A/N: I just went over my other stories the other day and noticed that something funny happened to my other story (shameless plug) Lucy Heartfilia's End. The character tag that was originally labeled as OC is now labeled as Future Rogue... I should really change it... but I'm really lazy right now. I don't know how long it has been like that, but just know that it wasn't intentional.

That is all.

Enjoy and as always, see you in the next one! -808Lionfire

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail (c) Hiro Mashima

Seven Attempts to Fall

Attempt Two: 24 October x791, 12:04 p.m.

The next time it happened was when Juvia invited her over to discuss dining details for her and Gray's wedding reception.

It had been just under a month since she literally fell into the hold of an attractive man with strange pink hair, and she, thankfully, had yet to see him since. Just thinking about the day made her face flush in embarrassment. What was even worse, she ran away. It was only as Lucy fled to her office when she finally realized exactly what they—or at least what Levy—was trying to do.

Just a month before, the golden-haired café owner approached her two blue-haired best friends during a peculiar writer's block to bounce ideas back and forth. The topic on possible romances spurred them into a conversation where they gushed about weddings, babies, and just love in general. It started out innocently enough. After a while, however, Levy had been adamant to set her up while Juvia agreed firmly.

Lucy tried to protest– she really did, but the other two tuned her out and conspired in low whispers. That wasn't the first time they did that and, honestly, she got used to it. They have done this multiple times before and none of their attempts them were ever successful.

Now, two months from that day, there was a niggling feeling in the back of her mind as she talked to the long-haired bluenette on the phone. It was late when she took the call and the niggling told her not to trust her friends' innocence– that it was just another ploy to set her up with another poor sod like they tried to do a month before. Unfortunately, Lucy detected the genuine anxiety and pure, unadulterated joy in her friend's voice and found her resolve waning.

Being the open-hearted person she was, the blonde couldn't deny the bluenette the bond they shared when it seemed like the woman needed it the most; she couldn't just deny her best friend's request to help her plan her reception because she was being paranoid.

So after hanging up with the bluenette, the golden-haired woman was meticulous in filling the business briefcase she occasionally uses for the every-so-often business ventures relating to Celestial Fire. Lucy made sure to keep the case light– only filling it with the barest essentials so she could make a quick escape if need be.

Thank the stars that she did.

The blonde woke up late the next day. Lucy couldn't help it; she ran the café past eight the night before and stayed up talking to Juvia 'til midnight. When she finally managed to fall asleep, it was like she couldn't stop dreaming. The golden-haired woman thanked her lucky stars that she forced herself to pack beforehand. All she had time to do was brush her teeth, clean her face, and dash out with briefcase in hand.

It was noon by the time Lucy had arrived at Juvia and Gray's apartment and she was slightly out of breath from the impatient dash up the stairwell.

The winter, Magnolian air was starting to show its true colors. So, she dressed appropriately. And by 'appropriately', she means that she dressed in a fashion where she had an emergency two a.m. call from her drunk best friend and had to emotionally and physically detach herself from the pleasant dream to pick her drunk friend up from the newest block party. And by that, she means that she didn't bother to brush her hair and she knew for a fact that she looked like absolute crap. Albeit, she looked like absolutely bundled up and shamelessly comfortable crap.

Gray and Juvia had seen her in worse, so what was the harm, really?

She sent a quick text to Juvia telling her that she was at their door and the replying text was near instant. The blonde had narrowed her eyes at the innocent pixels depicting the message that didn't look as innocent as it should've been. The text was just a quick 'use the spare', but it set off alarms in her mind. While she didn't completely ignore them like when they chimed for Levy, she tried to block the warning out. She still felt that niggling from earlier, but the golden-haired woman really wanted to trust her best friend, and so she did exactly that.

Famous last words.

Even the way the key slid into the lock was suspicious, but she ignored it because her life-long friendship was a lot more important than a moment of paranoia.

Lucy didn't bother to take off her shoes or even shut the front door as she called for her friend from the foyer. Actually, she didn't need to even make it past the foyer because at that moment– right at that very moment, a man walked out of the bathroom to her left. Her chocolate-orbs caught the surprisingly olive-green-colored eyes that she hadn't noticed a month before and they both froze at the sight of each other.

The bright-red, flame designed toothbrush stuck out blatantly from his closed lips and the steam wafted from the open bathroom behind him, giving off a strange, ethereal feel. There was a pearl of toothpaste curling at the corner of his mouth, but he didn't seem to notice it. Instead, his eyes widened in surprise at the sight of her and her eyes widened right back in return.

Now, by no means was Lucy innocent to the generalities of a man's body (she was a writer for star's sake!), but this man exuded such a heat that—if she was in the right state of mind—would have made her flush and stammer incoherently.

Despite the inner berating, her gaze defied the warning and watched as a drop of water dripped off of his wet, pink hair and rolled down his bare chest, surprising six-pack, and soaked into the fluffy, yellow towel that hung low on his hips. His body– oh stars don't even get her started on it; she wouldn't know where to even begin. She will swear later that she did not drool, but she did swallow thickly at the sight of his scars.

Especially the large crossing just above his left hip.

Blame it on the author in her, but there was something enticing to her about battle-worn patches of flesh. Despite the damage, the flesh fought to mend together again and though it was scarred, it left behind history– a secret held by only those who proved witness. Like tattoos, she believed there was a story behind every piece of healed tissue. And no, it wasn't a fetish. Curiosity romanticized the otherwise plain flesh, but there was something about them that drew her in.

Her gaze finally drifted back to meet his, the toothbrush that was once trapped between his lips was now hanging limply from his fingers. The darkened, hooded look his olive-gaze gave her made every nerve in her body spark alive with heat and she forced back the shiver it caused. There was no doubt in her mind that he knew exactly where her thoughts trailed and it didn't look like he minded where they went. But she did. So she did what any normal, unperturbed-with-the-current-stuation kind of woman would.

She took a huge back-step right out of the apartment and used every muscle in her body to slam the door shut.