Cyberpunk Edgerunners Fanfiction Novels & Stories

“That garden, good and bad. Flowers and weeds growing together. The sun burns. The world does, too. And that girl… that girl is me.” When she turned to look at him, her eyes were glassy. Kyrell crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her against his chest. “Your story changed when you met me,” he murmured against her ear. “Because I’m in it. For better, Eden.” She exhaled, steadying herself in his hold. “I shouldn’t distract you,” she said softly. “I’m fine. It’s okay.” He kissed the side of her neck, lingering just long enough to make her shiver. “You’re not distracting me. But if you really want to help me, edit these files so we can leave early. Deal?”

The lunar colony’s air is thin, sharp with the tang of ozone, and my lungs burn as I run, heart hammering. The neural network pulses in my skull, broadcasting every ragged breath, every spike of fear and arousal, to the elite watching through their cranial implants. Dr. Kain—my creator, my father—is hunting me, his presence a shadow in the maze, and the knowledge that he’s closing in makes my pussy throb despite the panic. . . . . . . . . “Keep running, Nova,” his voice echoes through the network, not from the walls but inside my head, a cybernetic implant amplifying his words. . . . . . .

** --- **The Static's Betrayal** They corner us in the server room. Ravel fights, her knives carving through biomechanical flesh, but the hybrids heal faster. My static lashes out, but Nexa *catches* it, weaving the lightning into a crown of thorns and code. **"You see?"** She floats above the carnage. **"We're the same."** The crown settles on my head. Visions erupt: -A world where Eden lives, his scars blooming into wings. -The Hunter, roots coiled like a lover's embrace.

[The Mercy of the Blade] The Spire had become a cathedral of red light and screaming data. As I stepped out of the service lift, the hum of the "Global Synchronization" vibrated through the marrow of my bones. Every screen in the transit hub was a mirror of my nightmare: Jinyan’s face, projected in a thousand directions, his eyes a toxic, unblinking gold. He wasn't just the Architect anymore; he was the signal. And Elara, the ghost in his skin, was finally turning the world into the cage she had never escaped.

The system had corrupted beyond repair—Arthur’s digital avatar was fused back-to-back with the glowing, crimson silhouette of Julian Moretti, their neural codes twisted together into a single, dual-headed monster that owned the final bypass. "You're late, children," the fused entity spoke, Arthur’s technical precision layering with Julian’s sadistic, patriarchal pride as the timer in my head suddenly dropped to its final three minutes, the digital womb inside me flaring into a bayolenteng indigo light that began to tear my code apart from the inside. (Watch out for Chapter 269) 💬 Add to library | Drop your Comment/ Reviews | Send Gifts Thank you readers.

"She's already waking up," the 's Kieran voice says, who is holding me in his arms, right where Einar's men left me, "are you okay?" "I think so," I say, "have they already left?" "There's no one here," he answers me, "we returned because I heard you in my mind and assumed that something was wrong." "You have no idea," I point and tell him everything that happened, "after they left, I was scared to see my claws, my God!" My voice comes out in a thread, "I didn't know it could change in parts or that it could change before I was of legal age."

Stars explode behind my eyes; my cock leaks steadily, hips thrusting into his hand. “You’re acting like a virgin bottom,” he says, pulling back to watch my face. “What happened to you?” “Does it matter?” I gasp, grinding down on his fingers, chasing that electric buzz. My internal conflict rages, I’m a woman in a man’s body, living my BL dream, but as the uke? Fangirl me is thrilled, but this isn’t canon!

Neither the chilled watermelon nor the cold air conditioning could cool the heat in my body. Damn it. I suddenly hated my photographic memory. Those two pages I saw in Kane’s room kept replaying in my head. It was a fanfiction. The female lead was me. The male lead was Wane. It was normal for fans to ship me and Wane. But who told me CP fans these days were so bold? The fanfiction’s plot was this: Because I complained about a werewolf couple fooling around in public, they cursed me—I would have to spend eighteen rounds in bed with my Fate Mate to maintain my human form. Otherwise, I would turn into a pig.

An ear piercing howl hits the air. Eirik. Raw, furious, alive. It rips through the stairwell, through the forest above, through my bones. Hands seize me—Ingrid, Gran, Elias—yanking me upward as the stone staircase behind us begins to cave in on itself like it’s being erased piece by piece. We run. Not toward answers. Not toward understanding. We run because the world behind us is actively ending. And whatever I just dragged back down into the dark is no longer content to sleep beneath the earth.

My mind shattered. The pain was absolute. My bones broke. Crack. Crack. Crack. They reformed, growing thicker, denser. My skin tore as fur erupted—coarse and striped like a tiger's. My jaw unhinged with a wet pop. I fell to my hands and knees. I clawed at the floor. The metal screeched. The Runt was screaming. He tried to hold onto the memory of the blanket. The gear. The girl. Neoma... anchor... The Red washed over the memory. It burned the blanket to ash. It melted the gear.