Chapter Text
Biograft was doing its normal procedures.
Powering on at the beginning of the sun’s rising. Patrolling the labs of its creator for approximately two to three hours. Reporting any changes in the area if found. Assisting its creator in experimentation if need be. Watching over an empty lab if its creator ordered it to be.
The usual.
It was in the process of doing the last item in that list; watching over an empty lab. According to its creator, he planned to use it later so he didn’t want anyone else to use it until he got there. So, Biograft has been taking laps around the lab and inspecting the equipment to assure that nothing went wrong with its creator’s experiments that were to happen.
The one thing it hasn’t inspected, however, was the computer in the corner on a standing desk. The desk was at a taller height than it, looking more like the height of its creator. Biograft found a stool nearby and brought it over to the desk. It stood on the stool and turned the computer on to inspect it.
It was not expecting such an odd website to be open. It was one where someone could log in, but whoever last used it had logged out. The website was white and red, and had text at the top that said, ‘Archive of Our Own’. An archive? What information was stored here? Biograft looked at the text in the main body of the website.
A fan-created, fan-run, nonprofit, noncommercial archive for transformative fanworks, like fanfiction, fanart, fan videos, and podfic
Hmmm… What was this ‘fanfiction’?
There was a search bar near the top. Perhaps it could search for topics to figure this out.
Before it did, however, it noticed a tab next to the current one he was on. The two had the same logo, but different names.
Biograft moved the mouse and clicked the other tab, being greeted by a foreign layout. It was full of words that didn’t make sense, despite it being able to read them all, in mini categories. One thing did stick out while it was observing.
Medkit/Subspace (PHIGHTS).
That was in the mini category of Relationship. Why was the traitor and Biograft’s creator in this category together?
Some of the other words, in the mini category of Additional Tags, looked like gibberish, like ‘Smut’ and ‘Dry Humping’. Other words were grouped into short phrases like ‘Author Regrets Nothing’ or ‘Shameless Self-Indulgence’ or a paradoxical ‘Author Regrets Everything’ to the first one in the list.
For the purpose of investigation, Biograft scrolled downwards to start reading this.
[—]
“C’mon, you hold back too much! I can take it!” Subspace challenged, a smug smile on his face as the teal inphernal held his wrists, pinning him to the wall. He felt the grip tighten as Medkit’s expression hardened. “And… you’re sure about this?” Medkit asked, to which the other groaned. “Oh my SFOTH, yes! Positive even!” Subspace exclaimed. Medkit rolled his eye and readjusted his hold, now holding the pink inphernal’s wrists with one hand. He then used his now free one to remove the scientist’s mask, revealing the half-rotting face of the other.
Medkit then interlocked his and Subspace’s mouths in a deep kiss, one that the latter made more passionate. The medic tasted bitter, yet slightly sweet; almost like coffee-flavored candy.
They parted sooner than the scientist wanted. “What’s the matter, Meddy? Too much?” he asked tauntingly. Medkit scowled, tightening his grip on the other’s wrists, making a small shiver crawl up his back. “You taste rotten,” the traitor stated. Subspace barked a laugh. “Just part of my charm~!” he teased, wiggling his hips. “Do you ever shut up?” Medkit hissed, pressing his leg between Subspace’s own.
“Only if you make me,” the scientist challenged, biting his lip as he bucked his hips. The healer barked out a laugh. “You would be into that, wouldn’t you?” he questioned, his free hand finding its way over Subspace’s neck, squeezing ever so slightly, making the other’s breath hitch. Medkit hummed. “Do you like it when I…” he trailed off, squeezing Subspace’s neck again. The pink inphernal would never admit the soft whimper that left his lips as he shifted his hips.
Medkit smiled slyly, pushing his leg up more, which made the other’s hips buck desperately. “Already? And you call me pathetic,” he taunted, squeezing again. “S-Shut up,” Subspace snapped, scowling. The teal inphernal leaned closer, whispering in his ear, “Only if you make me.”
Subspace soon felt a sting on his neck, making him release a hiss of pain. He looked over Medkit’s shoulder, seeing that dumb little deer tail of his wagging in pleasure. Freak. “You like seeing me suffer, don’t you?” Subspace asked, glaring down at the other’s head, who was still in his neck. Medkit chuckled softly – a sound that Subspace would refuse to admit how lovely it sounded – and replied, “Maybe I do. You can’t say anything, especially since you torture people on the daily. And are into this.” He emphasized his words with a tighter squeeze to Subspace’s neck. It felt far too good than what it should be.
Suddenly, Subspace felt Medkit’s hand let go of his neck, only to feel it drag down his body. From his collarbones, to his chest, down to his stomach, and lower, right down to-
“Biograft #046, what are you reading?”
[—]
Biograft turned to the voice speaking, and saw the blue Gamma Biograft model, the blue signalling that its creator was not present inside of the model “A GENRE OF WRITING CALLED FANFICTION,” Biograft answered, getting off the stool and moving it over a little, then getting back on it as Gamma approached the computer. It observed as the blue Biograft model read through the writing, seeing how the other seemed to get warm.
“This is… certainly a piece of writing. Quite… spicy, as I have heard some employees say about works of this nature,” Gamma stated. They turned to Biograft, asking, “How did you discover this… particular writing featuring our creator and the traitor-slash-his-enemy?” “THE COMPUTER WAS ON AND OPEN ON THIS WEBSITE. THE OTHER TAB IN THE TAB BAR WAS THIS,” Biograft replied. “Who even wrote this?” Gamma asked, tilting their head.
Biograft grabbed the mouse and scrolled up to the title of the work – Quiet Quota, it read – and highlighted the name listed under it, which was the online username of the writer of the work. The username was ‘Cut1eBugg’. Gamma hummed. They took the mouse back and clicked on the user, bringing them to the profile of this ‘Cut1eBugg’. Most of this inphernal’s works were based in the PHIGHTS fandom. Most of these works also featured Biograft’s and Gamma’s creator being written with either the traitor or the mercenary. A few featured both of them.
“CUT1EBUGG IS QUITE A PROLIFIC WRITER,” Biograft observed. Gamma nodded in agreement. “Accurate assessment, 046,” they agreed. Gamma simply went back to the original tab – the home tab – and stepped away from the computer. Their blue lighting blinked, making them pause. “I have to give Creator his medications,” they suddenly stated before turning away and jogging out of the lab.
Biograft watched as they left. It then looked back at the Archive.
It clicked back to the tab of Cut1eBugg’s profile, memorizing the URL and inputting it into its files for further research purposes. Perhaps to create its own works. Unlikely. But not impossible.
Once its files in its GUI were organized, it continued its routine like nothing interrupted it.
…Did its creator know of inphernals online writing about him and the traitor touching gears and more?
Biograft will question this later. It currently had a routine to finish.