When They Call Their Human S/O Clingy
Characters: Curufin, Amrod, Argon, Egalmoth, Gwindor, Erestor
A/N: This one is for all those conversations we had about our extreme sense of physical affection differing from the elves, and how they would take it.
Warnings: human reader, the temporary rejection of our physical affections
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⋆˚✿˖° Curufin
𑁍 He had pretty much noticed from the first month that you liked touching his arm when you spoke, leaning your head against his shoulder when you were tired, looping your arm through his when walking, and generally being very tactile.
𑁍 At first, he didn’t mind it—he even secretly enjoyed the subtle closeness—but one day, when you hugged him from behind while he was bending over his workbench, he muttered without much thought, “You’re rather clingy, aren’t you?”
𑁍 That made you freeze instantly, pulled your hands away, and gave him a look that was a mix of insult and disbelief. “Clingy? Really?”
𑁍 By the time he realised he had made a mistake, you had already left the premises, and he had already turned back to his tools before the damage was done.
𑁍 The next few days were odd. No ‘good morning’ kisses, didn’t wait to comb and style his hair, or even take a bath with him.
𑁍 You barely touched him, never leaned in close, not even seeking him out during his work. He thought at first it was a coincidence, but then he caught you sidestepping him in the hallway to avoid brushing shoulders. That was when it clicked.
𑁍 His initial reaction was irritation—why make such a big deal out of one comment? But that was followed quickly by the uncomfortable twist in his chest at the absence of your warmth. He found himself missing the constant presence and subtle touches he had once pretended were an interruption.
𑁍 Deciding to apologise (which was so uncharacteristic of him), he approached you while you were seated in the library, head bent over a book.
𑁍 He slid into the seat across from you and, after an uncharacteristic hesitation, said, “It was poorly said. I am…accustomed to my own space, but I did not mean to make you withdraw entirely.”
𑁍 You just kept reading, which only made him more awkward.
𑁍 He began a rather un-Curufin-like campaign to regain your affection. Leaving small pieces of jewellery you’d admired on your desk, finding excuses to touch your arm or hand when speaking to you, sitting beside you instead of across from you at meals.
𑁍 One day, he even rested his head briefly on your shoulder while watching a forge demonstration, which startled you enough to glance at him, to which he only muttered, “Do not read into it.”
𑁍 Eventually, you gave in, snorting at his awkward attempts because it felt good to make him suffer. It only made his ego boost because he believed that you couldn’t resist his (charming) attempts. “See? Much better.”
𑁍 He never called you clingy again, though every so often, when you hugged him in a particularly over-the-top way, he’d puff his chest up with a proud grin, like he had won a competition.
⋆˚✿˖° Amrod
𑁍 He had always been physically demonstrative—throwing an arm around your shoulder, leaning on you when tired, dragging you along to whatever trouble he had in mind—but for some reason, when you matched that energy and often sought him out for hugs, linking arms, and leaning against him when talking, he decided to tease you about it.
𑁍 “Valar, you’re like a needy puppy,” he laughed one morning after you greeted him with a hug before breakfast.
𑁍 He didn’t mean it maliciously, but your expression darkened in a way that made his grin falter. “Oh come on, it’s a joke,” he tried, but you’d already pulled away. “Some joke, Amrod.”
𑁍 It took him exactly one day to realise what he’d done, and that evening, when he found you lounging with others but keeping your distance from him, he felt guilty.
𑁍 You’d always been within arm’s reach before, and now you were sitting at the far end of the bench, ignoring his presence. Not an eye-contact, a wink, a blink, a grin or smirk.
𑁍 He tried to play it cool, leaning against the doorframe and calling over, “Not coming over to pester me today?” You didn’t look up from your conversation, and that was all the confirmation he needed that you were annoyed.
𑁍 Not the type for serious apologies, but pranking instead, which he knew would only make things worse, he plotted without a prank instead.
𑁍 The next day, you awoke to find him sprawled dramatically across your bed, claiming he “needed his daily human contact” or he’d wither away and perish beyond the unknown. When you told him to get lost, he flopped onto the floor beside your bed and sighed as if you’d stabbed him.
𑁍 At mealtimes, he began sitting so close his knee brushed yours constantly, deliberately making a big deal about it in front of others: “Oh, I see how it is, everyone, I’m the clingy one now!”
𑁍 Finally, after several days of this relentless campaign, you cracked and shoved him playfully, muttering, “Fine, you idiot, come here.” He grinned triumphantly and slung his arm around your shoulders, muttering in a satisfied tone, “Knew you’d miss me.”
𑁍 Though he still teased occasionally, he learned to read the lines between playful and hurtful—and now, if anyone else dared call you clingy, he was the first to snap, “They’re just affectionate, keep your mouth shut.”
⋆˚✿˖° Argon
𑁍 Argon actually enjoys your physical affection most of the time. He liked when you took his arm, rested against him while talking, or greeted him with a quick hug. It made him feel comfortable in a way most interactions didn’t.
𑁍 However, in a moment of flippancy, after you clung to his arm during a rather dull council session, he chuckled and murmured, “Careful, you’re going to get a reputation for being clingy.” It was meant as harmless teasing, but the way you immediately released his arm made him realise he’d struck a nerve.
𑁍 You didn’t snap at him, just folded your hands in your lap for the rest of the meeting, and turned the other direction. That undid him more than any argument could have. Why did you have to be so cold?
𑁍 Over the course of the following days, he noticed you keeping an intentional distance, greeting him with words instead of touch, offering quick nods instead of smiles when passing in the corridor, or wanting to stay home without him around. It bothered him far more than he’d expected.
𑁍 One evening, after a feast, he caught up with you on the balcony. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
𑁍 You didn’t even feel like meeting his eyes. “No, I’ve just been giving you the space you clearly want.” That made die a little inside…and whine.
𑁍 “I do not want space. I was teasing—I thought it would make you laugh, not…Not whatever this is.” He was pretty much twiddling with his thumbs and begging internally.
𑁍 In the days that followed, he made an effort to show you that your affection was welcome. He’d seek you out in the gardens, walk close enough that his shoulder brushed yours, and sometimes initiate contact himself; a quick hand at your back when guiding you through a crowd, an arm linked with yours without a word.
𑁍 One morning, he approached you carrying two steaming mugs and offered one without preamble. When you took it, he leaned casually against you, murmuring, “If I am to be accused of being clingy in turn, so be it.” That earned him a quiet laugh, easing the tension between you.
𑁍 After that, he didn’t joke about it again, though occasionally he’d give you a sidelong smile and say, “It is a good thing you are here—I like being clung to like a bear. All cute and squishy.”
⋆˚✿˖° Egalmoth
𑁍 He’d always liked your enthusiasm—whether it was throwing both arms around his neck in greeting or looping your arm around his waist as the two of you walked through the streets of Gondolin—but he didn’t think much of it until one afternoon in the armoury, when you leaned over his shoulder to see what he was working on and he, distracted, muttered, “You’re awfully clingy today.”
𑁍 You gave him a slow blink, took one neat step back, and stayed there. He thought nothing of it until hours later when you left without your usual goodbye squeeze.
𑁍 The next morning, he found you speaking animatedly with Ecthelion, while standing a comfortable arm’s length away from him. That was when it hit him—you weren’t clingy anymore. Or maybe you were, just not with him. And that stung.
𑁍 Egalmoth, never one to let his pride be wounded so deadly, and taking it as a challenge to win you back, began turning up wherever you were—leaning against doorframes with a casual, “Hoping for a hug?” or deliberately walking far too close in the marketplace. You side-stepped him every time, which only made him more competitive about it.
𑁍 But deep down, he was also suffering from the lack of contact. Your domesticated him into humanly affections, he can't go a second without it. And paying the price was a ‘wound too deep,’ as he once quoted.
𑁍 In the training yard, he called out loudly enough for several elves to hear, “I feel positively abandoned! What happened to my ever-present shadow?” You gave him a blank expression and carried on watching the sparring match, unbothered.
𑁍 Never giving up, eventually, he got his chance when a street musician began playing a lively tune at a feast, and without warning, he swept you up into an impromptu dance, spinning you so you had no choice but to cling to him lest you be flung across the hall. “Ah, there you are, my little bear.”
𑁍 He stopped calling you clingy entirely, but from then on, he had the nerve to announce to anyone nearby when you hugged him: “Ah, balance is restored!”
⋆˚✿˖° Gwindor
𑁍 Having spent years in the horrors of Angband, Gwindor found your constant touches oddly comforting. It reminded him of the simple things worth coming back to—an arm linked through his, a hand on his back, your head resting on his shoulder.
𑁍 That was why, when he was in a tired mood, he said, “You really are…persistent in your closeness,” he was taken aback by how sharply you pulled away.
𑁍 “Persistent?” you repeated flatly, and walked off before he could explain.
𑁍 It didn’t take him long to realise how much the absence of your easy warmth was bothering him. Without it, his day felt strangely hollow. That’s when he knew he had to apologise and make it up to you.
𑁍 His first attempt to win you back was an awkward one—turning up at your door with a plate of food, claiming he’d “made too much,’ despite the fact that the kitchen staff had clearly done the cooking. You accepted it politely, and returned to your room, declining him entry (L).
𑁍 He cried that night.
𑁍 The next day, he found you in the stables and offered to help you with your work, only to get tangled in the reins and nearly get kicked by a horse. You had to catch his sleeve to pull him to safety, leading to him giving you such a boyish grin at the contact that you almost caved.
𑁍 Subtle realisation wasn’t going to cut it, he tried being honest. “I…liked it, you know. You being close. I only said what I did because I was tired, not because I wanted you to stop.”
𑁍 When you raised an eyebrow, he quickly added, “If you don’t go back to it, I’ll just have to start hanging off you myself.”
𑁍 You pretty much decided that you had enough fun making him suffer, which gave him the greatest sigh of relief. From then on, whenever you leaned on him, he made a point of resting his head on yours in quiet contentment.
⋆˚✿˖° Erestor
𑁍 Erestor was so used to people respecting his personal space he carried himself in a way that discouraged idle touching. You, however, with your natural humanly affections, ignored that completely.
𑁍 You tucked yourself under his arm during readings, leaned over his desk to point at whatever caught your interest, would even nudge his chair with your foot until he looked up from his writing, and even sneak a few kisses to his cheek when no one was looking.
𑁍 One afternoon, in the middle of an important scroll, you came up behind him and rested your chin on his shoulder. Without thinking, he murmured, “You’re rather clingy, you know,” still reading the parchment, without breaking focus.
𑁍 “I see,” you said, and left without another word. It wasn’t until later, when you passed him in the corridor with a polite nod and no more sweet smiles, that he realised the weight of what he’d done.
𑁍 The first thing he tried was pretending nothing had happened, but that failed spectacularly when you began addressing him in the same tone you used with near-strangers, and addressing him formally.
𑁍 His second attempt was to invite you to help him organise an arrival of rare books—usually the kind of offer you’d leap at—but you simply thanked him and said you were busy with Lord Glorfindel. You can bet his eye was twitching.
𑁍 He had finally resorted to something truly un-Erestor-like: showing up at your table during a crowded dinner, setting down his plate, and announcing with confidence, like he was giving a royal decree and you would agree. “You will sit with me tomorrow. And the day after. And until I am certain you understand that I do not mind your…proximity.”
𑁍 “You could just apologise if you swallowed your pride and say those 3 big words.”
𑁍 Knowing that you were right, but not wanting to extend his capacity for public displays, he glanced at you and murmured, “…Yes. That also.”
𑁍 From then on, though still dignified, he had a habit of brushing his sleeve against yours when you walked together, as if to quietly tell you your nearness was not only welcome but expected.
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