swiss held your hand the entire time, and when he explained how a German soldier went to slit his throat, but a comrade shot the enemy before he could and the knife slipped and cut him, you started to shake. You realize how close to death all of your friends were and the way they would casually recall it as a normal piece of life made you pity and admire them. Pity for the trauma you knew they must have, but admiration for their wit, strength, and victory.

You're enjoying your drinks and their stories when a familiar tune starts playing, "We'll meet again." the voice starts. You look at Swiss, he looks at you, "May I have this dance?" You laugh at his over the top chivalry, "Yes" You both stand and walk out onto the floor, gently swaying to the music. People clear a giant circle around the two of you, you look around confused, "You know y/n." Swiss whispers, distracting your confusion for a second, "We have been together for so long, and I love you more than anything." "Swiss, what is happening?" He laughs at your confusion, "When I was overseas, there wasn't a day that went by where I didn't think of you. Your smile, your laugh, your eyes, just you being you made me survive that horror show. Your letters gave me new hope every time they came." You start blushing at his flattery, "I brought something that should belong to you with me by accident. I meant to give it to you before I left." You raise your eyebrow trying to decipher what he was saying, "When I saw you sleeping on the bench waiting for me, I couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand you thinking I was never coming back or that I left you. When Papa told me how you waited all of those days for me, I knew I should have done this a long time ago." He steps back from you and gets down on one knee, pulling out a tattered ring box. You gasp and hold your hand to your mouth in shock. He takes the other one, "Y/n L/n. Will you give this man the joy and the eternal love of being your husband?" The room fell silent waiting for your reaction. The boys stood behind Swiss giggling and giving you thumbs ups, you laugh and say, "You should have asked that a long time ago." The room cheers, Swiss picks you up and swings you around. You both stop, getting dizzy and kiss in front of at least one hundred people all chanting your name. He slips the diamond ring onto your finger, a perfect fit. You both look at each other and start dancing again to the music, now with the whole club joining in.