Terminator Imagines

A Weapon? (T-800 x reader)

"You know, most people knock before coming in." John informs the terminator as he steps into the room, expression somewhat confused, a look he has picked up from others.

Fixing steel grey eyes on the teen now, however, he lifts an eyebrow, the action still a little mechanical, but an improvement from before.

"Why?" Is all he says at first, waiting for an answer.

"Because," John rolls his eyes, sighing in exasperation, "It's polite, ok? In case I was doing something private, y'know?"

The cyborg absorbs this information, retaining it for later use as he nods, standing there awkwardly.

"What do you need?" John asks him after a moment, frowning at the stoic T-800, only now seeing something clutched in one large hand.

"I require information regarding an object I recovered from (Y/n)'s room." Bob explains, waiting for John to acknowledge this before lifting his hand, "This is the object."

The boy's eyes widen at the sight of the garment in Bob's hand, trying to bite back a laugh as he looks between it and the cyborg's somewhat confused face. 

"That's, err, that's a bra." He fills the terminator in, blushing a little as he struggles not to show the utter hilarity he feels at the situation.

"A bra? What is that?" The T-800 regards the piece of underwear curiously, clearly scanning it for data, which he is very unlikely to have.

"Its, err…" John thinks carefully about how he should phrase this, glancing away to consider it.

"Is it a weapon of sorts?" 

At first, John goes to disagree, only for an idea to strike him at that moment, a smirk creeping onto his face as he turns to face the terminator properly, putting on a show of confidence.

"Yeah, a really dangerous one." He solemnly informs the cyborg, trying to hold back the rising laughter again.

Bob nods, holding the bra much more carefully now, making sure he doesn't accidentally trigger it in any way, something that John finds highly amusing to watch.

"And (Y/n) is proficient in the use of this? I have seen them no place else." He questions, meeting John's gaze again.

"Oh, absolutely. She's the best at using it. No one else knows how to use them, only her." The teen affirms, nodding along with his words.

"I must ask her how it functions." Bob proposes, carefully folding the bra up into one hand.

"Ask who how what functions?" A familiar voice says from outside the door, intrigue laced in her tone.

(Y/n) enters the room, looking between the terminator and his ward, eyebrow lifted.

"I would like to ask you to show me how this weapon functions, as there is no information detailed in my files." Bob clarifies, holding up the bra.

Choking on a breath, (Y/n) turns an exasperated stare on John, knowing now exactly what must've happened.

"That's not a weapon, that's a bra." She says, slowly.

The terminator frowns, clearly conflicted.

"John informed me that it is a highly dangerous weapon that only you are able to operate." He recites, puzzled.

"Yeah, thought so." She rolls her eyes, shooting the teen a look as she takes the bra from Bob, "John was only joking. There's nothing dangerous about a bra."

Bob glances back at John, brow furrowed now, an expression he learnt from (Y/n).

"Why would John joke about that?" He asks, looking between the two humans.

(Y/n) shrugs, John grinning as he watches the terminator's confusion.

"John likes to do that. He's weird like that." She winks, ducking out of the room before John can throw something at her, looking mockingly offended.

The T-800 follows her, still intrigued by the foreign object, shadowing her as she walks into her own room, where she goes straight to her chest of drawers.

"What is the real use for a bra?" He queries, standing by the door.

"It's used to provide support for a woman's breasts. It makes them more comfortable and takes some of the weight off." She explains without even looking up, replacing the bra in a drawer.

"How?"

She glances back at him, smirking a little.

"Is this your way of asking to see my chest?" She jokes, carefully taking the bra out again, going over to the cyborg.

"I was not requesting that." Bob frowns, watching her.

"I know." (Y/n) grins, before she deftly pulls on the bra over her shirt, clasping it together over her breasts, "This is how it works, but it generally goes under the shirt directly over the skin."

The terminator is quiet for a moment, until he suddenly steps forwards and places a large hand over one breast, drawing a sharp gasp from (Y/n) as she pulls away, not expecting the touch. He glances up at her, questioning with his eyes.

"That's a bit intimate, Bob." She explains, pulling the bra off again.

"I apologise." Is all he says, before he steps out of the room, leaving (Y/n) alone with her confusion and slight shock.