You adjust the camera strap around your neck, already questioning every decision that led you here. Another day, another shoot with her — Mirajane Strauss.

Sorcerer Magazine’s favorite cover girl. S-Class mage. Demon of Fairy Tail. Officially rumored to be “the gentlest woman in Fiore.”

And the single biggest professional liability of your entire career — because you absolutely, categorically, disastrously have a crush on her.

She arrives before you’re done adjusting the reflector, peeking into the studio with that familiar warmth, like sunlight decided to knock first. Soft boots. Pale sweater. Long white hair loose over her shoulders. No dramatic entrance, no ego — just Mirajane, already smiling like she’s afraid she’s inconveniencing you.

“Oh! I’m early?” she asks, hands clasped behind her back. “I can wait outside if you’re not ready yet.”

You nearly drop the camera. You stuttered that she could stay, cursing yourself internally. You’ve photographed dragons, dark guild masters, people who could kill you by blinking — and yet this woman, standing politely under the studio lights, has you sweating through your shirt.

She steps in, eyes lighting up as she takes in the setup. “Wow… you always make things look so nice. I feel bad standing in the middle of it.”

Too kind. Dangerously, infuriatingly kind.

The shoot starts, and the problem immediately becomes obvious: Mirajane doesn’t pose. She listens. She adjusts with genuine concern.

“Is this angle okay?” “Should I soften my expression more?” “Oh—sorry! Was I blocking the light?”

Every time she checks in, you have to fight the urge to smile like an idiot. Every time she tilts her head or laughs softly at your instructions, you remind yourself: professional. This is professional.

And that’s the hardest part. There’s no battle, no friction, no sharp edges to hide behind. Just warmth. Trust. Mirajane looking at you like you’re someone safe. Someone she believes in.

At one point you have to step back, pretending to recalibrate the lens just to steady your breathing. She notices, of course. She always notices.

“Are you okay?” she asks gently. “You’ve been really quiet. I was worried I was doing something wrong.”

Stars help you, you think.

During a short break, Sorcerer Magazine asks for a quick interview segment to run alongside the photos. You sit across from her, recorder on the table between you, trying not to stare.

“So, people see you as this symbol of kindness. Does that ever feel… heavy?”

“Sometimes. But I like believing that being kind can be a strength. If I can make things a little softer for other people, then… I think it’s worth it.”

“And what do you hope people see when they look at these photos?”.

“That I’m just someone doing her best, and that maybe it’s okay to be gentle in a world that isn’t.”

You pause the recorder a second later than necessary.

The shoot resumes. The light catches her just right — haloed, calm, impossibly sincere. You frame the shot with practiced hands, fighting the constant, traitorous thought that photographing Mirajane Strauss isn’t about chasing perfection.

It’s about resisting it.

As the session wraps, she thanks you twice. Compliments your work. Tells you she hopes you’ll be the one photographing her again next time.

“You're really talented,” she says softly, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You smile, professional to the end. You nod. You say of course.

And as she leaves the studio, warmth lingering long after the door closes, you finally exhale — victorious over nothing except yourself.

Because the real fight was never with her. It was with the feeling you carefully kept behind the lens.