๐ handle with care.
โฎ โ โ thriller era michael.
โฎ โ โ summary: what happens when someone who has spent his whole life controlled finally has to choose who gets authority over his future?
โฎ โ โ pregnancy / unplanned pregnancy, discussions of abortion and reproductive choices, emotional manipulation and intimidation, toxic family dynamics, reader is female. angst, angst, angst, angst, angst! and more angst! j*e jackson.
There are certain kinds of fear that donโt seemingly come out of the blue, as do most. Some are built under the radar, quietly like.. cracks! Cracks spreading beneath paint before anyone noticed the wall itself needed a bit more support.
That was what loving Michael Jackson often felt like during this period of his life.
Not unhappy, noโgod, no. Not that. She were happy. It was just.. never really that simple. It was fragile, fragile in ways people outside of him didn't understand because the public version of Michael during Thriller was.. mythological, seemingly untouchable and so, so beautiful in an otherworldly way only fame occasionally sculpted people into if they were here to serve a purpose. Michael was one of the chosen ones. By then, the cameras adored him, crowds screamed before he even spoke and entire stadiums seemed emotionally dependent on whether he smiled or notโhundreds of people fainting. (Name)โs boyfriend was going to be one of the most famous people to have ever walked this Earth.
But privately, there was still something painfully boyish underneath all of it. Something eager to be loved correctly, to be seen and have an everlasting companionship despite being who he is.
And maybe that was why his father hated their relationship almost immediately when it started a few years prior.
His disdain for the relationship wasnโt loud or blatantly in the face, Joesph rarely needed volume to make people uneasy. But that was the mistake outsiders made about him, right? They imagined rage first because rage was easier to identify when they would catch wind of just how evil of that man he is.
Joeโs real โtalentโ had always been pressure. The ability to make people feel cornered without touching them at all.
At first his disapproval came in smaller ways. Long looks across rooms. Questions that sounded harmless until she sat with them afterward. Comments about distractions. Timing. Career trajectory. It was always framed around Michaelโs future rather than her specifically, which somehow made it feel more insulting.
Back then, it had seemed so small.
But that was the dangerous thing about certain memories. They donโt announce themselves as important while they were happening only to hurt years later after enough other pieces finally clicked around them.
During the Off the Wall, Michael still carried softness that fame hadnโt fully punished out of him yet. There was something open about him then. Earnest. He reacted before he concealed the reaction and smiled before remembering people were watching him smileโhe was such an angel faced prince.
She remembered sitting on the edge of his bed at Hayvenhurst trying not to cry while music played low from somewhere across the room. One of his records spun softly near the stereo with warm bass and static hum blending into the nighttime quiet of the house.
Michael had been teasing her only minutes earlier, dancing badly on purpose yrying to make her laugh until he noticed her expression.
โWhatโs the matter?โ he asked softly, the playfulness vanished from his voice.
She shook her head once, embarrassed now that tears had already started slipping down her cheeks. โNothing.โ
โTears ainโt nothinโ, my girl..โ He crossed the room toward her without hesitation, expression tightening with concern the closer he got. โBaby, whatโs wrong?โ He repeated again but softer this time.
She stared down at her hands instead.
The confession felt stupid now that it sat at the edge of her mouth. Childish. Too sensitive. But it had been eating at her the entire night, growing heavier every time his father looked through her instead of at her.
Finally she whispered, โI donโt think your dad likes me..โ
Michael stopped moving and then almost immediately, before anything else: โDid he say somethinโ to you?โ Heโs worried.
His reaction is what made her stomach sink, because to her, it meant the possibility already existed naturally in his mind by the innate urgency of his question. There was no hesitationโalmost like he had already filed this away just in case a long time ago. Which, spoke volumes.
Her eyes lifted to his face then, and he looked tense in a way he hadnโt a second ago. Shoulders tighter. Mouth pressed faintly together. It looked like he was already mentally retracing the evening trying to identify where something mightโve happened.
โNo,โ she said quietly. โNo..โ
Michael exhaled softly through his nose, but it wasnโt exactly relief either.
โHe justโฆโ She swallowed hard. โI donโt know. He looks at me like Iโm bothering him.โ
โThatโs just how he is.โ
The defense came automaticallyโdismissive, even. And Michael seemed to realize it himself because his expression shifted immediately afterward, softer now, guiltier somehow.
She laughed weakly through the tears gathering in her throat. โSo, deal with it?โ
โNo, I mean..โ He sat beside her quickly then, turning toward her fully. โHeโs.. just a mean, ugly old man stuck in his ways.โ
โYeah..โ
A small gap of silence.
Michael looked down briefly, rubbing his palms together onceโa nervous habit he had whenever emotions started cornering him faster than he could organize them.
โHeโs not..โ He paused carefully. โHe doesnโt trust people around me easyโaround us I mean.โ The wording stung.
Around me.
It sounded like she had become another person orbiting the phenomenon of Michael Jackson rather than someone simply.. loving him. She looked away before he could see fresh tears gathering and immediately his entire demeanor softened further.
โHey,โ he murmured, moving closer until their shoulders touched. โDonโt cry, please..โ
โIโm not trying to.โ
โIโm sure..โ His voice turned gentler still. โBut you do this silly thing where you try real hard not to cry and then you get even sadder.โ
Despite herself, a tiny laugh escaped her. Michaelโs face relaxed instantly at the sound, he physically couldnโt tolerate her being upset for too long without trying to fix it somehow.
He reached up then and brushed his thumb carefully beneath her eye.
โHe didnโt say anything mean though?โ he asked again quietly and the way he was looking at her, with so much concern..
Yhatโs when she started to understand something she hadnโt fully before: Michael already spent part of his life anticipating emotional trauma before it happened because he had to. Especially from his father. The vigilance sat inside him naturally now, woven so deeply into him he probably didnโt even recognize it anymore.
โNo,โ she whispered. โNot yet anyway..โ
Michael nodded slowly, though something still lingered in his expression. Then after a moment he leaned his head lightly against hers and said, almost shyly:
โWell.. I like you enough for everybody anyway.โ
The implication was clear enough from his father.
She was temporary.
Michaelโs success was not.
And Michael, for all his fame and brilliance and talent, still had remnants of a timid son inside him whenever his father entered a room. She noticed it before she understood it. The way his posture subtly shifted around Joe. The way excitement became restraint almost instantlyโsome invisible hand reached inside him and tightened everything smaller.
Fear? Yes, but as Michaelโs grown up and matured, it's more so turned out to be.. conditioning. Years of it.
That was the part (Name) never fully learned how to navigate. Because Michael loved gently, openly even, but he had been raised inside an environment where affection often arrived tangled up with expectation. Approval was earned, performance was survival and rest rarely existed without guilt attached to it.
And now there was a growing baby sitting silently in the middle of all of that. A baby Michael did not know about yet.
Sometimes she wondered if her body already knew before her mind did. Looking back, there had been signs. The nausea she blamed on stress. The exhaustion. The strange emotional sensitivity she kept trying to laugh off. But once the test sat positive in her hands, nothing felt funny anymore.
And somewhere beneath all the panic and beneath the timing and the fear, there had been a flicker of something you could call hope. A light at the end of the tunnel of emotion.
Because she could picture him as a father too easily, not the superstar version of him but the real one. The one who held small animals with so much care because heโd genuinely cry if he accidentally hurt it. The one who crouched to speak to children at eye level instead of towering over them. The one who carried loneliness around so heavily he made sure that no one felt the way he did ever.
A child would completely alter his brain chemistry so severelyโnothing would be more important than being a good dad to Michael. Which was precisely why Joe could never allow it.
(Name) realized his father knew before he ever really confirmed it.
It happened at Hayvenhurst one afternoon, things were normal. Staff moving through hallways as phones rang somewhere throughout, voices spoke softly in other rooms. Michael was upstairs working on music loud enough that bass occasionally trembled faintly through the ceiling.
She had barely been able to eat all morning and Joe noticed.
It wasnโt surprising, he had spent decades studying people for weaknesses: monitoring moods and watching behavior shifts. So when she excused herself from the kitchen too quickly after nearly getting sick from the smell of food, she already knew he was watching her leave.
(Name) had been washing her hands in the downstairs bathroom when the door opened behind herโintruding, mind you. He stood there looking at her through the mirror as she looked at him with wide, startled eyes. Heโs never quite crossed a boundary like this, ever. She was afraid and rightfully so.
โYou pregnant?โ He asked bluntly, leaving her stunned and taking the air right out of her lungs. Her body betrayed her before her face could.
For a second neither of them spoke as water continued running softly from the faucet while her heart slammed hard against her ribcage.
Then Joe sighed once through his nose and leaned slightly against the doorway, the confirmation had merely finalized something he already suspected.
โYou canโt have that baby,โ He said calmly, too calmly as if he were talking to her about a scheduling conflict almost.
โHe finally got the world where it need to be,โ Joe continued. โYou think people wanna see diapers and a babymama right now? Heโs bigger than he ever been.โ
Her throat tightened instantly. โMichael would wantโโ
โMichael donโt know what he want.โ The interruption came in quick. โHe too emotional,โ Joe said. โToo soft. Thatโs his problem.โ
Something hot rose in her chest then becauseโbecause the softness Joe dismissed so easily was the exact thing she loved most about Michael. But fear sat heavier than anger right now.
Because she understood suddenly, that Joe was not asking. He was positioning the future in front of her like a controlled narrative with only two acceptable endings.
Leave.
Or get rid of it.
The calls with Michael usually happened late because nighttime was the only part of Michaelโs life that still belonged even partially to him. Once the house quieted down and the constant movement around him finally slowed, he became easier to reach.
She could always tell what kind of day heโd had by the way he answered the phone.
Tonight he sounded tired immediately.
โYou sleepy?โ she asked quietly, laying back against her pillows with the cord of the phone twisted loosely around her fingers.
A soft laugh crackled through the line. โMaybe a little.โ
โYou sound a little.โ
โI been in the studio all day.โ
She smiled faintly despite herself. Of course he had. After the release of Thriller, Michael barely seemed to exist outside studios, rehearsals, interview and stages anymore. The world was beginning to swallow him whole in real time, each week demanding more than the last.
And still, somehow, he always called her.
โWhatโd you work on?โ she asked.
Immediately he brightened a little, she heard it happen. His little sounds he makes when heโs excited to talk about something.
โOh, wait till you hear it,โ he said softly, excitement slipping into his exhaustion now. โQuincy think we finally got the bridge right.โ
โYou said that yesterday.โ
โNo, this time for real.โ
She laughed quietly and Michael laughed too, lower and breathier through the receiver.
God.. she missed him terribly and that was the problem lately. Every time she heard his voice now, the pressure inside her chest worsened because the clock in her head never stopped ticking anymore.
Weeks.. only weeks left before the choice stopped being a choice. Meanwhile Michael kept talking to her, completely oblivious.
โYou still cominโ over tomorrow?โ he asked after a while.
Her stomach dropped a bit. She had been avoiding Hayvenhurst more and more these past couple weeks. Not enough for him to accuse her of disappearing but it was enough that he had definitely noticed.
โI donโt know yet,โ she answered softly.
A small pause. โOh.โ That one syllable carried disappointment so nakedly it made guilt rush through her instantly.
โIโll try,โ she added quickly.
โOkay.โ But he sounded quieter now.
She closed her eyes hard as the urge to tell him everything had become almost unbearable recently. Sometimes she imagined just blurting it out recklessly before fear could stop her. Your father knows. Iโm pregnant. I donโt know what to do.
But then Joeโs voice would replay in her mind all over again.
You think he can handle this right now?
And the horrible part was she genuinely did not know. Michael already looked exhausted all the time lately. Fame sat on him strangely during Thriller. Beautiful from the outside but crushing up close.
โI miss you,โ he said suddenly.
She pressed the phone closer to her ear instinctively. โI miss you too, angel face..โ
Then softly, almost shyly, Michael murmured: โI love you.โ He was handing over something so, so fragile whenever he told her. And tears burned unexpectedly behind her eyes.
โI love you too,โ she whispered back.
A faint sighed smile entered his voice immediately afterward.
โOkay, well.. I know youโre sleepy. So Iโll let you go. Goodnight, baby.โ She says.
โGoodnight, pretty mama..โ The line shifted slightly, muffled movement crackling through the receiver as though heโd moved the phone away from his mouth for a second.
Michael smiled to himself for a second after the call ended.
He kept the phone in his hand a moment longer than necessary, staring vaguely at nothing while her voice still echoed warmly around the edges of his mind. She always left him softer after conversations like that. So much calmer, part of the noise surrounding his life lowered in volume for a little while afterward.
โGoodnight,โ heโd whispered one last time before hanging up.
Then the line clicked dead and the room settled back into quiet. Or almost quiet.
โYou still seeinโ that girl?โ
Michaelโs shoulders tightened immediately as he turned toward the doorway slowly, already knowing who it was before he looked up. Joe stood there with one hand braced against the frame with the expression that Michael had spent most of his life trying to interpret correctly.
The knot in Michaelโs stomach formed instantly.
โYes, Joseph.โ Michael answered after a second, setting the phone back into its cradle carefully.
Joe stepped fully into the room. โThought that wouldโve burned out by now.โ
Michael stayed still, arms folding loosely across his chestโdefensive without trying to look defensive.
โIt didnโt.โ
Joe hummed once through his nose like that answer irritated him more than he planned on admitting.
Michael hated when this happened. The strange shift that occurred whenever his father entered a conversation about his personal life.
Joe glanced toward the phone briefly before looking back at him. โYou spend every free minute on that damn phone.โ
Michael looked away first. โI work all day.โ
โThat ainโt my point.โ Joe moved farther into the room slowly, eyes drifting across the scattered records and notebooks around Michaelโs space before settling back onto him again.
โYou too distracted lately.โ
Michaelโs jaw tightened slightly. โIโm workinโ.โ
โYou workinโ, but your head somewhere else.โ
Michael rubbed his thumb absently against his own wrist, a nervous habit he didnโt even realize he still did around his father.
โShe makes me happy,โ he said quietly.
The second the words left his mouth, the atmosphere changed.
Joeโs face did not soften. If anything, he looked more annoyed.
โHappy,โ he repeated flatly. โBoy, you think this business care whether you happy?โ
Michael swallowed hard but kept his expression neutral. He had learned young that visible emotion around Joe usually made things worse, not better. โShe ainโt got nothinโ to do with my work.โ
Joe laughed once under his breath. โThatโs what you think.โ
Michael looked up at him then, frustration finally flickering through the exhaustion in his face. โWhy you always do this?โ
โDo what?โ
โAct like every person around me has bad intentions.โ
Joeโs eyes sharpened slightly at that. โBecause most of โem do.โ
โShe doesnโt.โ
โYou donโt know that.โ
โI do know that.โ The firmness surprised even Michael a little.
Joe studied him for a long moment then, and suddenly Michael felt young in a way he hated. Emotionally. It felt like no matter how successful he became or how independent or how old he got, some part of him still reverted back into being a son standing in front of his father trying to defend pieces of himself.
โYou get too attached,โ Joe said finally. โThatโs your problem,โ he continued. โYou start thinkinโ people love Michael instead of what come with Michael.โ
Anger flared hot in Michaelโs chest, sudden and sharp enough to surprise him. โShe knew me before all this.โ
โThat donโt matter.โ
โIt matters to me.โ
Joe sighed heavily, already sounding tired of the conversation. โYou right at the edge of somethinโ huge right now. Biggest thing this family ever seen. Last thing you need is some girl distractinโ you.โ
Michaelโs expression hardened slightly at that. โSheโs not โsome girl.โ Sheโs my other halfโI canโt imagine a life without her.โ
Joe stared at him for a second before shaking his head once like Michael had proven a point he didnโt want proven. โThat right there? Thatโs exactly what Iโm talkinโ about.โ
Michaelโs chest felt tight suddenly.
Not explosive anger. Something worse. The kind that had nowhere to go. Because the truth was he was frustrated. Deeply. But frustration around his father had always been dangerous territory. Growing up, anger was something you swallowed quickly in the Jackson house before it became weakness, disrespect, punishment. Even now, years older and world famous, Michael still felt that instinct crawl up his spine whenever conversations with Joe turned heated.
Donโt escalate.. donโt push. Donโt make it worse.
So instead of saying half the things burning at the back of his throat, he just stared at the floor hard enough for his jaw to ache.
โShe already got you actinโ different,โ he continued. โSensitive.โ
Michael inhaled slowly through his nose. โIโm not doinโ this tonight.โ
Joe scoffed softly behind him. โThat girl got you thinkinโ emotionally instead of professionally.โ
That finally snapped something loose.
Michael looked up quickly then, hurt flashing across his face before he could hide it properly. โWhy you keep talkinโ about her like she ainโt a person?โ
Joeโs expression barely shifted. โBecause she ainโt the priority.โ
Michael could feel his pulse in his throat now, he hated this feeling. Hated how conversations with his father always made him feel eight years old again no matter how old he actually was. Hated that even defending someone he loved felt exhausting instead of empowering.
And worst of all, he hated the small voice in his head whispering that maybe Joe would never approve of anyone because approval had always been conditional in that house. Based on usefulness. Discipline. Results.
โShe matters to me,โ Michael said quietly.
Joeโs eyes narrowed slightly. โYou too old to still be thinkinโ with your feelings.โ
Michael had spent most of his life being punished for softness in one way or another..Too sensitive. Too emotional. Too quiet. Too strange. And now the one thing in his life that actually felt safe was being spoken about like a liability too.
Without another word, Michael turned and grabbed his jacket from the chair nearby.
Joeโs voice followed immediately. โWhere you goinโ?โ
Michael shoved his arms into the sleeves too quickly, movements tense now. โOut.โ
โItโs late.โ
โI know.โ
Joeโs tone sharpened slightly. โBoy.โ
Michael stopped near the doorway for half a second, shoulders rigid beneath the leather jacket.
For one tiny moment it almost looked like he might finally say everything he actually felt. That he was tired. That he loved her. That he was sick of every vulnerable thing in his life being treated like weakness.
Instead, all he managed quietly was: โI canโt breathe in here right now.โ
Then he walked out, quickly.
The house was mostly dark now as he moved through it. A few lights left on downstairs. Distant television noise from somewhere. Staff pretending not to notice the tension rolling off him as he headed toward the front entrance.
Outside, cool night air hit his face immediately.
It helped a little but not enough.
Bill looked up from near the car the second Michael appeared. One glance at him and his expression shifted subtly in recognition.
โYou alright, son?โ he asked carefully.
Michael rubbed a hand hard across his face before answering.
โCan you drive me somewhere?โ
Bill nodded immediately. โCourse.โ
Michael hesitated only a second before giving her address quietly.
Then softer, almost to himself:
โI just wanna see her.โ
ยฉ 2026 michaeldiary.
Next part when?๐




















