#future!mc

the brothers and the side characters are celebrating for MC joining the student council when the door flew open and the person fell flat on their face, when they got up they saw that they look exactly like MC except they look a lot older, then Barbatos walked in saying an intruder just entered the castle and when they looked down to see the person that barbatos was referring to he smirked "It seems like you've been doing well MC."

🩸Proof of Tomorrow🩸

While celebrating you entering the student council, an unexpected visitor crashes your party.

Contains: Time paradox (present!MC and future!MC at the same time), Asmo asking a sexual joke, kinda cringe story, no romance, tiny bit of angst, unknown backstory of future!MC but it’s implied to be bad, and others I may not have listed.

The celebration had been going on longer than you expected. Not in a loud, overwhelming way, more like the kind of warmth that settles in and refuses to leave.

You’re standing near the center of the room, and somehow everyone keeps orbiting back to you. Not because they have to. Because they want to.

Mammon is the loudest about it, of course. He keeps throwing an arm around your shoulders like he personally campaigned for this outcome. “I’m tellin’ ya, this is what happens when ya listen to me! MC was always council material.”

Lucifer sighs at that, but there’s no real bite in it. He straightens his gloves and looks at you with something close to pride. “You’ve proven yourself capable. Responsible. I expect great things from you.” It’s formal, but the way his gaze softens afterward says everything.

Satan hands you a book he picked out specifically for you, something about strategy and governance, annotated in the margins. “You’ll do well,” he says quietly. “You already think before you act. That matters.”

Levi hovers nearby, awkward but earnest. “I—I mean, joining the Student Council is basically like unlocking an advanced route, right? You’re definitely… uh… protagonist-coded.” He gives you a thumbs-up like it took all his courage.

Asmo fusses with your outfit like you’re about to step onstage. “Look at you! A council member! I’m so proud I could cry.”

Beel offers you food without even looking, placing it carefully into your hands. “You should eat,” he says simply. “Big day.”

Belphie lounges on the couch, watching the whole thing with a lazy smile. “Knew you’d end up important,” he says. “You’ve got that ‘center of everything’ vibe.”

Diavolo is practically vibrating with excitement. He claps his hands together and beams at you like this is the highlight of his century. “You belong here, MC. Truly. Seeing you surrounded by everyone like this… it feels right.”

Barbatos stands just off to the side, as always, but you catch him watching you with quiet approval. When your eyes meet, he inclines his head ever so slightly. A silent acknowledgment. A promise of support.

Simeon congratulates you warmly, hands folded, eyes kind. “You’ve grown so much,” he says. “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

Luke nods enthusiastically beside him. “Yeah! You’re awesome!”

The room feels full not just with people, but with connection. With shared history. With all the small moments that led here: arguments survived, late-night talks, trust built slowly over time.

You feel… seen. Chosen.

Diavolo lifts his glass again. “Tonight isn’t just about the Student Council,” he says. “It’s about celebrating you and the effort you’ve put in, the bonds you’ve formed, and the future you’re stepping into.”

Everyone raises their glasses. Even Belphie bothers to sit up.

“To MC!”

The cheer that follows is loud, genuine, and overwhelming in the best way. You smile, heart full, thinking: I really do belong here.

The cheer is still ringing in your ears when the doors fly open. The sound is sharp enough to slice straight through the warmth of the room. Everyone freezes.

Conversation dies mid-word. Glasses pause halfway to lips. Even the music seems to falter, as if the house itself senses something is wrong.

Lucifer is the first to turn, expression already hardening. Satan’s hand slips instinctively toward his book. Mammon’s arm tightens around your shoulders.

“What now…?” Belphie mutters.

Before anyone can react further, a figure stumbles inside. Not marching, not threatening, just… off-balance. Like they misjudged the step. Like they weren’t supposed to land here. They trip. Hard.

The sound of a body hitting the floor echoes through the hall, awkward and painfully human.

“…Ow,” the stranger groans.

Silence crashes down. You feel Mammon’s grip loosen as he stares. Levi makes a strangled noise. Asmo’s hand flies to his mouth. Beel stands up so fast his chair scrapes loudly against the floor.

The figure pushes themself up slowly, rubbing their forehead, clearly annoyed more than hurt.

Lucifer steps forward. “State your name and purpose,” he snaps.

The person lifts their head and the room breaks because they’re looking at you. Not similar. Not related. Not reminiscent. Identical.

Same eyes. Same mouth. Same expression you make when you’re embarrassed but trying not to show it. Except… older.

There’s a weight to them you don’t have yet. A steadiness. Confidence worn like second skin instead of something practiced. Their gaze flicks across the room, sharp and assessing, like they’ve seen this place before and worse.

Asmo whispers, horrified, “That’s not funny.”

Mammon points between you and them, voice cracking. “O-Okay… okay… THIS is officially too much!”

Levi looks like he might faint. “Th-That’s not a cosplay—th-that’s a render!”

Your chest tightens. The stranger’s eyes land on you. They soften. Just slightly. Before anyone can demand answers, the doors open again: smoothly, deliberately. Barbatos steps inside, composed as ever.

“My lord,” he begins, tone calm but alert, “we have confirmed that an intruder bypassed multiple layers of temporal restriction and…”

He stops. Completely. His eyes drop to the figure in the center of the room. For the first time you’ve ever seen, Barbatos doesn’t immediately speak. Then, slowly, his lips curve into a knowing, almost dangerous smile.

“…Ah,” he says.

Solomon stiffens instantly. Not confused, uneasy.

“That’s… interesting,” he murmurs, eyes narrowing as he studies the stranger. His hand curls slightly, like he’s resisting the urge to reach for magic. “That kind of distortion shouldn’t be possible. Not without…”

He trails off, glancing sharply at Barbatos. The stranger pushes fully to their feet and dusts themself off, posture relaxed, like none of this alarms them in the slightest.

They look at Barbatos. Then at Solomon. Then finally back at you. A smirk tugs at their mouth. Not cruel. Not mocking. Fond.

“It seems,” they say, voice steady, familiar in the most unsettling way, “you’ve been doing well, MC.”

Your stomach twists. Solomon exhales slowly. “So it’s true,” he says under his breath. “You’re… them.”

Lucifer’s wings flare. “Barbatos. Explain. Now.”

Barbatos inclines his head slightly. “In due time.”

The older you tilts their head, eyes lingering on you, taking you in like they’re committing the moment to memory.

“You look happier than I expected,” they add quietly. That hurts. You don’t know why, but it does.

The room feels suddenly too tight. Too full. Like the joy from earlier has nowhere to go but inward, pressing against something fragile. Diavolo steps closer to you, concern plain on his face. “MC… are you alright?”

You nod automatically. You’re not sure if it’s true. Because standing in front of you is proof of a future you haven’t lived yet and for just a second, you’re terrified of what it took to get there.

And somehow, the celebration meant to honor who you are now has turned into a question you weren’t ready to ask: What did you have to survive to become them?

The room stays frozen, like no one wants to be the first to breathe wrong. Future-you breaks the silence with a soft laugh: not mocking, not cruel. Almost… fond.

“Wow,” they say, turning slowly in place. Their eyes linger on everyone in the room, one by one. “You all look… really young.”

Mammon bristles instantly. “Oi! What’s that supposed to mean?!”

Future MC smiles at him, and it’s so familiar it makes your chest ache. “I don’t mean it like an insult. It’s just…” They gesture vaguely. “I forget sometimes how long it’s been.”

Their gaze drifts next. Lucifer. Still stern. Still composed. But when future-you looks at him, their expression softens in a way that feels earned. “You used to terrify me,” they admit lightly. “I couldn’t even look you in the eye without feeling like I’d messed something up.”

Lucifer stiffens. “…Used to?”

Satan narrows his eyes, studying them like a puzzle. Levi looks like he’s buffering. Asmo tilts his head, intrigued.

Future-you chuckles. “Yeah. Turns out you mellow out. A little.” They pause, then add, “Relatively.” Satan snorts despite himself.

Future-you turns toward Levi next, eyes lighting up with genuine affection. “You used to hide behind your games a lot more. We’d sit in your room for hours, not even talking. I didn’t realize back then how much that meant.”

Levi’s face turns red instantly. “W-WAIT—THAT’S CANON??”

Asmo blinks. “Oh my goodness… look at them. They’re so nostalgic. This is adorable!”

Future-you glances at him and smiles knowingly. “You never stopped fussing over everyone. You just learned when to let people breathe.” Their eyes flick to your outfit, approving. “Still have good taste, though.”

Asmo gasps. “I KNEW IT.”

Beel is watching quietly, brow furrowed. When future-you meet his gaze, their voice softens. “You still share food, I hope.”

Beel nods slowly. “Yeah.”

“Good,” future-you says. “You always made me feel safe.”

Belphie rolls onto his side, propping his head up on his hand. “You talk like you’ve been gone forever.”

Future-you meets his eyes, something complicated flickering there. “Sometimes it felt like it.” The mood shifts—just a little heavier. Then future-you look at Simeon and Luke and their smile changes completely.

“Oh,” they breathe. “Wow. You both look so… untouched.”

Luke bristles. “Hey!”

Simeon only smiles gently, eyes warm but searching. “You seem like you’ve grown a great deal.”

Future-you nods. “I had good teachers.”

Their gaze drifts to Solomon last. The air tightens. Solomon’s smile is easy, but his eyes are sharp. Curious. Cautious.

“You look exactly like them,” he says calmly. “But you carry yourself like someone who’s lost things.”

Future-you studies him for a moment. Then: “You were always good at seeing that.” A beat. Then future-you finally turn back to you.

Their expression softens completely: no confidence, no distance. Just familiarity.

“I was so nervous all the time,” they say quietly. “I kept thinking I didn’t belong. That I’d mess it all up. Joining the Student Council?” They laugh softly. “I almost backed out. I thought everyone would realize I wasn’t enough.”

Your throat tightens. “But you stayed,” future-you continues. “You kept choosing people. Even when it hurt. Even when you were scared.”

They step a little closer: not touching, but close enough that you can see every detail of a face that might one day be yours.

“And seeing you like this?” they add gently. “Surrounded. Celebrated. Still hopeful.” Their voice lowers.

“It makes all of it worth it.”

Future-you’s words hang in the air a little too long. The room feels heavy: too quiet, too full of things no one knows how to respond to. Mammon looks like he wants to say something and doesn’t know how. Levi’s staring at the floor. Even Lucifer hasn’t filled the silence yet.

And then… Asmo claps his hands once, sharp and sudden. “Well!” he says brightly, tilting his head and breaking the tension like glass. “This is officially the weirdest party I’ve ever been to and I’ve hosted many!”

Everyone blinks. Asmo’s eyes flick between you and future-you, slow and deliberate. A grin curls across his face, familiar and dangerous in the way only his are.

“So,” he adds lightly, voice dripping with faux curiosity, “important question: would it feel the same screwing your future self, or is that, like… emotionally confusing?”

The room explodes.

“MAMMON—STOP HIM—” Levi yelps.

“ASMODEUS,” Lucifer snaps, scandalized.

Diavolo bursts out laughing, hand over his mouth. “Oh! Oh, that’s… creative.”

Solomon raises a brow, clearly amused. “From a magical ethics standpoint, that’s… fascinating.”

You choke on air. Future-you freezes. Then, slowly, they start laughing. Real laughter.

“Oh my god,” future-you says, covering their face. “You never change.”

Asmo beams, utterly pleased with himself. “I take that as the highest compliment.”

The tension in the room cracks just enough to let people breathe again.

Future-you wipes at their eyes, still smiling. “You used to make jokes like that whenever things got too serious,” they say. “Every time I thought I was about to drown in my own head, you’d say something completely unhinged.”

Asmo’s smile softens just a little.

“Well, someone has to remind you that you’re hot even during existential crises,” he says gently. “It’s practically my job.” Future-you looks at him for a long moment.

“…You were always my reminder that pleasure isn’t shallow,” they say quietly. “That joy isn’t a distraction. That wanting things doesn’t make you weak.”

Asmo’s teasing grin falters. “Hey,” he says, voice softer now. “You’re making it sound like I disappear or something.”

Future-you exhales. “No. You’re still here. You just start hiding behind jokes more.”

Asmo straightens, lifting his chin. “Rude.”

“But true,” future-you adds quickly, smiling again. “And I don’t blame you.”

They glance around the room once more, at the brothers, the angels, the demons, then back at you.

“You don’t know it yet,” they say, quieter, “but this is the version of everyone you’ll miss the most.”

Your chest tightens. Asmo steps closer to you without thinking, slipping an arm around your shoulders in an easy, protective gesture. “Well,” he says lightly, though his grip is a little firmer now, “then we’d better enjoy it while we can.”

Future-you smiles at that. “Exactly.”

The celebration doesn’t quite restart, but it doesn’t end either. It just changes. Becomes something softer. Sadder. More precious.

future!Niky being a big hippie, a concept.

Thanks to @lunasilvermore​ for inspiring me again xd

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Bonus scene

After her time at Hogwarts (graduating, expulsion, dropping out, who knows), Penelope started working as a bartender at The Leaky Cauldron for a few years, before starting to work at The Three Broomsticks to be closer to Minnie, her sister.

Merula works as a Curse-breaker during this time. Mostly because... She didn't really plan for her future. What else is she supposed to do?

After the Second War, after the Battle of Hogwarts (in which they both participated), they adopted Quinn, the orphaned daughter of 2 Deatheaters (who were Samuel Avery's cousin and his wife).

Moody: Yes, I have an assignment for you. I'm afraid it's not a pleasant one.

Lua: Oh my god. Please tell me it's not-

Moody: Yes. It's Tonks-related.

Lua: Son of a bitch...

Moody: Ms. Tonks is scheduled to testify in court this afternoon. It's an important case, and I'd rather not get another letter from the Wizengamot saying that she showed up, quote, "covered in condiments," unquote.

Lua: So you want me to keep Tonks from spilling on herself for the REST of the DAY? We both know that's impossible!

Moody: I'm counting on you.

Lua: I won't do it.

Moody: There's nobody else I trust!

Lua: What you're asking is insane!

Moody: I'm NOT asking!

Lua: It's a suicide mission!

Moody: THEN PREPARE FOR DEATH!

Lua: YOU'VE LOST YOUR MIND!

Moody: THIS IS A DIRECT ORDER DETECTIVE, GET IN LINE!

Talbot: Hey! You guys startled Tonks. She spilled two full jars of spaghetti sauce on herself.