"What the hell are you and why are you following me?" I demanded, angrily, as I rubbed my sore arms. "I am a Specially Created Observational Technological Trainee, otherwise known as an S.C.O.T.T. Your safety is my top priority. I have been trained to tend to my human," he explained. Ok, I could play along. "Well, S.C.O.T.T is too much to say, so I'm going to call you Scott, is that ok?" I asked. "If it is ok with you, then it is ok with me," he replied. "Ok cool, so...how do I get rid of you?"

"We all make mistakes, officer. It happens to the best of us." "Really? Well what if I told you that he isn't who you think he is?" - When an innocent teenager rises from the dead, he is forced to leave his old life behind. But when he runs into some familiar company, his heart throws him for a loop. - Can you fall in love with a killer? Even your own?

You can't help but fall for the charm of a sweet southern boy like him.

"we should call a sex hotline!" surprisingly, it was the best worst idea.

Hello again my friends, and welcome to my latest long-format story. This one is gonna be a bit different. It is very very VERY AU, so just go with it as it's set in a fictional world and time. It hopefully goes without saying that this is 1000% fiction and anything here about real people is just a story and doesn't necessarily represent them or even my opinion of them. Cool? Okay. Credit for that insane book cover goes to the incredibly talented @Eliak22. I gave her one pic and half of an idea and she completely nailed it. My plan is to showcase her and other artists throughout the story, so be on the lookout for that. I expect this will be a fair bit smuttier than my other long stories, for those of your thirsty folk. But it definitely does have plot for those of you that skim the other stuff. I won't put warnings up cuz it's just not my style, haha. Also, Scomavilex. You're welcome.

"Police! Open up!" I yell, banging again. I steel myself as this time I hear the locks click-clunk and see the door pull back slowly to reveal a half-naked blond bear of a man, who fucking towers over me. He's standing, blocking the doorway, with a frying pan in one hand and an aerosol can in the other. His face is flushed, his chest heaving with exertion, eyes wide with adrenaline, and his bare torso is glistening with sweat. He adjusts the grip on the pan and I see the muscles of that arm ripple underneath the monochrome sleeve that adorns it. Shit. Why the fuck did I not call for back up? (Aka the failed one shot. From the ship that sails itself.) Some content is mature. Caution advised, but specific trigger warnings will be given where appropriate. Note: AWOOGA is used to label the dirrrrrrty chapters.