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A picture for the "You gave me a Stocking" event! Prompted by @willidothefandango , who wanted centaur sherrif Steve with blacksmith Tony and I absolutely LOVE the idea! Tony is checking the hooves to make nicely fitted horseshoes, or, well, centaur shoes.
Lion like
Differents type of lion Steve the "Mane" Harrington.
Lion centaur
Sphinx, might make an AU about it?
Werelion (1 _ 2 _ 3_ 4 _ 5(?))
My other Stranger Things AUs
Who wants a dumb idea? Trick question you’re getting it anyway. I read centaur Steve and I love it.
--
There is a man eating peaches from his tree. Or--not a man. Sort-of-a-man. Tony’s never seen a centaur before, but he’s heard of them, and he figures this man(?) fits the bill, human torso blending into the shoulders of a palomino, horse half just as muscular and beautiful as the human. He is tall and handsome and has he has a shield slung over his back.
He is eating peaches from Tony’s tree.
“Hey! It’s rude not to ask permission!” Tony barks at him, leaning out of the branches, and has the distinct pleasure of watching the centaur jump so hard that all of his hooves leave the ground.
“Oh, I, um, I’m sorry,” the centaur says, looking around nervously. He looks back at the tree, then leans toward it, adding, “Um. Sorry.”
Tony inches further along the branches. “I’m up here.”
“Oh,” the centaur says, looking up at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know there were dryads of fruit trees.”
“Well there are,” Tony mutters petulantly, slithering down his tree so that he can pick up the pits that the centaur had so carelessly dropped when he’d finished with them.
The centaur shifts on his hooves awkwardly, then bends down to help him. “Sorry,” he says again.
“You don’t have to keep apologizing.”
The centaur opens his mouth, then closes it again, probably around an aborted ‘sorry.’ “Where I come from,” he says instead. “Fruit trees are open for anyone to eat from, so it didn’t occur to me to ask. I’m--”
“Don’t say you’re sorry again,” Tony sighs, rolling his eyes. “I guess it’s okay. No one’s come to eat them in a long time, anyway... Be shame if they went to waste for another year...”
“...Because there was a war,” Steve says after a moment, having nearly swallowed his tongue. “There was no one to tend trees or pick fruit because there was a war.”
Tony turns to blink up at him, frowning. “What’s a war?”
“What’s a--” the centaur begins, sputtering, then stops. Stares. Finally, he says, “I’m not going to tell you.”
“I let you eat my peaches!” Tony exclaims, immediately offended. “That’s mean! I--”
“It’s nice,” the centaur cuts in, suddenly looking unimaginably old and tired. “To finally meet someone so untouched by war that they don’t know what it is.”
“...Well,” Tony grumbles, picking down a peach and handing it to him in exchange for the pits he’d picked up. “I suppose I don’t have to know right now, since it sounds like it’s over anyway. But you’ll have to tell me eventually!”
“Eventually, sure,” the centaur says with a wide smile, and bites into the flesh of the peach.
Tony watches the juice drip down the centaur’s chin and wrist and swallows thickly, then focuses on breaking the pits apart for the seeds so he can plant them later. He’s certainly got other things he can ask in the meantime, after all.
I've been seeing a rise un stony centaur AUs and I was trying to get back to traditional media prepping for Inktober lol
(Also I love Tony the pony)
Day 3 of “I can’t count but it’s supposed to be 12 days of Christmas ficlets.” Today is for @rose-on-the-mountain for part 3 of the Adventures of Centaur Steve and OctoTony :) Read parts 1-3 here!
---
They spoke to each other in two different languages. It should have been a barrier for friendship; it wasn’t. Somehow, it made them grow closer to each other instead, each one listening intently as the other chattered away, slowly understanding the language the other spoke.
But this, this wasn’t a language that they needed to speak to understand each other perfectly. Steve chirped at Tony, scooting closer to the fishbowl that Tony swam in. Sometimes Steve cursed at the barrier that they had that their human counterparts never seemed to have, with the fact that Steve was a land creature and Tony was...not. But their humans were so dumb and couldn’t get their heads out of their asses to just get rid of the unresolved sexual tension that everybody could taste. Tony blinked sleepily at him and swam over, pressing a hand against the glass to where Steve’s hand was. Steve hated it, this barrier - he had no problems telling his Tony that he loved him, and Tony knew.
It was late at night, and the living room was dark, illuminated only by the emergency light by the elevator. It wasn’t cold thanks to the Tower’s moderated temperature, but Steve shivered all the same because Tony always did that to him. He just wanted to feel Tony in his arms.
Tony blew bubbles at Steve, making him blush. Steve chirped again before pressing his face into the glass of Tony’s tank and blew a raspberry. He grinned when Tony rolled in laughter. Then, Tony swam over to him and gave him a heated look. Steve blushed, watching as Tony swam up to the rim of the fishbowl and climbed over.
Ever since the day Tony nearly died from dehydration, his Tony and Big Tony had been working on a project that would allow his Tony to stay out of the water for a certain period of time without falling ill. That, and Tony’s stubbornness of leaving his tank longer and longer allowed him to leave the water for a longer stretch of time. Still, Steve couldn’t tamp down the slight rush of fear as Tony crawled down his tank over to him because he still remembered the yellow pallor of his friend from that day, nearly dying because he wasn’t there to protect his friend.
Tony didn’t have those qualms. Instead, he wrapped two of his tentacles around Steve’s neck, hugging him gently and climbing atop of him. He blew happy bubbles at Steve, and Steve grinned. It was a wonderful greeting - Steve could determine the way Tony’s melodic voice rose and fell that Tony was just as happy to see him. He turned, reaching a hand out to Tony’s face, and kissed him passionately.
The feelings sparked down his spine, just like the first time they did this, and it would never be the last. They shared another kiss, Tony circling his tentacles around Steve’s waist.
“Bwubwubweeee?” Tony asked. He pointed towards the Christmas tree that was by the living room window and tugged at Steve’s arm.
Steve looked at the Christmas tree before looking back at Tony. Tony was looking intently at the tree, urging Steve on. He could never disobey his friend, so he began to trot down the table with the staircase that Big Tony created for him at the side of the table. Tony’s tentacles squeezed slightly tighter around Steve’s body even though they both knew that Steve would never do anything to harm Tony, especially when he’s on his back. Still, he liked the warmth and the pressure.
Slowly, gently, the two made their way towards the tree. Already there were presents under it, and many of the packages were larger than the two of them combined, wrapped up in both nice and gaudy wrapping paper. Tony leaned over Stever, pointing to a tiny package that was mostly hidden under the larger packages, and Steve had to push a few packages out of his way in order to reach it. He gently pried it from under yet another package.
Steve tried to hand the package to Tony, but Tony pushed it back to him with a soft smile.
“Bwue bwub,” he said, looking expectantly at the package.
The bow fluttered to the ground as Steve opened the present. Carefully, he worked his fingers under the tape that held the wrapping paper together, and then folded the sticky part over so that he could reuse the paper later. Tony blew bubbles in exasperation at his antics, but he smiled all the same.
The present tumbled out of its wrapping and fell to the floor. Carefully, Steve picked the sweater up, jaw dropping in awe and in love. It was a soft white one, designed to perfectly fit his small size. Steve looked up at Tony grinning at him, and he chirped curiously.
Tony nodded. “Bwub bub bwee,” he answered. “Bweee bwub bwu.”
How Tony managed to hide making the sweater for a long time was astounding, but Steve loved it so much. He put it on, threading his arms through the holes. It was so warm and cozy, fitted well over his shoulder. Steve grabbed Tony and kissed him passionately in thanks, tearing up in happiness. He reluctantly pulled away when he ran out of breath. Tony looked just as dazed as he felt.
Steve turned to look at the pile of packages again, and he saw his own present. Clambering on top of a box, Steve reached out to another small present, and he strained when his fingers couldn’t quite reach. But then Tony’s tentacle was there, and he dragged it back to themselves before they fell over. Tony looked at it curiously, then looked at Steve curiously.
“Bwee bwub?” he asked, pointing to himself. Steve nodded.
Unlike Steve, Tony had no problems ripping apart the wrapping paper, and then he gasped as he pulled two very familiar icons: half of the Captain America shield and the Iron Man helmet were welded together to make something entirely new and special for just the two of them to signify who they were to each other.
Steve got Big Tony’s help when he dragged the drawing over to him, and with a lot of arm waving and grumbling, Big Tony finally got what he wanted to do. It was hard hiding this from Tony with the way Tony hung out with Big Tony a lot. Thankfully Big Steve was very good at distracting his Tony when Steve wanted Big Tony’s help.
Tony cried in happiness when he brushed a tentacle over Steve’s creation reverently, looking at it in awe. He looked at Steve with unshed tears in his eyes, and he squeezed Steve even tighter, blubbering in happiness and pressing against Steve’s lips reverently.
Steve’s chest warmed in happiness, and he carried them back to their home.
You know what, fuck it, I’m posting the angst for this now too. Enjoy more centaur!Steve and dyad!Tony:
Steve’s hooves pound the dirt road so hard that he throws up dirt with every step.
The war is supposed to be over. He’d been on his way home when he’d met Tony, had stayed there long enough to befriend him and promise to return soon. Tony had reminded him that he’d never told him what a war was, and Steve had laughed, said he’d tell him when he came back. He’d thought he had plenty of time. The war is supposed to be over.
He was a day’s travel when he saw the smoke, acrid and black across the sky. Steve had stared up at it, confused, because he hadn’t seen anything like it since before the peace treaty had been signed, armies burning land to keep the locals from benefiting from their gardens and fields. He’d seen a flock of harpies fleeing and waved them down, asked what had happened, and one had frantically squalled, “Renegades are burning the orchards,” and he’d been turning to run back before she’d even finished speaking.
He should have told Tony what war was before he’d left, he thinks, heart sinking as he realizes the razed grounds he’s galloping past are the remains of the apple orchards he’d passed a few hours before. He should have told Tony all about war, and the tentative peace afterward, and the renegades that took advantage of it. He should have told Tony so many things.
The peach orchard is gone. Steve slows to a stop on shaky legs at a patch of fence. There was still a singed ribbon around the charred post. Tony had put it there, said, ‘These are the trees I stay at most. They have the deepest roots.’
There are no trees anymore. Just smoldering piles where they should be. Steve can still feel the heat coming off of them. He swallows thickly, then leaps the fence in one smooth movement, trotting over to the ashes and pawing at them with one hoof. There’s nothing green there, though. Just ash, and smoldering roots.
“Tony,” Steve croaks, and it’s only seeing the ash compact under droplets of water that he realizes he’s crying. He wipes his face, then cries out another broken, “Tony!”
He doesn’t know why he runs deeper into the former orchard. Maybe he hopes to find a tree that was marginally untouched. Maybe he hopes to find closure in finding Tony’s body. Maybe he just wants to hurt himself more, because all he can think about is how he should have told Tony about war, because maybe then Tony could have escaped.
It was supposed to be over.
“Tony,” Steve cries out, coming to a slow stop once he realizes the entirety of the orchard is gone. He spares one thought for the owners of the orchard, who Tony had recalled fondly, and how they ‘must have gone off to war like you did, Steve, no one takes care of the peaches anymore.’ Tony had been so proud of the bushels of fruit he provided them. Now his beautiful peach trees are gone. And so is he.
“Tony,” he says again, more sob than word. Tony had been so kind.
“Steve,” a weak voice croaks back, and Steve rears up on his hind legs with a startled whinny. “Steve,” it says again, weaker this time.
“Tony?!” Steve exclaims, looking down at the ground only to find a small wisp of green sticking out of the ground. He doesn’t grab it up, but barely, instead kneeling beside it. “Tony!”
“Steve,” Tony whimpers. “You still have a peach.”
“I ha--Yeah, Tony, I do, I have a dozen of ‘em,” Steve tells him hurriedly, reaching back for his saddle bag. “I was going to wait until tonight to eat ‘em. What can I do? Can I plant one, or--”
“They salted the ground, Steve,” the wisp whimpers.
Steve finally gets his fingers around a peach and pulls it out of his saddlebag. “Here, Tony, what should I do?” he asks, holding it out to the little sprig of green.
The sprig of green feels along the fuzzy skin, then climbs on top of it, and Steve swallows down another sob when he realizes oh, it’s Tony, he’s alive, if only barely. “I can’t get through,” the wisp whimpers miserably. “Steve, I have to get to the pit until you can plant me.”
“Oh, okay,” Steve says, feeling like an idiot. He begins picking at the peel. “Okay.”
“Just a little hole,” Tony adds weakly. “It’ll be safer if it’s small.”
“Okay,” Steve repeats, helpless, and finally picks a small hole in the peach skin. “Like this?”
“Yes,” Tony answers, and then disappears inside the peach with a tiny wet sound.
Steve cups the peach in his hands carefully, pulling it to his chest. “I’ve got you, Tony. I’ll take care of you now. Just tell me what to do.”
“Okay,” Tony answers, voice small, and then explains that if the peach lasts long enough, Steve can plant it, flesh and all, into some fertile soil, and if everything works out, he might have a chance. “I might not have a chance, anymore,” Tony adds softly, but Steve shushes him.
“It’s fine. You’re gonna be fine, sweetheart. I’m gonna take care of you,” Steve assures him, sharply at first, then more gently. “It’ll be okay, Tony. I’ve got you now.”
“Oh,” Tony mewls as Steve delicately packs him back into his saddlebag. “Oh, Steve, these apples, she’s--she’s still--oh, Steve, hurry.”
Steve takes off toward where the apple orchards had been before the request even registers. He’s pretty certain that if Tony had said he should tear his shoes off and run across marble, he would have done it, though.
The apple dryad is just as worse for wear as Tony, can’t even manage to speak but for, 'The others?' which Tony has to regretfully admit he can’t sense them anymore. “But Steve will take care of us now,” he adds with a surety that almost makes Steve weep. “He’s going to take care of us.”
“Oh,” the other dryad says, and then falls silent, resting.
Steve is considering whether he’ll make it home in time to be able to plant them, or whether he’ll need to try and find someone he trusts to take care of them on the way, when he hears Tony weakly calling his name. He peels his saddlebag open with a frown. “Tony?”
“I understand why you couldn’t explain war to me,” Tony says quietly. “War is too heinous for words.”
“Yeah,” Steve agrees around the lump in his throat, too ashamed to tell him that he used to be one of those soldiers, once, doing things that he thought was right. Now isn’t the time. He has to make sure Tony and the other dryad are safe. He needs to protect them.
It’s the least he can do, after all, knowing that an ended war had caused this.
The Centaurs' Tale - leveragehunters (Monkeygreen), littleblackfox - Captain America (Movies) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
"You know how I sometimes call you a horse's ass?"
"Yeah?"
"It's a hell of a lot more accurate now."
It's the same old story: another day, another bad guy with designs on the planet showing up in New York City. But prepared as they are for weirdness—and Steve and Bucky thought they'd seen and suffered it all—neither of them are quite ready for where this particular tale winds up.
Or, to be completely accurate, where this pair of tails winds up.
Land & Sea Collide
There was a rule that his kind tried to instill in Steve when he was young. ‘Never leave the safety of the fields.’
Well, he had grown into a powerful adult and he never was a good listener, so one day, when he followed a trail he didn’t know to the cliffs and looked below, he didn’t understand why they always told the young foals those stories.
He found he very much liked the view from here. The cliff area was covered in soft green grasses and wildflowers. As he found a comfy spot and tucked his legs up under himself to sit, he decided this was his new favorite spot.
_________________
His clan wouldn’t stop trying to set him up with matches….with mates. He hated it, all of it. He wanted to fall in love, not be mated to someone to only further their clan, make it bigger and more powerful Maybe he was old fashioned that way, but it’s what he wanted, and if they couldn’t listen to him about it….he was leaving.
_______________
In the dead of night he leaves, taking nothing with him but his satchel, where it sits over his broad chest. He lets his legs carry him. He’s the fastest running in the area, so when he finally gets to the sea some days later, he is sore and tired. But it feels good, finally doing something for himself.
The area reminds him of the cliffs back home, and he settles into his new home with a happy grin on his face.
_____________________
His small hut takes no time at all to build, and soon enough, he’s settled and happy to finally have a home all his own, no one telling him where to go or not to go. He finds the salty sea air relaxing in a way maybe a centaur such as himself shouldn’t find it, but he does. He finds he has always liked the smell of the air this way, salty and thick with the smell of the ocean.
______________________
He finds, some months later when the weather is colder and his fur grows thicker for the winter, that all those old stories he heard as a child may have been true. After all, he isn’t prepared for humans to find him, and he isn’t prepared to be so outnumbered. Finally, he isn’t prepared to watch his hut burn to the ground or the way they try to hurt him, kill him for his hooves and fur.
He runs, he runs, to the cliffs he goes, and over the cliffs he falls when one of the humans gets a spear in his shoulder blade just the right way. His scream is drowned out by the wind and the ocean waves crashing below, until he hits the water and then….he knows nothing but blackness. _______________
Sometimes, the darkness is what the octo likes, the stillness and the blackness of the ocean making it easier to hide when he’s hurting for prey. Most prey doesn’t even see him until it’s too late. His tentacles strike without mercy, and his teeth are just sinking into his fresh kill of flounder when he hears it...the water breaks nearby and it’s something huge, he can just tell.
Making a split-second decision, he abandons his fresh kill and swims forward to the source of the disturbance in the water. He’s stunned when he comes across something he’s never seen before. He has no idea what this thing is, but it doesn’t come from the sea; that much is certain by the way the thing is struggling to swim to the service before its body goes limp.
He grabs the thing by his arms and studies its face before frowning and rushing to the water’s surface. Breaking into open air, he sees nothing else around for miles, and the rain that starts to pour from the sky blocks his view of the cliffs above.
He starts swimming until he comes to the nearby island that he calls his home and drags the heavy thing up on shore as far as he can. Laying the creature down in the sand, he wonders what he should do before seeing it cough up water.
The thing never wakes, however, so the octo is left leaning over this strange thing and studying it closely. He is fascinated by how many legs it has, four of them and then two arms….it makes octo happy to see something else with so many like himself.
He learns in a instant that it’s a male when his eyes land on…...a huge cock between its legs. He swings his eyes away as his cheeks heat up and the octo has to clear his throat before taking a finger and poking at the cheeks of the male.
“Wake up,” he commands, but nothing happens and he’s left frowning.
He trails his finger and sharp claw down the cheek in a gentle caress as he studies the handsome features, eyes roaming over the blonde hair next and then looking to those eyelashes again before he leans back to take in even more. Whatever this male is, he looks like a warrior, strong and capable. The octo loves it.
He gently touches some of the fur on the creature’s belly and finds it very soft before running his hand over the strong chest. The octo is enraptured by this thing and he wants it to wake up already.
____________________
Steve comes back to the waking world in stages, until his eyes flutter open and he groans roughly. The back of his head feels like it took a hit, and the back of his right shoulder hurts where the spear got him, but other than that, he feels ok.
Which is why when he finally notices he’s not alone on the beach, he starts to get up only to be held down, and it makes his flight or fight instinct kick in.
“Hold still will ya? I’m trying to clean this wound out.”
The voice stills the blonde and he looks over at….an octo, and not just any octo either, but a meroctopus. He’d heard stories growing up, how they had died out, but clearly that was very untrue. Unless he’s dead or this is a dream. It doesn’t feel like a dream, though, and…. doesn’t seem like he’s dead, either. So....
“What are you, anyway?” the octo finally says.
“I….. I’m a centaur.”
“What’s that?”
“Me,” Steve says frowning more.
The octo rolls his eyes as he starts wrapping the wound to his shoulder blade in kelp and seaweeds. “I mean you’re not human and you’re not what I am….”
The centaur finds himself pushing the other away, and finally gets his legs under him, standing to his full height and towering over the other. “I’m half horse if you MUST know, and frankly, you’re being rude asking me such a thing.”
The octo, though, just….stares with big wide eyes, eyes that hold… a lot of interest. Eyes that, once Steve starts to REALLY look at and take in, are the color of his favorite flowers along a trail he loved so much. His hair, though….. long and wavy from the sea… the color of tree bark, dark brown and beautiful.
Once he takes in the rest of the octo, he swallows thickly, because this may be the most beautiful creature Steve had ever seen.
“What’s your name, warrior?” The octo asks, voice low and deep, yet soft.
“Steve.”
The octo moves closer and uses his tentacles to raise to the height of the centaur. “I’m Bucky.”
____________________
It only takes days, days where Bucky helps change the bandages for Steve’s wound, before the ‘thing’ between them just….happens.
It’s not love…. not at first. What brings them together is pure want…. the raw craving for the other in the most primal way. Neither of them are even sure how they will make it work between them, but that doesn’t mean they can’t have fun in the meantime, until they do figure it out.
When one day Steve is bathing in the sea, Bucky finally touches how he wants, how he knows Steve wants. He tentatively wraps one of his purple tentacles around Steve’s cock hanging low and heavy below his body, half in the water, and the centaur gasps, bucking forward into the grasp. He’s never been touched like this and he instantly craves more.
The little suction cups stick and unstick to the skin of his cock, and it’s all Steve can do not to yell from the pleasure. It’s so much and yet not enough at the same time. Soon Bucky is guiding him just a bit more into the water, so that it comes up to his belly, and then Steve is surrounded by the octo. Bucky’s in his face and all his tentacles are wrapped around some part of Steve.
The way he can hold him still, keep him at his mercy is a heady feeling, and Steve just wants more.
“Please,” he begs, because what else can he do?
Bucky finally kisses him, not a gentle kiss, a kiss that demands more, and Steve gives as good as he gets, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s torso. He surrenders to the tentacles touching him everywhere, surrenders to the one probing at his hole, surrenders to the one around his cock and just….lets go in a way he never has before.
_____________________
Later, Steve sits with his legs tucked under him, Bucky snuggled up to his side, head on his shoulder as he sleeps. Once they’d moved closer to shore where it was much shallower, they had decided a good long nap was in order.
Steve felt wrung out and used in the best of ways, sore in places he knew he would feel for days, and he hoped it was the same for Bucky. Both of their bodies were littered with love bites and sucker marks and a whole host of other marks that got made in the heat of passion. Steve wears his with pride and finally nods off to sleep. ________________
It’s the start of something then, something sweet and pure, something that grows with every passing day, until the day comes that their love binds them to the other. Steve makes a new hut by the ocean’s shore, one that is now big enough for two instead of one. ____________________
art by @sealcat
