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Currently writing a pjo Clarisse la rue x reader wattpad book. It is called Heart Unfrozen and so far I have posted 6 chapters!!! The user is @raspberryshortcake44
Chapter one here
Here is the synopsis:
Seventeen-year-old Florence Monroe is finally within reach of her lifelong dream: qualifying for Nationals in junior figure skating. Years of early mornings, brutal training, and pushing through injury have led to the perfect performance - the one that could change everything.
Then Clarisse La Rue shows up, armed, angry, and claiming Florence is a demigod. The daughter of a goddess. Part of a prophecy that could decide the fate of the world. And that she needs to leave everything behind - the rink, her dreams, her normal life - to train at Camp Half-Blood.
Florence thinks it's a joke. Or maybe a hallucination.
Can you imagine her horror when she finds out it's all true?
Anyway, if you like the sound but arenāt entirely sure, check out chapter one!!
So I posted this before but accidentally deletedā¦
Iām writing a fanfic (Clarisse La Rue x Reader) on wattpad
Itās called Heart unfrozen and the user is Raspberryshortcake44
Here is some of chapter one!! If you like it check out the rest on wattpad. Iāve written three chapters and Iām planning on writing another.
Chapter one:
My heart was pounding, and my breath was ice-coldāeach inhale stung like frost in the back of my throat. I felt disoriented and dizzy. Very, very dizzyālike I had somehow managed to overcome gravity and I was floating above the very ice. This couldnāt be real. Maybe I had passed out and dreamt the whole thing.
But no, I was here and this moment was very, very real.
Lifting my head, blinking back the tears of passion which threatened to spill, I met the gaze of the hundreds of people who had come to watch me perform. Technically, they were here for all the skaters, sure. But letās be realāI was the main event.
I deserved to be.
After hours and hours of 4 a.m. alarms, bruised hips, sprained ankles, months of physiotherapy, saying no to every party invite, missing birthdays, holidays, every normal teenage thing, and being pushed to my physical and mental limitsāthis was all that was left: glory.
And I was planning to bask in every drop of it.
The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, like a dam had broken and theyād all been holding their breath with me. I blinked again, overwhelmed. Some people were even throwing things onto the ice. Teddy bears? That was new. I beamed and waved up at them, doing my best to look gracefulālike I hadnāt just nearly vomited from nerves ten minutes ago.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her.
She didnāt look like your typical figure skating fan. No puffy jacket, no glittery posters, no soft smile or misty eyes. She actually looked like sheād rather be anywhere else. She had thick, curly hair that fell in dark coils around her shoulders and a chiseled, tan face. She was beautiful in an intimidating way, like an old Greek statue. She looked like the kind of girl people would go to war over.
Her dark brown eyes were locked on me. Watching my every move. Not smiling. Not clapping. Just watching.
When she caught me staring back, she scowled.
Seriously?
Whatever.
I bent down and picked up one of the smaller stuffed toys someone had tossed my way. A little girl, maybe six or seven, had thrown it from the second rowāwide eyes, two messy braids, and a toothy grin. The toy was pink, wore a tutu, and even had little hand-knitted ice skates sewn onto its feet. Handmade, probably. My heart swelled a little. How sweet.
I looked back up and saw the girl pointing excitedly, bouncing in place, whispering something to her mom like I was famous.
Thatās the part I never got used to. The way kids looked at me like I was more than human. It made me feel good of course, it would to anyone.
Skating over to the exit, I slipped on my hard guards, the clack of plastic against ice jolting me a little. My coach, David, met me with my warm-up jacket, helping me cover up my now slightly purple-tinged skin. The thin blue dress I woreāsleeveless, sparkly, freezingādidnāt do much to keep out the cold now that the adrenaline was fading.
āHow do you think my program went?ā I asked, pretending to be casual. āDo you think I could get first?ā
David raised an eyebrow at me, always unreadable. He loved playing it down.
āIām optimistic,ā he said eventually. āYour spins were perfect and your edges were clean. But there are still four more skaters. Anything could happen.ā
Optimistic. I smirked. That was basically a glowing review coming from him. Iād seen him call perfect routines āfineā just to keep his skaters humble. He had this whole ācooler than youā persona going on. I didnāt really mind, though. It just meant his compliments meant so much more.
We walked toward the waiting area together. My legs still trembled a little beneath me, not quite sure if they were supposed to be performing or collapsing. I saw a big coach ahead of me. Collapsing it was.
The waiting room was small, warm, with cozy lighting and the soft hum of a heater. A sofa sat in front of a mounted TV where the scoreboard flickered gently. It was calm and peaceful and exactly what I needed.
We sat down and my nerves ratcheted up another level. My fingers drummed on my knee. David frowned at me; he didnāt like my nervous habits. I couldnāt really help it though. I was always sort of hyper aware of everything. I called it spidey sense. Dad called it ADHD.
The current first-place skater had a total of 183 points. Sheād earned 116 in her free skate. That was a solid score. It wouldnāt be easy to beat. But I had scored a 68 in my short programāhigher than her. I felt it in my frozen bones: my free skate had gone better than any rehearsal. I had done everything right, now it was all up to the judges.
I needed first if I wanted to qualify for nationals. It was everything. And thenāthere it was.
The screen changed. My score appeared in bold, white letters:
Junior Womenās Figure Skating
Florence Monroe ā 189.80 points
I was first.
My throat tightened. I turned to David, eyes wide. āDavid, I won.ā
He was grinning, but still tried to keep up his usual cautious front.
āLetās just wait a little longer. Itās not over yet.ā
I nodded, pretending to stay calm. My hands were shaking. If I kept my position on the scoreboard it would mean I could go to nationals. If I won Nationalsā¦
I stopped myself from getting too hopeful.
āIām going to the toilet. Watch the rest of the programs and call me if thereās a threat.ā
I grabbed my skate bag and walked off, the corridor colder than I remembered. My jacket was doing very little at this point, and I curled my arms around myself for warmth. I pulled out my phone and dialed my dad. He picked up on the third ring.
āDad, I think Iām going to win!ā
āAre you serious?! Thatās amazing, FloāI knew you could do it.ā
I beamed. Compliments always meant a lot, but coming from my dad? They hit different. He was my hero. He raised me on his own, drove me to every competition, scraped money together for coaching and gear. He believed in me before I ever had believed in myself, telling me I had something special. That I was something special.
āI just wish I could be there with you to celebrate,ā he sighed.
āOh, Dad, come on. Iāll see you in no time. And besides, I donāt even know Iām getting first. There are still four more skaters.ā
āAlright,ā he said. āBut we both know youāll win. How many points did you get?ā
āWell, in the short program I scorāā
I stopped.
There she was again.
Sheād moved seats. Now she was in the hallway. Near me.
Still watching.
Still frowning.
My pulse picked up again. It was subtle, but immediate. My body reacted before I had time to tell it not to.
Why? Why was she here, and why did she keep looking at me? Had I offended her somehow? Did she know me? Did she think I was arrogant? Was she another skaterās sister? A rival? A stalker? Was she going to kidnap me and put me in the boot of her car so I could never see the light of day again?
Okay, no. Calm down.
āHang on, Dad, Iāll call you back.ā
I didnāt wait for a reply. I hung up and walked quickly toward the bathrooms. I wasnāt sure what this girl wanted, but there was no way sheād follow me in. Right?
I locked myself in a stall and sat down on the closed lid of the toilet. My legs bounced with leftover nerves. I pulled out my phone and texted Lisa, my best friend. She was a skater too, but she hadnāt made it to this comp.
Me: Weird girl staring at me, maybe following me, what do I do?
Lisa: Relax Flo, sheās probably just a fan. Maybe a little awkward and doesnāt know how to approach you.
Me: You're right. I donāt know why Iām being so dramatic. Maybe I should go talk to her. Iāll take a selfie with her if she wants.
I stared at my reflection in the metal toilet paper holder. My previously perfect winged eyeliner had now smudged slightly from sweat. My lips were dry and my rose lipstick was peeling off. My cheeks still flushed with heat. I looked like someone whoād just skated her life out. Hopefully no one could see that on camera.
I splashed cold water on my face at the sink, giving up on any hope of looking put together. I took a few deep breaths, and pushed open the bathroom door. Showtime.
But she was gone.
Vanished. Like sheād never been there.
I guess there would be no selfie.
My phone buzzed.
David: Flo, you should come back. Last girlās on the ice. No oneās beaten your score⦠but she just did three triples.
Three triples? Crap.
I had done three, but that's what had gotten me my score. If any of her components were better than mine she would win.
I took off running, the hallway a blur. My skate bag thudded against my hip with every step. It didnāt really matter whether I was there to witness my downfall or not, but I had always had this thing about control. Maybe I could talk the judges out of giving her more points than me. Sure it would be immoral, but I really needed this win. Plus, everyone always said I have a way with words.
I rounded a corner, nearly slipping on the polished floorā
And then bam.
I slammed into someone. Hard.
I went down like a sack of bricks, the wind knocked out of me.
God this was embarrassing. I really hoped there were no filming fans around. I couldnāt bear to watch that in a youtube compilation.
āOh my god, Iām so sorry!ā I said automatically, trying to get up, but everything froze.
I looked upāand forgot how to breathe.
It was her.
She was towering over me. Muscles. Jawline. Presence.
She took two steps forward, closing the space between us with unnerving calm.
She looked down at me. Her expression unreadable.
Then she raised an eyebrow. āSo you're Florence huh. Hm⦠We have some talking to do.ā
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Qualityā Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming