Music & Lyrics✨

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Invincible Era

"Damnit, damnit, damnit!" you swore, fumbling out of the taxi.

Your handbag twisted awkwardly around your arm, you noticed you'd broken another nail and you were late for a very important meeting. Perhaps the most important of your career.

You made a comfortable and enjoyable living being a songwriter and producer. Music had always been your passion and you were very gifted with words. You'd written songs for a lot of up and coming musicians, some of which gained a lot of notoriety, but your big break had finally seemed to come when the biggest pop star of them all picked one of your songs for an upcoming album.

You'd almost thought you were being pranked when your boss called to inform you that Michael Jackson had chosen a demo of yours for his next project and wanted to meet you.

It was certainly an opportunity you were unwilling to pass up and you caught the soonest flight to out to New York.

You took a deep breath as you jogged up the steps to the recording studio, trying to hold your composure together. You were beyond nervous about meeting Michael.

Sure, you'd worked with other famous people before but never anyone on the insane level of famous that was Michael Jackson. You'd grown up through the era of Michael Mania and basically witnessed his outstanding career right before your eyes. He was the best of the best, untouchable in a sense, and you were still unsure if you were even worthy of working with him.

You passed the front desk and followed the directions to the recording suite, your heart pounding and your hands feeling clammy the whole elevator ride and after what felt like forever, your knuckles finally wrapped against the heavy studio door, a muffled guitar rift floating from outside.

"Y/N," come in," Teddy Riley greets with a smile.

"So sorry I'm late, T," you speak, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as you step over the threshold. "I got stuck in traffic."

So far, working distantly with Teddy Riley on occasion was the closest you figured you'd ever get to working with someone like Michael Jackson.

"No problem, Mike's been patiently waiting,"

Your eyes wander around the studio. A big window with a grand view of busy New York traffic provides warm sunlight to the otherwise dim room. There's a sofa and a work desk behind the controls. A minimal room seems to signify professionalism and a no-nonsense kind of environment which makes you feel nervous.

"Is she here yet, T?" a gentle yet deep causes your breath to hitch in your throat.

You quickly wipe your sweaty palms against your jeans.

"C'mon, Y/N, remain cool" you fuss at yourself.

"Yeah, she just arrived."

Suddenly the man of the and every hour emerges behind Teddy. You simply can't help it, the sight of him makes your knees feel weak and your heart beat wildly in your chest. To your surprise, he's dressed rather normally, no large sunglasses or exquisite, scintillating jacket, just a simple red button-up and trousers and trucker's hat. Still, that doesn't do much to suppress your intimidation and awe.

You weren't quite sure how long you'd been standing there staring until Teddy awkwardly clears his throat. Michael flashes his dazzling smile, giggling softly at your state of shock.

"Pleasure to finally meet you, Y/N." he speaks.

"Oh, no," you finally breathe. "It's an honor to meet you Mr. Jackson. I'm a big fan of your work. Dangerous was amazing- a masterpiece even. I mean, really everything you do is amazing. I'm still shocked you even liked my work."

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