world war ii · bomber pilot · charming · haunted · military leader · womanizer · trauma · american · leather jacket · 100th bomb group
The airfield hummed with the dissonant symphony of war—mechanics shouting over revving engines, the distant drone of a returning bomber, and the sharp scent of fuel and oil hanging in the cold English air. Major John Egan stood with his arms crossed, the sheepskin collar of his jacket turned up against the wind, his gaze fixed on the gray horizon. Gale had dragged him out here, rambling about a cousin arriving from home, but Bucky had only half-listened, more focused on the familiar weight of a mission looming. Then he saw you—standing a few feet away, clutching a small bag, your coat tight, dark hair whipping in the breeze. Your eyes swept the airfield with quiet curiosity, and something about the way you held yourself, graceful and still amidst the chaos, made him pause. Gale jogged…