living dead gyal obsessed with dark content. a very passionate writer and horror enthusiast. very much into art and creativity as a whole, and using my traumas to express myself. oc x canon friendly!
i really enjoy interacting but i'm hella shy, so my inbox is always open! but do also take into account that i'm mentally ill and have other things in life kicking my ass right now! apologies in advance!
this blog does contain dead dove topics in both written and illustrated mediums, depicting nudity and sexual themes, dub/noncon, graphic depictions of violence and gore, etc., so do proceed with caution.
hi hello there :3 i am here to ask about honeko !!! their design is SO COOL !!!! are they a straw hat ?? if so, what role do they have on the crew ?? any special powers ?? how did honeko and zoro’s love story begin ? hehe sorry for all the questions, please take your time !! i love learning about oc’s so im all giddy <33 i hope you have a beautiful day !! 💞
OMG OMG I SAW THE NOTIFS AND BACKFLIPPED???? OH EM GEE HI HELLO 🫣 i’m so flattered you like Honeko already because i’d love to post abt him more. he’s my prettiest oc 🥺
i wanna make official posts and stuff about Honeko and his place in the One Piece universe because he’s not just an oc i live vicariously through to love on Zoro!! he has lore!! and generational trauma!!
An almost-finished pre-timeskip reference sheet of Honeko!
Honeko Bellamoth is indeed a Straw Hat! He’s one of the earlier members that joins before Chopper in the East Blue. While he was highly cynical of Luffy because of his own negative experiences with pirates, he was eventually convinced on the promise of living life on his own terms surrounded by friends who truly cared for him. The fact that Luffy helped him in the fight to defend his mother’s ranch helped solidify his decision in joining them.
Note: In their first couple meetings Honeko had shot at Luffy, and the bewildered expression from the bullet ricocheting off the boy’s body earned a hearty laugh from Zoro. The comedy died down immediately once Luffy’s skin began to sizzle and burn from the bullet’s contact.
His role on the crew directly contradicts his upbringing. He’s a gunsmith by trade. A very passionate, sweet-tongued, cheeky gunsmith. As a child, his father groomed him into becoming the next in line in their familial lineage of crime and swordwielding, and he was repeatedly punished in ways that were borderline brutal should he fall out of line. Needless to say he grew to dislike his father greatly, and responded positively to his mother and grandmother encouraging his budding interest in engineering and gunsmithing. His dream? To be the world’s most lethal artisan.
He’s the trope “Southern-Fried Genius” to a T. Oftentimes he is immediately clocked by some characters as a dumb blonde, or just a simple-minded Southerner based on traits like his honey blonde hair, usage of slang and informal tone, and overtly affectionate nature. He even has the lil’ twang in his accent to back it up! But behind the colloquialisms he uses, he’s much more intelligent than he may let on. So much so that he created his own set of revolvers, two of which are hidden in the heels of his boots.
Note: He chose revolvers as his primary weapon of choice because they help pack more of a punch than flintlock pistols. He uses a very particular fighting style he calls “Gun Fist ‘Nache” (taken from the word “panache”), a pretty brutal form of close combat that’s deceptively playful, flirtatious, and trickster-like. His revolvers are also unique due to the fact that they all have twelve chambers instead of six.
He ate the forbidden fruit and is now a hellhound. Yes, you read that right. In regards to special powers, the pomegranate-shaped Devil Fruit he ate gave him the ability to transform into a hellish beast. The concept of the Devil Fruit in question is still debatable, but I was aiming for an ability that pertains to hellfire. Reason being he doesn’t like the smell of regular gunpowder, so he mainly uses a branch of his DF ability to make his own ammunition. He studied the chemistry bit and substituted part of the mixture with hellfire somehow, so it’d be excruciatingly painful should you get shot because it also scratches at and scars the soul.
Honeko and Zoro are The Power Couple ™. Opposites Attract. Bickering Old Couple even. At first they tolerated each other and were aware of the other’s capabilities. That didn’t stop any bickering between the two. Zoro can be quite sassy when he’s in the mood to, and Honeko does not take shit from people just because he’s more laid back. However their constant bickering caused some sexual tension to rise and chemistry to be made because they compliment each other surprisingly well, despite being literal opposites of each other (angel x demon, swords x guns, the like). They’re very passionate and devoted to and do not play about each other. At all.
Honeko is like the middle child of the Straw Hats. His dynamic is so fun to see with the other members and how he adjusts; it's like accepting them as family was second nature. His sweet charisma, kindness, and wild but freeing nature helps him get along with a majority of the cast outside of his crew. His nature helps others feel warm and comforted around him.
Note: He's got his own groups outside of spending majority of his time with Zoro and working in his little corner of the ship. Most of his relationships with the other members is very sibling-like. For example him, Usopp, and Franky are like grease monkeys in arms.
Sanji and Honeko are like brothers from another mother; they're both blonde freaks with daddy issues. But they're surprisingly close.
Nami has been taken under Honeko as his younger sister. They're each other's best friend and shop and rob poor bastards blind. With the addition of Robin, they became the Neapolitan Trio because of their hair colors and contrasting personalities. All of them are cute!
And another note: In recent developments I use he/him for Honeko a lot, but he goes by she too! He is trans, but I haven't settled on a label for him to go by, when in reality it'd make sense for his character if he's unlabeled. Fuck gender, he's an outlaw of that too.
summary: Zoro, the swordsman, in a relationship with you, a gunsmith.
-> based on this request
Starting off strong, I think Zoro wouldn’t give a damn about you being a gunsmith. He respects people who hold their ground, stick to their principles and ambitions. He would probably clash with you at first, because his weapon choice is highly traditional, and he thinks that guns aren’t his cup of tea. But you guys sort it out, since Zoro already argues with Sanji over anything.
When you two start dating, nothing will really change in the beginning. But soon, the crow’s nest would have some new additions— a bullseye target, a silhouette stand made by Franky and empty sake bottles piled up. All for you, just so you could practice your shooting and do some trials on your weapons.
Zoro loves watching you work while he takes a nap, but what he doesn’t like is when you test that damn modified bazooka of yours on the deck and shoot it out on the sea, the whole ship trembling in response.
I also see Zoro training to fight alongside you. He probably learns how you fight, so he could mold himself in a fight whenever he’s with you. He can defend close range enemies while you deal with the ones far away.
Zoro is not into PDA, but he will show you how much he loves you. For starters, if the two of you are together in town, he’ll hold your bazooka over his shoulder so you won’t have to worry about any weight; in fact, he’ll hold any kind of heavy equipment of yours. And he will not complain.
I see Zoro making sure you are loaded with bullets and ammo and whatever else you need for your guns. In case you two get separated— and knowing how well he deals with directions— he needs to know you have enough munition to spare.
If you ever think about trading your guns for a few berries in a market, he will not approve. His reasoning? When he becomes the best swordsman in the world and you become a lethal artisan like you want, won’t those shitty weapons of yours be worth millions of berries? Yeah, so cut the selling and exchanging.
I tend to think that Zoro won’t be interested in learning how to use a gun. He uses his Three-Sword-Style and you do you. If you want to learn his techniques, he won’t say no for a lesson or two, but please let the poor mossball be the swordsman; you can be his wife gunsmith.
What Zoro wouldn’t like is how much artillery you carry— even though some of it lands on his back. He understands you’re proud of your work and want to show off, but he thinks that bandits will dare raise a hand at you when they see you so packed with firearms. He knows you can handle yourself, but still. Oh, and spoiler alert— if anyone has the guts to do so, Zoro will rip them out.
He loves how dedicated you are to your work, but he also thinks it’s important to sleep through the night. After dinner, you kiss him and mumble something about being in your workshop to finish a weapon. Zoro’s in the crow’s nest, keeping watch. Lost story short, multiple curses and several hours passing, you would be in there all night. When the sun rises and Zoro’s watch is over, he will come in, throw you over his shoulder and take you to nap with him in the crow’s nest, where it’s technically quiet.
I also tend to think that Zoro adores your scent. It’s unable to miss and it’s so… You. The main fragrances are metal, gunpowder and leather. The rest are whatever perfume, body lotion and body spray you use.
If you store your pistols in new places every day, like hanging it under your shirt from your bra or the back of the waistband of your pants, or whatever clever spot you find, Zoro would make it minigame for himself, a.k.a. trying to guess where the hell you stored your handgun today.
The mossball’s heart swells up when you hold your ground and use your bazooka, rifles, pistols or whatever you find of that sort. He gets all prideful and compliments you when you fight.
He also thinks that you two are an amazing team. And you are, but his favorite thing in the world after a hard day is going in the crow’d nest with you, drinking a few sake bottles dry, placing them away and you shooting them right through the label in the middle. Then of course, pampering each other with kisses and praises.
To finish as strong as we started, I’m pretty sure that before you joined their crew, if you shot Luffy and the bullets just coiled off him, Zoro would have a laugh and would remember your reaction until his last day on this planet. That would probably be because he was smitten the first time he saw you.
# a/n - this was so interesting to write, hope y’all enjoy this🫶
BETWEEN YOU AND ME (AND THE SEA)
RORONOA ZORO X READER
warnings ⟢ suggestive content (i.e. glorified pillow talk). established relationship. slight angst that ends in comfort. mentions of violence. love as religion/love as worship. allusions to buddhism. gn reader.
the word “bokken” denotes a wooden practice sword.
word count ⟢ 1143
notes ⟢ if this looks familiar, it’s because i reworked my old fic! it’s still embarrassingly sappy + full of my personal hcs about zoro’s childhood. please let me know what you think! <3
“I would die for you.”
Your words caress the swordsman’s heaving chest, his tawny skin dewy from exertion, glistening under the pearly moonlight. The wind listens with bated breath, air at a standstill in the crow’s nest; the only sound to disturb the lulling midnight is the gentle lap of the wine-dark sea.
It takes Zoro several moments to process your statement, his senses still hazy and pleasure-drunk from the events of your shared watch. One wide palm rests on the soft curve of your lower back—an anchor. The other absentmindedly strokes the arch of your neck.
“Hm?” Zoro belatedly grunts, brows knitting together in confusion.
You raise your head to meet your lover’s steel gaze. The fierceness in your eyes—Zoro knows it well. Beneath the heady cloud of contentment is the crazed glint of worship, shining like an unclaimed blade: honed by another’s will, difficult (if not impossible) to master. It’s a look that both terrifies him in its depth and comforts him in its earnestness.
Will I ever be worthy of your devotion?
“I’m not particularly brave or strong,” you start, a fingertip etching love into his flesh as you trace the jagged edges of the scar that slashes across his torso—the ghost of an injury that almost took him from you.
“But I would do anything for you, Zo. I would die for you. And it should scare me, that I feel so deeply…” Your finger stills, hovering above his heart, beat steadfast as the foamy tide. Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub. “But when it comes to you? I lose all my inhibitions. I would die for you in an instant.”
Even in the dusky quiet, Zoro’s hands are broad, as warm and reassuring as the sun on a blustery day aboard Sunny. They may be extension of his weapons, instruments of death. Yet he cradles your cheeks with devastating care as he pulls your face to his. When you’re this close, you can map his every feature, from his puckered left eye to the crooked cant of his nose to his barely-there freckles. His jaw flexes resolutely as he grits out, “Don’t say shit like that. Y’know I hate it.”
Draping your hands over his, you rub his rough, calloused skin, murmuring, “Not saying it doesn’t make it any less true.”
Few things scare Zoro. He recognizes Death’s face, having brushed shoulders with the endless ether more times than he cares to admit. On the rare, starless nights when he dreams, he wades through a river of ichor as an asura, violence incarnate. At an early age, he learned that the price of greatness is at the expense of one’s soul. But he continues to shoulder the burden of existence alone, intent on seeing his—Kuina’s—dream to fruition, no matter how foul-tasting the fruit.
Your vulnerability, however, frightens him—how you lay your heart bare and expect nothing in return. The way you live goes against everything Zoro has ever known, against his basest instincts to keep his emotions under lock and key, to fight the inevitability of suffering with blood in his maw, to survive at any cost.
(It’s a bitter January evening. Snow flurries paint the eaves of the run-down dojo white—a portrait of tranquility.
Inside, a boy’s stomach growls, hunger gnawing at his intestines. His young, scrawny limbs ache with overuse. The room is frigid, his feet frozen as they step and slide across the tatami mats. His simple robe does nothing to keep the color in his cheeks.
This dreaded overnight practice is punishment for pilfering onigiri from the kitchen several days prior. Hunger is but a distraction for the weak. He must repent for his wrongdoing with fasting, meditation, and grueling endurance drills. But in the middle of an overhead swing, he loses feeling in his arms; the bokken clatters to his feet.
His sensei tsks in disappointment. “The way of the sword is absolute, Roronoa. You eat and sleep and breathe by the blade. The second you lose focus—the moment you lose sight of your calling—you will cease to be a swordsman.”
Tears of frustration prick Zoro’s eyes, but he bites his tongue, picking up the bokken without sound or complaint. He doesn’t realize that his palms are cracked and that the wooden hilt is stained sanguine. He continues training until dawn.)
“Tch.” He wets his chapped lips, a flash of slick pink. His tongue is always loose when it’s just the two of you and the sea. “I’m not worth it.”
A frown pinches your features. Adorable, he would say if you were talking about anything else in the Grand Line. You wrap your arms around his neck with a huff.
“What makes you think your life is worth any less than Luffy’s? Than Chopper’s? Than mine?”
Zoro assesses you for a moment, feline eye unreadable, then sighs. He measures his words with unusual care. “My role is to protect. It was—it is—the vow I made to our captain.”
Threading your fingers through his mint tresses, you tug, concern rolling off of you in waves. “Then who’s left to protect you, Zo?”
The answer springs to his mind without hesitation: No one.
(The little boy with the bloodstained bokken weeps.)
“Let me protect you,” you entreat, lips grazing his. Your touch is charged yet tender; something within him yields, if only a centimeter.
The Fates, in their divine and impartial wisdom, must have made a grave error: spinning the claret thread of your fate, meting it out, and mistakenly intertwining it with his own. Zoro is certain that it’s a miscarriage of justice—not that the gods have ever been preoccupied with fairness.
Did I do something in a past life to earn your reverence?
“I can’t,” his voice cracks. But his iron resolve is rusting. Fissures compromise the once-gleaming surface, threatening to crumble the pride he has worn as a shield for as long as he can remember.
“You can.”
Zoro has never considered himself to be a good man. Selfless to a fault, you are eager to give. And, for once in his life, he wants nothing more than to take advantage of you—to receive. He allows himself this greed.
Drinking in your affection like a man who has never quenched his thirst, he doesn’t notice how his lone eye burns when he claims your lips with his own, heartfelt I love yous swapped between spit and teeth and tongue.
The tears are silent as they dribble down his feverish cheeks; you chase each of them away with a flick of your thumb, dotting kisses across his salty flesh. Zoro has half a mind to be embarrassed. (Swordsmen don’t cry.)
But if there is one absolute truth in this cursed world, it’s this: his heart is safe with you, and you alone.
Zoro hears you say to Nami that you don't really think you're all that pretty and fucking loses his mind. As soon as the sentence leaves your mouth he flies into a blind rage and pulls you to your room so he can fuck some sense into you. Do you really think that he, Roronoa Zoro, would ever settle for less than perfect? Do you really think he has low standards? Do you really think that little of yourself?
He pulls you up midway through fucking your brains out so you can see your ruined form in the mirror. Hair dishevelled, drool on your chin, hickies covering your neck and chest; you look a mess. Yet he still makes you repeat affirmations, tell him you're beautiful.
Zoro would never let anyone else talk about his girls looks like that, why would he let you say those things?
there’s gotta be some black fans in the one piece fandom who also listen to rap/hip hop music.
because i believe in my heart that ace, luffy, usopp, and honeko bump kendrick lamar and all of them pretty much had the same yet different reactions going through the drake vs kendrick beef.
usopp dissecting the lyrics, ace and honeko sitting in shock from how disgustingly terrifying kdot was, and luffy is scream laughing maniacally because someone was getting brutally executed in the catchiest tunes possible.
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Content warning: Dead dove; do not eat is a warning tag used for fanfiction. Some questions and all results discuss a variety of dark to dis
