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May I please as for continuation of the Yan!Megatron with the human liason from the POV of Tarn who's watching in consternation as his boss is bringing his new "pet" abord and ordering their accoutrements loaded onto Peaceful Tyranny.

Tarn's an asshole and I enjoy seeing him disquieted. And Megatron with pet squishy.

Oooo this was an interesting request, from a new POV! I’m happy you enjoyed the last piece enough to ask for a sequel :D for those who haven’t read it, you can read part 1 here! All that aside, I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: SFW, Yandere, GN!Human!Reader

Tarn was… conflicted.

The moment he caught you in his sights, wriggling within his lord’s grasp as he approached the ship, his first instinct was to end your pitiful existence right there.

“Sir,” he had told his commander, aiming his arm cannon in your direction, “allow me to rid you of the pest who has so rudely decided to cling to you.”

But then, Megatron’s own servo blocked your view— blocked Tarn’s target. “That will not be necessary,” he replied, voice low and calm. “They will be here to stay. They’re mine.”

And while Megatron stepped away without another word, the sounds of your futile objections echoed in Tarn’s audials. The commander couldn’t make sense of it— Megatron, leader of the Decepticons, keeping an organic as a pet? What use could that possibly have?

So, he decided to wait. Wait and watch as his lord doted on his new pet.

Most times, you were perched high atop Megatron’s shoulder. Despite your visible discomfort— the way you shuffled as far as you could from the warlord’s helm, only for him to gently push you back near it— Megatron seemed more worried when you weren’t there. If you weren’t on his shoulder, then you were cupped within a single, massive servo, digits curled in just so as you wouldn’t run the risk of falling. With his free hand always rubbing at your head or your back or, when Megatron was feeling particularly affectionate, squishing the sickenly soft flesh of your torso or cheeks between two digits over and over again.

Fine. This was fine. Tarn had to assure himself of that fact time and time again, no matter how much his distaste for organics told him this was so, so wrong. Even as your tiny human belongings were brought upon the ship, Tarn thought that if at least he didn’t go out of his way to speak or look at you, he could live with this. Surely.

Down in one of the many halls of the Peaceful Tyranny, Tarn feels an itch at his pedes. He didn’t think much of it, simply casfuhg ut aside as a glitch in his nervecircuits for Nickel to examine later, though that should have been the first sign that something was wrong. After a moment, the itch comes again, and with a hiss Tarn finally looks down—

And locks eyes with you.

“You—?!”

“Shh!” You quickly hush him before he can speak. “I know this is going to sound crazy but I already tried talking to everyone else here and no one wanted to help me and believe me you’re the last person who I’d ask for help from and— AAHH—“

Tarn didn’t want to strain his audials more with struggling to hear you down there than hearing your grating little voice already did. With the ends of two claws, he bends down and lifts you by the scruff of your clothes, dangling your tiny form before his faceplate.

While you couldn’t much tell his expression past his mask bearing the Decepticon brand, you could tell the commander was not happy.

“I’ll make this quick, I promise,” you raise your hands in placation, and when the mech doesn’t reply, you take it as your cue to continue. “I’ll cut to the chase— I don’t want to be here. And I’m well aware that, besides Megatron, no one else really wants me here either. So, that’s something we’re in agreement upon. If we could work together only for the amount of time it takes me to get me off this ship and back to the Lost Light, we would be doing both of ourselves a favor. I can’t get out of here on my own, so please—“

“Tarn?”

A commanding voice booms down the hallway, and both of your heads snap to attention as you look towards the source of the call. Megatron was entering through the sliding doors, heaving an audible sigh of relief as he locks eyes with you.

“There you are,” he says, and as he approaches he offers his hands out below where Tarn was dangling you. Without a moment’s hesitation, the purple mech drops you, and you land on your bottom into the warlord’s palms. “I thought I had lost you,” he coos, before gazing back at Tarn. “Where did you find them?”

Tarn opens his intake to answer, before he catches you staring at him. You almost look at him pleadingly— begging for mercy from a Decepticon. He stares back for only a moment before resetting his vocalizer and addressing his superior. “They were merely wandering the halls, sir. They must have gotten lost.”

Placing you upon his shoulder once more, Megatron nods. “I see. I suppose I must keep a better optic on you, then.” You offer a nervous laugh, hoping the warlord didn’t expect a bigger reply. To your relief, he carries on. “Let me know if this happens again, Tarn.” Then, without another word, he exits the way he came— and you turn to look at Tarn for as long as you can before the sliding doors shut behind you.

And as the mech is left alone in the hall, he stews in his thoughts. Conspiring with a fleshling was the last thing he wanted to do, and disobeying a command from Megatron was worse, but… if it meant ridding the ship of your presence, and perhaps returning his lord back to normal…

Perhaps he would consider it.