#inbound voice processes

[247callcenterservice]

"Inbound voice process" refers to a type of customer service operation where incoming calls from customers are received by agents or representatives of a company. These calls typically involve inquiries, support requests, or other forms of assistance sought by customers regarding products or services offered by the company. In this summary, we'll explore the key components, benefits, challenges, and best practices associated with inbound voice processes.

Key Components:

Customer Calls: The core of inbound voice processes involves customers reaching out to a company for various reasons such as queries, complaints, product support, or placing orders.

Call Routing: Calls are routed through an automated system or a receptionist to the appropriate department or agent based on the nature of the inquiry or the customer's preferences.

Agent Interaction: Trained agents handle incoming calls, providing assistance, resolving issues, answering questions, and ensuring customer satisfaction.

Information Systems: Agents utilize databases, customer relationship management (CRM) tools, and knowledge bases to access relevant information needed to address customer queries effectively.

Quality Assurance: Monitoring and evaluation processes ensure that agents adhere to company standards in communication, problem-solving, and customer service delivery.

Benefits:

Improved Customer Satisfaction: Prompt and effective resolution of customer queries or issues leads to higher satisfaction levels and strengthens customer loyalty.

Enhanced Brand Reputation: Positive interactions with knowledgeable and helpful agents contribute to a favorable perception of the company's brand.

Increased Sales Opportunities: Inbound calls provide opportunities for agents to upsell or cross-sell products or services, thus boosting revenue.

Valuable Customer Insights: Analyzing inbound call data can provide valuable insights into customer needs, preferences, and pain points, informing strategic business decisions.

Cost Efficiency: Compared to outbound call processes, inbound voice processes are often more cost-effective as they involve responding to customer-initiated contacts rather than proactively reaching out to customers.

Challenges:

Volume Management: Handling fluctuating call volumes efficiently, especially during peak times, can be challenging and may require workforce management strategies.

Agent Training: Ensuring that agents possess the necessary skills, product knowledge, and empathy to handle diverse customer inquiries effectively requires ongoing training and development programs.

Call Resolution Time: Balancing the need for thorough issue resolution with the desire to minimize call duration poses a challenge in maintaining high service levels.

Technology Integration: Integrating various communication channels, CRM systems, and analytics tools seamlessly to support the inbound voice process requires careful planning and execution.

Customer Expectations: Meeting or exceeding customer expectations in terms of response time, service quality, and personalized assistance is crucial but can be demanding.

Best Practices:

Invest in Training: Provide comprehensive training to agents to equip them with the skills and knowledge required to handle diverse customer inquiries effectively.

Utilize Technology: Leverage advanced call center technology, CRM systems, and analytics tools to streamline operations, enhance agent productivity, and improve the overall customer experience.

Implement Quality Monitoring: Regularly monitor calls, provide feedback to agents, and conduct performance evaluations to maintain service quality standards.

Offer Multichannel Support: Beyond voice calls, offer support through other channels such as email, chat, and social media to cater to diverse customer preferences.

Focus on Customer-centricity: Prioritize customer satisfaction by listening actively, demonstrating empathy, and going the extra mile to meet customer needs and expectations.

In summary, inbound voice processes play a vital role in delivering exceptional customer service experiences, driving customer satisfaction, and fostering long-term relationships with customers. By investing in agent training, leveraging technology, and prioritizing customer-centric practices, companies can optimize their inbound voice processes to achieve business success.

#inbound voice processes

[cloudconnectcommunication]

Inbound and outbound calling | Voice inbound process | Inbound outbound calls

Are you looking for inbound and outbound calling or voice inbound process? If yes then you have one of the best options in the form of CloudConnect Communications which provides inbound outbound calls and its calling software with many useful options in these solutions and its prices are also very affordable.

#inbound outbound calls #voice inbound process #inbound calling and outbound calling #inbound calls and outbound calls #inbound calling

[omrasolutions23]

 Best voice blend process services in Noida

Any Voice Blend Process at an organization is a series of steps taken by a salesperson to move a prospective buyer from the early stages of awareness to a closed sale.

OMRA Solutions assists well-known brands in revenue generation and strategic planning in their sales process. We are assisting them in increasing revenue in their business. We have the quality experience to understand clients' requirements and pitch their products and services in a well-defined manner with detailed knowledge of products/services and they will undoubtedly benefit from the same. We have extensive experience in voice and on-site sales processes. We, OMRA Solutions, are an organization that operates voice blend processes and has inbound/outbound processes. We have a team to handle all sales and Inbound/Outbound process operations using automation. One can easily understand our experience by knowing that we handle the back-end sales process for well-known brands. We are one of the best companies in India for the Voice Blend Process because we work in the top five metropolitan cities. We improve our Customer Experience by investing in Inbound/Outbound processes, CRM, and LMS via our diallers, as we are To effectively and efficiently manage customer queries, we are utilizing lower-cost channels.

#bpo voice process #outbound voice process #blended voice process #inbound and outbound call center services #inbound and outbound customer service #inbound and outbound services #inbound outbound services

[ddarker-dreams]

Easy Does It.

Scaramouche x F Reader.

Warnings: Explicit Not SFW, Scaramouche is annoying, Reader’s body is described as AFAB, they both bicker like an old couple... Word count: 7.2k.

You have a triumphant pep in your step as you hop down from the inn’s engawa to where your traveling companion awaits.

He stands beneath a canopy of sakura trees, late in their bloom, yet beautiful nonetheless. Pink petals dance around him in wayward clusters, swaying wherever the breeze blows. It’s an idyllic scene taken straight from the pages of a fairytale. He too appears absorbed with their hypnotizing essence, extending his hand upward and allowing for a lone petal to find its home there. He brings it to his face, studying it closely, an unreadable expression etched onto his countenance when the Electro energy imbued within tickles his fingers.

It could be your imagination, but you get the sense he almost looks sad. Forlorn, even. A strange heaviness haunts the air around him.  

You’re about to call out when a twig crunches beneath your feet, alerting him to your presence.

The ethereal mirage fades away faster than if a painter were to take water to their freshly painted canvas.

“Oh, there you are,” The Wanderer greets, his fingers curling inward and crushing the petal within a tight fist. “You sure took your sweet time. I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever get you back. Well? Are you just going to stand there and gawk? How’d the ‘negotiations’ go?”

You puff out your cheeks. To think you almost fell for his spell so easily… that mouth of his could easily break you out of any enchantment. Not that you’d have it any other way.

“Behold, you nonbeliever,” you proudly lift and display the keys you secured, its metal reflecting the blood-orange sun. “I told you I’d work something out. We’ve got shelter for the night.”  

“Oh? Not bad,” he crosses his arms over his chest, his lips twitching into a smirk. “You have some uses after all. Color me surprised.”

“A simple ‘good job’ would have sufficed. Are all your compliments this backhanded?”

“I wouldn’t know, since I give them so rarely.”

You roll your eyes at that and carry onward, striding past him in the process. The Wanderer blinks, following your form with his eyes, then half-jogging to catch up with you. Unsurprisingly, he wastes no time voicing his dissent over your actions.

“Hey, I know your sense of direction isn’t the best, but the inn is that way,” he juts his thumb toward where you came from. You take a deep breath to prepare yourself. You cherished being lavished in his praise, awful as he is at it, for all of thirty seconds. It’s likely that’ll end here if he isn’t in the most forgiving of moods.

“... About that,” your voice comes out uncharacteristically weak, “They didn’t magically get any openings in the hours since we last asked. I offered for us to get rid of some pesky nobushi—”

He lets out a dissatisfied grunt that you choose to ignore.

“—And in return, they’re letting us use an old house that’s traditionally off-limits, since it’s mostly for storage. Hey, don’t look at me like that! The nobushi job can wait until morning. It beats sleeping out in a storm.”

As if on cue, a low rumble of thunder resounds in the distance. The Wanderer just huffs, your line of reasoning is too solid for him to bother arguing further. You both searched high and low for proper accommodations upon learning a nasty thunderstorm was inbound. Normally, it wouldn’t be so difficult, but there was apparently a festival that had inns in the immediate area stuffed. The tempests in Inazuma were notorious for their ferocity.

“So they lug their pest extermination project on us. What a bore,” The Wanderer yawns at the mere thought. “Humans always want to know what’s in it for them. Our Mora should’ve sufficed.”

You don’t bother replying. He likes getting the last word in and you’ll let him this time.

The house the old couple who ran the inn described to you grows closer with each step. It’s not as dilapidated as you pictured from the outside, a rather quaint-looking abode. The design reminds you of the homes found in Konda Village, boasting a thatch ceiling and a light-colored wood exterior. Paper lanterns hang from the veranda, as do white cloths with strings tied around the top, giving the impression of a round head.

You point to the unknown object and voice your curiosity to the Wanderer, who you know hails from Inazuma. “What’s this? I’ve seen them in lots of the villages we’ve passed through.”

“What do I look like, a tour guide?” he mumbles under his breath, yet sees fit to answer you anyway. He always does. “It’s supposedly a talisman meant to invoke good weather, called teru teru bōzu. You’ll find they’re popular in rural areas that rely on farming to get by.”

You let out a small “ohh” at his explanation. “Interesting. I didn’t expect that the denizens of Inazuma would try to ward off phenomena so closely associated with their Archon.”

While saying this, you fit the key snugly into the lock and twist, granting you both entry.  

“Hah. These simpletons would do far better for themselves if they gave that good-for-nothing recluse more pushback.”

While the Wanderer is no stranger to voicing his thoughts, for better or for worse (normally the latter), his animosity toward the Raiden Shogun is unmatched. Anytime she’s so much as mentioned you have to start praying to a higher power that he won’t lay into whatever unlucky soul brought her up. Fortunately for you, his eerily friendly façade doesn’t falter in the moment. He waits until it’s only you around for the venom to spill forth. He certainly has no shortage of it.

“Hurry up inside so we don’t get struck by lightning because of your heresy,” you remove your shoes by the entrance and he follows suit. “From what I can tell, she got plenty of pushback from the Vision Hunt Decree a ways back.”

“Not nearly enough.”

The interior is a bit worse for wear than the exterior, but at least it’s clean. You get to work moving aside furniture and other miscellaneous items so there’ll be enough room to sleep. In the meantime, the Wanderer slides a screen door aside, revealing a bunched-up futon. He takes it outside to pat it off, further continuing your oddly domestic routine. In your few years of traveling together, you’ve come to learn that you synergize together surprisingly well. The Wanderer might complain that you’re a nuisance who he keeps an eye on out of pity, but you know better than to take his words at face value. There are always precious gems hidden beneath the hard exterior.

When he comes back inside, he sprawls the futon down across the tatami floor, then settles his hands on his hips. “What sort of rundown inn is this? There’s only one futon in the closet.”

You situate yourself on a cushion that happened to already be out. “We should be thankful that they even had one since this isn’t a proper rentable room. You can feel free to take it. Sleeping on the floor isn’t so bad.”

“And have to deal with you complaining about how sore you are for the next few days? No thanks,” he scrunches up his nose. “... Wait here. I’ll go have a chat with our hosts and see if I can get some proper hospitality.”

Uh oh. That doesn’t sound promising. “Please don’t get us thrown out, I’d rather not get blown away in an eighty-mile-an-hour wind.”

“I’d fly to get you back,” The Wanderer hums as he makes for the door. Then a mischievous gleam dances in his eyes, a sight you’re plenty familiar with. “Maybe. If I was feeling particularly generous.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He removes his hat, stands it against the wall, then makes for the door. He’s gone faster than you can think to stop him, leaving you temporarily on your lonesome. The many compliments he received for his well-mannered behavior when you passed through Konda Village come to mind, a memory that makes you snort. You suppose you can’t blame them for falling for his act. He could be rather convincing when he set his heart on something. So could you, for that matter. Hence why you ended up becoming an unlikely pair to begin with.

Standing to your full height, you begin shedding your outer layer of clothes. The trek back to the inn combined with the owner’s talkative nature should ensure he’ll be gone for a while. Once you’re left in nothing but your undergarments, you fold and set your clothes aside, ambling toward a plain yukata you saw hanging up in the closet. You put both your arms through the long sleeves and then stop, your fingers resting over the Electro Vision clasped like a necklace around your neck.

Inazuma, land of the Electro Archon, a place the Wanderer seemed intimately connected with. It strikes you then how little you know about your companion. You’ve told him plenty about yourself — the delicious wines, tall windmills, and sea of dandelions found in your homeland — hoping it’d get him to do the same. He’d dodge your inquiries with ease, stating that he was ‘just a wanderer these days’ and nothing else.

You know that can’t be it. Especially not with his tendency to refer to people as ‘humans’, inadvertently implying he isn’t one himself. So just who is he? What is he?

Why does he still seem keen to travel with you, when he could make it perfectly fine by himself?

And most importantly… when will this fun adventure you never expected to take come to an end? After all, that is the fate of all journeys. Nothing lasts forever.

For some reason or another, the thought fills you with an uncomfortable pang.

You begin carrying out the steps of properly securing the yukata. It’s an awkward endeavor, as you’re not used to it, but you start to make some decent progress. That is until your soul all but ascends when the door unceremoniously flings open.

“Seriously, the gall of them to lock up so ear—”

The door slams closed as the Wanderer doesn’t have the presence of mind to ease it shut. “—Ly…?”

His eyes go as wide as saucers while the most you can think to do is turn around, rushing through the final steps to regain your dignity. He wasn’t supposed to come back so soon! This shouldn’t be a big deal, it really shouldn’t, yet the expression he wore was unlike anything you’ve seen. The Wanderer is always so sure of himself, bordering and often crossing over into arrogance. It didn’t matter if you were lost in the middle of nowhere with low provisions or stuck in a battle against waves of monsters seemingly without an end in sight. He’d act with the utmost confidence, dissipating your uncertainty like a lighthouse’s beam on a foggy night.

So what was that look he gave you, an emotion on him you’ve never seen before? It’s making you feel warm from head to toe.

“... You’re… you’re doing it wrong.”

The Wanderer is standing in your shadow, closing what already feels like the nonexistent distance between you. You cease moving entirely when his hands reach around to tug at the loose fabric. He folds and tucks everything into place as it should be, no sounds registering in your brain aside from the shuffling of fabric and your pounding heartbeat. Internally, you beg yourself to say something, or for him to say something, the flow of your usual banter entirely staunched. In a matter of a few seconds that feel like they’re dragging on for an eternity, the yukata is set into place as it should be. Just when you think you’re free from this embarrassing nightmare’s tendrils, he sets his sights on the final piece.

He wraps the obi around your waist and ties it. When he’s done, he takes a step back and finally breaks the excruciating silence.

“Turn around.”

You try to think of a snarky rebuttal that’d diffuse the peculiar heaviness in the air, as if gravity itself had intensified. Upon coming up with nothing, you acquiesce to his softly spoken demand, your eyes set firmly on the ground. Is this real life or a very potent figment of your imagination? You’ve never felt so sheepish around him; in a mere second, your entire dynamic shifted.

“Is the floor really that interesting?” His face is close enough that you can feel his warm breath tickling your skin when he laughs. The sound is different from his usual derisive chuckle. Freer, in a way. “Look up at me already.”

Somehow, this request seems easier to fulfill than his previous one. You find yourself lifting your head without your mind deciding if that’s what it wants to do yet, your body and impulses taking the reins. The Wanderer must not have been expecting your willingness either — his breath hitches in his throat when you make unwavering eye contact. It’s in the peaceful seconds of nothingness that follow that you find yourself admiring your companion’s features.

He’s beautiful to a surreal degree. If he told you he was handmade by the gods, you would’ve believed him without question. His skin is like porcelain, his eyes wide and glossy, framed by long, dark eyelashes, his lips rosy and his cheeks even rosier. For all his impish attributes, his visage is far more in line with that of a cherub. You don’t bother hiding your unabashed staring. He told you to look at him and you’re going to do just that.

Whatever devious words he had waiting for you on his tongue must’ve withered away without ever blooming.

Logically speaking, it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds that ticked by since he last spoke, but you feel like you’ve shared an eternity together. If you weren’t used to seeing him surprised, his current expression is all the more foreign. It was a puzzle piece that didn’t fit. You scour your memory, analyzing the countless impressions he’s made, placing the countenance you’re currently seeing over them to find a match.

Eventually, something in your frazzled brain clicks.

This isn’t a new expression at all. You know it better than you’d like to admit.

This is how he looks at you when you eagerly compliment his cooking, scoffing and muttering under his breath that it isn’t anything to get so excited about, while fighting back a smile. When you rope him into playing with the kids of whatever family is feeling kind enough to give you lodging for the night, a thousand excuses on his tongue that he never follows through on after seeing how you laugh and run without a care. This is how he looks at you in the morning, afternoon, evening, twilight, and night.

Now that you’re being honest with yourself, you can’t remember a time when he didn’t look at you this way.

With yearning…

(He’s leaning forward).

Adoration…

(His lips are almost close enough to touch yours).

… And rapidly spiraling self-control.

“Wanderer?”

There’s a flash of lightning outside, a prelude to the storm ahead.

Bright streaks of light illuminate the side of his countenance. The instant the lightning’s glow fades, you’re face to face with his back. He’s walking away. A torrent batters the worn-down windows in a violent clash of water and glass. Where is he going? He picks his ornate hat up and places it on his head. Why is he going? Shaky fingers rise to press against your lip.

You never got to feel his.

He doesn’t get the chance to twist the doorknob before you’re leaping into action, more adrenaline pumping through your veins than any fight could ever evoke. He stumbles forward from the force of your bodies clashing yet manages to remain standing. Your arms encircle his waist, pulling him back to you, not an ounce of your strength going unused. Initially, his body goes stiff as a corpse. And then he struggles. Sharply twisting his torso to deter your hold, which successfully puts your footing off balance, but doesn’t get you to retract. He tries it again. This time with more force. You shake your head, adamant and unwilling, embracing him even tighter.

“What are you doing?” He hisses, disbelief apparent. Instead of coming off like a predator that’s bearing its teeth, you view him as prey caught in a trap that wildly thrashes when being set free.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?” you return, your voice almost threatening to crack beneath the weight of your words. Having piqued his curiosity, he ceases movement altogether. You lower your volume to a solemn whisper. “You were about to… about to kiss me.”

“No, I—” he cuts himself off, the words coming out in an almost incomprehensible jumble, “I was just messing around. You’re so… so easy to fool, you know that? So gullible. You don’t know the first thing about me and yet you’re willing to let me touch you like a lover. It’s almost pathetic, really.”

The words meant to add fuel to the fire blazing in your soul do the opposite and extinguish it instead. You loosen your grip enough that he could easily break free if he tried.

He doesn’t.

“You’re wrong about that.”

“What?” He sounds incredulous more so than angry. However he anticipated this to go down in his head, you wouldn’t follow the script, if anything, you’d be handed it only so you may shred it to pieces. “Do you even know what you’re saying?”

“I do,” your affirmation comes out quickly, though far from uncertain. “You said I don’t know the first thing about you, but that’s a lie. I know plenty. I know that you’re pretty terrible.”

The Wanderer lets out a noise you can only describe as a choked, humorless laugh, but since you’re not finished, you continue on.

“Yeah, you’re awful alright. You act like you’re better than everyone else before you get the chance to even know them. You refuse to acknowledge the good in the world when it’s dangling right in front of your eyes, so focused on the backdrop that you miss what’s really important. You’re conceited, insensitive, and stubborn to a fault. But…”

Although he can’t see you in this position, you smile. “You’re willing to acknowledge your shortcomings after enough convincing. You’ll point out mine too. You see through things that I’m blind to, standing up for me when I’m afraid to do it myself. You tell me I talk too much yet still listen and remember every word. If I get sick, you take care of me until I’m better, even if you complain the entire time. You’ll push me out of the way in a fight, taking a blow meant for me, then swear it doesn’t hurt so I won't worry. It does hurt, though, doesn’t it? You feel pain the same way I do. Just because you’re used to it doesn't make it hurt any less. Yes… you’re right that there are some things I don’t know about you. But I know enough to say I love you, awfulness and all.”

“... Love?” He’s breathless. “You love me?”

“Somehow or another, so— oof!”

In an instant, your positions switch. The first thing you register is your back hitting something solid. Both your arms have been lifted and pinned over your head by him. When you reopen your eyes to gain your bearings, you’re treated to a sight you don’t think you’ll ever forget. The Wanderer is almost feverish, his face flushed, his lips parted so he may pant, his chest heaving for air. His dilated pupils look nowhere else than directly at you. The heavens could collapse and the Abyss could rise and still, he would not look away. It’s raw, it’s depraved, but it’s him.

“You mean it? You really mean it?”

You try to wriggle your hand free, longing to touch him, but he narrows his eyes and tightens his grip. The strength he uses further convinces you that had he genuinely wanted to, he could’ve easily rid himself of you earlier. Words escape you entirely beneath the intensity of his stare. Your legs feel weak and it’s like the air had been stolen entirely from your lungs. There’s no way he didn’t hear everything you painstakingly laid out for him. You let him glimpse into your heart, what was all this apprehension about?

The wetness growing on his lower lash line makes you understand, deep down. It’s not that he doesn’t want to believe you — it’s that he’s scared of what it’ll mean if he does.

You’re the one who closes the pesky distance. The contact is gentle, chaste, a hesitant brushing of your lips against his. You let them linger there for a few seconds longer, feeling how his lower lip trembles, tasting the bitterness of the matcha he drank not too long ago. When you think to pull back, his body lurches forward, unwilling to let you get away that easily. He’s noticeably inexperienced, somewhat awkward in how he slots his mouth against yours. Still, it sets fireworks off in your chest and makes you croon. He’s so distracted with helping himself to your lips that he relaxes his grip. You use this to your advantage, finally free to wrap your arms around his neck and bring him closer.

When you part for some much-needed air, he encases your face in his hands.

“Say it again,” his lips ghost over yours when he speaks. “Please. I need you to say it again.”

How could you ever deny him when he’s talking to you like that?

“I love you.”

“Even though I’m ‘pretty terrible’?”

“Even then.”

“Won’t you change your mind?”

“I won’t.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise,” you smile, unable to stop yourself from beaming. Floating midair wouldn’t make you feel as light as you do now. “And what about you, Wanderer? Did I successfully win over your heart?”

There’s an enigmatic gleam in his eyes that you don’t quite understand. “Yeah. Although I wouldn’t say it’s anything worth winning. Whatever joke of a heart I’ve got, you can have it. It’s yours. You can’t get rid of it even if you want to. Or, to be more accurate…”

You gasp when he nibbles the shell of your ear then whispers, his voice low, “You can’t get rid of me even if you want to.”

If this is his attempt at intimidation, you aren’t impressed.

“It’s a good thing I don’t want to then, right?”

“That’s my [First] for you,” he brushes a stray strand of hair away from your face and laughs. “Only you could find a positive way to spin that. Well, perhaps that strangeness is what draws me to you. You might be just as messed up in the head as I am.”

He swoops in to kiss you again but is met with the softness of your cheek instead of your lips. His eyes widen, then narrow, dark energy gathering and permeating around his figure. You almost think better of your decision to mess around with him but ultimately remain firm. He can’t always get what he wants without having to put in some work. You’ll end up spoiling him if you act too indulgent.

“I think you may have ruined the romantic atmosphere,” you add some dramatic flair by sighing. He blinks rapidly, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. It’s a cute look on him. “I poured my heart out to you and not only do you call me strange, you say I’m messed up as well. I dunno, my feelings might be too hurt. Maybe I should just go to bed…”

He actually gapes at you, sputtering, incapable of forming an intelligent rebuttal at your sheer audacity. You press your advantage and writhe out from his hold. You don’t make it more than a single step toward the futon before you’re being hoisted into the air, the Wanderer recovering from his stupor in record time. He bridal carries you over, muttering how you’re “such a difficult woman”, the gentle way he lays you down contrasting his harsh words.

He crawls over top of you, the grin on his face a mix between boyish and menacing. His next words come out in a playful singsong. “Oh no you don’t, little minx.”

It’s almost impossible to fight back a smile, but you somehow manage, though you have no doubt he sees through your weak façade. With about as much innocence as you can muster, you say, “If you’re tired too, we could always sleep together.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, the innuendo not lost on him. “Your jokes suck.”

“Hah, but you laugh at them anyway,” you stick your tongue out at him. “So which one of us truly sucks here?”

“You, on your knees, another time maybe,” he replies, a little too self-assured for your liking. “Not tonight though. I have other plans for you.”

He accentuates this by latching his lips to your neck, directly over where your racing pulse is most prominent. You tilt your head to the side, allowing him easier access, your senses so overwhelmed with him that nothing else registers. His hands to get work undoing what he helped put on you minutes prior. Cool night air bites at your newly exposed skin, the front of the yukata fluttering to the side. He pulls back from his task of lavishing your neck in heated open-mouthed kisses to admire the sight. It’s almost animalistic, the way he’s regarding you now, as if you were a feast put in front of a starved man. The intensity of his gaze almost makes you shy.

“... May I?” He murmurs, his previous bravado melting away. His face is red up to his ears. “Is it really okay?”

Unable to find your voice, you nod your head, almost biting your lower lip hard enough to bruise. Why is it far easier to deal with him when he’s being a cocky little bastard? When he talks so uncharacteristically sweet… gazes at you reverently with those big, doe-like eyes… you simply don’t know what to do with yourself. He’s making you go crazy.

When you work up the courage to look at him again, you swear your heart almost stops. Both your eyes meet in a silent exchange of adoration. You hadn’t realized it earlier, but in this spot where the silvery moonlight shines through in gratuitous amounts, you notice a damning detail. There are tear streaks on his cheeks. Without giving the action much thought, you raise your hand to cup his face. His wet eyelashes flutter shut and he leans into your touch. The pad of your thumb grazes over his cheekbone, gently wiping away what you can. Eventually, he reopens his eyes, and when he does, you adjust yourself so that you may unclasp your bra. The undergarment is thrown haphazardly to an unknown destination.

Both his hands raise, his fingers twitching while they descend to caress your chest.

“Soft…” he whispers, his eyes glowing an otherworldly hue, “So soft.”

Whether he meant to or not, you’ll never know, but his thumbs brush over your nipples just right and you let out a whimper. He freezes in place, his attention going from the flesh in his palms back up to your face. Upon confirming you did indeed release such a debauched sound, he dips his head, his lips wrapping around your nipple and sucking. His eagerness to help himself to your body causes wetness to stain your panties. He lets out a content noise when you thread your fingers through his hair, bringing him in closer. His free hand goes from groping greedily at your chest to traveling downward. It brushes over your lower stomach, then settles itself on the side of your hips.

You let out a huff at the lack of friction where you want it most. Something tells you he would be content to do this for hours, and while that’s a lovely sentiment, it’s akin to torture when you want so much more.

Your hand guides his to where you want it most — right between your thighs.

He pulls back with an audible pop, his lips shiny with saliva. “Oh? Aren’t you a bold little thing. I was in the middle of doing something. You’re just begging to be punished, aren’t you?”

The Wanderer probably expects you to respond with equal brattiness — and maybe you would’ve if your body would stop screaming and let you think for a second — but you don’t. You surprise both him and yourself by whispering in a voice dripped in sin, “Please.”

He swallows thickly. You can feel his arousal twitch to life, hard and hot against your legs. Slowly, so that he may continue savoring your expression, he pulls back until he’s nestled between your legs. He places a chaste kiss against your inner thigh. Then your panties’ hemline. Finally, he presses his lips against your clothed cunt, the slight pressure from his slow, open-mouthed kiss driving you mad with want. You try bucking your hips forward, an act that earns you swift retaliation. His hands hold your hips in place tight. He gives you a warning squeeze, one that communicates he’s working on his time, not yours.

“Ah ah ah,” he chastises, his lips cruelly departing from your clothed cunt to your inner thigh, where he alternates between nibbling and kissing your feverish flesh, “Try anything like that again and I’ll show you how mean I really can be. You think you know, but trust me, you don’t, since I’m actually quite sweet on you…”

His fingers hook around your panties and pull them down. “I know you’re beyond desperate for me, but let’s try to have a little decorum, okay? Or has your lust made you incapable of feeling shame?”

“I liked your mouth better when it was busy,” your comeback would’ve sounded a lot stronger if it didn’t come out like a whine.

“You just always have something to say, don’t you?” He sounds amused more than anything. You never get the chance to respond, for he places his middle and pointer finger against your pussy, applying the most pressure yet. It’s divine if not the furthest thing from enough. “Let’s see if I can change that.”

The Wanderer feels at you, curious, dragging his fingers up and down while studying your various expressions. When he sees something he likes, he focuses the majority of his attention to the spot that caused such a visceral reaction. Through the hot waves of pleasure sinking you into a delightful abyss, you realize he’s found your clit. Not long after discovering the best place to touch you, he replaces his fingers with his lips, pulling you flush against his face. You throw your head back as he devours you, what he lacks in skill is more than made up for by his enthusiasm. You spread your legs further for him, wanting anything he’s willing to offer from the bottom of your soul.

The muscles in your thighs go tense as your release steadily approaches. You can’t remember the last time you were intimate with another, having been on the road for so long. The most you could ever do to appease any carnal need that reared its head was wait until the Wanderer was sound asleep, giving you the chance to relieve yourself. He never left your side long enough to any other time. Or to find any partner you could mess around with. Any flirtatious remarks sent your way ended with the offender cowering from a brutal verbal lashing. Maybe getting launched through a window by a ‘gust of wind’ if they were bold enough to touch you.

No, the man currently eating you out as if his life depended on it was fiercely protective. Now you know why. He wanted you for himself.

When you come, you let out a high-pitched noise, your head lolled to the side and your fingernails digging marks into your palms. This doesn’t deter him in the slightest. He continues lapping and suckling your oversensitive clit, drunk on the sounds he could make you produce. You finally get him to detach yourself from your person using a burst of strength. He looks up at you through his eyelashes, a wicked smirk full display.

You smooth out his tousled indigo locks. “Thank you. That felt really good.”

“I should be the one thanking you for the delectable meal,” he runs his tongue over his lips, further savoring your taste. It’s a miracle you have any semblance of coherent thought after witnessing such an obscene display. “My appetite is far from satiated, though.”

To your great pleasure, he begins removing the layers of clothes that make up his normal outfit. The fast rate at which he does so belies his inner excitement. The golden rings on his middle fingers go first, then his black gloves, and outer white and turquoise tunic. The almost sheer, sleeveless black shirt he wears beneath clings tight to his lean torso. He makes quick work of his belt and shorts, shooting you a bemused look over his shoulder when he catches your eyes.

“Did no one ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”

“I can’t help it,” comes your rebuttal. “You’re so beautiful.”

His head snaps away and he clears his throat. “S-Surely you can do better than that. I suppose I can accept such uninspired praise for now.”

You raise yourself to a sitting position and settle yourself behind him, your bare chest pressing against his back. It doesn’t take him long to relax in this unexpected embrace. Being this close to him, you’re given the unique opportunity to notice intricacies you couldn’t otherwise. On the nape of his neck is the symbol that represents Electro, its shape the exact same as the one found on your Vision. Your Wanderer certainly is a bundle of mysteries, isn’t he? His muscles go tense when you press a kiss against the spot. You then nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply, the earthy scent of kyara wood sticking to his skin.

“You’re not going to say anything about it?”

“Hm? About what?”

“You know what I mean,” his words lack any real bite. “I know you saw it.”

You close your eyes, arriving at an answer surprisingly fast. “I’m sure you’ll tell me about it when you’re ready.”

As if silently voicing his agreement, he twists around, bringing you into a soft liplock. He coaxes you into laying back down. You wrap your arms around his neck, playing with any loose strands of hair you feel. Upon opening your eyes, you’re blessed with the sight of a simple smile from the man above you. There’s no underlying haughtiness or malice, just pure, unadulterated devotion. For you and you alone. Something hard brushes against your entrance, causing you to gasp. He chuckles, swooping down to steal another kiss before whispering in your ear,

“Ready?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.”

The head of his cock presses against your lower lips. He rubs himself against you teasingly, coating himself in your essence for more lubrication. Slowly, he sinks himself inside you, the fingers on your hips trembling from the unusual sensation. You do your best to relax your breathing and body to better take him in. He enters inch by inch, the drag of his length against your inner walls a touch uncomfortable if not incredibly fulfilling. You’re unable to focus on your body getting used to the feeling when he’s panting by your ear, soft moans falling out in abundance.

“Fuck,” he hisses through grinding teeth, “That’s good.”

He goes still when he bottoms out inside you. Slowly yet surely, the dull ache from the stretch fades. The room is filled with the sound of both your labored breathing and rain hitting the fogged-up window panes. You drink in one another’s presence. The world itself could come to an end, and still, you’d be content. Having fully adjusted, you feel bold enough to bring him impossibly closer by locking your legs around his waist. He grunts, his eyes wide-blown.

“You can move now. Hm… or should I take the lead?” You ask teasingly.

The skin beneath his eyes tightens when he grins. “Hah. I’d like to see you try.”

“I’ll hold you to tha— mm…”

He pulls himself out of you to the tip and then plunges back in, causing you to throw your head back. He’s big and of decent girth but without being too much to handle. Your low, heavy moan causes his cock to twitch inside you. There must be nothing he enjoys more than the sounds you make. He commits himself to taking you at a moderate pace, his hands on your hips bringing you down to meet his thrusts. His lips are on yours again, this kiss being the messiest yet, a clash of tongue and teeth. He shoves his tongue into your mouth and allows you to taste yourself. It's greedy, it's unrefined, and most importantly, it’s everything you want.

A thin bridge of saliva connects your lips when he parts, his eyes narrow with glee. “You love me. You really— ah— love me…!”

The Wanderer buries his face in the crook of your neck, his pace growing faster. You rub circles into your clit, another release right on the horizon from his previous actions. He’s doing what he can to keep his volume down, and yet you’re still treated to a lovely melody of pants and moans. There is no song that could ever compare. He might not be whispering sweet nothings into your ear, but this is infinitely better. Watching him get drunk and lose himself in pleasure when he’s normally so composed is a privilege exclusive to you.

“I’m close,” you whimper, every inch of your existence engulfed with heat, “So close.”

“Go on then. Show me how good I make you feel.”

Each sensual roll of his hips brings you higher and higher. He devotes himself to your ecstasy, fucking you with more strength than you expected him to use. It’s all too much. His cock massaging your insides, his tenor voice letting out the most unholy voices near your ear, the frenzied stimulation of your clit that lost its rhythm ages ago. You arch your back, your walls squeezing and fluttering as you cry out. He presses his forehead against yours while you lose yourself beneath him.

“There we go, just like that,” he coos. “That made for quite a sight. You really were made for me. Or maybe…”

After a moment’s contemplation, he voices a thought tinged with indecipherable emotion. “Maybe I was made for you.”

From his increasingly erratic thrusts, you can guess that he’s getting close as well. His vice-like grip on your hips is sure to leave bruises for the days that follow. The sound of skin on skin carries throughout the small space while the scent of sweat and sex permeates the air. Through the haze clouding your mind, you swear to yourself that you’ll always remember this. You want this special moment shared between you both inked into your subconscious. His alluring scent, his frantic touch, his bittersweet taste and little moans.

When he comes, he forces your hips down to meet his stuttering thrusts. Warmth seeps into your insides. He doesn’t stop there, he fucks his release deeper into you, your name rolling off his tongue with all the piety of a devotee worshipping their god. He goes soft inside you yet doesn’t pull out, seemingly content to stay put while he catches his breath. Absent-mindedly, you rub circles into his shoulder blades, encouraging him to relax. He ends up relaxing a little too much, collapsing on top of you and resting his head on your chest. His arms go around your shoulders and pull you flush against him. It would appear even a mere inch separating you both is unforgivable in his eyes.

“Hey.”

“Mm.”

“You’re heavy.”

“Not my problem.”

“Get off already.”

“Don’t wanna.”

His world-renowned brattiness has made a triumphant return. You try propping yourself up by your elbows, only to be met with him nuzzling himself into you further. You tumble gracelessly back onto the ground. How can he be annoying yet so endearing at the same time? He’s a walking set of contradictions. Due to the physical inactivity, the night’s frigid air starts to have more bite to it. Shivers and goosebumps erupt over your body.

“At least let me get dressed,” you huff, rolling your eyes at the petty way he tightens his grip around you. “Know that if I get sick, it’s all your fault. I’ll be making you wait on me hand and foot.”

“Fine. Be quick about it, irksome woman. I was enjoying myself.”

The Wanderer reluctantly rolls off to the side. His member slides out of you, leaving you feeling empty in its absence. Before you can start moving, he takes two fingers and pushes any cum that’s trickled out back in. Then he slides your panties back up to keep it in place. You give him a questioning look, to which he smirks, pressing another kiss to the inside of your thighs and then sitting up.

“There’ll always be a part of me inside of you now,” he explains, visibly satisfied at the thought.

What a weirdo. You decide to keep that to yourself. “Could you help me with the yukata again, please?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” he pretends to ponder, a hand on his chin. “I think I prefer it when you look like this. Besides, I still need to get revenge for how you so brazenly insulted me earlier. What was it again? I’m ‘conceited, insensitive, and stubborn to a fault’, right? Sorry, it doesn’t seem like I’m the type of person to help others in need.”

“What if someone looks in the window and sees me?”

A malignant shadow falls over his face.

“I’d tear them to pieces.”

“... Isn’t that overkill?”

“I sure don’t think so,” he twirls his finger in the air. “Now turn around before I change my mind."

Similar to earlier, he helps you into the yukata, though the atmosphere is far more pleasant. He’s humming a tune to himself as he ensures everything is in order. After he’s content with his handiwork, he pulls you down onto the futon, clinging to you from behind. A shower sounds heavenly right about now, but you’re doubtful he’s going to let you out of his sight tonight. If you’re being entirely honest with yourself, you don’t really mind.

Exhaustion hits you like a ton of bricks. This is made worse by the comfortable blankets he pulls over you both. Your eyelids flutter shut, the siren’s song of sleep luring you in. His soft breath tickles the back of your neck and makes you smile.

“Hey, [First], are you awake?”

“I think so.”

“Good, 'cause you need to hear this,” he inhales sharply, his next words coming out as a whisper. “I… I love you too.”

“Let’s stay by one another’s side then.”

“... Always?”

“Always.”

When the puppet falls asleep that night, he sheds tears in his dreams, though this time it is not from sorrow, but overabounding joy.

#i write sin like twice a year #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #reader insert #scaramouche brainrot #not sfw #my stuff

[velvet-paradox]

Balance

Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: Sebastian Krueger x Female reader Summary: your fuck buddy takes you in the shower. Length: Medium Tagging: @synnersaint @shyjellyfish26 @kosmokenny @butterscotch-babie @cesneo @deaddainish @allkot @jacket-slut99 @hers-area @1-fuzzy-squirrels @hailmesuckers @ella-bella-ella @spookylilbay @t6ylors @salamanderstuff @hh-spnxx @akii1833 @malyshka-3 @etoilebleue @gremlingottoosilly @talktothemoon2 Warnings: NSFW 18 + ONLY, strong language, explicit content, established relationship, voyeurisms (ya'll are fucking in a shower so that counts), unprotected p in v, swallowing, cum eating, detailed smut.

ENJOY!!!

He wasn't a creepy by any means, he was more observant; a fly on the wall, curious in nature. Intrusive thoughts lead to intrusive visions and the more he sat and dwelled on them the more obsessed he'd become. These feelings were not on his radar. There was no expectation, no limits, no planned process. Fly by the seat of his pants, devil may care, play things but ear but then he happened to meet you. And all that flew right out the fucking window.

Uh oh.

This was new, very new territory for the man. He'd been requested, specifically by a man named captain John Price of the 141. He'd be on retainer, handsomely paid, taken care of with the highest respect. With the sum he'd been offered who was he to turn it down? A little stint, all expenses paid as well, was a dream. As he thought of where he'd vacation after you had stepped into the frame. Shattered what resolve he'd had, the walls he'd neatly laid by hand, trauma after trauma.

You touched your ear, earrings dangling in the light and handed Price a neat stack of color coded folders one early afternoon. You looked at him. Sebastian thought you'd be nervous, skittish, afraid even by his head to toe covering, sitting widely at the back of the briefing room, taking up as much space as he needed. But you didn't. He'd later found out why.

He'd heard the name König once or twice in passing, a monster, a thief in the night, the boogeyman. If you weren't scared of König then there's no way you'd be scared of him. And you weren't. You were sweet on him just as he was to you. If he wasn't careful you'd give him a toothache.

It started with casual pleasantries.

Good morning, Krueger.

Gut Morgen my dear.

Two sugars, right?

No pickles.

You fell asleep once with your head against his bicep, exhausted, wiped out. Your head was so small in comparison to his arm, he could crush you like a bug. He'd done so with enemies of the past. He just looked down at you with a smile behind his head covering, blushing a little as you shifted deeper into his side.

You were never in field. Kept safe on base or at the rendezvous point. Out of sight, out of harm and yet even though you were never with him on the battlefield, you were on his mind. Maybe you felt it. Some telekinesis going on but as he laid low, out of harms way on a rooftop in the scorching Sahara, his comms crackled to life.

"Come in Krueger, what's your location?"

"Rooftop. Ten clicks south of the point, target inbound."

"Good. Ghost and Sergeant soap are on their way, wait for my go ahead before clearing the building."

"Roger that."

"Hey Sebastian?"

The sound of his birth name, coming from your mouth made him suddenly hyper aware and stiff. You only ever called him Krueger and it was in that very moment, that dusty hot second that he realized you'd canceled everyone else out, this was a one on one channel.

Alone.

"Ja?"

"You get this job done and make it back to base in one piece," your voice paused and returned momentarily with a smile he could only imagine. "I'll let you buy me dinner."

He'd never gotten a job done quicker than that. No wasted ammo, no casualties. His black heart was full and pumping when he boarded the helo, shoving their prisoner to the wall, seatbelt maybe a little too tight but for good reason, keep him for safe travel and questioning. He had a pep in his step and a grin on his face the whole time.

No one suspected a thing.

You were too cool, too aloof and breezy to let anything unsavory exist. He wondered how did it. How you could be so vulnerable, docile and submissive behind closed doors but be this calm outside of them. Balance, he supposed.

He watched you chat with Gaz, laughing at one of his many told jokes, one he'd heard a handful of times since joining the company. He could only muse how many times you must've heard it.

Kreuger leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed, listening but not paying any attention oh no. His sole attention was on you. How you smiled, the way you gently touched his Kyle's shoulder, the way your eyes glinted in the awful florescent lighting. The curve of your mouth, the tilt of your hip. The way your face changed when you caught him watching you.

You were trouble.

A brat.

The way you just so happen to let slip that you'd been needing a long hot shower after this exhausting week let him know your next move. Which meant Sebastian knew his.

It wasn't too long after departure did he venture out of his temporary quarters. A plain grey dresser and matching desk, walk in closet that was mostly bare save for a few key items and his toiletries, a decent king sized bed that he'd fucked you on all four corners of. The first of many late nights and bj's were had on those crisp sheets.

He waited until the rookies had their lights out checks before he slipped out of his room, a heavy towel around his bare shoulders, his tattoos and scars on display as he made his way down to the showers. Luckily the staff had their own private showers, no sharing or horseplay in there. There were at least stalls and cubicles for safety and privacy. Perfect. Krueger made sure the coast was clear before slipping into the room. The sound of a powerful shower head filled the space, warm steam and the scent of your body wash cloaked him in perverse glee. He double locked the door, holding onto the ends of his towel around his shoulders, Sebastian strutted through the locker room. He could hear you humming, coming around one of the corners he caught you with your face dripping with water, the palms of your hands at your eyes.

"Well what have we here?"

His thick accent made you jump and cover your not so private parts. You twisted and turned you're body to shield yourself.

"Krueger! You scared me you little perv, you're not supposed to be in here."

He laughed at your display, still soapy and slick. "I am not Krueger when we are alone, remember? Or… does my little toy need some reminding?"

"Sebastian!"

"What?"

"You can't… what if someone else is in here?"

"There isn't."

"How do you know?"

"Hallo!!??" He shouted, cupping around his mouth, he smiled in silence. "See? It's just you, me and the terrible water pressure."

You scoffed at that.

"Well… are you going to finish cleaning up or what?"

"With you watching?"

"Ja. Why not?"

"I feel like a goldfish." You admitted, still keeping some of your dignity which Krueger thought was cute.

"My dear, I have seen you much more compromising positions than simply bathing."

"That's not the point." You stuttered and looked down at your toes. "Should I perhaps join you then, schatzi? Would that be better?"

The water from your lashes streaked down your cheeks when you smiled and held out your soapy loofah. "Much."

….

He'd said it plenty of times before; you never looked better but each time it was a lie for the next time he got you alone. The suds of soap on your already soft and wet skin glistened in the low light, dripping down your arms, your legs, how the soap clung to your collarbones.

Beautiful.

Krueger removed his face covering, his belly flipped when you eyes him up and down as he stepped out of his sweats, kicking them aside along with his towel. Your traveling eyes only furthered his confidence as he came into your shower cubicle.

His wingspan was enough to block you in the tight quarters, the water rushed over your curves as you backed up, letting him into the space. His mind played tricks and thought intrusively that he could bust down these bricks like cardboard at the look you were giving him just then.

"Is this better, mein schatz?"

"Come closer." You breathed and moved around the shower, keeping your eyes locked on his as it was his turn to stand underneath the water. It splashed and dribbled down his body, his muscles warming in its delicate embrace.

Your hands looked so small whenever you touched him, going over his abdomen with the soapy loofah. He didn't mind that he'd be smelling like mango and shea. He found it pleasing, reminded him of you and suddenly the thought of having to buy a bottle of the stuff to occupy his toiletries once he left this place made him a little somber.

He didn't want to leave you.

The big killing man had a soft spot for you.

Sure, the others gave him shit for following you around like you had some invisible leash around his neck, he'd break fingers and backs of any of your enemies if given the lucky chance. He did so with ease because he was the one to warm your bed, make you laugh and hold you close.

Better to just fuck it out, his feelings could sort themselves down as they circled down the drain.

Your begging made him harder, you both knew his cock fit but to hear you beg for it, plead for him to give it to you made him feral. He grabbed your hip hard and placed your foot on the soap dish partition as he leaned forward, teasing you both as he tapped the head of his cock against your clit, slipping the shaft between your folds. He didn't press in right away, making you arch and pull him closer with a hand on the nape of his neck.

"Make it fit, Sebastian. Make it fit. Stretch me out." You whined, watching him rock his cock up against your folds, coating him with your arousal.

"That's what you want, hmm? Are you worried it won't?" Krueger teased, smiling at your focused face.

"I just…I just want it in me," you batted your lashes then, inching your pussy forward, begging for a little more friction, something only his cock could seem to reach. "I need you."

"Ah, and not just five minutes ago you were shooing me out of here, no? Now look at you, looking to get fucked in the showers by a visiting war criminal."

"Are you trying to turn me on even more?" Your giggle melted into a satisfied moan when he stuffed himself inside you. Thick, rock hard pulsing muscle sinking in deeper. You rested your head on his shoulder the closer he got.

"Oh fuck. That's it."

"This what you wanted, my dear? How quickly you fold for me, ja? How quickly your resolve leaves your body once you are full of me."

Krueger taunted, circling his hips as he held your ankle on the soap dish. His other hand came up to cup your breast as he really started to move and fuck you.

It was so hot and dirty, soap slick skin, sloppy wet kisses caught in between. You licked inside his mouth, your nails scratching down his back. You matched his enthusiasm, moving in unison.

Krueger planted his feet along the slick floor, grunting your name, panting out little phrases.

"Good girl."

"Keep it coming, baby. That's it."

"Good job baby, good job taking it all in."

"Ohhh you are really trying to milk my cock, hmmm? Go on then, squeeze me, squeeze it all out."

You sunk your teeth into his shoulder, keening and begging for more. The grey cloud of leaving you, this moment, this kind of sex crept around his shoulders. He hated it, shaking his head, wetting his face under the water.

"It's so good. You're so good," you cooed, petting his face and staring blissfully into his eyes. "So so good to me."

Krueger would be lying if your admittance didn't steal his breath. How you looked, in general and the way you looked at him like he was everything. Some precious jewel, a forbidden item. He licked his lips and kissed you hard, holding you somehow closer as his cock brushed up deep, nudging a spot inside your cunt that drove you wild. You bit his tongue.

"Oh shit, do that again! Fuck that's good."

"Ja, you like that? Like how I fit so perfectly in your perfect little cunt," Sebastian chuckled as you nodded frantically. "Wish I could take you with me. Keep you like trinket. Fuck, clench around me."

"I am." You moaned.

Sebastian paused, lifting your chin from his shoulder, cupping your cheek. He blinked rapidly.

"I put in a transfer."

"What? Why?"

"Why not? I'm not even from here!"

He gave you sideways look, brows coming together, broken pieces of him were being molded together, weaved together with whatever witchcraft you had. He would never get enough.

"Fuck yes." Krueger kissed you again, sweeter than the last but there was more feeling behind it. "You're mine. All mine now."

Your sobs for more boosted his already incredibly high ego, making him fuck you faster, made him feral with desire as he pinched your nipples, bit the side of your neck, groaned almost pathetically into your ear, licked the shell of it. He called you every beautiful word he knew, huffing when you sang his name.

"Fuck I'm… it's coming, I'm coming, Make me cum, please! I need it, I need it so badly. I'm gonna' cum so fucking hard, don't stop don't stop don't--"

"Atta' girl, there's my girl, Moan it out baby, let me hear it. Let me know how good you feel right now." Krueger sighed when you responded in kind, whining and throbbing your release around him. He wasn't going to last much longer either, everything felt so decadent and warm and safe.

Sebastian pulled out, fucking his fist instead but lost his balance as you suddenly dropped down to your knees, your hot mouth on his cock, tasting yourself along with his pre-cum made him groan. His breath hiccupped the deeper you took him down your throat.

"Fuck… that's it baby, good God you're so good at taking cock. Doesn't matter which hole. Swallow it down, that's it. Be a good girl, fuck… swallow it all down. It's coming baby, get that pretty mouth ready for me. I can't---I'm coming. Here it comes baby."

You looked like a goddess down there, swallowing his load, gulping it down. You barely showed him your empty mouth before he hauled your ass back up to your feet, crushing you into a sudsy embrace. He kissed you again, tasting everything.

"You are everything to me." He confessed.

"That's why I'm coming with you. Where you go, I go."

He'd figure something out, he thought as the water began to chill. Mixing business with pleasure was always a toss up, could make for a shaky foundation but that's the thing with balance.

#sebastian krueger #krueger #kruger cod #cod krueger #krueger x reader #krueger x female reader #krueger x you #sebastian krueger x reader #sebastian krueger x female reader #sebastian krueger x you #sebastian krueger imagine #krueger imagine #sebastian krueger fiction #sebastian krueger fanfic #sebastian krueger fanfiction #krueger fic #krueger fanfic #krueger fanfiction

[cariantha]

A Kiss on the Hand (Part 3️⃣)

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: General Warning: None Category: Hurt/Comfort; Angsty Fluff Word count: 2.9K Series Summary: After realizing just how much they mean to each other, Ethan and Sawyer express their love through a sweet hand gesture. A/N: Artwork by the incredible @/artbyainna on Instagram. This is a three-part series. Part three inspired by 400 Trillion by Justin Jesso and Like I Need You by Culture Code & Elle Vee.

Part One: Soulmates / Part Two: Always Three Times

Part Three: I Know What You Mean

It felt like a scene from a movie, where the character stands still as the world around them moves in fast motion. Sawyer was that character. Frozen in place as the emergency room swirled around at light speed. 

Megan, the nurse who received the dispatch from EMTs, darted down the hall to inform Dr. Edwards, the Head of Trauma. Other nurses jumped into action preparing the available trauma room for the inbound patient. And remaining staff members turned their heads and gasped as Ethan's name traveled between the exam curtains. 

Dr. Edwards soon appeared leading a team of gowned and gloved residents to the ambulance bay. As he strode past, he instructed the desk supervisor to page the Chief of Medicine. Jackie was among the group. She noticed the look of shock on Sawyer’s face as she rushed by and pointed at her. 

“Hey, Brooks, you good?” she called.

At her friend’s voice, Sawyer snapped to attention and lied with a nod. She shook the haze from her head and followed Jackie to the ambulance bay, grabbing a paper gown and a pair of gloves on the way.

She stood behind the others who waited in suspense, poised to spring into action as soon as the ambulance arrived. Sawyer barely managed to unfold and glide her arms into the gown. Her hands trembled violently, making it impossible for her to hold them still long enough to put on her gloves.

The crash of a metal door slamming against the wall startled her. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw Naveen hurrying in their direction. He shook his head in disapproval when he spotted Sawyer.

Meeting her watery, pleading gaze, Naveen took the gloves from her shaking hands and pulled the paper cover down and off. After tossing them into a nearby receptacle, he took her hands and held them between his own.

“As hard as it might be, Sawyer, we are both going to sit this one out and let the others take care of him. Okay?” He patted her hands, then looped her arm through his and held on tight. Naveen, though wise and level-headed, seemingly needed her support as much as she needed his. 

After waiting for what felt like an eternity, the sound of a siren and flashing red lights announced the arrival of Aid Car 23. The trauma team dashed out into the rain, returning seconds later with a gurney and an EMT calling out vital signs. Sawyer only saw the blur of a bloodied face as Ethan was wheeled past. His jacket and shirt had been cut open, and someone was using an Ambu bag to ventilate him, squeezing it over his mouth every few seconds.

No longer needed, the EMT stepped back. Sawyer threw her arm out to stop her.

“Holly, do you know what happened? How he got hurt?”

“They were at the scene of a car accident on the bridge. A woman was trapped in her car, and Dr. R was trying to stabilize her until the fire department got there to extricate. Nick said a large truck sped toward them. When the driver finally decided to hit the brakes, he hydroplaned and slammed into them. One of the officers said the truck driver was on his goddamn phone and not paying attention.”

Sawyer’s hand covered her mouth as she tried to process the information. “Oh my god … is … is Nick okay?”  

“Yeah, he’s fine. He had gone back to the rig for supplies and wasn’t hit. He was able to call for back-up.”

“And the person trapped in the car?” Naveen inquired. “Are they on their way?”

Holly shook her head no. “Nick said she was already in critical condition before the second impact. She was pronounced on scene.”

Another dispatch came in on Holly’s radio and she excused herself. 

Sawyer turned to Naveen. Unable to keep her composure any longer, she collapsed into his open arms. “I begged him not to go,” she cried into her grand-mentor’s shoulder.

Naveen softly patted her on the back, then pulled away to look her in the eyes.

“Sawyer, you know better than anyone … Once Ethan sets his mind to something, it’s difficult to convince him otherwise. Especially if it means saving lives.”

Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he led them to just outside the trauma room, where they watched the team assess Ethan's injuries through a sliding glass door.

Inside the small room, there was organized chaos. 

“Hemopneumothorax,” Edwards called out. “Prep for a thoracostomy and get Dr. Emery down here for a neuro consult. Stat.”

A minute later, he inserted a tube into Ethan’s chest wall. The vitals on the patient monitor began to improve, but Ethan was not out of the woods yet.  

“Dr. Edwards, he’s awake!” one of the residents trumpeted a few moments later. 

Ethan had opened his eyes. Confused, he surveyed the room as Dr. Edwards informed him that he had been in an accident. 

The rest of his body immobile, Ethan’s eyes darted around the room, scanning every face. 

“Soe?” he mumbled underneath the oxygen mask. 

“Ethan, you’re at Edenbrook…” Dr. Edwards continued explaining. 

“Soe?” he managed, his trembling voice a bit louder this time.

“We're treating you for a hemopneumothorax, and it looks like you took a nasty blow to the head.”

“Soe?” he asked again and again, each time a little more agitated than before. 

The staff all looked at each other with concern before Ethan closed his eyes and drifted off again. 

“Dammit! Where’s neuro?” Dr. Edwards vented.

Harper arrived a couple minutes later with Bryce, who was on her service for the week. One of the other residents provided a quick rundown of the case so far, including the fact that Ethan had been alert but incoherent. The neurosurgeon carefully inspected the laceration at his hairline and ordered a CT scan. 

“Ethan, can you open your eyes for me?” she asked, getting her penlight ready.

Ethan slowly fluttered his eyes open.

“Good. Do you know who I am?” 

She shone a light into his eyes and checked the dilation of his pupils.

“H-Harper.”

“Hi there, friend. Do you know where you are?”

“Hospital.”

She asked him a couple other simple questions to which he gave correct, but slow one-word responses.

“You did good, Ethan,” she laid her hand on his shoulder. Turning to Bryce and Jackie, she spoke softly, “Get him to CT right away.” 

Ethan scratched at her hand, trying to get her attention. When she looked at him, he moved the mask away from his mouth.

“Where’s … Soe?” he tried again, hoping his friend would understand. 

“Soe?” Harper repeated. 

The others in the rooms shrugged their shoulders and shook their heads.

But not Bryce. On the other side of the glass door, he saw Sawyer nervously chewing on her thumb nail. He met her anxious gaze and smiled as he immediately understood.

Bryce was familiar with the moniker. He had heard it before when working out with his friends at the hospital gym. 

He stepped forward so that Ethan could see his face. “She’s here, buddy. She’s right outside in the hall with Naveen,” Bryce answered, putting the mask back in place. 

They saw relief wash over his features before he closed his eyes once again.

A short time later, the residents prepared to take Ethan up to surgery, and Dr. Edwards and Harper updated the chief.

“...X-rays confirmed he has several broken ribs, which caused the hemopneumothorax. We’re taking him up to surgery to repair the damaged tissue. Tanaka’s already scrubbing in,” Dr. Edwards reported.

“He also has a small brain bleed that requires decompression. I should be able to resolve it with a simple burr hole procedure,” the neurosurgeon added. 

Harper put her hand on Sawyer's arm and gave it a light squeeze. “He was alert and responding to my questions. He was asking for you,” she said with a polite smile. Looking back to Naveen, “He’s in good hands. Tanaka and I will page you after the procedures.”

As the attendings took their leave, Jackie and another resident wheeled Ethan toward the elevator. With a tilt of her head, Jackie gave her friend permission to walk with them. Sawyer caught up and took his hand in hers. 

“Ethan, it’s me. It’s Sawyer,” she said as his eyes cracked open. “Hi, I’m here. And I’ll be here when you get out of surgery. I’ll be here the whole time.” 

As they waited for the elevator to arrive, Sawyer bent down and kissed his hand three times.

“You know what I mean, right?” she searched his eyes for understanding. 

Ethan gave a slight nod and whispered, "Yes."

A lone tear escaped from the corner of his eye. Sawyer quickly swiped it away with her thumb and kissed his temple.

When the elevator chimed, Naveen pulled her back. “Come dear, let’s go back to my office and call his father. We can wait there for further updates.”

<><><><><><><><><><>

It was just past 8 a.m. when Ethan was finally transferred to the intensive care unit. Throughout the day, Alan, Naveen and Sawyer received updates from Harper and Dr. Tanaka. The surgeries had been successful, and so far there had been no complications, but the next twenty-four hours would be critical. 

As day turned to night, Naveen offered to drive Alan back to Ethan’s apartment. The older men insisted Sawyer go home and get some rest, but she refused, wanting to be there when he woke up. 

Finally alone with him, Sawyer stood at Ethan’s bedside, drawing lines up and down his arm with her finger. 

“Hey you … it’s time to wake up now … even if just for a few minutes."

"I know you’re probably exhausted, and that you need the rest, but I really need to hear your voice and know that you’re okay."

"So … I’m sorry not sorry for what I’m about to do … and that’s to be a colossal pain in your ass. I’m going to stand here, and talk your ear off, until you wake up and tell me to shut up,” she let herself smile.

Sawyer took a moment to look him over. He looked so out of place lying in a hospital bed. He was meant to be the one standing next to it.

“You know … I wasn’t just kissing your ass when I told you I was your biggest fan. I meant it. I own three copies of Diagnostic Principles. I have a Google drive full of research papers and journal articles that you’ve authored. I even have a playlist of conference talks and podcasts,” she shook her head in self-amusement.

“Your approach to patient care … your forward-thinking techniques … the unbelievable diagnoses … all of it inspired me to become a doctor.”

She cupped her hand over his as if to soften the blow she was about to deliver.

“Though I have to confess … During my first week at Edenbrook … the saying ‘never meet your heroes’ came to mind several times. Geez, you were such an asshole,” she revealed.

“I also thought you were the most attractive man alive, but an asshole nonetheless.”

“Then … you let me see another side of yourself … I still don’t know why … but I’m grateful because I got to know the real you. I got to see you as Dolores’ friend … and Tadpole’s godfather … and Naveen’s adopted son … and then as my friend. And what I learned was that you are actually quite softhearted under all that armor. You are also generous … and loyal … honest … passionate … and protective … Oh, and don’t even get me started on that snarky sense of humor. Nobody makes me laugh the way you do.”

She exhaled a deep breath, gently squeezing his hand before continuing. 

“Despite your best efforts to prevent it … I fell for you, Ethan. And not just head over heels … it was more like a ‘leapt from a steep cliff, rolled down the side of a mountain, bounced off every boulder, splashed into the ocean, and drowned in you’ kind of fall.” 

“Hey, I saw that! I saw you roll your eyes underneath your eyelids," she chuckled.

Sawyer moved to sit on the edge of the bed, trying not to jostle him. She leaned forward and stroked his cheek ever-so-slightly.

“Do you remember that TED Talk where they mentioned that we have a one-in-four-hundred-trillion chance of being born?” 

She took a quick peek out the window, looking up at the night sky. 

“I can’t help thinking about that … against those odds, we never really stood a chance of ever meeting. But somehow … I stumbled upon your book … and my application to Edenbrook landed on your desk … and we were in that lobby at the same time.”

She bowed her head and wrung her fingers. 

“Our … our fight yesterday … that’s basically the root of it. We’ve overcome these impossible odds and found each other. And … and I’m so scared of all the ways that I might lose you.”

“Then you add another, going out in that storm and getting hit by a truck!” she cried out, taking his hand again and holding it in her lap.

“You and I both know the past two years have been far from perfect … but that’s us. That’s our brand. And I wouldn’t change a thing. If it was all that we’ve been through, or nothing, I would want it all … because I need you,” Sawyer’s voice cracked as tears rained down her cheeks.

“I need you, Ethan,” she wept. “I know you would say that I don’t, but I do. I would have thrown in the towel so many times if it weren’t for you believing in me. Fighting for me. And I’m not just talking about my career … you were there on my darkest days. You wouldn’t let me give up, and you never gave up on me. I could never, ever express how much that has meant to me … how much you mean to me … but I want to try. So you really need to wake up soon.”

Carefully leaning over him, she placed a barely there kiss on his forehead. 

“Babe … please … come back to me,” she whispered.

<><><><><><><><><><>

Sawyer dozed off in the armchair with her knees tucked under her chin. Sometime during the night, a thoughtful ICU nurse draped a blanket over her.  

“Soe,” said a low raspy voice.

It sounded like her family nickname. Ethan learned of it when he met Sawyer’s siblings, following the attack. Lately, he had been using the pet name more and more often to call her when they were alone together. Thinking she either dreamt it or misheard one of the nurses talking outside, she shifted a little and tried to fall back asleep.

“Soe … Sawyer?” 

There was no mistaking it that time. She opened her eyes to find Ethan looking at her, his hand outstretched beckoning her to come close.

She threw off the blanket and sprung to her feet, grabbing his hand and giving it a tender squeeze.

“Hiiiii,” her eyes welled with tears once again.

“Hi,” he stared back.

Sawyer looked at his bruised and battered face, and the bandage wrapped around his head. "How are you feeling?" she asked. "Do you remember what happened?"

The corners of his mouth turned up in a slight smile, “I feel like I got hit by a truck,” he half-joked.

“Give me one sec … Harper will want to know you’re awake.” Sawyer poked her head outside to inform one of the nurses and then returned to his side. 

He tapped the bed, inviting Sawyer to join him. Perched on the edge, she could no longer hold back the tears of relief that streamed down her cheeks as they gazed into each other's eyes.

Ethan slowly lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing it three times. 

“I know what you mean when you do that.” 

“I surmised as much. When did you figure it out?” he wondered. 

“You let it slip the night you got drunk,” she smiled, recalling the sweet moment.

“I see.”

Sawyer looked down at their clasped hands, Ethan's eyes following suit. They each steeled themselves to speak. To say those three little words.

It was Sawyer that worked up the nerve first.

“God, Ethan, I was so scared,” her voice shook. “I was scared that I was going to lose you and never be able to tell you how I feel. I’ve felt this way for a while, but I didn’t want to scare you away, or pressure you.”

She carried on, barely taking a breath.

“Had I figured it out sooner … had I realized you felt the same … I would have reciprocated. I would have said it back … out loud … and told you every day. So I’m going to do it now, and I don’t care if you–”

She was taken aback when Ethan pulled his hand away and pinched her lips shut to silence her rambling.

“I love you, Sawyer,” he voiced with a grin.

With a hint of laughter, she cried in relief.

Swatting his leg, “You just had to steal my thunder and say it first, didn’t you?” she laughed through her tears. 

“Well, technically, I already had,” Ethan smugly shrugged his shoulders.

Sawyer shook her head and brought his hand to her lips.

“I love you, Ethan." One kiss.

"I love you too." Two kisses.

"I love you so much.” Three kisses.

#open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfic #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #ethan x sawyer #choices stories you play #choices open heart #playchoices #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week

[adiduck]

Okay so the bad news is I was working on Operation Groundhog instead of TUO because I need the scene I wanna write to percolate a bit more--action needs to be choreographed for me before I dive in--and because I am a FOOL I picked a DIFFERENT action scene to write from a weird perspective (the thought was I'd at least get into an action mode) and the tension has been FIGHTING ME FOR A DAY

The good news is I think I fixed the tension (see below for Snippet Sunday snip). It's ROUGH still and probably will go through more iterations, but that's what the editing process is for.

The other bad news is I went 'okay great, this is by far the farthest along of any of my wips, how many PLANNED scenes are left and how many have I started?' and the answer, it turns out is twenty-one and... two. This is already 16.5k. Please pray.

Anyway, happy Sunday.

-

“The first part of the course is straightforward,” Mav told Ice, as they laid together in the dark that first night Mav was home. He raised his hands to demonstrate, miming holding a stick and throttle. “It’s just a roll to reach altitude into a steep bank, into an immediate second steep bank.”

Steep bank right away? Ice asked, and held up his tablet so Mav could read it.

“Yeah,” Mav said. “There’s an outcropping into the riverbed right there. It’s bank or impact solid rock.”

So it’s bank.

“So it’s bank.”

-

“Final attack point. Iceman is inbound.”

On the screen, the plane icon enters the course. It takes the first curve relatively smoothly, banks hard to make the second turn.

“Maverick is inbound,” comes the second confirmation, and the second plane icon enters the course, blipping into existence on the screen. 

The plane descends in the visual, takes the first bank, and then the second. In the training room, Ice lets himself smile a little, weirdly satisfied and a little nostalgic, ignores Simpson shifting next to him.

“They’ve made a lot of progress, sir,” Simpson says. “The issue is that the timeline’s so compressed--”

“I’ve read your reports, Beau,” Ice interjects, twirling his tablet stylus between his fingers. “That’s why I’m here.”

On the screen, the first plane--his younger self’s plane--enters its third sharp turn. Here we go, Ice thinks, as Cyclone stiffens next to him.

-

“It gets tricky by the third bank,” Mav said. “There’s another outcropping here, and it’s deep into the bed. Issue is, you banked so hard the second time, you need to hold your rudder as you adjust--skid yourself 45 degrees to the right as you change direction.”

A lot of rudder.

“But not too much,” Mav said. “Or your adverse yaw’s too much, and you either lose speed or you hit a cliff.”

Again.

“Again.”

-

For a moment, it’s clean. The icon slides past the two indicated outcroppings at an angle nearly 270 degrees from its starting heading, smooth and steady--

--and too long.

The icon veers right, drifts off the course line before its nose shifts hard left again. Too much rudder, Ice thinks, and his eyes narrow slightly as the plane icon slows, the altitude rises by about fifty feet. Ice doesn’t let himself grimace. 

Behind the first icon, the second plane takes the same turn on cue, smooth as anything, gap closing fast. That’s Mav, Ice thinks, reluctantly fond.

“Ice, I’m right on your ass, repeat I’m inching up on your tail,” comes the younger Maverick’s voice, even as the second icon’s angle shifts--adjusting attitude, slowing and climbing. “Hit the throttle.”

“I see you, I see you,” comes Ice’s younger counterpart’s voice--far too tense. Almost winded. Ice raises an eyebrow, doesn’t react more than that.

The younger Tom Kazanky’s on the course line again, holding steady but still too slow. Entering a series of easy s-curves, Ice knows--a deceptive chance to breathe. But a pause even so. There’s no reason for Ice’s younger counterpart to sound so--

“Don’t need you to see me, need you to speed up,” Maverick’s younger counterpart says. “We’re behind target, Ice.”

“I know,” younger Ice snaps, and alarms start going off in Ice’s head in the control room. “I hit turn three too fast, I’m adjusting.” The first plane icon speeds up on the screen, taking a turn tight and slightly off course to make up time. “Increasing speed by 2.5 knots.”

“Copy, you’re increasing speed. I’m maintaining initial speed of--shit!”

-

“The next three banks have to be fast, and exactly on target,” Mav said, “because they’re going around real mountain peaks. If you’re not actually moving at speed, you will have a real life fucking collision.”

-

On the screen, the first plane icon banks hard and abruptly, then climbs out of the course. Simpson stiffens next to him, sitting up straight.

“What’s happening?”

Ice doesn’t answer, watching the icon veer. It’s been a long time since he was in a plane, but he knows what that little glitch means, the way the altitude numbers drop and then catch themselves. That’s a stall, his younger self desperately correcting in an area filled with actual mountain summits--

And then the icon goes red to indicate a ‘missile strike’, and Simpson curses.

The icon freezes on screen.

“What’s his status,” Ice asks.

“The program won’t report it from this moment on,” Beau says, as the second plane icon comes up fast on the last known position of Ice’s younger self’s jet, veers away hard--too hard, sharp and reflexive--and clears the first icon by millimeters on the screen. Feet, the stats tell them, to the right of the icon and flashing red.

The plane icon goes red too--collision.

For a moment, Ice thinks it’s a real fucking collision.

“Ice, what the fuck! Status?”

Back in the training room, Ice takes a slow, deep breath. Simulated collision. Okay. Okay.

“Alright, I’m al--shit. I’m alright.”

“What was that, Ice?”

Good fucking question, Ice thinks, and keeps himself very purposely still, staring at the frozen icons on the screen. They’re off the course, now, so it tells him absolutely fucking nothing.

Ice misses being able to just get in a jet sometimes--full-bodied and fiercely. Usually, it’s not because it’d mean he’d get information faster than he can on the ground.

“Do we not have any cameras out there on the actual course?” he asks, keeping his voice mild.

“Captain Mitchell’s out there with eyes on them,” Cyclone says shortly.

On cue, the radio crackles again. “Dagger One, this is Mustang,” comes another version Maverick’s voice--a little deeper, a little more used. The older Maverick. Ice’s Mav. Thank fuck. “Not sure if you’re aware of this, son, but there are actual mountains out here you also need to be aware of.”

Shit.

“Yes, sir,” comes the younger Ice’s voice, near shaking with the tension that’s plagued it the whole time. “Too focused on the course, sir.”

Shit. If that was because he was focused on the course, Ice is retiring tomorrow and moving to the Virgin Islands.

Auditing was a mistake.

“I’ll say that’s probably true,” says Ice’s Mav, and for a second Ice thinks it’s to the thought--it’s not. Just a neutral response to the kid. There’s a tone Ice knows in Mav’s voice--calm in the face of a spiraling situation.

Damage control. Ice doesn’t let himself react. He can’t.

“Looked a bit like you were having some trouble on the bank, there, Lieutenant,” Mav continues.

“Too much rudder in the correction, sir.”

“Hm. Lieutenant Mitchell, what’s your status?”

“Clear of the course, sir.”

No shit, Ice thinks.

“Do you have eyes on your wingman?”

“Yes, sir. I have sight of Dagger One. He’s flying free and clear of the course.”

“Copy, you’re both free and clear of the course,” Mav says, still calm. There’s no way he doesn’t realize something’s wrong, Ice knows. He knows Ice almost better than Ice knows himself.

Ice keeps his face carefully neutral, flipping his stylus through his fingers casually as he listens. He can feel Cyclone’s eyes on him from the side, watching his reaction.

“Lieutenant Kazansky, are you safe to fly, or do you need an escort down?” Mav asks.

“I’m safe to fly, sir,” comes younger Ice’s voice, and that’s a bit of self-directed anger, too. He sounds shaken as all hell. God damn it, Ice should have seen this coming.

“Then, Lieutenant, you’re clear to return to base. Lieutenant Mitchell, take second position on the way in. Take a breather until debrief, gentlemen. Course is inactive.”

The screen shuts off. Neither plane had even made it to coffin corner.

Ice puts down his stylus.

“Well,” he says, voice scraping out of his throat. “They’ll have to do better than that.”

-

#adi is a writer #the process #wip snippets #six sentence sunday #operation groundhog au #icemav

[cephalog0d]

Batfic - "Try, Try Again" (Whumptober Day 14)

Rating: Mature

Category: Gen

Characters/Relationships: Stephanie Brown & Damian Wayne, minor Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Reverse Robins, Stephanie Brown is Spoiler, Damian Wayne is Nightwing, Blood, Minor Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Gunshot Wounds, Stephanie-Brown centric, Stephanie Brown Needs A Hug, Stephanie Brown Gets A Hug, Good Sibling Damian Wayne

Summary:

Steph hadn’t been fast enough. There had been a shout, and a gun, and she had rushed to intervene but then there had been a shot, and there was blood, and running footsteps, and she had to do something, she had to try to help because she had been too slow to stop it from happening. The shooter was long gone. Maybe Tim was tracking him, maybe someone else would grab him, Steph couldn’t think about it, the man he had shot was on the ground and bleeding and she couldn’t think about anything else. A young Spoiler learns first hand how quickly a simple night of patrol can go badly. No. 14: “Feed me poison, fill me ‘till I drown.” Flare | Water Inhalation | “Just hold on.”

Ages: Steph - 15, Tim - 16, Damian - 21 This is set very early on in Steph's Spoiler career, so she's still pretty new at handling some of the darker elements of crime fighting in Gotham City.

Steph hadn’t been fast enough. There had been a shout, and a gun, and she had rushed to intervene but then there had been a shot, and there was blood, and running footsteps, and she had to do something, she had to try to help because she had been too slow to stop it from happening. The shooter was long gone. Maybe Tim was tracking him, maybe someone else would grab him, Steph couldn’t think about it, the man he had shot was on the ground and bleeding and she couldn’t think about anything else.

“Help is coming,” she told him, ripping bandages out of her belt and pressing hard on the hole in the man’s chest. Red rushed up around her gloves (God those were probably filthy, there was no way they were good to have around an open wound) and he gasped, bloody foam leaking out of his mouth, and that was bad, that was very bad, but there was nothing else she could do. She wasn’t a medic, she didn’t have equipment, she had basic first aid supplies and training and none of that was up to dealing with this but she couldn’t just do nothing.

“Just hold on,” she said, trying to put as much warmth into her voice as she could since her face was hidden by her mask, and the blank darkness with big white eyes was definitely not designed to be comforting.

Tim was in her ear, relaying ETAs for an ambulance and updates on the shooter, but she was having trouble processing any of that. The bandages were saturated with blood and it had covered her hands completely up to her wrists and it was still coming. She pressed down harder, knowing that it had to be agonizing but not knowing what else to do to stop it.

“I’m sorry, I know, just hang on, just a little longer,” she said desperately. She could hear a distant siren but it was Gotham, she had no idea if it was headed for her or not, and it was hard to focus on anything besides the horrible choking gasps the man was making as he struggled to breathe, the way his eyes were wide with fear and pain.

“Spoiler!” Tim shouted in her ear in the way that said he had been saying it for a while. “Answer me!”

Steph took a deep breath and tried to wrangle her scattered thoughts.

“I’m here,” she said. “It’s bad.” Terrible status report, Stephanie, get it together. “Civilian injury, gunshot wound to the chest.”

“There’s an ambulance inbound, but it’ll be a few minutes.”

“Okay,” she said numbly. The man’s breathing had gone short and shallow, and his eyes were mostly closed and this was all her fault for not being fast enough, she couldn’t just walk away and leave him. Even if she was pretty sure the ambulance would be too late.

(Cont. on AO3)

#whumptober2023 #no. 14 #'Just hold on' #batfam #fic #blood tw #minor character death tw #reverse robins #stephanie brown #damian wayne #ceph writes things #(i haven't gone to bed yet so it still counts as the 14th shhhhh)

[nuancedeaths]

I'm in the process or rewriting ALL of the modern warfare reboot canon to fit my Ghoap agenda and do a fix it of mw3. I'm committing parts directly to paper out of certain canon bits and changing others I don't agree with, but for now, here's a part taken directly out of canon, word for word.

This fic will be available on ao3 as a slow burn Ghoap fic once Im finished writing. I've posted the first section here:

WARNINGS: guns, blood, graphic depictions of violence (exactly as it is in canon)

FLASHPOINT

VERDANSK, KASTOVIA

6 APRIL 2019 1500

The over chewed wad of gum was bland in his mouth and did little to soothe the tension in Soap’s system as he cast a glance out at the world beyond the passenger window, seeing it pass in a smear of colour. 

 Heart racing a mile a minute, his anger was only spurred by the comms in his ear as Shepherd's voice came through, confirming the worst. 

“Gold Eagle to Bravo-6. Security confirms gunfire and at least one explosion in the stadium with multiple injuries, over… “

He watches the world in the muted grey of Autumn fade from obliviousness to panic as they neared the stadium, seeing the world descending into chaos around them. 

Price reached to press the button on his mic, face setting into a hard look as he yanked the wheel hard for the upcoming turn. “Copy, we’re inbound now.” 

Shepherd’s response was instant. 

“Be advised, Makarov and his men may still be inside. If he’s there, you bring him out– alive.”

Soap felt uneasy about letting the man go with his life, but pushed the concern down, silencing the thought with his own acknowledgement of the order, but it did nothing to ease the growing concern as he caught onto the shifting energy on the street around them. 

“Roger that. Where’s medical?” 

Soap couldn’t make out any words from the civilians outside or let his eyes linger long enough to analyse any of the reactions properly, but they were close enough to the stadium that he knew they must have heard something.

“First responders will not enter until the scene is clear. The third floor VIP lounge may be Makarov’s next target.” Shepherd’s voice was clear and calm as he spoke, but it instantly added another thread of anxiety to the mix and Soap can’t stop himself from cursing as Price took another left, narrowly dodging past a truck on the corner and putting them on a street funnelling to the stadium dead ahead. 

“You said it, son,” Shepherd acknowledges Soap over comms. “Ghost and I are ten mikes out. Let's bag this bastard. Out here.” 

The high rise office blocks seemed to shuffle them forward and usher them out to the open air, now enough for Soap to smell the acrid smoke emanating from the stadium in a rolling curtain of grey heat.

A car swerves onto the road and shoots past them at a speed as they merge onto the main road, panic palpable in the erratic driving of those still on the road and fleeing the scene.

The fear ripples through the crowd like a curtain of panic holding the world in a vice grip and descending over the street like a dire blanket of fear. Even the dying leaves on the trees seemed more dead and wilted into themselves with an unseen oppression, like an incursion of an unknown force pushing hostile tendrils into the ground that the earth itself, and by extension, the trees on the sidewalk, seemed sharp and alert to the whims of its enemy. 

The bleak sky was barren like the sun had withdrawn into itself to make way for the undulating spire of smoke curling into the sky before them from the blazing inferno that leaked from the burst windows of the structure, weeping fire. 

Unconsciously, his hand went for the chain around his neck, but it was obscured by his tactical vest and the lack of that comfort made him feel like he was floating in a sea of disarray with no anchor point. 

“Makarov threatened the airport and hit the stadium instead,” Soap seethes through gritted teeth. Even Sergeant Burns, who had been quiet up until that point, had something to say to the carnage. 

“He’s a fuckin’ madman.” 

A row of orange boom gates that was meant to be blocking off the entrance to the stadium’s underground parking was raised for the hurried exit of the cars, now descended into complete disarray as a car drives straight out through the wrong gate into the incoming lane and almost collides with their vehicle. 

“Fuckin’ hell!” Price cursed as he swerved aside for it, missing it by a hair’s breadth and gunning it to the middle gate before another car could block them off. 

“Civilians are everywhere,” Burns noted, sounding as thoroughly shaken as Soap felt. 

Soap resists the urge to look back at the blaze beside him as Price turns down the ramp to the parking lot. 

“Alright,” Price begins, gathering their collective attention. “Check your shots. We’ll have a lot of unknowns inside.” 

Civilians are fleeing on foot and he doesn’t stop when a man trips on the incline of the road and scuttles out of the way before an oncoming car has the chance to plough him over. 

“And Makarov?” Soap risks a glance back over to the stadium, now towering over them like a lit funeral pyre. 

“You heard the order. ROE still stands. We take him alive.” 

Soap jolted when two cars collided in front of them and glass skittered across the junction. Price had been so fixated on the collision that he didn't notice the civilian rushing in front of them until Soap shouted at him to stop. 

There’s a heavy thud against the hood of the car and for a sickening moment, Soap worries they’ve hit her, but when she stands up unharmed, he breathes a sigh of relief. 

Irritably, Price gestures wildly for her to get out of the road. “Get out of here! Go!” 

They watch her stumble disoriented from their path before shooting off ahead into a dark tunnel. Cars piled up on the outgoing lane and Soap shouts for Price to watch it when a desperate soul reaching the back of the row decides to take a risk and turn onto the incoming lane, narrowly missing them again.

“Close one,” Soap says, trying to make sense of the cacophony of panic surrounding them as he watches for more civilians on foot and desperate cars. 

“We’re still in one piece,” Price concedes mirthlessly as he turns off from the incoming tunnel into a wider section that splits off to a higher floor. 

“Watch it!” Burns cries from the back. 

The wailing of an ambulance siren cuts through the panic and the oncoming glow of a pulsing red light gives them enough of a warning to get out of the way as it rushes past them and they turn up onto the ramp to the higher floor. 

For a moment, Soap has the chance to think its blessedly empty, save for a parked ambulance in his peripheral vision until he witnesses a speeding car mow down a civilian, letting the rest of the group erupt into panic as he reversed and rerouted. 

Soap curses as he glances back at the contorted form of the man as Price drives them past, determination set in his face. 

They can’t afford to go back for him now, probably dead on impact by the look of it, but that wasn’t their concern now. 

“This is chaos,” Burns says. 

“Yeah, it's what Makarov wants,” Price confirms. 

Their concern was Makarov and getting that sick son of a bitch behind bars. Soap sends up a quick prayer for the man now, knowing he’ll forget to do it when they’re out of here and he has time to think, it will be lost to the chaos of the day.

#call of duty #fanfiction #this is all for my slow burn ghoap fic #modern warfare iii #john soap mactavish #cod #john price #the anatomy of starved dogs

[starboundsingularity]

Um- hello there! Nice to see you guys stopping by my blog.

So uh- I've got some unfortunate news......

You see, as I'm writing this post, asks that I have yet to answer are slowly piling up in my inbox. And I'm starting to lose the motivation to write the prompts out. For awhile now, actually. I seemingly have no more ideas and don't have enough creativity juice in this noggin o' mine to actually produce anything else.

So, it is with great displeasure that I must announce that this au might be- discontinued. Which is really sad to me, because new people that are expecting *new* stuff are piling in! But I truly don't have the energy to continue this little project.

Well, now that it's kind of...over, for this. What happens next?

I figured that since I'll most likely not use the leftover concepts that's been cookin' in my head for this au- I might aswell share it with you all right now! So buckle up, buttercup. We're going out with a bang.

(WARNING: EXTREME RAMBLINGS INBOUND)

Okay! So, one of the more prominent concepts that I was planning on expanding involved mask and the rest of Team Cyan! For those who saw the post involving his headshot, you would have noticed that he was a bit...melty. And that's cause he is! And the rest of his team too!

Managing to survive the Nils Statue that started it all, Team Cyan stayed in inkopolis since day one. Surviving off of scraps and scavenging resources from abandoned apartments, they found no reason to leave. They were sneaky after all. Falling into whatever slime coated the city was the least of their problems. (And since the early stages of the ooze were relatively harmless, they were almost completely unscathed.)

Of course, the ooze slowly started to develop over time. And so did its potency. So without realizing- (or maybe they just didn't care) Team Cyan were exposed to the effects of the hive in an extremely slow process. By the time the hive reached a point where it could actually move around and "hunt", Mask and Co. Weren't even considered potential targets. To the hive, they were so close to the edge of joining that it cant even tell them apart from itself.

So yea! They're slowly yet surely becoming one with the hivemind. Woopsies.

Second major concept!!!

One of my favorite perspectives during the blog was with Prince and N-Pacer, and that was mainly because I was planning a huge story thing even before I started the whole blog!

For those who remember, they weren't able to recover Emperor and the rest of Team Monarch when the Nils Statue hit- as they were the only two together during the massive event. Prince is in denial, while N-Pacer assumed the worst. (Which played into her overprotective nature of his brother.)

So the thing is- Emperor is actually dead. Just gone. One with the cephalopod smoothie. And I wanted a moment where Prince snuck away from N-Pacer in the middle of the night to try and scavenge for himself, leading him to be isolated in the woods of Mt. Nantai.

And guess who's there with him!!!! That's right baby!!! The ooze is there!!!! And what can mimic voices????? THE OOZE!!!!

So using emperor's voice, the sentient Mt. Dew slushie almost lures Prince into an ambush- before N-Pacer manages to scare it away at the last second! She scoops up Prince, and a chase ensues.

They would escape, and would leave Mt. Nantai due to the fact that their safe space was now infiltrated. The duo would eventually meet up with Aloha's group, but that's about it.

And the last concept that I kinda scrapped rather quickly but I thought it was cool enough to include it anyways- there was a point where there would be a major twist in the blog where you guys: the askers- were the ooze all along!!! Trying to gather information about our protagonists to hunt them down! But unfortunately, it didn't make that much sense to me. How would they connect to the character's communication line? What would happen once they figure out the truth? Stuff like that. Alas, it was neat.

So! That's the end of it!

You all were an absolutely amazing audience, and I had a blast with the little time we had together. There's no end to the amount of thanks I need to give, truly! But this story needs to come to an end.

(Unless someone wants to continue it *cough*)

So, yeah. It's been fun everybody! I'll see you on the flipside.

-The Author

[247callcenterservice]

In today's digital age, where customer satisfaction reigns supreme, businesses are constantly seeking ways to improve their customer service operations. Among the various channels available for customer interaction, inbound voice processes continue to hold significant importance. This essay delves into the intricacies of inbound voice processes, exploring their significance, key components, challenges, and strategies for enhancing customer experience.

Significance of Inbound Voice Process

Inbound voice processes serve as a direct communication link between customers and businesses. They play a crucial role in addressing customer queries, resolving issues, and providing support in real-time. Unlike other communication channels such as email or chat, inbound voice processes offer a personalized touch, allowing customers to interact with a live agent who can understand their concerns and provide immediate assistance. This human element fosters trust and strengthens the bond between the customer and the brand.

Key Components of Inbound Voice Process

Call Routing Systems: Efficient call routing ensures that customers are directed to the appropriate department or agent based on their needs, reducing wait times and enhancing efficiency.

Interactive Voice Response (IVR): IVR systems greet callers with automated menus and assist them in navigating through various options before connecting them to a live agent. Well-designed IVR systems streamline the call process and improve customer satisfaction.

Agent Training and Knowledge Management: Well-trained agents equipped with comprehensive product knowledge are essential for delivering exceptional customer service. Continuous training and access to updated information empower agents to address customer queries effectively.

Quality Assurance and Monitoring: Regular monitoring of calls helps in assessing agent performance, identifying areas for improvement, and maintaining service quality standards.

Call Analytics and Reporting: Analyzing call data provides valuable insights into customer behavior, preferences, and common issues, enabling businesses to optimize their processes and tailor their services to meet customer needs effectively.

Challenges in Inbound Voice Process

High Call Volumes: Managing peak call volumes can be challenging, leading to increased wait times and customer frustration. Businesses must implement effective strategies such as call queuing and workforce management to handle fluctuations in call traffic.

Agent Burnout: Dealing with a continuous stream of customer queries can take a toll on agent morale and productivity. Employing techniques to manage stress, providing adequate breaks, and offering opportunities for skill development can help mitigate agent burnout.

Language and Cultural Barriers: Serving a diverse customer base requires agents to be proficient in multiple languages and sensitive to cultural nuances. Implementing language support services and cultural training programs can bridge these communication gaps and enhance customer satisfaction.

Integration with Other Channels: Seamless integration of inbound voice processes with other communication channels such as email, chat, and social media is essential for delivering a consistent omnichannel experience. This integration enables customers to switch between channels effortlessly while maintaining continuity in their interactions.

Strategies for Enhancing Customer Experience

Personalized Service: Tailoring interactions to suit individual customer preferences fosters a sense of importance and strengthens customer loyalty. Collecting and leveraging customer data effectively allows businesses to offer personalized recommendations and solutions.

Reduced Wait Times: Implementing efficient call routing systems and optimizing agent workflows can significantly reduce wait times, thereby enhancing customer satisfaction. Offering self-service options through IVR and online portals further expedites query resolution.

Empowered Agents: Empowering agents with the authority to make decisions and resolve issues autonomously instills confidence in customers and leads to faster problem resolution. Providing agents with access to comprehensive knowledge bases and support resources equips them to handle a wide range of queries effectively.

Continuous Feedback Mechanism: Soliciting feedback from customers at various touchpoints allows businesses to identify areas for improvement and gauge customer satisfaction levels. Analyzing feedback data helps in implementing targeted strategies to address customer pain points and enhance service quality.

Embracing Technology: Embracing emerging technologies such as artificial intelligence (AI) and natural language processing (NLP) can streamline inbound voice processes and improve efficiency. AI-powered chatbots can handle routine queries, freeing up human agents to focus on more complex issues, while NLP enables automated analysis of customer sentiments and preferences.

In conclusion, inbound voice processes play a pivotal role in shaping the customer experience landscape. By focusing on key components, addressing challenges, and implementing strategies for enhancement, businesses can leverage inbound voice processes to deliver superior customer service and foster long-term customer relationships. As technology continues to evolve, businesses must remain agile and adaptable, embracing innovation to stay ahead in the ever-changing customer service landscape.

#Inbound voice processes

[mrsketchy]

4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw

8. What's an old project idea that you've lost interest in

9. What are your file name conventions

10. Favorite piece of clothing to draw

11. Do you listen to anything while drawing? If so, what

12. Easiest part of body to draw

Sorry for the wait! Here goes~

Long Post inbound!

4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw?

Fanart is very intimidating, especially when it comes to complex designs with lots of details. Currently I'm a big Genshin fan but all the characters give me grief.

8. What's an old project idea that you've lost interest in?

Going way back to Deviantart, I started a roleplay worldbuilding project with a friend called DNAnarchy.

Unfortunately, it was too ambitious for our skill sets and attention spans. A lot of the characters still live on, either recycled or redesigned to better suit our new aesthetic preferences. I still have the Lore sitting in the back of my mind, but I doubt I'll do much with it.

That's not even starting to touch upon the comics I'd love to make.

9. What are your file name conventions

For the longest time, I would use keysmashing ie: asqwerkljn.jpg.

After a few unfortunate computer crashes or reformatting, I eventually sucked it up and sorted everything into folders based upon original characters/fanart/roleplay.

File names that would be a combination of Character name/Pairing name + verb/noun and usually with some janky spelling to stop accidental duplicates of the same subject manner.

It took a long time to relearn this new system, but now it's so much easier to find anything in a pinch.

10. Favorite piece of clothing to draw

The easy answer would be shoes/boots, they're always challenging and fun to design!

A more in depth answer would be:

There are a lot of repetitive shapes/angles in my drawings. If you know what to look for, you'll find them everywhere. My favourite bits usually involve this specific squiggle S shape that can be found in zippers, ribbons, frills, shoe laces, tassels, etc.

11. Do you listen to anything while drawing? If so, what

Most of the time I'll listen to a variety of true crime podcasts/youtube videos. So long as hosts have a voice cadence that I can follow easily without subtitles/video (since processing what people are saying is a difficulty for me)

On the other hand, I also enjoy Distractible, video game long plays or media analysis (youtube video essays). Essentially, just having people ramble on helps me keep focus.

12. Easiest part of body to draw

A cool stylistic trick I use is solid shadows to block out shapes, this means I can essentially cheat by technically not drawing certain body parts at all and your mind fills in the rest.

Most commonly I use this for under the jaw, and it will very quickly make a face pop out.

Thank you for your questions!

If you've enjoyed these, please check out the original post below

feel free to ask something off script too~

Weirdly Specific Artist Ask Game

Support me on Ko Fi

#ask game #artists on tumblr #mrsketchy

[omrasolutions23]

 WHAT IS  VOICE BLEND PROCESSING?

Any Voice Blend Process used by a company is a series of steps that a salesperson selects to guide a potential customer through from the very beginning of awareness to a closed transaction.

We at OMRA Solutions support well-known brands in their efforts to generate income and plan strategically for their sales process. We are assisting them in increasing their business revenue. BPO voice process We have the expertise to recognize the needs of clients and present their goods and services in a precise manner with in-depth product/service knowledge, and they will undoubtedly profit from the same.

Our globules dedicated team:

Manage more calls

Customer support service

 Experts are available for Quality Check

#bpo voice process #outbound voice process #inbound outbound services #OMRA Solutions

[jarael]

"Oh!  I almost forgot!" Tataru raised a single finger in the air, her grin taking up her whole face.  "I know we had to make sure that all the Scions woke up, but there's a couple of very special guests waiting for you, Sigrun." Sigrun's heart swelled, her pulse quickened.  She had a very good feeling who the guests were.  And sure enough, talking with the Scions who weren't summoned to the First, was a petite, raven haired Raen, holding a young half Viera, half Elezen kit. "Yugiri!"  Sigrun nearly tripped over herself.  "Rain!  My dears..." The child's face lit up, reaching for their parent.  "Bappy!" Sigrun pulled them both close, her emotions catching in her throat.  "I've missed you so much..." Yugiri stood on tiptoe to kiss her partner's neck.  "I've missed you too.   Rain and I have gotten closer in your absence."  She looked up with a soft, loving look in her eyes, but then noticed the change in the Viera’s hair.  "Your highlights...is this a new look?" "Aye, and not a willing change.  It's permanent, too." "Not a willing change...?" Sigrun noticed Rain studying the highlights.  They were a toddler; a question was inbound.  "Rain, do you remember Feo Ul?" "Yeah!  Feo Ul told me you were busy beating up big scary monsters!" "Well, those big scary monsters made Bappy really sick."  The full truth would have to wait until the child was older.  Even now, the memory of everything turning to Light in her vision; Emet-Selch gleefully going on about the Rejoining he and his fellows wanted; the fear in Ryne's eyes...no child could process that.  At 30, Sigrun could barely process it.  She had been running on autopilot until Ardbert had come up to bat for the assist. The thoughts that kept running through her mind...would she see Yugiri again?  Her friends?  Her child?  Sometimes, she heard a voice in her dreams say "not yet, not yet". A single tear had slid from Yugiri's eye.  "You'll have to explain more to me, over dinner."

#ffxiv #fanfic #shadowbringers spoilers #yugiri mistwalker #sigrun bosco #rain greystone #otp: brass in pocket

[voip78]

Revolutionizing Customer Service: The Power of VoIPTech’s Call Center Solutions

In the dynamic realm of call centers, efficiency and reliability are non-negotiable. Every call matter, and seamless communication is the cornerstone of success. At VoIPTech, we understand the challenges faced by call centers and are committed to providing innovative VoIP solutions to address them. In this blog, we explore how our VoIP minutes services and advanced dialer software are revolutionizing call center operations across India.

VoIP Minutes Provider:

VoIPTech stands as a trusted VoIP minutes provider, delivering the reliability and flexibility that call centers need to thrive. Our VoIP technology ensures crystal-clear voice quality and uninterrupted communication, empowering call centers to handle inbound and outbound calls with ease and efficiency.

Advanced Dialer Software:

Our cutting-edge dialer software is designed to streamline call center operations and maximize agent productivity. From predictive dialers to auto dialers, our solutions automate the dialing process, enabling agents to focus on meaningful conversations and deliver exceptional customer service. With features like call routing and real-time analytics, our dialer software empowers call centers to optimize their resources and drive results.

Call Center Service Provider:

At VoIPTech, we go beyond providing VoIP solutions – we partner with call centers to ensure their success. From setting up virtual call centers to providing ongoing support and maintenance, our team of experts is dedicated to delivering comprehensive solutions tailored to the unique needs of each business. With VoIPTech as your call center service provider, you can trust that your operations are in capable hands.

DID Telephone Numbers:

Our DID telephone numbers offer unparalleled flexibility for call centers, enabling seamless call routing and enhancing customer experience. With DID numbers, call centers can assign unique numbers to individual agents or departments, streamlining communication and improving efficiency. With VoIPTech's DID telephone numbers, scaling operations and adapting to changing business needs has never been easier.

Conclusion:

At VoIPTech, we are committed to empowering call centers with innovative VoIP solutions that drive efficiency, productivity, and success. With our VoIP minutes services, advanced dialer software, and comprehensive support, call centers can elevate their operations and deliver exceptional customer service. It's time to revolutionize your call center with VoIP solutions from VoIPTech.

voice over internet protocol

voice services

voip for small business

voip minutes provider

voip minutes services

voip service providers

voip service providers in india

auto dialer software in india

best business voip service

best digital marketing services

best voip minutes

best voip service

bulk sms services

call center dialer software

call center service provider

dialer for call center

dialer software for call center in india

did telephone number

#voiceoverinternetprotocol #voiceservices #voipforsmallbusiness #voipminutesprovider #voipminutesservices #voipserviceproviders #voipserviceprovidersinindia #callcentersolutions #contactcentersolutions

[voipsolution123]

Empowering Call Centers: Enhancing Operations with VoIP Solutions from VoIPTech

In the dynamic realm of call centers, efficiency and reliability are non-negotiable. Every call matter, and seamless communication is the cornerstone of success. At VoIPTech, we understand the challenges faced by call centers and are committed to providing innovative VoIP solutions to address them. In this blog, we explore how our VoIP minutes services and advanced dialer software are revolutionizing call center operations across India.

VoIP Minutes Provider:

VoIPTech stands as a trusted VoIP minutes provider, delivering the reliability and flexibility that call centers need to thrive. Our VoIP technology ensures crystal-clear voice quality and uninterrupted communication, empowering call centers to handle inbound and outbound calls with ease and efficiency.

Advanced Dialer Software:

Our cutting-edge dialer software is designed to streamline call center operations and maximize agent productivity. From predictive dialers to auto dialers, our solutions automate the dialing process, enabling agents to focus on meaningful conversations and deliver exceptional customer service. With features like call routing and real-time analytics, our dialer software empowers call centers to optimize their resources and drive results.

Call Center Service Provider:

At VoIPTech, we go beyond providing VoIP solutions – we partner with call centers to ensure their success. From setting up virtual call centers to providing ongoing support and maintenance, our team of experts is dedicated to delivering comprehensive solutions tailored to the unique needs of each business. With VoIPTech as your call center service provider, you can trust that your operations are in capable hands.

DID Telephone Numbers:

Our DID telephone numbers offer unparalleled flexibility for call centers, enabling seamless call routing and enhancing customer experience. With DID numbers, call centers can assign unique numbers to individual agents or departments, streamlining communication and improving efficiency. With VoIPTech's DID telephone numbers, scaling operations and adapting to changing business needs has never been easier.

Conclusion:

 At VoIPTech, we are committed to empowering call centers with innovative VoIP solutions that drive efficiency, productivity, and success. With our VoIP minutes services, advanced dialer software, and comprehensive support, call centers can elevate their operations and deliver exceptional customer service. It's time to revolutionize your call center with VoIP solutions from VoIPTech.

voice over internet protocol voice services voip for small business voip minutes provider voip minutes services voip service providers voip service providers in india auto dialer software in india best business voip service best digital marketing services best voip minutes best voip service bulk sms services call center dialer software call center service provider dialer for call center dialer software for call center in india did telephone number