💭 I like to play with the little dolls in my head and write about them
🏳️🌈 30s, non-binary (she/they), bisexual
💜 Resident Evil fanfic writer
✨ Pro-ship/fic, mature/explicit works
🔞 No minors please
The name Sinnaea is a pseudonym that I like to use for all my written work. Writing is something I do for fun and it's comforting. I have quite the following outside of this name. As you can imagine, it can be overwhelming. So, I come here to feel safe and write about the fandoms and characters I enjoy. And I welcome like-minded people to my cozy place. I don't currently take requests, but feel free to ask me anything and I'll provide a brief.
Fandoms & characters I write about:
Resident Evil
Albert Wesker, Jill Valentine, Rebecca Chambers, Billy Coen, Alcina Dimitrescu, the Dimitrescu daughters, Karl Heisenberg, Donna Beneviento, Zeno, Grace, Jack Krauser, Alex Wesker.
Lust From Beyond
Victor Holloway, Amanda Moon, Mabel, Rhea.
Clair Obscur: Expedition 33
Sciel x Lune
I would love to share my OCs someday! This post will be updated with them added to the list.
Most of my current works are rated Mature or higher. Although the more explicit bits won't be shared here, I will always link the full work with each post. I also like to do audio recordings for previous works and teasers for upcoming chapters. So, you can expect a few of those here as well.
Links below if you'd like to take a peek. And, as always, thank you for reading 💜
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Due to an overwhelming amount of support, we are excited to announce that Weskertine week will be happening! All the information for the event can be found in this masterpost, so please read!
Weskertine week will be occurring from August 3rd-9th, so mark your calendars! The prompts will be the following:
Monday, August 3rd - Lost in Nightmares // Trust
Tuesday, August 4th - S.T.A.R.S // Secrets
Wednesday, August 5th - Pre Re5 // What if?
Thursday, August 6th - Post Re5 // Pining
Friday, August 7th - Gore // Long Nights
Saturday, August 8th - P30 // Training
Sunday, August 9th - Fluff // Angst
How it works
These prompts are free for anyone to use. Because it is a non-traditional, non-monetized, and free-to-opt-in casual event, there will be limited mods, no advertising of paid services.
I will open a collection on AO3 at the end of July for anyone who wants their work collected for this event.
I'm here to feed your Zenace/Zenograce souls once again. This is also what happens when these two overtake my brain and I get randomly inspired at 1:00AM. Enjoy and thank you for reading!
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Good day Zenace nation and happy almost weekend! I’m hoping to get this new fic done by the weekend but I don’t want to make any promise. So I’m sharing a little excerpt instead. Thanks for reading and enjoy!
“We need to get moving,” Zeno stated. “Grace. We are so close.”
Grace looked down at their hands still clutching. Her mind nearly began to fall back down into a panic when she internally questioned her entire life again. Was Alyssa even her mother? Had she been lied to this entire time? Right now, Grace felt stuck as if cement were filling her boots. Her hands squeezed Zeno’s even tighter as she fought back her anxiety. Too many memories were flooding back to her in addition to the nightmare of a day she was already dragged through.
However, in spite of the dangers and constant threats she had been under, Zeno was the only one that showed her kindness and a sense of security. She had felt so alone and lost for so long. Confused and afraid. She wanted to understand all of what’s been happening and Zeno was the most honest about everything. She craved the stability and guidance and Zeno had provided. Grace realized she wasn’t afraid in this moment and she wasn’t afraid of Zeno. She never was. She just wanted to hold onto this feeling just a little longer.
“Grace,” Zeno said a bit more firmly. She was squeezing his fingers so hard.
“Puh-p-please,” she sputtered out softly. She couldn’t look at him just yet when tears started to build up in her eyes. “I-I just need…a l-little more time.”
Growing impatient, Zeno pulled away from her. “We don’t have time to spare.” He started to turn when suddenly—
Grace threw her arms around Zeno’s torso and hugged him tight. He froze but his agitation instantly melted away. She was desperate to stay like this. “J-just…a little longer. Please?” Grace said muffled against his chest.
Zeno felt her body shudder against his. She was silently crying. There was a curious gravitational pull he felt toward her. The way her small yet strong arms clung to him. Her dampened sobs. And her bosom pressed softly against the bottom of his ribcage. He couldn’t figure out exactly what he was feeling and couldn’t help question himself and more.
Hello Zenace nation! Once again, I am working on another Grace x Zeno fanfic which will be posted up on AO3. It may take me a while to get it done due to work, but I’m currently writing out an outline for it so my ideas get solidified on paper at the very least. I’ve had this idea for a while and have been sitting on it until I could flesh it out more of the details so here’s a bit of the setup.
Agent Grace Ashcroft unexpectedly gets chosen to go undercover as an escort to Zeno so the FBI can gain information on The Connections. This is way out of Grace’s job description; she’s comfortable with her desk work. But she’s such a shut-in that absolutely no one will suspect her as an undercover agent. And according to the madam informant, Zeno has a very specific type and Grace fits that type. At first, she denies the mission until she learns that Zeno doesn’t actually desire sex. He only likes to speak with certain women and observe their bodies, according to the informant and her workers. Nothing remotely sexual so far. It’s strange yet relieving to know. Grace reluctantly agrees to this mission and receives some training from the madam informant on how to act like a high-class escort. She’s very awkward at first but eventually falls into her role while maintaining the objective in her mind.
The moment of truth arrives when Zeno picks up Grace and takes her to a luxurious hotel suite. Grace knows the room is bugged and so is her watch, just in case there were some miscalculations. Her teammates are listening, she has backup in case things go sour. Grace is intimidated by Zeno; he’s so tall and very quiet. She doesn’t know exactly what to expect from him or how to get him to talk at all. Her anxiety grows. The night begins quite tame as they chit-chat and Grace plays up her role. But it starts to get dicey when Grace discovers why Zeno is so interested in the female body.
I think that’s all I’ll share for now! I don’t want to give away too many details. I’ll definitely have more free time to write Zenace fics once summer starts. So stay tuned! And thanks for reading! Also I'd love to hear what you all think 🖤🤍
New RE fic posted on AO3. Dead Dove warning! Please pay attention to the tags. Thanks! Most of the DD content is at the beginning and the rest is aftercare.
Grace x Zeno wedding night fic has finally been posted on AO3! Enjoy and thanks for reading!
Rating: Explicit
AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85577961
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I'm working on my next fic about Grace and Zeno on how their wedding night would turn out. Grace seems like the type of person who would save herself for the one she marries given how anxious she is. She's never really dated as her job eats up a lot of her time. Relationships were never a priority until one day she met Zeno. Zeno knows how scared she is but he's just as nervous. He wants her to have the best experience possible even though it will also be painful. Zeno is very attentive to her and tries his best to make her feel as comfortable as possible. He's very considerate.
I'm shooting for a more sensual vibe for this fic rather than overtly sexual. And possibly more emotional. Peering into the minds of both characters throughout their wedding night.
“Last one, honey! I promise!” Grace happily announced from within a fitting room.
“Take your time, sweetheart,” Zeno lightly chuckled.
Zeno relaxed upright on a plush armchair in an upscale fitting room lounge. He was starting to crave a cigarette as he waited patiently, but he craved spoiling his wife even more. He loved to see her happy and always came up with different ways to spoil her. This time he had taken her to a special boutique. The kind you needed an appointment for well in advance.
Grace gripped the edge of the heavy curtain and pulled it aside, revealing her next outfit to her husband. “Ta-da!” she exclaimed and giggled. “What do you think?”
Zeno was taken aback by her overall appearance. He slowly began to rise out of his comfortable armchair and gazed at her. Grace donned a pearly white, cowl neck blouse that draped off one shoulder. A long and chic black skirt hugged perfectly around her small waist and curvy hips. A high slit revealed black thigh-high leather boots that sheathed her legs. Elegant and sexy.
“Do you like it?” Grace asked expectantly.
Zeno grinned and placed a single finger underneath her chin and tilted her head up. He stared piercingly into her glossy doe eyes. “Gorgeous,” he remarked deeply.
Grace blushed and shied her eyes away. The two of them hadn’t been married long but Zeno never failed to make her weak at the knees. Her raspberry painted lips puckered into a small smile. “I-I-I thought this outfit w-would go perfect with your suit,” she said bashfully. “I wanted t-to match with you at y-your company’s gala next month.”
Zeno’s breath was taken away and his heart melted by his wife’s everlasting nobility. She was too good for him. “Even today, you’re still so considerate of me,” he chuckled. “I’ll buy you everything on the rack if you asked.”
“Of course I’m considerate of you,” Grace said enthusiastically. “I’m always thinking of you.”
Zeno smiled and wrapped his hands around her waist. Leaning down, he said, “You are too sweet for me, my little bunny.” Then tenderly kissed her on her raspberry lips. His fingers slid around her waist until he felt the clasp and zipper of the skirt. He simply pinched and released the clasp.
Surprised and flustered, Grace broke from his kiss. “Honey, what are you doing?” she whispered.
“You want this outfit, do you not?” he asked with grin. He stepped forward, backing her into the fitting room. He pulled the curtain closed behind him. “Let me take it off you.”
I woke up one morning and spontaneously thought about a Rebesker foot fetish idea. So now I'm writing about it. Here's what I have written so far.
Doctor Rebecca Chambers sighed internally in exasperation and discouragement as the small group of the hospital’s executive board silently filed out the conference room. She removed her glasses, closed her eyes and rubbed the side of her temple. She stood at a podium with organized research papers. Well-detailed charts and graphs were also displayed on a screen behind her. She had just given it her all at this small seminar, but she knew the higher-ups would not consider her proposal.
Rebecca was worn out over the years from people not taking her seriously due to her age. Perhaps at first it was expected, but she was now a full fledged expert in her field. Of course everyone on the executive board were all greying men who should have retired by now. Old men who stuck with their old ways. All except for one.
“I was in your shoes once.”
Rebecca huffed and glared at the remaining board member sitting at the very end of the long conference table. “Interesting choice of words,” she said with suppressed annoyance.
Albert Wesker stood with a twitching curl on the corner of his lips. He was much younger than the rest of the board. His blonde hair had not yet turned grey. In Rebecca’s mind, he was still older and she was not particularly fond of him. However, the man did have his particular uses.
Wesker rounded the long table and took slow steps toward the young doctor. His snake-like tongue parted his thin lips. “Don’t worry about what the execs think. Just know that I am on your si—”
“Cut the crap, Wesker. I don’t need your pathetic sweet talk,” Rebecca interrupted with a firm tone.
Wesker halted in his tracks like a deer in headlights.
“I already know what you want,” Rebecca continued and her fingers crumpled into a fist. Her anger was rising. Nose flaring. Teeth gritting. Body rigid. Ready to explode. “You think I’m in the mood right now?!” Her voice reverberated the empty room.
The man choked on his own gasp from her harsh words. He swallowed and his limbs tensed in regret of his actions. He was only thinking of himself. “I-I apologize,” he stammered quietly. “I’ll take my leave.” With his head down in shame, Wesker began to gather his things and head for the door.
Just watching Wesker fumble with his folders as he scooped them up irritated Rebecca even more. She was still frustrated and that frustration needed to escape. Perhaps she was in the mood. Feeling sorry for the man, she sighed and rolled her eyes.
“Stop,” she said plainly. “Put your things down.”
A sudden jolt of joy shot through Wesker’s chest and he shivered with anticipation. But he couldn’t let Rebecca see his giddiness. Nor could he lose his composure in a workplace. He set his folders back down on the table and looked to her with bent brows and pining eyes.
Rebecca stared stoically at Wesker as she stepped away from the podium, revealing her black sling-back heels. Her legs were sheen from the thigh-high black silk stockings that retreated up beneath her tight black skirt. Rebecca rolled up the sleeves of her dark green button-up and pulled out a chair from the long table. She positioned it facing Wesker and sat down with her legs crossed.
Wesker released a silent but shaky breath as his palms struggled from sweating. Drool pooled underneath his tongue and his eyes wavered intensely at the young doctor’s heels. He licked his lips and swallowed, waiting for the next command.
“On your knees,” Rebecca said with dominion.
Wesker immediately dropped to his knees with a thud. It sounded like it hurt.
Rebecca could already feel the frustration wisp away from her body and there was a certain glint in her glare. She actually had to stop herself from smiling from how pitiful this high-ranking executive looked right now. So, she sat up straight and assertive and gave her next command.
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Hello! It's been a while! Weskertine still lives in my brain and I needed to realize this fic asap. Still a WIP but I hope you enjoy what I've written so far.
Jill Valentine groaned and rolled her eyes as she shut the door of her hotel room on a drunken Chris and Joseph. All day they had been trying to convince her to go to a party in their room next door but she had refused. Many of the S.T.A.R.S. team members had flown out of town for a special forces convention and Jill was actually here to gain some valuable skills. But most of the guys saw this as a vacation. Chris and Joseph laughed in Jill’s face and called her ‘boring’ before she shut the door on them.
She wasn’t boring. Just a hard worker. But she was also a tiny bit jet-lagged.
Peace and quiet returned when she cozied up in the bed. A book in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other. A 9:00 AM workshop and lecture on identifying IEDs was one of many reasons why she was here. Despite being the team’s B&E specialist, she wanted to expand her horizons into also being a bomb technician for the squad.
However, that peace and quiet didn’t last long. Only a few minutes lapsed before music and boisterous laughter muffled through the shared wall behind her head. Jill wasn’t at all irritated with her teammates. They all worked hard and risked their lives on so many occasions. They all deserved to let loose every once in a while. But Jill preferred nights of calm and comfort. And the only comfort she had was a whole bottle of Merlot all to herself. She brought the wine glass to her lips when…
Knock! Knock! Knock!
“Again?” Jill muttered to herself. She quickly took a sip and set her glass down. She jumped from the bed, marched toward the door and opened it. “Chris, I already said—”
But it wasn’t Chris standing on the other side of the threshold. It was her boss, the captain; Albert Wesker.
“Captain Wesker!” Jill gasped and shrunk a little. She was embarrassed to have him see her only in her sleepwear; a pair of soft shorts and a spaghetti strap tank top.
But Wesker wasn’t quite in the most dignified arrangement either. He also stood there in his lounge pants and white tee, but his usual perfect blonde hair was disheveled and his eyes were dark like a raccoon.
“Jill, please,” he sighed with request. “If it’s not too much of an inconvenience, will you allow me to sleep here just for tonight. Barry snores like a goddamn truck.”
A quick but quiet snort escaped through Jills nostrils and she pursed her lips. She actually felt sorry for him. “Come on in.”
Wesker exhaled in relief. “Thank you,” he said and entered. He walked farther inside and stopped and stared at the single bed in the room. He nearly blushed when he looked back a Jill. “I don’t snore and don’t move much in my sleep.”
Jill finally laughed and shook her head. “It’s not a big deal, Captain,” she said and headed toward her side of the bed. “Although, I’m not sure if you’ll get much sleep here. The guys are having a party next door.”
The muffled music and rambunctious conversations still vibrated through the wall. Nevertheless, Wesker respectfully unfurled the sheets of his side of the bed and sat down. “Anything is better that Barry’s snoring.”
Suddenly, Jill had an idea that would help the captain fall asleep faster. She picked up the wine bottle and her book. “Have a drink with me and I’ll read you a bedtime story,” she said with a smirk then wiggled the book in her hand. “It’s the updated handbook on identifying IEDs. It just might bore you enough to put you to sleep.”
Wesker chuckled deeply. “I prefer ‘Goldilocks and the Three Bears,’” he jested and smirked back at her.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” Jill said. She grabbed an empty glass from the dresser and generously poured the captain some wine. They sat on the bed together and toasted before taking that first sip toward a less boring night.
