Danganronpa Trigger Novels & Stories

he mind-links me. "Yeah..sure," I said, and he moves closer. Jordan's POV I have to ask her for permission. ‘Damon’, is going crazy. "Let's go to mate." "We rejected her, remember?" I say. "She did not accept the rejection; she's still our mate." "But.." "Mate, now," I sigh and move closer, but her wolf growls. Nala might've been okay with me, but her wolf is definitely not okay with me. "Is your wolf okay with me staying beside you?" I mind-link her.

“Please, Ronan—” “Don’t say my fucking name.” I flinched. “I won’t,” I promised. “You won’t even have to see me again. Just let me go.” There was nothing but my tears and silence for a second—this massive void of silence that would devastate anything alive. And then he called my bluff. He moved toward me, closing the distance so quickly I jumped back a step, and that was when my clammy finger slipped on the trigger. Click.

I enquired in bewilderment but Trigger folding his toned arms and raising his brows told me he wasn't buying a word of my question. "Well, shouldn't his girlfriend know the answer to that?" I was about to go wild in confusion already. What in hell… wait… did he think I was…Dah's –whoever he is– girlfriend? "Trigger for the sake of all the things you respect and care about, tell me what is going on. I haven't the tiniest bit of idea." He gave me that I-am-searching-your-soul-for-the-truth-behind-your-words stare for a full minute before, in a manner of response, he threw a sleek black phone. An action that did nothing to alleviate my bafflement whatsoever.

Every term I spoke into the mic streamed back to command. Stuff Ryan had spent hours staring at on his tablet—and still didn't get. Now he came sprinting back with my toolbox, drenched in sweat, gasping. I didn't turn. Spoke calmly over the public channel—to command and everyone watching the livestream. "This trigger chain's built on fake separation. Multiple points look independent, but they're all linked. Touch one, the system reads it as forced entry and speeds up the countdown."

“Would she remain like this until we find the sorceress and this cure?” He says it without a doubt. Like failure to find this woman he has never seen is not a concept he is entertaining. His eyes trail back to the bed where I’m still curled up, sobbing. “I can stabilize her,” Dorion says quickly. “But whatever seed this is—” He stops himself. Damon’s grip tightens. “Say it.” Dorion meets his gaze this time. “…it was triggered,” Dorion pauses. “And even if I can halt its effect for a time, it can still be triggered as it was today.”

he murmurs and steps closer to the left opening. A soft click echoes behind us. Damon freezes. He turns slowly. A small red light glows above the original door we entered through. It wasn’t there before. It blinks in a calm steady rhythm. Damon stares at it and I feel his mind racing. “That’s a trigger” he says. “Something is tied to it.” Another blink. Then a faint metallic sliding sound. Damon steps back instinctively and pulls me behind him again. “Ella get ready to run if I tell you to.”

Beyond expected thresholds. Victor’s warning echoed again. If the trigger activates— But this wasn’t just activation. This was confirmation. The voice returned. Still calm. Still clinical. “Primary genetic trigger confirmed.” Evelyn’s head snapped toward the speaker. “What does that mean—” But Damian already knew. He looked at Silas. Then at the screen. Then— at himself. “They weren’t just testing him,” he said quietly. “They were waiting for me.” Silas clutched weakly at his shirt.

“You’d revert. Maybe worse. Maybe burn out entirely. Depends on the trigger.” I felt the room tilt. “What is the trigger?” I demanded. Paladin looked at me—and in that glance, something cold passed between us. “It’s not a what,” he said quietly. “It’s a who.” He turned the screen toward us. A blurry memory fragment bloomed into view. And there I was. Me. Standing in a corridor. Reaching for him. The subroutine labeled the image: ATHENA-001 // PROTOCOL My blood ran ice-cold. “They made me his trigger?”

EM–0C0 Ember’s jaw clenched. “What is it?” Dr. Dell turned to her slowly. “You have a trigger buried in a specific sensory combination.” “Meaning?” “Touch. Smell. Sound. If activated in the right sequence… your brain shuts off its threat response. You obey without hesitation.” Ember’s blood ran cold. “It was never in the code,” she whispered. “It was in the conditioning.” Dr. Dell nodded. “He embedded it when you were a child. Your scent memory. Voice tone. Skin temperature recognition.”

“What do you mean?” His gaze doesn’t shift. “In BDSM, a trigger’s anything that can push someone into panic or fear. Something that reminds them of trauma, or makes them feel trapped, unsafe. It can be a word. A position. A type of touch. It doesn’t have to make sense. But it matters.” I stare at him, my chest tightening. “You’ve been through something, Red. And you might not know yet what’s going to hit you wrong. But we need to figure it out. Together. Before we start anything.”