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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

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Best Part of Me -Chapter 11

Warnings: None

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @thunderintheshadows

Kyle is just getting ready to climb behind the wheel of his rental when he sees her approaching; a tall, curvy blond with vibrant colored highlights in her hair, holding onto Declan’s hand as he toddles along beside her, and he shuts the driver’s side door and journeys to the end of the driveway, crouching down with his arms outstretched.

“Hey buddy!” he calls. “Come see me!”

Declan hesitates, head cocked the side, a frown on his face. As if he remembers the voice yet the face isn’t quite so familiar. It’s been six months after all, and he’s too young to sit still during a webcam chat; hyper and energetic and too busy exploring the world around him. But then he gives a smile that spreads from ear to ear and crinkles the corners of his eyes. And he manages to wriggle out of the woman’s grasp and rushes towards his uncle, who effortlessly scoops him up off the ground; repeatedly throwing him in the air and catching him, until the toddler is giggling hysterically.

“I missed you, bud,” Kyle presses a kiss to the side of Declan’s head, who responds by throwing his arm around his uncle’s neck and snuggling his face into his shoulder. “I almost didn’t recognize you,” he teases. “Practically old enough now to have a girlfriend and start shaving.”

“It was time to bring back the kid. I wanted to keep him, not going to lie,” the neighbor says, as she hands over a small backpack and a pair of sandals. “You must be Esme’s husband. It’s about time we met. You’re definitely not what I was expecting.”

“What?” he chuckles. “No. God no. I couldn’t stand being married to her. I had enough years of her driving me crazy. I’m her brother. Kyle,” he holds Declan under the bum with his forearm and offers his hand.

“The firefighter.”

“I see she’s been picking about me. Not sure how I feel about that.”

“All good stuff, I promise. I’m Salena,” she warmly shakes the hand being held out to her.

“New neighbor, right?”

She grins. “So she’s been talking about me too.”

“Just a little. It was nice of you. Taking Declan for a bit. She needed some downtime. Trying to handle a new baby and this little man...” he tickles Declan’s stomach. “...can be a lot to deal with. I’m glad that she has someone to help her out. That actually gives a crap about her. Tyler can only do so much, you know?”

“Tyler’s the husband.”

“You’re neighbors yet you don’t know his name?”

“I’ve never even seen him. Which is why I thought that’s who you were. Although you don’t exactly give off the ‘retired guy’ vibe. You’re probably at least thirty years away from that.”

“I wish,” he laughs. “But thanks. That’s my ego boost for today. You’re going to be in for a surprise, I think. When you do see him. He doesn’t give up the ‘retired guy’ vibe either. Daddy was lucky wasn’t he, Decks?” He holds his nephew over his head and blow raspberries on his tummy until he’s giggling once more. “He was lucky in more ways than one.”

“Lucky to even be here by the sounds of it,” Salena comments.

“You have no idea. It was a scary time. For him. And for my sister. You just live up the road or...?”

“Right next door. Well not right next door because there’s the equivalent of two football fields between us. But next door.”

“I would have scooped that place up in a heartbeat when my sister told me it was for sale. I’d love to be closer to the munchkins. Especially this guy,” he gives Declan a noisy kiss on the cheek. “He’s kind of my favorite. But don’t tell the other ones. Uncle Kyle is kind of a big deal around here and I want it to stay that way.”

Salena laughs. “Your secret is safe with me. But I kind of see why this little guy is your fave. He's quite the character!”

“Always has been. Since the day he was born. Huge personality, this kid. Always charming someone. Especially the ladies. Must take after your Uncle Kyle, huh?” he bounces Declan on his hip. “All you have to do is give them a certain look and they’re eating out of the palm of your hand.”

“I think that hair and those huge blue eyes don’t hurt either.”

“They all have them. Those eyes. Trust me when I say they are all dad. Except for the littlest. She is all mom.”

“Do you still live in Colorado or...”

Kyle nods. “Telluride. At my sister’s old place. Just until I decide if I want to stick around or not. Then they’ll just up for sale if I leave. It’s a shame if they do. It’s a hell of a place. Not as nice as this, but it’s got tons of property and amazing view of the mountains. It was a great place to raise kids. Until it wasn’t.”

“Things went bad?”

“You could say that. Changes needed to be made. They’re happier now. Much happier. Sucks that they’re so far away; kills me not being able to see the kidlets. But it was what was best for them. For all of them. Sometimes you just have to cut your losses and walk away, know what I mean?”

Salena nods.

“I should get this guy into his mom. I have some things I have to take care of before we all meet back up tonight for dinner. It’ll be fun surprising the other kids. It’s only been six months, but it’s felt like six years.”

“I won’t keep you any longer. It was nice meeting you, Kyle. Maybe we’ll see each other again. You sticking around for long?”

“Week or two. Who knows, maybe I’ll fall in love with the place and never leave. Anything could happen, right?”

“Absolutely it could,” she agrees, and others her hand this time. “It was nice talking to you.”

“Pleasure was all mine. Maybe we’ll get to chat again. I’m sure I’ll be around a lot. And any friend of my sister’s is a friend of mine. You ready to go, buddy?” He pushes his fingers through Declan’s hair, clearing long, thick tresses off his forehead. “Want to go see mommy?”

“See mommy,” Declan chirps, and then blows Salena a kiss, giving her one of his charming little grins as his uncle carries him up the driveway.

****

The music is deafening; bass intense and pounding, windows shaking. The detached garage had originally been built by the previous owners and used as a place to store a boat and jet skis; the door at the back leading out onto a cement launch that descended into the ocean. It was a luxury they didn’t need, and Tyler had turned the garage into a fully functional gym, stocked with every possibly piece of cardio and weightlifting equipment that could possibly fit within the four walls. It’s his refuge; the one place he can go to when anxious or agitated, where he can safely –and productively- get out all his frustrations and aggression. There were days he’d only been in there for thirty minutes, other where he’d disappear for hours at a time. She never questioned it or denied him that time alone. He was still safe at home, working through things at his own pace and intensity. Far better than the alternative: having him thousands of miles away, putting himself in danger, using his hands to inflict pain on people. Even killing them.

The end results are better as well. Something that she can selfishly enjoy. The pure aesthetics of him; the broad shoulders and back, muscle seemingly packed open muscle, every inch, every ripple, every sinewy tendon and every bulging vein. Not one inch that isn’t pure and utter perfection. That her fingers and hands haven’t spent countless hours exploring and enjoying. No man has ever had that powerful of an effect on her, especially that long into a relationship. Where her insides burn and ache just from the simple act of watching him. Not just his body in motion, but the intensity and focus that he puts into it.

She stands in the doorway and watches him now; the power and the rage behind every kick and punch that he unleashes on the heavy bag. Shirtless and clad in only a pair of athletic shorts, a sheen of sweat covering every inch of his upper body and soaking his hair. Those blue eyes dark and troubled. Angry.

When the music becomes too much for her ears to bear, she moves to the Bluetooth speaker in the corner and turns down the volume. He’s stopped for a breather; skin flushed, chest heaving, bent over at the waist with his hands resting on his thighs. The sunlight streaming through the skylight causing the sweat to glisten, highlighting every scar and tattoos that mars his flesh.

“Do I know the person you were fantasizing about beating the shit off?” Esme asks, as she takes a seat on one of the nearby weight benches, holding out one of the two bottles of water she’s brought along with her.

“You know a couple of them,” Tyler admits, using his forearm to clear sweat from his forehead as he approaches, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to her lips; droplets of sweat falling from his hair and down onto her chest and thighs. “You were sleeping when I got hope. I didn’t want to wake you up. Come out here instead.”

“Well judging by how hard core you were going and all that rage coming out of out, I’d say that was a very good call on your part.”

“Declan and the baby still sleeping?”

She nods. “How long have you been out here kicking the hell of out things?”

“I dunno,” he twists off the cap on the water and downs nearly half the bottle. “Hour maybe. What time is it?”

“Just a little after two.”

“Hour and a bit, then. Times flies when you’re pretending to kill someone, I suppose.”

“Pretending is better than actually doing it,” she reasons, and he nods, then uses his teeth to create a tear in the tape that’s wrapped around both hands. It’s frayed and stained by both grim and blood; the thin layer of protection not enough to keep the already swollen and misshapen knuckles from being torn up.

“Lunch with Ovi went that bad?” she inquires, and motions for him to give her one of his hands; taking one in both of hers, nails gently picking at the tape to begin the task of peeling it off. It’s a simple gesture; that little bit of help. But it’s filled with love.

“It went so bad that lunch never even happened.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised. You were pretty agitated before you even left the house. What happened? Did you just completely snap or...?”

“He started in on his bullshit. About the job. It didn’t matter what I said. How bad I made it sound. He doesn’t give a fuck about the reality of it. I don’t what’s happened to him. You’d think about everything he went through in Dhaka...killing Gaspar...seeing what went down on the bridge...that’d be enough to convince him not to do it.”

“Something has warped his mind. Or someone.” She finishes with the first hand; balling up the soiled and tattered tape and setting it beside her on the bench. Then turns her attention to the other.

“I know I promised I’d do whatever I had to to stop him, but nothing I say or do is going to change his mind. He doesn’t give a shit what I have to say. So short of chaining him up in the basement and keeping him prisoner, I think we’re looking at option B.”

Esme sighs. “I was hoping to avoid option B.”

“We were BOTH hoping to avoid option B. But if we try and look at it optimistically...”

“Isn’t that my thing?” she grins. “Aren’t I usually the optimistic one while you border on the worst-case scenario side of things?”

“What did you say the other night? About teaching an old dog new tricks? Guess you’re starting to rub off on me after six years.”

“So what is the optimistic way of looking at it? Is there even such a thing when it comes to the job?”

“Maybe he won’t get himself into trouble,” Tyler says. “Maybe he’ll be smart enough to just take easy shit. Simple in and out extractions.”

“We both know there’s nothing simple about any extraction. Whether it’s supposed to be in and out or not. Can you honestly think of one extraction that went down without a hitch? You’d done how many by the time you quit? At least a hundred. Probably more. When was the last one that you remember things didn't go south?”

Tyler frowns. “You’re killing my optimistic vibe here.”

She gives an apologetic smile.

“There’s a chance that whatever he decides to take will be nice and easy. At least until he gets his feet under him. I figure it can go one of two ways. He’ll either hate it, or he’ll push himself until he can handle more intense jobs.”

“Okay, honey, I don’t think you quite grasp looking at the brighter side of things. Because you started out really well, but you sort of shit the bed at the end there. How is that last part in any way optimistic? We want him stopping, not continuing.”

“So maybe I don’t have the optimism thing perfected just yet. But if the worst-case scenario is that he likes doing it and busts his ass to get better at it, that’s not so bad, yeah?”

“Would that not be the somewhat okay scenario? Seeing as the worst-case scenario would be something like...I don’t know.... death?”

“Not every mercenary dies,” Tyler informs her.

“But the percentage is higher of those that do and those who live long, happy lives. You’re one of the lucky ones.”

“Kind of bold of you to assume that I’m both happy and I’m going to live a long life,” he teases.

“You won’t live long making smart ass comment like that,” she retorts.

Grinning, he leans down and presses a kiss to her cheek, then to the sensitive spot below her ear. “Thank you,” he says, when she finishes unwrapping his hand and adds the tape to the original ball.

“So...” her hands fall on his shoulders as he sits on the ground in front of her, leaning back against her legs. “....is that as bad as things got today, or...”

“No. It got worse,” he grimaces as he stretches his legs out in front of him; knee cracking and popping with even that simple of a movement. “It got a lot worse.”

“I have a feeling I know why. But I’m going to let you tell me.” Her fingers dig into his shoulders, feeling the tension that has settled deep into the muscles. “Because I think I know what you’re going to say.”

“I’ll give you three guesses what happened.”

“Nope. We are not playing that game. You’re just going to spit it out. Because once it’s out in the open, we can deal with it. Together. Rationally.”

“Any form of the word rational and you don’t exactly go hand in hand. Fuck...” he growls, when she clamps down on the right trap. “...okay...okay...I’ll tell you. I’ll talk. Are you sure it wasn’t torture you specialized in instead of intel?”

“I have ways of making you suffer, Tyler. That aren’t physical. You think almost four months is bad? Try six. Or eight. Or twelve.”

He scowls. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would. So, talk. Or you’ll spent the next six months to a year doing a lot a jerking off or taking cold showers.”

“You have to promise me that you won’t completely lose your shit on me. Because I’m actually the innocent one in all of this fucked up mess.”

“Okay,” Esme agrees. “I promise.”

“Nik showed up. Just out of the blue. Ovi set me up. He knew I wouldn’t totally snap in public. He’s the one who told her to meet us there. That sneaky little fuck. I don’t know whether to be pissed off or impressed.”

“Well I know which one I am, and it’s not impressed.”

“You don’t seem that surprised,” he remarks. “That she did show up.”

“Nik is like herpes,” Esme muses. “Can’t get rid of her no matter how hard you try.”

Tyler laughs. “That’s one way of putting it, I guess.”

“And I already knew she was in town. Because I had my own surprise visitor today. My brother showed up. Completely unannounced. Just wandered in like it was no big deal that he just didn’t come all the way from Colorado. It was too much wishful thinking on my part to hope he’d come alone, apparently.”

Tyler sips his water. “What did he want?

“Just a social visit. Nothing majorly important was brought up. What did Nik want?”

“I didn’t agree to tell you THAT part.”

“Tyler, don’t press your luck. I love you, but just don’t.”

“She’s been recruiting him. Ovi. Apparently when he started thinking about all this job shit, he contacted her. Which makes sense in a way, because she’d have all the answers to his questions. She’s a fountain of information. I only know the hands-on stuff. She knows that and what goes on behind the scenes. So he reached out to her and I guess she made it sound even more appealing instead of discouraging.”

“Color me surprised,” Esme scoffs. “That she’d suck him right in. Fuck that bitch.”

“You told me you’d stay calm,” he reminds her.

“I am calm. Have I strangled you yet? No. So I’m calm.”

“Just a reminder that I’m innocent in all of this. In case you needed to hear that again.”

“I’m not mad at you,” she assures him. “Not in the slightest. So,” she runs her hands along his shoulders and presses a kiss to his ear. “.... go on.”

“She’s offered him a position,” Tyler continues, as he picks at the label on the now empty water bottle. “With her team. But there’s a catch.”

Esme smirks. “There always is with Nik. Nothing is ever cut and dry with her. What’s the catch?”

“She wants him trained. Extensively. Weapons, hand to hand combat, that sort of shit. And she won’t give him a job unless he can prove to her that he can handle things.”

“That actually seems fairly reasonable for Nik. What does it have to do with you?”

“Before I tell you that part, I just want to say that I love you and I wasn’t going to make any decision without you. If you don’t want me doing it, I don’t do it. Simple as that. Okay?”

“Fair enough.”

“Nik wants me to be the one that trains him.”

She issues a heavy sigh.

“But...” Tyler turns around to face her, forearms resting on her thighs. “...I don’t have to go anywhere to do it. It’s not like I have to actually go on a job and have him shadow me or some shit like that. Nik is a lot of things, but she’s not THAT reckless. Everything can be done here. All hands on. We’ve got a gym, a beach we can use to practice some shit on, there’s gun ranges in the town over, we have the woods out back.”

“You have a hunting rifle and a handgun,” she reminds him. “That’s hardly enough to train him with.”

“It would only take one phone call and I’d have everything I need. I’m not worried about that.”

“Do you want to do it? Train him?”

“Do you want me to do it?” he counters. “Because if we don’t agree on this, I don’t do it. That’s it. If you think it’s a bad idea and you’d rather I not do it, then just say it. I won’t argue. So...” he runs his palms along her thighs. “...what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking this is fucked up,” Esme admits. “Because I thought this was all behind us. That every part of the job was in the past. That we finally got away from it. Like...fuck, Tyler. When is this going to end? Will it ever end? Will it ever leave you alone? I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about you. I do not want you getting dragged back into this. Into the actual job. Because she's going to try. She's going to try and manipulate you all over again.”

“It won’t work. I’m done. I’m not going back. Unless there’s no other choice. We agreed on that. That I’d only go if Ovi got himself into trouble. That is the one and only time I’d go back. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“What’s the alternative? If you don’t train him?”

“He gets someone that does a half assed job and Nik thinks it’s acceptable and sends him off somewhere. To die.”

“Well you can’t let that happened. That’s the last thing we want. And if he’s so hell bent on doing this and there’s no way you change his mind...”

“He’s not going to listen to me, babe. He’s going to do this whether I agree with it or not.”

“So then logically it should be you. That trains him,” she concludes. “He trusts you. I trust you. I know that you’d do it right. You were the best, Tyler. Everyone knew it. You weren’t just water cooler gossip. Or some urban legend. You were exactly who everyone said you were. Which means you’re Ovi’s only hope.”

“I don’t know about his only hope, but I’m his best hope. Tell me what you want,” he takes her hands in his, kissing the tops of both before tightly squeezing. His eyes never leaving hers. “If you want me to do it, I need to hear you say it. It’s important to me that you say it.”

“And it’s a sure thing that you won’t have to go anywhere? That you can do all of this right here?”

“There’s no reason for me to go anywhere. Not unless I have to. Not unless he completely fucks up and I have to rescue his sorry ass. If you don’t want me involved at all...”

“It’s not that. I want you to help him. I just worry about what else Nik will try to get you into.”

“Fuck Nik. This is about Ovi. And us. She has nothing to do with this. If you say yes, I commit. If you say no, we just go on with our lives like we never had this conversation. There’s no in between. Just yes or no.”

She sighs, then leans forward and rests her forehead against his. Her eyes closed, her voice barely above a whisper. “You need to do this,” she admits, even though it hurts like hell to do so. “I want you to do it.”

“It’s going to be okay,” he places a kiss to her brow, lips lingering there for several seconds. “It goes no further than this. I do what I have to do to get him ready. Then just hope he doesn’t need anything else.”

“I swear to God, I will kill him with my bare fucking hands if this gets any worse. If he totally fucks up and you have to go in and get him, I will slaughter him the second he gets back.”

“That kind of defeats the purpose of getting him out of there alive if he’s just going to end up dead in the first place.”

“It’s you I worry about,” she stresses. “It’s you that I don’t want ending up dead. Because we’re supposed to grow old and grey and miserable together.”

“Baby, there is no one else I want to grow old and grey and miserable with. Everything’s going to be okay. I’m going to be okay. Trust me. I’m asking you to trust me. Can you do that?”

She nods, then releases his hands and wraps her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. The smell of sweat and the slick dampness of his body oddly comforting.

“I love you,” he says, as his hands softly rub up and down her back. “I love you and everything is going to be okay.”

“I love you too,” her voice is muffled against him. “Just do whatever it takes to help him survive. To keep him out of trouble. And keep yourself alive.”

“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m too stubborn to die, remember? Besides, you can’t get rid of me that easy. It’s either spend the next fifty years with me or kill me yourself.”

“Never,” she declares, and pulls back to look at him. “I like having you around.”

“Yeah? Well I like hanging out here, so...”

She smiles, then leans in to kiss him. Long and soft and sweet. “You reek by the way,” she teases, her nose wrinkled in disgust as she shoves him onto his back. “You need to clean yourself up. We’ve got plans for tonight.”

“What kind of plans? It can’t be the sexy kind of plans because we’re still on the no-fly list, so....”

“The kind of plans that involve you having to wear actual pants. And underwear.”

“Both? What the fuck? We’re going all fancy and shit. Do I have to shave too?”

“Maybe tidy it up a bit. So you don’t look homeless.”

“I thought you liked it this length. Because it rubs places in all the right ways.” he gives her a wink, and then chuckles when she grabs a towel, smacks him in the side of the head with it and then drops it over his face. “Hey, those were your exact words.”

“We are going out. In public. And I said trim the beard. Not shave it. Because you’d probably traumatize your children if you did that. That’s how they know you. With a beard.”

“It’d probably traumatize you too. If cutting the hair didn’t do it, shaving the beard will. So I’ll be nice. I’ll spare you any extra emotional suffering. And where are we going?” he sits up and uses the towel to vigorously rub at his hair. “Am I at least allowed to know that?”

“Out. With my brother. And Nik.”

Tyler groans.

“We need to make nice. Or so my brother says. I told him I’d be civil, at least.”

“I think I’m getting a sore throat. And a fever. I feel hot. Do I feel hot to you? Check my temperature.”

“You’ll be fine,” she says, as she heads for the door. “Remember. Shower. Underwear. Normal pants.”

“Not even shorts? Like cargo shorts?”

“Pants!” she insists, then tosses him the unopened bottle of water. “I’ll go as far as allowing jeans or cargo pants. But they have to be pants.”

“You’re bossy,” he complains, then flops onto his back and lies spread-eagled in the middle of the floor, towel over his face. “Wake me up a half an hour before we leave.”

“The school bus comes in sixty minutes. I’m going to get you up in fifty-nine.”

“You know,” he muses. Underwear? Normal pants? You’re damn lucky I love you as much as I do.”

“Yes,” she grins before stepping out the door. “I am.”

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #extraction #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

15 notes · View notes

taeverie · 6 years

Text

Until Next Time—01 [m]

[4:38 AM] Jimin: film yourself for me

[4:38 AM] You: Ur kidding

[4:38 AM] Jimin: do it

[4:38 AM] Jimin: i know the day just started but do you know what i’m craving for breakfast?

[4:38 AM] Jimin: i want to get a taste of your heaven

Synopsis: Who would have guessed that a stranger you met through an online game would quickly escalate into a cyber fuck buddy?

Pairing: Jimin x Reader // Gaming!AU

Genre: Smut & a dash of humor

Word Count: 5k

Includes: sexting/phone sex, dirty talk

Parts: 01 || 02 || 03

A/N: oh man, i can’t believe this is showing its light again either

[10:22:05 PM] erectchim: um. who are you

[10:22:13 PM] seokjinsaga: has left the server.

It starts with a swarm of messages from unrecognizable usernames, one stranger flooding after another. You get a sudden impulse to turn back and explain to the other players that you made a typo in the server name, admitting it is all a mistake, but you freeze when your cursor hovers over the chat bar. All you have to do is exit the game but you choose not to and surprisingly, you hold no regrets.

[10:22:20 PM] erectchim: this is a private server

[10:22:29 PM] erectchim: how did you get in here?

[10:22:48 PM] moonmoon (you): what the hell

[10:25:32 PM] erectchim: what kind of dumb ign is moonmoon

You freeze and ponder the bombardment of messages, roaming the snowy map in hopes of your friend showing up in the server. You remain silent for the most part, allowing their messages to build upon one another as you wander from cabin to hut in the game. A part of you hopes your friend makes the same typo you have to hop in and carry the lead- she doesn’t and she is the one who has dragged you to play this vapid game in the first place. The surrounding players slip from your mind until that same user addresses you again.

[10:25:32 PM] erectchim: wait, moonmoon

[10:25:32 PM] erectchim: what are you, twelve?

[10:25:32 PM] moonmoon: Excuse me?

[10:25:32 PM] moonmoon: Ur one to talk with an ign called erectchim

The moment you reply to “erectchim” the other competitors jump into the convo, each one inquiring you on your identity.

[10:37:02 PM] goldenkook: who the fuck are you?

[10:37:32 PM] minGenius: What the hell, I thought this was a private server.

[10:38:00 PM] Taetosterone: hey, add me!

[10:38:02 PM] rapjoon: has left the server.

[10:38:09 PM] minGenius: has left the server.

[10:38:26 PM] Taetosterone: i still want you to add me

[10:38:29 PM] goldenkook: has left the server.

[10:38:30 PM] Taetosterone: has sent you a friend request.

[10:38:34 PM] Taetosterone: has invited you to join the guild ‘penetration station.’

[10:38:45 PM] Taetosterone: has left the server.

You are rendered speechless as you enter the towering, run-down building as a safety net, the bright crimson of the number zero on the top of the screen to indicate you have no kills; however, you have gained seven deaths from the opposing team within such a short amount of time. You guide your character through the facility and the room dims up when you pass the front office. You feel like you found the safe spot in there game, a standstill where no competitors can find you, but the circuit within quickly breaks and the whole hallway begins to flicker dull, yellow beams. You pan the field view to the left and find another player with the username “erectchim” twirling above its hooded head with a glock in hand. You glide your cursor on top of his avatar, right clicking his profile to have another sheer window open on the side, revealing his divine statistics. You notice he is inspecting your empty profile as well from the lack of motion in his character. About to comment on how long he has been wasting daylight on such a game, something else catches your eye.

[10:40:12 PM] moonmoon: I thought ur ign was horrible but what the fuck is a penetration station

[10:40:22 PM] erectchim: i’m glad you asked

[10:40:30 PM] erectchim: it’s a closed guild filled with a couple of the top players in this game

[10:40:44 PM] moonmoon: So why the fuck did i get an invite

[10:40:49 PM] erectchim: …

[10:40:58 PM] moonmoon: From taetosterone

[10:41:16 PM] erectchim: delete it

Your eyes roam across his two messages over and over while you wonder what would happen if you committed the opposite of his request. It isn’t like you are tied down to this game forever and your friend is not even in the same server as you. Of course you have to attempt your own definition of fun.

[10:41:55 PM] moonmoon: has joined the guild ‘penetration station!’

[10:42:04 PM] erectchim: i am going to fucking kill you

By then you no longer care that you are pestering “erectchim” because his reactions always make you cackle, brightening your night completely. He constantly shadows your jumpy avatar that has no armor whatsoever to protect its health, stabbing the incoming enemies that cross your path for the sole purpose of protecting his guild’s reputation. His patience runs low the second your character falls into the white blankets of your seventeenth death.

[11:00:11 PM] erectchim: you fucking suck at this game leave our guild you kid

[11:00:32 PM] moonmoon: Im not a fucking kid

[11:00:37 PM] erectchim: you sure know how to act like one

[11:00:56 PM] erectchim: hit your command key

[11:00:59 PM] moonmoon: Why?

[11:01:04 PM] erectchim: to turn on your mic

Is he joking? He wants to hear your voice to confirm that you are not a nettlesome child?

[11:03:57 PM] erectchim: hello? turn on your mic

[11:05:29 PM] moonmoon: I ran out of ammo

[11:05:36 PM] erectchim: what a shame. how about you turn on your mic now?

[11:05:42 PM] moonmoon: Fuck off and shut up

[11:05:54 PM] erectchim: what was that?

Aware that he would drag this on for the rest of the match until you fulfill his request, you hit the command key to switch on your mic. He hears you clear your throat as you brace for his reaction. “I said shut up!”

His reaction is instantaneous, pure shock striking him down to the core as you toss his expectations down the drain. He takes a few seconds to comprehend the sound of your voice, tired eyes widening and jaw dropping.

[11:06:07 PM] erectchim: holy shit

[11:06:11 PM] erectchim: you’re a chick?

[11:06:58 PM] moonmoon: Ur turn, turn on ur mic now

[11:07:09 PM] erectchim: you’d have to add me on skype for that ;)

[11:07:14 PM] erectchim: @parkjxmn.95

You could turn down his proposition and shut off your laptop to call it a night, but there is something coasting your mind to add this alluring stranger back. Unexpectedly, you do and that is only the intro to each other’s game.

[11:07:36 PM] moonmoon: Fine

You hesitantly switch windows to Skype, messages from your cousin swamping you incomings. Leaving them unread, you hit the add button, typing his user one by one until his name pops up along with other similarities. “parkjxmn.95: Park Chimchim.”

Snapping the grey button to send a request, he accepts it within an instant as if he was waiting for your invitation the entire time. You inch forward in the cushions of your seat when you see a box with a reflection of your face appear, mimicking every movement- “Park Chimchim is requesting to video call…”

You whisper to yourself, a frown ghosting upon your face. “You have to be fucking kidding me.”

You slam your hand on the space bar in expectations of declining the call, but the automatic select is on that daring green button and causes your microphone to jitter on, white light of the webcam flicker to work, and reveals the features of your face that is being illuminated by your only source of light: the computer screen.

He sits upon his comfortable throne, body wrapping in a maroon blanket and a black tee draping upon his body. Taking a small sip of water, his eyes fall onto the blinding monitor and the moment you accept the call, he chokes and slams the glass down, hand flying to his mouth to shield his harsh coughs.

“Um,” you observe his figure that is clearly in disposition, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says in between rough hacks, “I- This was uncalled for.”

You giggle and raise the volume on your computer so he can be more audible. “Why? You’re the one who called me.”

“I know, it’s just that I- you’re really freaking pretty,” he admits, softly pounding on his chest. “Wow, and you have nice lips.”

The corners of your lips tug into a slim smile, his flustered behavior emitting a small fit of laughter from you. He props his chin in his palm, eyes gazing at the screen as you mirror that same action to take in his appearance. His washed out blonde hair is like a plush made of golden feathers, eyes crinkling to two crescent moons because he has the look of regale on his face, and chiseled features perfect to the core as if he is sculpted by a Renaissance artist.

He watches you take a deep breath and exhale, the gust blowing a few strands of hair away from your face where a faint pout is beginning to bloom. He catches himself staring, shuddering his body to lean back in his seat. “Ah, I’m Jimin.”

“Y/N,” you let out with a quirk of your lips, “it’s nice to, uh, meet you…?”

“It didn’t seem like it earlier in game,” he jests and drags every fraction of his willpower to hold back his noteworthy remarks.

“Well my bad, you’re the one who mocked my username.”

He chuckles and switches the window back to the FPS, carrying the conversation. “I’m sorry you made the stupid choice of moonmoon. Now get back on the game, I’m going to restart our server.”

“Fine-” you drag your mouse to return to the channel- “and I thought I was only going to play this game once.”

“Why?” He asks and you see him nudge your avatar with its glock.

You close his avatar window and begin to search for any sort of exit within the facility, the flickering lights beginning to give you an eerie feeling along with the rummaged office supplies and disheveled desks. “My friend dragged me in for the bonus items and she isn’t even here.”

His character appears in your field of view, turning around twice to notion you to follow him out the shattered window. “That’s so sad,” he chuckles, “follow me.”

He leads your personifier and his out of the building and catches a few snipes here and there, making sure your character doesn’t reach its twentieth death. The two of you camp out behind a wall of towering shrubs and growing vines that stretch on looming trees. “Let me teach you how to play,” he says but it comes out more as a strict command.

Jimin’s voice is soothing as he walks you through the basics of the FPS, teaching you how to exchange weapons and guiding you to the shadowing parts of the map. Under his guidance it doesn’t take long for you to gain your first kill. Your yelp of excitement causes a smile to blossom on his face. It is only supposed to be one match then you hit the sack, but hours quickly stretch and one becomes two, three, until you hit the eighth at the crack of the night.

“Okay, okay,” you sigh and blink your tired eyes, officially exiting the game to call it a night, “I think I should head to bed now.”

He pouts and closes the window when he sees the green activity button next to your username flicker red. “It’s only 3:36 AM.”

You watch the unhappiness creep on his face but lethargy drowns out everything else. “I still can’t believe you’re in the same timezone as me, good night.”

“Wait!” He stops you from clicking the vermillion button to end the call, “Give me your number.”

At this point of the night you are sure that he thinks he is dreaming. “What the fuck, no, I just met you.”

“Really?” He asks twice to confirm, raising his phone as his eyes glue to the screen, thumbs flying over the pad.

You exert an exaggerated grunt. “Yes, good-bye.”

“Okay, but check your phone before you go to bed.”

Too drained to reply, you end the call and hop into the comfort of your bed, allowing the satin sheets to drape above you while sinking into your mattress. You tug the blankets to your chin, arm reaching across the bed to retrieve your phone on the desk. You have one new message from an unknown number. Hesitant, you open it.

[3:42 AM] Unknown: hi it’s jimin

You stare at the same three words as if they are going to disappear the longer you hope for such a thing to occur. Those three grey dots appear and disappear over and over, Jimin contemplating what words to say.

[3:43 AM] Unknown: i know you didn’t want to give me your number but it was on your skype profile

[3:43 AM] Unknown: i thought it would be kind to ask first

[3:44 AM] You: Fuck off and go to bed

[3:44 AM] Jimin: take your own advice

[3:44 AM] You: I took a nap earlier so its hard

[3:44 AM] Jimin: jeez, fine. good night and sweet dreams

[3:45 AM] Jimin: talk to you in a few hours

You roam your social media for a couple tens of minutes, allowing the effort of browsing to tire you out until your bright eyes are now dark and drooping. Your thumb rests on the lock button ready to shut out the light to really bring it all to a close, but then you get another sudden text.

[4:07 AM] Jimin: idk if you’re sleeping or not

[4:07 AM] Jimin: you probably are and i just want to tell you that you’re really pretty

[4:07 AM] Jimin: and that from what i saw you have a nice body

[4:08 AM] Jimin: i’d like to webcam again later if that’s alright

[4:08 AM] Jimin: well, to talk of course. unless you want to do more as well

[4:08 AM] Jimin: i mean

[4:10 AM] Jimin: fuck

[4:10 AM] Jimin: sorry i’m kinda hard right now

[4:11 AM] You: I said go the fuck to sleep

You knew there was something off with Jimin when you first met on the game, but you wouldn’t expect him to be as open as he is right now.

[4:12 AM] Jimin: i will if you help me out :)

[4:12 AM] You: Living up to your username, erectchim, i see

[4:13 AM] Jimin: i can send an example as well if you want

His flirty jests capture your attention, warm feeling rising in your stomach as you turn to your side to pull on the lamp switch. Who would have thought Jimin would be so… fuckboy? Who would have guessed that you’d bat an eye to someone like that as well?

[4:14 AM] You: Fuck u, oh my gosh i was trying to sleep

[4:14 AM] Jimin: why do you always say that?

[4:14 AM] Jimin: you’d like that wouldn’t you?

[4:14 AM] Jimin: are you not saying anything because it’s true?

[4:15 AM] Jimin: come on, y/n

[4:15 AM] Jimin: you haven’t seen my dick yet, but i’m sure you want it

You haven’t seen it “yet?”

You stare at the message previews, your phone screen the only source of illumination in the dark of your room. You aren’t sure what comes over you, but whatever it is it’s enough for you to turn daring, testing Jimin’s limits to see how far his amorous jokes can go.

[4:16 AM] You: Yeah? what if i do?

Jimin swallows his breath at your reply, not expecting you to play your own set of cards to his suggestive game.

[4:17 AM] Jimin: wait really?

[4:18 AM] Jimin: hello?

[4:18 AM] You: Yeah i guess

[4:18 AM] You: Why?

[4:19 AM] Jimin: cause then

[4:19 AM] Jimin: you can have it.

It is unexpected to him that you would carry on his trifles, but the next message he sends is completely uncalled for.

[4:21 AM] Jimin: [image0425.jpg]

You run your thumb over your screen to unlock your phone, a grainy photograph awaiting you in the messages. You flip onto your back and hold your phone at a closer proximity to your face, vision narrowing on the picture. It takes you a while to put every fraction of your mind to figure out what he sent considering the dim lighting, blur, and grain, but it finally hits you.

Laying over his cotton sheets, his hardened length rests in the gap of his thumb and index finger, boxers peeping out of the grey sweats that now hug his thighs. You clench your teeth, unsure of how to reply, and your mouth waters at the exquisite sight.

[4:23 AM] Jimin: busy?

[4:23 AM] You: No

[4:23 AM] You: Ur bigger than i thought

[4:23 AM] You: Oh and that was fucking unexpected

[4:23 AM] Jimin: sorry, does this make up for it?

[4:24 AM] Jimin: [image0426.jpg]

A sudden wave of desire washes over your body from a mere glance at the graphic. He is on his feet, toes digging into the forest of his carpet, and his whole hand is wrapping around his solid member as if he is jerking himself off- honestly, he probably is. A part of his face is peeping in his poorly taken picture, mouth agape and head tilting. You have seen Jimin’s face before on video the video call, but you never noticed how kissable his lips appear. Nonetheless, you want to beat him at his own game.

[4:26 AM] You: Did u stand up just to take that picture?

[4:26 AM] Jimin: way to ruin the mood

[4:26 AM] You: Are u the jimin i met on that stupid game?

[4:27 AM] Jimin: and i repeat

[4:27 AM] Jimin: way to ruin the mood

There is a line of silence between you two, both unable to render coherent thoughts. You then decide to return the favor; of course, unexpected to him as well.

[4:31 AM] You: [image089.jpg]

[4:31 AM] You: Does this make up for it?

Jimin’s member twitches in his hand as he gawks at your image, your palm sliding into your white laced panties that has a growing wet spot. He falls onto his bed, slowly typing his response.

[4:33 AM] Jimin: what the

[4:33 AM] Jimin: hey i know you just met me and all

[4:33 AM] Jimin: through the fucking internet especially

[4:33 AM] Jimin: but i really want you beside me right now

[4:34 AM] You: Really?

[4:34 AM] Jimin: no i actually want your mouth over my dick but same shit

Same shit?

Jimin appears to be drowning in his hormones tonight. Nonetheless, it is miraculously a turn on and despite the wide distance between you two, the electricity provides a strong enough pull.

[4:36 AM] Jimin: i may or may not want to know how well you can take me

[4:36 AM] Jimin: probably relaly well

[4:36 AM] Jimin: fuck

[4:37 AM] Jimin: [image0442.jpg]

[4:37 AM] Jimin: i’m so hard over a girl i met on the fucking internet can you believethta

From the way his replies are starting to become messy and careless, you can already read into his actions within his room. His hand is pumping rigorously up and down his hard shaft, tightening the grip whenever you reply, thumb grazing the screen to take a peek at the picture and-

[4:38 AM] You: [image090.jpg]

Shit. It’s another graphic of your sex but this time it is unclothed and drenching. With two fingers barely digging into your entrance, succulence coating them already, he lets out a long string of groans. In brevity each other’s swarm of needy texts that flood both screens, erotic pictures every so often, he pops out another question- well, command.

[4:42 AM] Jimin: film yourself for me

[4:42 AM] Jimin: let me see your soaking pussy

[4:42 AM] You: What?

[4:42 AM] Jimin: do it

[4:42 AM] Jimin: i know it’s the beginning of the day but i’m already craving breakfast

[4:42 AM] Jimin: i want to get a taste of your heaven

[4:43 AM] Jimin: i bet you want my tongue on you as much as i do

[4:43 AM] Jimin: i’d lick you clean over and over

[4:43 AM] Jimin: you should also know i’d make you cum endlessly

[4:44 AM] Jimin: shit, go fukcing film yourself for me right now

You take a moment or two to consider his request; surprisingly enough, you fulfill it, all traces of fatigue washing out of your body. You steadily swipe to the camera app and prop your phone in the soft of your pillows, stripping yourself of your panties and grey tee. You tap the vermillion of your screen, a “swoosh” indicating that it begins to record. You scoot back, dragging your sheets with you, and spread your legs to reveal your deluging slit. Sliding your hands from your knees, pathing to your thigh, you take your clit in between your index and middle finger, duly sliding over it prior to propelling them inside. The sensation is enlivening on the spot, rich imaginations of Jimin fucking you until your senses give out invading your mind. Becoming carried away with the zest of the situation you grab onto your phone to reveal your whole face.

He ponders what’s taking up your time, doubting the fact that you would give into his rousing demand. Well, until the notification pops up on his phone.

[4:48 AM] You: [video18.mp4]

He gulps in expectations of it being you poking another jest at his shoulder, but once he hit play his mind transports to a fervent kingdom and begins to wild for more.

The way you look with your baby hairs sticking to your forehead, beads of sweat dripping from your temples due to the heated session. The camera pans to your chest, showing him your two dales, nipples erect as ever. It slowly shifts to your jerking hand, your middle and index finger stretching you out as your own dew coats the working digits. The squelching sound of your fingers sliding in and out of your hole can be heard more than clearly in the delectable video along with your childish whines.

“J- Jimin,” you pant, “Jimin I want you so bad.”

He marvels at the message, eyes wide and mouth agape. Your comely moans enrapture every fraction of his attention making his mind swirl to the polar opposite of arcadian. The way you look with your lissome fingers driving in and out of your effulgent cunt, broken whimpers of his name hopping off the tip of your tongue, propels him to the brink of insane and all he wants to do is touch you. His hardening member forms a tent in the confinement of his pajama pants, throbbing for relief. Fumbling in his bed, he rapidly pools his jeans and plaid boxers at his ankles, cock springing against his lower abdomen. He positions himself comfortably, back pressing on the wooden headboard as his fingers scurry to replay the perfect motion picture of your sexual desire.

He swallows his breath and lets his clammy palm rub his length lightly. It starts with the rosy tip that has a bead of precum about to leak to the hardened shaft and ends with a fondle of his aching balls, constantly squeezing them as his eyes are gluing to the munificence motion picture on the tiny screen. If it isn’t for the reverberation drowning the succulent melody of your carnality, he would have never noticed your message with his deep heaves and tiny grunts, mind a complete haze due to your intoxicating stunt. Barely able to tap the screen, he reads the message preview through his lustful and clouding eyes.

[4:50 AM] You: Yourt urn

[4:50 AM] You: I dont give a fuck if ur getting tired

[4:50 AM] You: I did it and so can yuo

Inhaling a sharp breath, he opens the message box and clicks on the camera option, allowing you to see a fraction of his enticing paradise.

[4:53 AM] Jimin: [video07.mp4]

It’s brief- lasting for a quick seven seconds- but the wrecked cries of his want for you that he tries to keep silent, hand clasping around his solid member, pink and leaking at the tip as he jerks himself turbulently, and final moan that rips from his throat is more than enough to send you to a seventh heaven.

“Oh, baby. You’re so- ah- hot.”

The croak of his voice mixing with that simple statement provides an audible echo through his own video, your nectar glazing upon your impeding fingers. You can’t exactly imagine how his fingers would feel inside of you, how amazing the sensation would be. The thought of his digits twisting and curling inside of you while whispering obscene suggestions into your ear sets you off enough.

[4:55 AM] Jimin: shit

[4:55 AM] Jimin: can i call you?

[4:56 AM] Jimin: i kind of don’t care that i jsut met ouy

[4:56 AM] Jimin: what matters is that you’re thirsty and so am i :)))

Despite Jimin inquiring, he dials your number anyway and you answer within a heartbeat, his heavy breaths immediately greeting you on the other line. “J- Jimin?” You call, slowing your pace.

“Oh my god,” he grunts, “I love the sound of your- agh- voice.”

You giggle, stopping your tread and he hears the contentment in your groan.

“You’re fucking dripping.” He asks, intent lacing his voice.

You hum, and blow a few messy strands of hair from your face again. “Mm.”

“Gah, who would have thought you’d be in- into this. All hot and needy. I know I said this twice b- but I know I just met you and… Fuck, I want to feel you clench around my fingers. I want to slide two, three inside of you- of course you’d be wet to take it all- ah- at once. Wouldn’t you like that? I’d love to see you squirm under my touch. Keep fingering yourself for me, do it.”

You abide to his request, beginning to pump your fingers in and out of your entrance gradually.

“You’re so pretty but I’m sure you’d be even prettier when you beg.”

The deep breaths he takes is audible along with the noise of his hand keeping himself busy.

“I know you’re using your own fingers, but could you imagine how I’d make you feel? How much better? Are you close to cumming?”

You swallow your words, unable to form a coherent response. “I- I am. I’d love to suck you off right now too, please.”

“Please?” He chuckles, “Already begging for it after all the pictures I s- sent?”

You whine and kick your blanket. “You aren’t here with me right now!”

“I really would love to eat you out right now and make you cum until you feel like passing out. I want to see the look of desperation on your face, to hear your whines in person, and to just make you feel amazing under my touch, wouldn’t you like that?”

“I really-” you moan out his name, deftly twisting and curling your fingers around your drenching walls- “really would.”

“I want you to cum for me,” he demands, “now, baby.”

Baby.

The name itself is the match that has set you ablaze, igniting you into an extreme elation. Your fingers slow themselves and become saturated in your desirous juices. The moan you attempt to remain lodging in your throat escapes, prompting Jimin to release his load as well, all over his exposed thighs and bed sheets.

He recalls your video, how disheveled you appeared with hair as messy as if a hurricane just struck, you needy voice echoing in his mind.

With sexual longing now satisfied, you slip your fingers out and sprawl yourself silently on your bed to catch your breath.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jimin spits out as he plops face down into his pillows, “I don’t know how you did that, but it was the best orgasm I had in a while.”

You giggle and curl into your sheets. “Glad to be of service.”

“Glad you were available, Y/N.” He gulps and hesitates, debating whether or not to voice his final apology- “Sorry though, you know, if this was weird and all because you-”

“- don’t worry about it.” You whisper, barely able to fight the urge to pass out cold. “Let’s just…”

He awaits your response, but nothing else leaves your mouth. He raises the volume on his phone, asking you to repeat the final part, but you’re already knocked out. “Hello? Y/N, did you seriously fall asleep on me?”

He allows the few seconds of still silence to pass prior to ending the call.

[5:17 AM] Jimin: hey

[5:17 AM] Jimin: finish your sentence

[5:18 AM] Jimin: btw you fell asleep on me

[5:18 AM] Jimin: but you can make up for that tomorrow ;)

#oh christ #jimin #jimin smut #jimin scenario #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #park jimin #bts jimin #bts #an oldie of mine :')#writing

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ionecoffman · 6 years

Text

The People Who Can Control Their Goose Bumps

“It starts in the back of my neck,” Javier Palejko told me over Skype. “It’s like I have a muscle there and I just make it work.”

The “it” in this case was goose bumps, which Palejko, a 34-year-old tech worker in Argentina, says he can control at will. Like most unexceptional people—by which I mean, people whose goose bumps only appear when we’re cold or feeling intense emotions—I could not even begin to imagine how to control goose bumps. I inquired, could he do it, like, right now?

“Let’s try,” he said, angling the webcam toward his forearm. “Do you see it?” And sure enough, within two seconds, the hair follicles on his arm had became bumps, visible even on a grainy Skype video. “I thought everyone can do that,” Palejko said.

Everyone cannot do it. But Palejko is not alone, either. He is among dozens of people that James Heathers, a postdoctoral researcher at Northeastern University, identified during and after a recent study on the phenomenon. Heathers posted a preprint—which has not yet been peer reviewed—describing 32 people who can control their goose bumps, and he’s been contacted by several others since. Many of them, like Palejko, had thought this ability was perfectly ordinary for most of their lives. Palejko told me his brother can do it, too.

But this is not how the human nervous system usually works. Scientists think goose bumps are a reflex leftover from our hairy ancestors, whose fur would fluff up for warmth or for scaring off enemies. On relatively hairless humans, goose bumps appear when tiny muscles pull on the hair follicle. Those muscles are controlled by the autonomic nervous system, which also manages other involuntarily actions like heartbeats, pupil dilation, and wavelike contractions in the digestive system called peristalsis. Inducing goose bumps at will, said Heathers, is “like saying you can suddenly change peristalsis action or stop your heart.”

Heathers—who, like most people, can’t control goose bumps—first became intrigued by the phenomenon by reading old case studies. “I have a particular fondness for old journals and forgotten, abandoned articles,” he said. It was in one of these old dives into old journals that he came across a 1938 case study in which scientists observed a middle-aged man controlling goose bumps. He kept digging. Another case study popped up, this time about a 27-year-old student from 1903. “He can produce the condition of ‘goose-flesh’ at will in from two to ten seconds from the instant of volition,” wrote the physiologist who examined him, “and can cause it to disappear in a like time.” In a more recent article from 2010, Austrian and German scientists actually filmed a 35-year-old man who could control his goose bumps.

If this was real, Heathers wondered, could there be more people out there?

He began to search on Google—following the maxim that if something is real, then it must be documented online. Indeed, he came across forums discussing the phenomenon and videos deep in the long tail of YouTube. He devised a survey to advertise on forums and psychology Facebook groups, and his team eventually heard from 32 people who claimed to have voluntary control of their goose bump. The survey was long and complicated, Heathers said, so he didn’t think people would take it just to mess with him.

youtube

The survey revealed that not all goose bump powers are created equal. Some people said they needed to actually induce an emotional reaction. One participant, Heathers noted, said he actually needed to think about his girlfriend getting murdered to give himself goose bumps.

For others, getting goose bumps requires concentration but no particular emotional reaction. “I always have to close my eyes. I try to do it without closing my eyes and I can’t,” said Eliza Bacon, a biologist in Southern California who contacted Heathers after reading a short article about his research. She experiences it as a tingling sensation that begins at the back of her head and spreads through her scalp and body.

For people like Palejko, inducing goose bumps is no more difficult than moving an arm. He did note one difference, though: It takes time for his goose bumps to recharge. “I can do it again,” he said after showing me his goose bumps over Skype, “but it’s just like losing his power and I have to wait around 10 minutes.”

Brenna Mickal, a college student in Louisiana, told me something similar. “If I do it twice in a row, I have to concentrate the more the second time,” she said. And if she tries and fails, it actually feels uncomfortable—like having to sneeze but being unable to.

None of the people I spoke to associated controlling goose bumps with especially negative feelings. It was even positive in some cases. Mickal said she feels a warmth spread through her body and uses it to warm herself up when cold. Bacon said she uses it to alleviate headaches.

“It’s a fascinating story,” said Timo Siepmann, a clinical neurologist at Dresden International University who has studied inducing goose bumps in people with a small electric shock. It reminded him of epileptic patients, who have abnormal brain activity in the cerebral cortex that sometimes results in involuntary goose bumps. Perhaps people who can control their goose bumps are able to activate certain regions of the cerebral cortex. But, he cautioned, “at this stage, I have no idea.”

Christian Kaernbach, a psychologist at the University of Kiel and an author of the 2010 case study, told me his lab had actually advertised in local papers afterward and found about 10 more people who could control their goose bumps in a lab. He never wrote up those results because the Ph.D. student leading the study left to pursue a career in comedy instead. And as a psychologist, Kaernbach was more interested in studying emotional triggers of involuntary goose bumps, anyway.

Heathers has not yet studied any his subjects in a lab yet. “I have never seen it with my own two eyes,” he admitted. But his approach—advertising on Facebook groups and then publishing the preprint online rather than waiting to publish in a paywalled journal—has created the beginnings of an online community around voluntary goose bump control.

A few years ago, ASMR videos featuring people whispering and rustling pieces of paper shot up YouTube’s most popular list. ASMR stands for “autonomous sensory meridian response”—a term coined not by scientists but by an ASMR Facebook group—and it describes the pleasurable tingling sensation some people feel watching these videos. Psychologists, playing catch up to YouTube, have since begun to study ASMR.

Bacon told me that as a kid watching “Sailor Moon,” she had thought of the tingling sensation she felt with goose bumps to be like exerting energy on the outside world. “It’s like those were my powers,” she said. I asked if she boasted about it to other kids. “I don’t think I said anything,” she replied. “I was at least intelligent enough to know that was weird, and other people would think that was weird.” She paused to consider how we were talking about it now. “God bless the internet.”

Article source here:The Atlantic

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