Bound by Blood @bloodstainedobsession - Tumblr Blog

I recently was forced back into the Diabolik lovers fandom, I even made an OC. 🤣🤣

I’m sure it’s been done before, but here’s my prompt (that I may write a whole fic for one day … if I can make time) mainly for the triplets, but if you add the others I certainly won’t complain (should you wish to write it)

The sakamaki brothers and Yui had to take about a month leave from school for one reason or another, and they just got back. While walking in the hall, the triplets, specifically, smell an incredibly familiar scent as a young woman walks by them with her own friends. Kanato is the one who reacts first grabbing the girl by the wrist, causing her to spin around and face them properly.

Turns out this random girl is the spitting image of what Cordelia would look like if she was in high school. Even the way she smells is similar. Immediately, Yui, Ayato and Laito freeze, and Kanato causes a scene, crying and hugging her while calling her “Mama”. And the random girl kinda just… takes it in stride and lets him? Clearly seeing that he’s upset and mistaking her for someone she’s not. Not pretending to be his mother or anything, but just goes quiet and lets him cling to her without trying to pull away. Looking at her own friends and sakamaki brothers with concern, shock and more than a bit of bafflement.

It takes Reiji scolding Kanato to snap him out of it, and Kanato freezes and goes quiet when he realizes this girl is - in fact - not his mother. She smiles in a way their mother never has as she kindly says it’s okay, no harm done. Before very carefully untangling his arms from around her and rejoining her friends. Saying that it was nice to meet them. Seeming to respect that this was a private family matter, and excusing herself without a further comment.

Reiji and Laito of course do their own separate investigations right away regarding the mystery shadow of their past. But as it turns out, she’s not related to them, nor is she related to “that woman”, not even remotely. In fact, she’s Just a foreign exchange student who transferred to their school due to academic reasons and nothing else. There may be something in her scent that hints that’s she’s not fully human, but it’s so deeply buried and so far back her ancestral line that she might as well be a normal human. And given how she carries herself, there’s no knowledge of the supernatural world to this girl. She’s just a human.

And what’s kinda shocking to all of them… is that she’s actually a genuine person. She’s not a people pleaser by any means, and she has no qualms about dragging bullies into a classroom and then leaving while they’re bloody and passed out on the floor. But if someone needs help, she helps. If someone is upset, she comforts them. She’s the mom-friend in her group of friends, helping with hair and make-up, making sure they eat, calling them out if they don’t act right. Even helping with studies... And it’s wild and jarring seeing those actions from a girl who has the younger face of a woman who was quite literally a nightmare.

The main request;

How would the Sakamaki Brothers react to seeing the type of woman that Cordelia could have been, had she actually been a decent person/Mother.

And how would they interact with her? Whether willingly or if they were forced to, like they had to do a school project together or something.

(This turned out longer than I thought, my apologies)

Hii!!! I am SO SORRY for not writing this sooner! I’ve had so much going on this past year and this blog has just been put to the side 🥺 I love this idea! Thank you for taking your time and thank you for your reuquest!!!💕

Sakamaki brothers x reader! Who looks like Cordelia

Shu

At first, Shu barely reacts. When Kanato causes a scene in the hallway and grabs the girl, Shu only lifts his head slightly from where he had been half asleep against the wall. His expression remains unreadable, bored even… until he actually looks at her.

For a moment, Shu genuinely freezes. Not because he thinks it’s Cordelia. But because the resemblance is uncanny. The same eyes. The same shape of her mouth. The same soft tone in her voice.

It feels like a ghost of the past just walked into the hallway. And Shu hates ghosts.

He doesn’t say anything while Kanato clings to her, crying and calling her “Mama.” Instead, he simply watches. Observing the way the girl reacts.

What surprises him the most is that she doesn’t panic. She doesn’t shove Kanato away. She doesn’t scream. She doesn’t look disgusted.

Instead she gently lets him cling to her, clearly recognizing that he’s upset and confused. When she smiles softly and reassures him that it’s okay, Shu feels something unfamiliar twist in his chest.

Because Cordelia never smiled like that. Not once.

When she carefully untangles Kanato’s arms and leaves with her friends, Shu closes his eyes again like nothing happened. But he doesn’t sleep.

He thinks.

Later, when Reiji and Laito begin looking into the girl, Shu listens quietly while pretending not to care. When they confirm she isn’t related to Cordelia at all, he isn’t surprised.

In fact, part of him is relieved. Still… the resemblance bothers him more than he admits.

Because every time he sees her after that, he catches himself comparing.

The way she helps a friend with homework. The way she calmly shuts down bullies without cruelty.

The way she comforts someone who is crying in the hallway.

And every single time, the same thought crosses Shu’s mind, “So this is what she could have been.”

It doesn’t make him angry. It makes him tired.

If they’re forced to work together for a school project, Shu would initially try to avoid doing any work at all. He’d lie down somewhere and expect her to handle it.

But she wouldn’t tolerate that. She’d simply walk over, nudge his shoulder with her foot, and say something like, “If you don’t help, we’ll both fail.”

And for some reason… Shu would actually sit up. Not because she reminds him of Cordelia. But because she doesn’t.

And that difference is enough to quietly capture his attention.

Over time Shu becomes oddly comfortable around her. She never pressures him, never demands anything dramatic, never tries to manipulate him.

She simply treats him like a normal person. Which is something he rarely experiences. He’ll never say it out loud, of course.

But sometimes, when she’s talking to someone nearby, Shu will glance at her from where he’s lying down and think,

“If things had been different… maybe we wouldn’t have turned out like this.”

And then he closes his eyes again. But he isn’t sleeping.

Reiji

Reiji is the first one to truly understand what he’s looking at. When Kanato grabs the girl in the hallway and calls her “Mama,” Reiji’s immediate instinct is irritation. Public scenes are unacceptable, and Kanato’s behavior is embarrassing. He’s already preparing to reprimand him when the girl turns around fully.

And then Reiji stops. For a brief moment, a very brief one, his composure cracks.

The resemblance to Cordelia is unmistakable.

Not identical, but close enough that it sends an uncomfortable chill down his spine. The tilt of her head. The curve of her eyes. Even the way she carries herself holds echoes of someone Reiji spent centuries trying to forget.

His glasses slide slightly down his nose as he studies her more closely. Yet something is… wrong. Or rather, different.

When Kanato clings to her and begins crying, Reiji expects panic, disgust, or perhaps manipulation. That would have been Cordelia’s reaction, either cruelty or theatrical affection meant to serve herself.

But instead, the girl simply pauses. She lets Kanato hold onto her. Not indulgently. Not dramatically. Just patiently.

When she softly reassures him that it’s alright and gently untangles his arms, Reiji feels a quiet, unsettling realization forming in the back of his mind.

Cordelia never had that kind of patience. Never that kind of warmth.

When she leaves with her friends, Reiji immediately restores order, scolding Kanato sharply for his behavior. His tone is strict, controlled, and authoritative as always.

But internally, his thoughts are already moving elsewhere. Reiji does not believe in coincidences. So naturally, he investigates.

Within a few days he learns everything there is to know about her.

Foreign exchange student. No known supernatural connections. No relation to Cordelia or their family. The results should have been reassuring.

Instead, they leave him… unsettled.

Because the more he observes her afterward, the clearer the contrast becomes. She studies diligently. She helps classmates who are struggling.

She comforts her friends without expecting anything in return.

And when someone tries to bully one of those friends, she doesn’t manipulate the situation or pretend innocence.

She simply drags the bully to a classroom and handles the problem directly. Reiji finds this strangely… respectable. Though he would never say so aloud.

If they were assigned a school project together, Reiji would initially approach it with rigid professionalism. He would expect incompetence and prepare to do the work alone.

Instead, he quickly discovers that she is organized, capable, and surprisingly intelligent.

Even worse, she is unimpressed by him. While most students are intimidated by Reiji’s presence and authority, she treats him like a perfectly normal classmate.

She’ll correct him if he overlooks something. She’ll disagree with him without hesitation.

And when he begins to lecture her about efficiency or discipline, she’ll calmly respond with something like,

“You know, you don’t have to act like the entire world will collapse if someone makes a mistake.”

The audacity of such a statement would normally infuriate him. Yet for some reason… it doesn’t.

Instead, Reiji feels a strange sense of quiet fascination. Because looking at her feels like staring at an impossible alternate reality.

A version of Cordelia who used her intelligence for kindness instead of cruelty.

A version who raised children instead of tormenting them.

Reiji would never admit it aloud, but occasionally when he watches her interact with her friends, a single thought crosses his mind, “If she had been like this… would we have been different?”

The answer irritates him. So he adjusts his glasses, buries himself in work, and pretends the thought never existed. But despite that, Reiji finds himself paying attention to her more than he ever intended.

Ayato

Ayato is the second one to notice the scent. At first he just wrinkles his nose, confused. The smell is familiar, painfully familiar, and for a second his instincts flare up in a way he can’t explain.

Then the girl walks past. And Ayato’s entire body goes rigid. He knows that face. Or rather, he should know that face.

It’s like seeing Cordelia through a distorted mirror, younger, softer, and without that cruel smile that haunted most of his childhood. The resemblance hits him so suddenly that his brain almost refuses to process it.

Before he can react properly, Kanato has already grabbed her.

When Kanato starts crying and calling her “Mama,” Ayato’s first instinct is anger. Not at the girl. At the situation. At the memories.

At the fact that something so messed up just happened in the middle of the school hallway.

He clicks his tongue loudly and snaps something irritated like, “Oi, Kanato! Quit making a scene!”

But he doesn’t pull Kanato away. Because Ayato is watching her. Carefully. Expecting her to react the way Cordelia would have.

To laugh. To manipulate the moment. To shove Kanato away like he’s annoying. Instead, she jus, lets him cry.

When she gently comforts him and tells him it’s okay, Ayato’s stomach twists in a way he hates.

Because Cordelia never comforted anyone. Especially not them.

When the girl eventually leaves with her friends, Ayato scoffs loudly and acts like the whole thing was stupid.

“Tch. That was weird.”

But he doesn’t forget. Not even close.

After Reiji and Laito investigate and confirm she isn’t related to them, Ayato pretends he doesn’t care. He shrugs it off like it’s meaningless.

But every time he sees her at school after that, his eyes automatically follow her. At first it’s pure suspicion. He’s waiting for the act to drop.

Waiting for her to reveal she’s secretly manipulative or fake.

Because someone who looks like Cordelia shouldn’t be that nice. But she never changes. She helps people with homework. She fixes her friends’ hair in the bathroom.

She gives someone half her lunch because they forgot theirs.

And when a bully tries to start something, she doesn’t cry or run away. She handles it confidently.

Ayato finds himself getting weirdly annoyed watching it.

Because the more he sees her, the more obvious the difference becomes.

Cordelia loved attention. This girl doesn’t care about it. Cordelia manipulated people. This girl protects them.

Cordelia made them feel small. This girl lifts people up without even thinking about it.

If they get forced into a school project together, Ayato’s first reaction is loud complaining.

“Tch! Why do I gotta work with you?”

But he quickly realizes something unexpected. She doesn’t treat him like he’s intimidating. She doesn’t act scared.

And she definitely doesn’t treat him like royalty the way most students do.

If he slacks off, she’ll shove a paper toward him and say something blunt like,

“Stop whining and help.”

Which immediately irritates him.

“Oi! You got a lotta nerve talking to the Great Ayato like that!”

But… he still helps.

Because somehow, arguing with her is more interesting than ignoring the project entirely.

Over time Ayato becomes weirdly competitive with her. Not in a hostile way. More like he wants to prove he’s better. That he’s smarter. That he’s stronger.

But occasionally when she laughs with her friends nearby, Ayato catches himself staring a little too long.

And a thought slips into his head before he can stop it.

“If Cordelia had been like that… would she have looked at us differently?”

The idea makes him uncomfortable. So he immediately buries it under his usual arrogance.

“Tch. Whatever. Who cares.”

But the truth is, Ayato notices her. A lot more than he wants to admit.

Laito

Laito notices the resemblance almost immediately. While Kanato clings to the girl in the hallway, crying and calling her “Mama,” Laito is watching very carefully from the side. Unlike the others, he doesn’t react with shock or anger right away.

Instead, he smiles. Not because the situation is funny. But because it’s interesting.

The resemblance is undeniable. Anyone who knew Cordelia would see it instantly. The same soft features, the same delicate expression.

For a moment it almost feels like someone dug up an old ghost and placed it in the middle of the school hallway.

But the illusion breaks quickly. Because Cordelia would never react the way this girl does.

When Kanato clings to her, she doesn’t recoil. She doesn’t play along for attention either. She simply lets him cry for a moment, gently patting his shoulder until he calms down.

Laito tilts his head slightly while watching. Curious. Because Cordelia’s affection was always sharp, dangerous, suffocating, twisted.

This girl’s warmth is quiet. Natural. And completely unfamiliar. When she leaves with her friends, Laito hums thoughtfully.

Later, when he and Reiji investigate her background, Laito already suspects the answer before they even finish.

Of course she isn’t related to Cordelia. If she were, she wouldn’t be like that. Still, Laito becomes oddly fascinated with observing her afterward.

At first, he treats it like a game. He’ll casually lean against a wall while she passes by, smiling in that playful way of his.

“Bitch-chan~ you know, you look awfully familiar.”

Most girls would get flustered or embarrassed by the attention. She doesn’t. Instead she might simply look at him, confused, and say something like, “Have we met before?”

Which only makes Laito grin wider. Because she genuinely doesn’t understand what he means.

The more he watches her, the stranger it feels. She’s kind to her friends. She’s protective when someone is upset. She’s patient when helping someone study. None of it feels calculated. None of it feels fake. And that’s exactly what unsettles Laito the most.

Because Cordelia’s affection was always a trap. Every smile had a purpose. Every touch had strings attached.

But when this girl comforts someone, there’s nothing behind it except simple concern.

If they’re forced to work together on a school project, Laito immediately turns the situation into entertainment.

He’ll lean too close while they’re reading. Rest his chin on his hand and watch her work instead of helping.

Drop teasing comments just to see how she reacts.

“Ne, ne~ are you always this serious?”

But something strange happens. She doesn’t blush. She doesn’t flirt back. She doesn’t get nervous. Instead she might calmly slide a notebook toward him and say:

“If you’re done talking, you can help with this part.”

For once, Laito is the one slightly surprised. Most people either fall for his charm or become uncomfortable around him. She does neither.

She just treats him like a normal person. Which is, incredibly unusual. And strangely refreshing. Over time, Laito’s teasing becomes less sharp and more curious.

Sometimes he watches the way she interacts with her friends and a quiet thought crosses his mind.

“If our mother had been like that… would we still be broken?”

The thought lingers longer than he likes. So he laughs it off like everything else.

“Fufu~ what a strange girl.”

But deep down, Laito keeps observing her. Because seeing a version of Cordelia that isn’t cruel feels like staring into an alternate world.

One where things might have turned out very differently.

Kanato

Kanato is the one who reacts first. The moment the girl walks past them in the hallway, the scent hits him like a wave. It’s faint, diluted, but painfully familiar. Something deep in his memories recognizes it instantly.

His head snaps toward her. And when he sees her face, everything else disappears.

For a moment, Kanato isn’t in the school hallway anymore. He’s a child again.

A very small child, looking up at the woman who once held him, praised him, and told him he was special. Before everything became twisted.

Before everything became cruel. Before she stopped looking at him like he mattered.

Without thinking, Kanato grabs her wrist and spins her around. His heart is racing so fast it almost hurts.

Because the girl standing in front of him looks so much like Cordelia that his mind struggles to separate the two.

The same eyes. The same softness. And suddenly the word slips out before he can stop it.

“Mama…”

The moment Kanato hugs her, clinging tightly to her like he used to long ago, the hallway goes completely silent.

Kanato expects many things. For her to laugh. For her to push him away. For her to tell him he’s pathetic.

Because that’s what Cordelia eventually would have done.

But instead…

She simply freezes for a second, clearly confused. Then she gently relaxes. Slowly, carefully, she lets him hold onto her. Not encouraging it. But not rejecting him either.

Her hand hesitates before lightly patting his shoulder.

“Hey… it’s okay.”

Her voice is soft. Concerned. And completely sincere.

Kanato doesn’t understand why, but hearing those words makes his chest ache. Because Cordelia never comforted him like that. Not without expecting something in return.

When the girl eventually realizes he has mistaken her for someone else, she carefully untangles his arms.

She smiles gently and reassures him that everything is alright before leaving with her friends.

Kanato just stands there. Frozen.

Later, when Reiji explains that the girl isn’t related to Cordelia at all, Kanato refuses to believe it at first. He insists they must be lying.

There has to be some connection. Because someone who looks that much like her can’t just exist randomly.

But the more Kanato observes her from a distance afterward, the more confusing things become. She laughs with her friends. She helps them with homework. She comforts them when they cry.

And when someone bullies one of them, she immediately steps in. Not cruel. Not manipulative. Just protective.

Every time Kanato sees it, something inside him tightens painfully.

Because this girl behaves like the kind of mother he once believed Cordelia was.

The kind of mother he wanted her to be. If they’re forced to work together on a school project, Kanato is initially furious.

He refuses. He yells. He demands someone else take her place. Because being around her is too confusing. Too painful. But if he eventually has no choice, the project becomes… strange.

Kanato constantly watches her. Analyzing every movement. Waiting for the act to break. Waiting for her kindness to turn cruel the way Cordelia’s always did.

But it never happens. Instead, when Kanato lashes out or insults her, she simply sighs and keeps working.

Sometimes she even says something calm like,

“You seem really angry today.”

Which only makes him more frustrated. Because she isn’t scared. She isn’t offended. She just… understands that he’s upset.

And that makes Kanato feel emotions he absolutely hates. Confusion. Frustration. And something dangerously close to longing.

Sometimes, when she isn’t looking, Kanato will quietly stare at her.

And in those moments, a single thought echoes in his mind:

“Why couldn’t Mama be like that?”

The realization hurts. So Kanato quickly turns away, hugging Teddy tightly to his chest. Because it’s easier to believe his mother loved him… Than to face the possibility that she never did.

Subaru

Subaru is the last one to react.

While Kanato clings to the girl in the hallway, crying and calling her “Mama,” Subaru is standing slightly behind the others, his hands shoved deep into his pockets like always.

At first he doesn’t even bother looking. Kanato making a scene is nothing new.

But when he finally glances up and sees the girl’s face… Subaru immediately looks away again. His jaw tightens.

Because he recognizes that face instantly. He spent centuries trying to forget it. Cordelia.

The woman who treated him like a monster the moment he was born.

Seeing someone who looks so much like her standing in the hallway makes his stomach churn. But something is wrong.

Subaru slowly glances back.

Because the expression on the girl’s face isn’t what he expected. She isn’t smirking. She isn’t annoyed.

She isn’t mocking Kanato. Instead she just looks, worried. Confused, yes, but mostly concerned about why a stranger is suddenly crying and clinging to her.

When she gently reassures Kanato and lets him calm down before carefully freeing herself, Subaru feels something twist uncomfortably in his chest.

Cordelia never comforted anyone. Especially not her own children. Subaru says nothing when she walks away.

He simply clicks his tongue quietly and mutters something under his breath like, ”…Tch.”

But the image sticks in his mind longer than he likes.

Later, when Reiji confirms she isn’t related to them at all, Subaru isn’t surprised. In fact, he’s almost relieved.

Because if she was connected to Cordelia somehow, Subaru isn’t sure he’d be able to stand being around her.

Still, the resemblance continues to bother him every time he sees her at school.

At first Subaru avoids her completely. If she walks into a room, he leaves. If she sits nearby, he moves somewhere else.

Not because he’s scared of her. But because looking at her reminds him too much of someone he hates.

But eventually Subaru starts noticing something strange. She isn’t anything like Cordelia.

She helps people without mocking them. She stands up for her friends without humiliating them.

She laughs easily, warmly, like kindness comes naturally to her.

And the more Subaru sees it, the more uncomfortable he feels.

Because the contrast is impossible to ignore. Cordelia hurt people for amusement. This girl protects them without thinking twice.

If they end up forced to work on a school project together, Subaru is immediately irritated.

“Tch. I’ll do it myself.”

He tries to take over the entire project just to finish it quickly and leave. But she refuses. Not aggressively. Just stubbornly.

She’ll grab half the papers and say something simple like,

“We’re both doing the work.”

Subaru expects her to eventually get scared of him. Most people do. But she doesn’t.

Even when he slams his fist on the desk in frustration or raises his voice, she simply sighs and continues working.

Sometimes she’ll even calmly tell him, “You know, yelling isn’t going to help.”

Which usually makes Subaru glare at her. Hard. But strangely, he listens. Because she isn’t saying it to control him.

She’s saying it because she genuinely believes it. Over time Subaru becomes quieter around her. Less aggressive.

Not friendly, he’s still Subaru, after all. But the hostility fades slightly. Sometimes he catches himself watching the way she interacts with her friends.

The way she comforts someone who’s upset. The way she smiles when they thank her. And every single time, the same bitter thought appears in his mind.

“Why couldn’t she have been like that?”

Subaru hates the thought immediately. So he shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, looks away, and mutters something irritated under his breath.

But the truth is, out of all the brothers, Subaru might be the one most disturbed by her existence.

Because she proves something he spent centuries denying. That Cordelia didn’t have to be cruel. She simply chose to be.

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

Bound by Blood