#tyrelliot fanfic

[thisendlesslostparade]

Masterlist

Same Sky

-> Angst!!!, Fluff, Smut

This Stubborn Thing Called The Human Condition OS

-> Elliot / AU!Tyrell, smutfree

Becks Ice OS

-> smutfree

Requests are always open for Tyrelliot and Domlene

[royalvalkyrie]

❝you're a psychopath❞ | Tyrell Wellick [+3x03]

[thisendlesslostparade]

2044 - Mr Robot

I wrote this in less than an hour and the writing sucks but I hope this hc makes you feel as warm inside as it makes me feel.

CN: Mention of death, grief

The door rang, and it completely took the young man by surprise. He raised his head from the artwork he was currently working on, his gloves covered in paint. Luckily he always put them on when he was working - he didn't like getting his hands dirty.

Quickly he tore off the gloves, before he made his way to the door.

The young man wasn't what you would consider an anxious or careful person, something he must have inherited from his parents. Instead of checking the security camera first, he opened the door immediately. In fact, the camera had been his husband's idea, personally he thought it was a bit paranoid to be scared of invaders when you lived in the middle of nowhere.

"Hello?" He asked, his eyebrows raised as he saw who was standing in front of him. It was a dark-haired man, probably in his mid-fifties, dressed in a warm winter jacket and wearing a ridiculous hat on his head. His huge eyes looked so kind and worried that the young man opened the door a little wider, even though he still had no idea who it was.

"Hello", the older man said in English. "My name is Elliot... Are you Marcel Wellick?"

Marcel shifted his position, getting a but impatient. "I am", he said. "How can I help you?"

The man took a deep breath, the warm air creating a fuming sensation in front of them the second he exhaled.

"I knew your father, Tyrell. I'm Elliot Alderson", he finally said. "I know there's no reason why you would just let me talk to you, but that's okay. I just wanted to see you're doing fine, and it looks like you are." He smiled awkwardly and turned around.

His father, Tyrell. The words sounded strange to Marcel. He had a father, but his name was Olaf and he was the sweetest person in the world. When his parents adopted Marcel, he had only been about four months old, and it was all he had ever known -The most wonderful, most caring people in the world.

"Do you have anything to prove that?" He heard himself say, although he didn't need proof. The man, Elliot froze and turned back towards the door.

He bit his lip, thinking. "I have nothing to remember him by", he said. "I have his old phone but it stopped working decades ago. I'm sorry. I should just leave."

The young man shook his head, panic in his eyes. "No, no", he quickly said, "I need proof that you are Elliot Alderson. I know who that is for God's sake, it's not like we didn't hear about 5/9 and all that over here."

And there was something else.

"Please, come in. You're gonna freeze your American ass off."

A quick smile appeared on Elliot's face and he nodded, then hesitantly entered the house. He had never seen anything this luxurious - even the entrance was bigger than the apartment Elliot had lived in when he was Marcel's age. Whatever Tyrell's son was earning his money with, he seemed to be having the kind of success his father always dreamed of.

Just a little joke - of course Elliot knew what Marcel earned his living with. Mastermind had hacked him, months ago - besides, a quick Google search would have been enough in this case.

Apparently Marcel was the CTO of the biggest Danish conglomerate there was, which had caused Denmark to become one of the most powerful countries in the world, practically over night. And regardless, Marcel Wellick was only 29 years old.

"You're mad rich and still answer the door yourself?" He asked, something that had been Robot's first question, but Elliot was only now ready to ask it. Robot could be so rude sometimes.

"Well, I do have a security camera. That wasn't my idea either though. I can defend myself, don't worry." The cocky smile, the confidence, all of it was just screaming Tyrell's name. However, his brown hair and facial features showed a lot more similarities to Joanna. The eyes though - Elliot wasn't sure about the eyes yet. They had the same intensity as Joanna's, the same shade of blue as Tyrell's but there was no sign of either of their coldness and arrogance.

"Here." Elliot awkwardly fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his ID. A quick glance at it and Marcel seemed satisfied.

"I'm not entirely surprised anyway", he said and pointed towards the large sofa, signifying Elliot to sit down. "I'm gonna show you something."

Elliot sat down, his heart still pounding in his chest. It had been a risky decision, all of this. First the trip to Scandinavia, then the countless google searches until he, of course, found out where Marcel was currently living. And the conversations he'd had with the other alters, most of them thinking it was a terrible idea. Well, here he was now.

Marcel returned, a piece of paper in his hand. Since everything was mainly digitalized nowadays, people who kept paper in their houses were usually hopeless romantics or hipsters. If Marcel belonged to the first group, he sure was a lot like his dad.

Elliot reached out his hand as he held up the paper, signifying him that Elliot should read it. The way he was fidgeting with the seam of his shirt showed Elliot that the young man wasn't nearly as chill as he seemed at first - he was nervous, unsure how to behave.

Elliot unfolded the paper and started reading.

"My son,

It is unlikely that the two of us will ever meet again - I have not fully given up hope yet and I never will, but my main goal is to protect you from the people who destroyed my life. I want you to be safe, and for my own sake, I'm gonna have to assume that you are.

When you are old enough to read this or even have it read to you, I will probably be long dead. But that doesn't mean there are no people who care about you. Your new parents looked lovely on the pictures I was shown.

Let me tell you the whole story, so you hear it from me, just once, and not from someone who wasn't there."

Elliot skimmed the next few paragraphs, his heart thumbing in his chest. It was the whole story of the year 2015, as Tyrell had seen it.

And in fact, his name was mentioned a couple of times. To Elliot's surprise, Tyrell hadn't left out a single detail, not the unpleasant things, not the terrible crimes he had committed, nothing. And not even the fact that Tyrell had been in love with him, Elliot.

"I know there is no way you can ever forgive me for failing you as a father, there is just one thing I want you to know, and that is that your mother and I loved you and cared about you, even when we failed you in any possible way. I'm so incredibly sorry, and I love you."

Elliot felt his eyes watering, so he put down the letter, trying to steady his breath.

"I don't know what to say", he squeezed out, looking right at Marcel who had sat down in front of him.

"Is it true?" Marcel asked, suddenly looking more like a little boy than a grown man. "Is that... what he was like?"

Elliot tilted his head, then looked back down at the letter, his fingers tracing the faded letters, the unfamiliar handwriting.

"He did those things, yes", he said quietly. "And he loved you. He loved his wife, and he loved me. I loved him too, but I wasn't the one in control of myself back then." He smiled, knowing full well Marcel wouldn't understand that last part.

"Did anything ever happen between you and him?" Marcel asked, then quickly added: "No details please. That's still my father we're talking about."

Not him and me, Elliot thought. Everyone in this body somehow had a connection to him, though.

"It's complicated", he answered truthfully. "Marcel, your father was not a good person, but he also wasn't the cold blooded asshole some people believe him to be. You know it's always more complex than just... black and white."

The young man nodded slowly. For a minute not a single word was spoken. Then Marcel spoke again.

"Why did you come here?"

Elliot sighed. "I needed to talk to you. All these years I never forgot about him, or you. I wondered whether anyone ever told you who your dad really was. I wondered if you ever even talked to someone who knew him. Whether you were treated well by your new parents."

Marcel seemed too lost in his own thoughts to answer for a moment, then he said: "He'll have been gone for 29 years next week."

Elliot nodded. "Christmas coming up."

It was the hardest time of the year for Elliot, even harder than the anniversary of his father's death. If it wasn't for his sister and friends, he didn't know what he would do.

They passed a few meaningful glances, then Marcel got up.

"Do you wanna stay for dinner? Why don't we catch up by eating some good food. My husband will be here any minute, he makes the best Hønsekødssuppe in the world."

Taken by surprise, Elliot checked his watch.

"That would be nice", he finally said. "My plane doesn't leave until tomorrow."

"Perfect. It'll be fun having dinner with you Elliot." As he noticed the shock on Elliot's face, he froze. "Are you okay?"

Somewhere inside of him, an old wound was starting to hurt again, but he smiled like nothing happened. This wound wasn't his, it was someone else's - someone he just happened to share a body with.

"No, that sounds great, thank you."

[thisendlesslostparade]

I really wanted to stop writing fanfic but after 411 my Tyrelliot obsession hit me in the face like a truck.

[thisendlesslostparade]

Tyrelliot content for the starving gays

Elliot x AU!Tyrell, as suggested by @barn-s

CN: trauma, it’s only briefly mentioned but be careful anyways.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21865867

Enjoy! Reblogs, likes and comments are VERY MUCH appreciated thanks ily

[thisendlesslostparade]

Hi tyrelliot shippers

I swear this is the first AND last time I'll ever explicitly ask you to read my shit but somehow my newest fanfic got 22 kudos over night which is more than my least read fanfic, Becks Ice, ever got. I know why that is - it's sad and doesn't involve a lot of Tyrelliot Action tm BUT it's my personal favorite out of the 8 fics I've written so far and means the most to me (after Same Sky, but Same Sky is just very very different). So :') Maybe give it a shot and make me very happy ❤

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19381459

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[fight-s0ciety]

I dare you to write Tyrelliot having phone sex/sexting like sign me the fuck up 👀👌👀👌

SUPER DUPER SORRY THAT THIS WAS KIND OF LATE BUT HI! I DID NOT FORGET <3 @hannalioncastle but just as you asked, your porn is under the cut. ENJOY ;)

Elliot was just in the middle of not sleeping when thephone, in his bedroom, started ringing loudly. The noise shocked him, but hescrambled to get it, afraid to wake his mother up with the blaring noise.

“H-hello?” he said, he knew who would be on the other line,the only person who ever called this phone, but he still was skeptical aboutwhether, or not, he was imagining things.

“Bonsoir, Elliot.”

He sighed at the familiar voice and relaxed just a littlebit, Tyrell hadn’t called in a few days and Elliot had begun to worry. Hedeflated back down against the mattress and stared at the ceiling as Tyrelltalked.

“I’m afraid I haven’t been able to sleep, Elliot. Do youfind yourself lying awake at night?” Tyrell’s voice made Elliot’s heart jump,something was up with his tone. He sounded like he wanted something.

“What d-do you want, Tyrell?” he tried to ask in a mannerthat didn’t sound rude or angry, it only made him sound like he was afraid. Hewasn’t.

Tyrell smirked on the other end of the line and took a deepbreath, “See, there’s a problem I have, Elliot. I can’t stop thinking aboutyou.” He leaves it at that and listens to Elliot’s breathing get heavier.

Elliot’s chest is tight with sudden desire and he doesn’tquite want to think about what Tyrell means, he’s afraid that Tyrell will seeright through him. Afraid that his want will be detected, he just breathes,untrusting of his voice.

“I want you, Elliot.”

The words make Elliot’s heart drop but something deep andlow in his stomach tightens and he feels the burning want just above his groin.He sucks in a breath and nods his head. “Want you,” he whispers into the phone andhe can’t help but place his hand right where his dick is beginning to harden.

Tyrell, at the other end of the line, is already strokinghimself to the sound of Elliot’s breathing. When Elliot’s admission is heard,he stops. The shock is only there for a second before he is smirking andspeaking to Elliot again, with thatvoice. “Ah I see you’re giving in to your indulgences, Elliot. Would you liketo indulge me?”

Elliot doesn’t have time to ask what he means, before Tyrellwhispers, “Touch yourself, I want to hear you.”

Elliot’s eyes close with the command and he wrapped histrembling fingers around his boxer-clad cock and slowly began to strokehimself. He sighed in relief, his cock was aching and he hadn’t touched himselflike this in weeks.

Tyrell listens to Elliot’s labored breathing on the otherside of the line and he picks up where he had left off touching himself, onlyto find that he has gotten harder. Tyrell wanted to see Elliot, in this moment,he wanted to feel him.

“I want to hear you,” he repeated and Elliot let out themoan he had been holding in, sliding his hand inside of his boxers to touch hisbare dick, beginning to pump his cock. He thought of Tyrell’s long and skinnyfingers, wrapping around his cock and jerking him.

“I bet you looks so good right now, so good with your handssliding over your cock,” Tyrell moaned into the phone, it was clear to Elliotthat hearing him only turned Tyrell on more. He whined and mewled at thethought of Tyrell stroking his own cock, knowing that it was very wellhappening on the other side. The heels of his feet digging into the bed underhim as he fucked up into his palm.

Tyrell listened to the boy on the other end of the phone andsped up his motions. His cock leaking in his hand and he just couldn’t help buttighten his grip, imagining that he was fucking into Elliot’s tight ass. “Fuck,Elliot.”

Elliot whined at his name being said and turned over in thebed, phone still in his hand. He fucked down into his hand and couldn’t helpbut moan Tyrell’s name, “T-tyrell, I’m close.”

“I am too,” Tyrell whines out, grinding up into his hand atthe sound of Elliot speaking.

Elliot is the first to come, having not touched himself inweeks. His moan rips through the air and he fucks his hand through his orgasm.

When Tyrell comes, seconds later, he moans out Elliot’s nameand his vision blurs a little.

As he hears Elliot’s breathing calming down, he smiles andlooks at the mess of come and sweat he’s become. “Bonsoir, Elliot. Sleep well.”

When Tyrell hangs up, Elliot looks down at the come stainedsheets and the corner of his mouth twitches up. He lays on his side so that hedoesn’t touch the mess, his limbs too loose to get up and wash the sheets. Foronce, he falls asleep easily.

[fight-s0ciety]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

SO THERE IT IS, my contribution to the lack of Tyrelliot porn out there. Wrote this out quick.

I hope you enjoy.