I HAVE THR GREATEST IDEA!! Raindeer centaur!Y/n with orca!Eclipse and she finds two calves of sun and moon raindeer centaurs and bring to eclipse how would he react??

Oh my gosh, Reindeer Centaur Y/N!! You'd have a thick, brown coat and velvet horns. Strong and stout, you traverse the ice and snow with a silent forbearance.

Eclipse sees you before you ever see him. He's immediately enamored by the beautiful centaur trotting around snowbanks—he has to see you up close! It takes patience, but he follows from the coast, and he's rewarded. He finds you. He introduces himself the only way he knows how.

You kneel at the water's edge, hooves folded underneath your body as you wash your hands in the thick salt. The taste warns you to not drink it, but it does well cleaning away the sweat and grime from constantly moving. You lower your hands, cupping a gentle handful to wash the fine, velveteen fur of your neck when you realize a face is staring at you from below the surface, grinning.

You slowly straighten where you sit and he follows, emerging from the water in soft splashes and a gleaming gaze. He sizes you up as if deciding where to take the bite first. You, calmly, regard him, and listen to his gushing of how beautiful and handsome you are! He flicks his tongue over his teeth when he tells his name. When you share your own, you study how his claws thrum against the ice and how intently he locks eyes with you.

He often calls you 'my dear' and adores touching your antlers and stroking your thick, velvet fur. You take your time letting him close. When you're not racing along the ocean shore, you'll watch Eclipse breach, showing off with grandiose splashes before he pops up to catch your reaction.

On one rare occasion, he convinces you to lie down on your side, four cervine legs sprawled out, and lay your head on his stomach. You're both quiet the sight, a centaur and a siren, sprawled close together, but you don't mind his claws petting through your hair and scratching between your antlers so long as he's gentle. He sings you lullabies that lull you to sleep (you swore you wouldn't drift away so easily but he had other plans.)

When you're ready, you stroke his head fins and touch his flukes. He's practically beaming under your interest and snowflake-soft palming. He melts when you allow him to press his cheek against the velveteen fur on your reindeer half. He's clingy, but you gradually settle into his constant touches and affectionate affirmations with your treasured time.

Later, much later, when you cross a field, and discover two small bodies with bumbling cervine legs struggling through the snow, you calmly take a calf of beige and buttery yellow colors, and the other, blue metal and silvery, under your arms. They're just old enough to hold themselves up. They bawl, not yet having found their words. The twins nuzzle into your fur. It's not a pretty picture—two abandoned centaur young, but it's nothing you and Eclipse can't handle.

He accepts them without hesitation as you thought he might. It's not a question of acceptance but a matter of finding the right manner in which to tend to the children. You gently point out to Eclipse how the nub markings show how the buttery-yellow babe will have horns like a blossom of petals or a fan of sun rays, and the blue metal babe will have a singular horn like a shooting star or the crescent curve of the waning moon.

(He names them Sun and Moon, and you agree; it fits them fine.)

Eclipse watches over the three of you at night, quietly lapping at the ice's edge while you hold the babies close and provide them with warmth. (Eclipse laughs when the babes attempt to suckle on you, much to your bemusement.) During the day, he stows away though never too far and you find good moss and ferns that Sun and Moon can nibble on. You watch over them, minding predators and coaxing them to stabilize their gangly legs and hold themselves high. Evening falls, and you reunite. Eclipse plays with them tenderly, keeping them from falling into the sea but stimulating them to build their strength and their mind. They take to you both, much to your silent fondness. It's an odd little sight, but you're a family.

You wouldn't have chosen any other.