i’ve always loved how Millenium World revealed that, like Yugi, Atem was the biggest crybaby growing up. sure we got his emotional angst fest during Douma/Waking the Dragons arc when he lost Yugi, but we all know it wasn’t canon in the manga even though it was pretty spot-on characterization, especially when you consider how over-the-top emotional and dramatic ancient Egyptian kings were when handling grief but i digress. this final arc, however, was Kazuki Takahashi actually confirming Atem used to sob till kingdom come. he used to be shy and frightened of the dark and he’d always run to his father’s arms for protection. as prince, he got frustrated over class distinctions and inequality, much like how Yugi always gets upset whenever he sees people getting mistreated and bullied, even in the earliest manga chapters. in the anime, every single flashback we have from Atem’s pov has him crying, and then he never does after his father’s death. Atem doesn’t even cry in the final duel against Yugi, which makes sense given how strong he had to present himself because he was pharaoh, but that look into his past really solidified that, had things been different, he really is just a boy like Yugi. a little king with the heart of a champion. and also the biggest crybaby. and, since Yugi does live on and follow in his other me’s footsteps, he does become stronger and more confident, but that childhood softness will never go away, just like how it never did for Atem. their souls are so intertwined that even their tears manage to cast the other’s shadow
Yami making Yuugi deal with the situation he does want to is very adorable of him and with how cheeky he is about it makes it seem like he pulled this exact move before
I’m back at it again because I just love these guys so much. This time, it’s about what they’d be like as boyfriends. Writing this felt like drifting right back into that familiar feeling for why I adore them in the first place 💛💜
Yugi is the kind of boyfriend who makes love feel easy to trust.
He’s gentle with you in all the little ways that matter. He listens when you talk, remembers the small things you mention once and forget you said, and notices when your mood shifts before you explain it. He wouldn’t overwhelm you with big, dramatic gestures. With Yugi, love shows up in quieter ways—the way he saves you a seat, checks in when you’ve had a long day, or smiles to himself when he sees your name on his phone.
He’d love spending time with you, even if you weren’t doing anything special. Board games, late-night talks, walking home together, sitting side by side while one rambles and the other listens—it would all mean something to him. Yugi would never make you feel silly for caring. If it matters to you, he’d want to hear about it.
When you’re upset, he gets quiet. He wouldn’t push, crowd you, or try to fill the silence just because it made him nervous. He just stays beside you, close enough that you know he’s there.
After a while, his hand shifts a little closer to yours. He waits. And when you finally reach for him, he holds on like that was all he wanted to do in the first place.
He’d be nervous sometimes. Yugi would want so badly to help that he might stumble over his words or second-guess himself. But he’d stay and listen. If he didn’t say everything perfectly, you’d still feel how much he cared.
Yugi would keep little things from you and never really mention it. A picture tucked in his wallet. A charm you gave him. A note he’s folded so many times the edges have gone soft.
If you ever found them, he’d probably get embarrassed, but he wouldn’t deny it. Those things matter to him. They’re pieces of you, and Yugi would hold onto them carefully.
And when Yugi says “I love you,” he means it completely. No performance, no hesitation once the words are out—just his whole heart sitting there in the open.
“I still can’t believe I get to be the one beside you,” he’d admit, his cheeks flushed. “You make every day feel special, just by being here.”
Joey as a boyfriend would be loud, sweet, protective, and a little chaotic in the best way. He feels things hard, and once he cares about someone, he doesn’t know how to be casual about it. If he loves you, he loves you with his whole chest.
Joey would always find an excuse to stick around longer. He’d walk you home even if it meant going the wrong way, then act like you were the weird one for noticing.
“What? I was already heading over there.”
Joey would remember the snacks you like and toss them at you with a quick, “Here. Don’t make it weird.” Like he didn’t go out of his way to get them.
And if he knew you were having a bad day, he’d text you something stupid just to mess with you. Five minutes later, another message would come in. “You laughed, didn’t you?”
He’d mess with you all the time, sure. But if someone else did it and actually hurt your feelings? Joey’s smile would be gone in a second.
He’d be affectionate in a very Joey way, too. An arm around your shoulders when you’re walking together, his hand grabbing yours in a crowd, pulling you closer during a movie and pretending there’s a reason for it. He’d just like having you close, whether you’re out getting food, walking around late, or doing absolutely nothing on the couch.
Joey would mess up sometimes. He’d get loud, say something stupid, and realize almost right away that he’d gone too far. He wouldn’t know how to fix it at first, so he’d probably sulk for a bit, pacing around and arguing with himself.
Then he’d come back, awkward and frustrated with his own pride, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Look… I was being an idiot,” he’d mutter. “I’m sorry, okay?”
Under all the teasing and confidence, Joey has a softer side he doesn’t show to everyone. With you, he’d let that side slip out more. He’d get quiet when something really matters. He’d hold on a little longer. He’d look at you like he still can’t believe he gets to have this.
“You got no idea what you do to me,” he chuckles, brushing his thumb over your jaw. “Every time you smile, I swear my brain just— poof— gone. You’re it for me, babe.”
Seto wouldn’t fall for someone easily. He keeps people at a distance for a reason, and he wouldn’t let just anyone get close. But once you matter to him, that’s it. He may not say it in the softest way, but his loyalty would be impossible to miss.
At first, he’d be awkward with affection. He wouldn’t know what to do with someone being gentle, and he’d probably act irritated to cover up being flustered. But little by little, you’d notice how he cares. He’d make time for you even when his schedule is packed. He’d stand closer in crowded places. He’d notice when something was bothering you, even if you tried to hide it.
Seto wasn’t going to stand there and tell you he cared. That wasn’t him.
Your phone charger stopped working once, and he made one rude comment about buying cheap garbage before replacing it with something better. Another night, it got late, and before you could even mention leaving, he said, “The car’s downstairs.” No question. No explanation.
And when you shivered beside him, he didn’t ask if you were cold. His coat was already on your shoulders. “You’re freezing,” he muttered, looking away like he hadn’t been watching you the whole time.
And he would never say he liked having you around. He’d just keep letting you stay.
You could sit in his office while he worked, curled up in one of the chairs with a book open in your lap or your phone in your hand. You wouldn’t even have to say much. The room would be quiet except for the soft clicking of his keyboard, the occasional shuffle of papers, murmuring from the monitors on his desk. Every now and then, his eyes would flick over to you. Quick. Almost careless. But if you looked up fast enough to catch him, he’d arch a brow and say something dry before turning back to his screen.
But he’d be less tense with you there. That part he couldn’t hide.
When it’s just the two of you, he’d still be Seto. Sharp. Blunt. Hard to read on purpose. But he’d stand closer. His hand would settle at your waist when he passes behind you or brush your back like he doesn’t realize it. His voice would be quieter with you, and when he looked at you, he’d stay for a second instead of turning away immediately.
Seto wouldn’t always know what to do with what he felt for you. Saying it out loud would feel too exposed, and he’d probably get irritated with himself for even trying. So instead, he’d let you in piece by piece.
A place in his schedule. A chair in his office. Your things left somewhere he could see them and never once telling you to move them.
For Seto, that would say enough.
“I don’t need you to understand everything I do,” he says one night, his hand finding yours. “Just know that when I say you matter to me… I mean it. More than I can ever say.”
Yami doesn’t love casually. If he chooses someone, he takes it seriously. He’s careful with his feelings, but once he lets someone in, there’s no doubt about where they stand with him.
He wouldn’t expect you to stay quiet behind him. He’d want you next to him, speaking your mind, even when your thoughts didn’t match his. If you challenged him, he wouldn’t brush it off. He’d listen calmly because your voice mattered to him.
When you doubted yourself, he wouldn’t turn it into a speech. He’d stay close, look at you like he already knew the truth, and say, “You’ve faced harder things than this.”
He’d notice when you were running yourself down, too. A cup of tea would appear beside you. Your bag would disappear from your shoulder before you could argue. If you were sick, he’d be calm, almost too calm, setting water and medicine near you and telling you to rest. If you tried to protest, he’d give you that look—the one that says he’s already made up his mind.
His affection came quietly, tucked into moments most people wouldn’t notice. When a room got too crowded, his hand would settle against your back, warm through the fabric. If your smile started to slip, his fingers would find yours under the table and hold them. Before he left, he’d kiss your forehead, soft and brief, then stay close for one extra second before finally pulling away.
He would remember things. Small things. A drink you liked. A book you paused to look at. The way your hands curled when you were nervous and trying to hide it. You’d mention something once then forget about it, only to find it beside you days later without a word. He wouldn’t make a show of it. He would just notice, remember, and care.
Sometimes you’d catch him looking at you when he thought you were distracted, his expression softer than usual. The moment your eyes met, he’d look away, calm as ever, but you’d already seen it.
In private, he’d let himself be gentler. He’d enjoy the quiet with you sitting close while he read, listening to you talk about your day, letting your head rest against his chest without trying to fill the silence. Those peaceful moments would matter to him more than he’d say.
And beneath all that calm confidence, there would be a softer side that only you really get to see. With you, he wouldn’t always have to be composed or certain. He could simply be there, close and quiet, letting himself have the peace he rarely asks for.
“Remember this,” he says, his voice low but certain. “No matter what time or world we stand in—my heart belongs to you.”
Alright, time to go cry into the void and pretend these men aren’t fictional 😭
