You were a ditzy little thing. Sunshine and rainbows in your head, not a thought behind those eyes. The only thing you were aware of was the complete and utter need for Ben’s approval. Ben’s presence. Ben, Ben, Ben.

“Dumb little doll f’me, aren’t you?” He tilts your chin up with a curled index finger, “can’t even use your words.” His voice while mocking, is saccharine sweet. He loves it. Your complete and utter dependence on him. Your big ol’ eyes he could get lost in and your perky ass.

Ben couldn’t get enough of you. All of the Boys called him an asshole, couldn’t understand why a sweet little thing like you was following him around. Hughie, MM, or Frenchie would ask you what on earth you’re doing with a guy like Soldier Boy and you’d just give him that deer-in-headlights kind of look.

The juxtaposition of his rough and calloused finger tucked under your soft smooth chin had you smiling from ear to ear. “What’s the look for, huh?” Ben asks already knowing a coherent and sensible response from you right now’d be rare.