hey, this is acpectros or anto. my pronouns are she!her and latina. i'm currently 21, i am a literature major, full-time student, part-time an attempt of graphic designer, part-time a girl with many hobbies, neurodivergent and my first language is not english. To me, writting even if i am not the best, is one of my greatest passions in life. I write fanfiction to share a little of myself, to experience life or emotions, as hobby, to enjoy creating other ways the storys could go and have my fantasies put on paper hahaha.
my purpose with this account is probably that if you're ever alone and sad at night, you can come here, read, and feel like you're hugging your favorite characters or being hugged by them. You might laugh a little, find something tender, sad—whatever it is, the ultimate goal is for everyone to keep going and find comfort in little things.
HEY, TO EVERYONE WHO READING my michael robinavitch's daughter masterlist. I have an idea, actually I just got an new acc on AO3 and I wanted to make a more long fanfic of robinavitch's daugther, A LOT of angst, I definitely want to explore Michael Robinavitch's arc as a father, but also as an individual character with his ups and downs, not only in terms of mental health, but also how he deals with his colleagues, both men and women, gender differences, etc. And well, I'm going to feed all the ships (because I'm chronically online and I adore all the Pitt ships, haha), and as the fic progresses, you can ship who you want to be the love interest of Michael Robinavitch's daughter, since there will be little easter eggs so you can choose your favorite as each chapter unfolds. (ALSO, I will not make the reader being wordship by their love interests) Does that sound good to you? I'll obviously upload the firsts chapters here on tumblr and then you can read the upcomings chapters on ao3. (liked or comment to know if you will read it)
Please be respectful and kind. Have patience (i only write when i have inspiration or motivation), as I'm a student and writing is difficult, so I'm taking my time to write something decent. Your request isn't guaranteed to be written, but I'll try my best to read them all carefully and write them with care. It's more likely to be written if you align with my motivations, which are outlined in "What Do I Write?" and "My Writing Preferences."
THINGS I DO ACCEPT ?
A clear vision; what you imagine in your head, which can contain all this kind of things (the more the better): reader with a specific personality trait (I don't do physical descriptions, except pronouns), a dynamic they want to see, whether platonic, romantic or family, it can also be a specific situation, a general tone (angsty, sweet, comedy or other), also inspo songs or lines or scenes from movies.
THINGS I DO NOT ACCEPT !
Readers with no personality and just there for the fulfillment of being worshiped, I like to write oc's or readers with an actual personality (whether morally gray or not, they make mistakes) and they are not going to be submissive under any circumstances.
Smut or adult content, incest or anything that's borderline abusive, meaning even though I like to explore morally gray characters, I do not accept making abusive relationships or storylines where abusive behavior is accepted.
NOTES !
I will ALWAYS prioritize my own ideas, I will prioritize what I personally connect with most, but I hope we can align and share those same preferences. This is a safe space to write (not to write perfectly, but to write from the heart). I don't just share your perspectives; I always make my writers feel personal, so please be kind. I try to make my content resonate with people, and I hope something I write can brighten your day <3
Any character for platonic dynamics! Any character for family dynamics, especially Robby, Dana, or Abbott. I have a preference for Frank Langdon and Dennis Whitaker for romance, though; also, I would love to explore Trinity Santos as a love interest!
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀STRANGER THINGS (2016)
any character of the teens and the party for dinamicas de platonic, romance or family, truly (i have a bias for steve, mike, max, eddie, nancy, robin, jonathan under any of the previous conditions)
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀THE BEAR (2022)
Carmen Berzatto as love interest but would love to explore family dynamics too!!! Richard "Richie" Jerimovich as a dad for sure and Will Poulter character Luca as love interest, i would loveee that
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀MARVEL
Peter Parker, Johnny Storm & Bob Reynols as love interests, big crushes on them hahaha. And of course i would love to have family dynamics with any other character on the mcu.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀HARRY POTTER (marauders & golden trio eras) *i do not support jk r*wling in any way*
Currently reading the books: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black. Anyone for romantic or family dynamics, honestly <3
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀THE HUNGER GAMES
Really any character in any dynamic, bias in romance with Peeta Mellark, Finnick Odair, Cato, Coriolanus Snow (not going to romanticize the last two though), Haymitch Abernathy (although with the latter, I'm really tempted to do a series about him as a father haha also, also, Snow as a father?? kinda want to do it)
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀TEEN WOLF (2011)
It's finally back on Netflix in my country, so I'd love to play any character with family dynamics, platonic or romantic relationships, but my romantic bias is towards Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, and Liam Dunbar.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀MISCELLANEOUS ROMANCE !
Bellamy Blake (THE 100, 2014) Mike Wrigley (TELL ME LIES, 2022) Cassian Andor (ROGUE ONE, 2016) Ray Hall & Dodge Mason (PANIC, 2021) Zac Torres (MOTORHEADS, 2025) Anthony Bridgerton & Benedict Bridgerton (BRIDGERTON, 2020) Charlie Cooper & Neil Crosby (THE RUNAROUNDS, 2025), Neil Perry, Todd Anderson, Charlie Dalton, Steven Meeks (DEAD POETS SOCIETY, 1989)
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀IF THERE IS A SHOW OR MOVIE THAT IS NOT ON THE LIST AND YOU WOULD LIKE ME TO WRITE ABOUT IT, just ask, i have watched too many movies and shows, truly
My main motivation for writing fanfiction is to study characters who have unresolved issues, explore them, or place them in situations that are actually part of their character arc. So that will always be my biggest motivation, which I want to reflect in what I write. (I try my best!)
ROMANCE AS A SUB-GENRE !
I always have fun with romance as a subgenre. I love rom-coms, but I try as much as possible to keep it in the background and not the main focus. But I definitely have fun with it and play with all the romance tropes that exist, depending on the characters.
FAMILY OR PLATONIC DYNAMIC !
Definitely a genre that isn't explored as much, but I love doing it, whether it's complicated or not. It's definitely something I like to do with specific characters, especially if I see that it fits well with their character arc.
GENRES !
A bit of everything, really, but most of my content is drama or romance. I also like to play with those genres in fantasy worlds or worlds where you'd think nothing could happen. Sometimes comedy? I don't think I'm funny, but sometimes I unintentionally make jokes when I write, so if there's a risky or serious situation and a joke comes out, it wasn't intentional; it just came out that way.
WARNINGS !
You'll probably see the mental health of the characters explored in my stories a lot (anxiety, depression, and others: I do not idealize them), as well as sensitive topics like family wounds, childhood, trauma, etc. Please be discreet about this. (i do not do
OTHERS !
The more authentic and connected I am to the characters, the better my writing turns out. Basically, the more I stick to the subgenres and follow my intuition about what I'm writing, the better it is. The times I feel like it comes out bad are because I genuinely felt like I didn't give it my all, I don't know. I don't write smut or adult content, I don't have that skill or talent, sorry.
GUYSSS, Tumblr won't let me send private replies to questions 😭😭😭 Does anyone know why does that happen??? To the people who asked me a question to answer privately, I'm seriously trying to reply privately but it won't let me (anyways, trying to figure out for now, if I don't answer is not that i don't want to, is just that i can't😔) also, for the a request, working on it, but soon i will open an oficial request thing and stuff
PART 1 !
summary → 3,5k. Dennis Whitaker only can say no to you. . .
content warning → pre-season two. awkward cuties in love. a little romcom-ish, slowburn is moving, kinda friends to lovers, mentions of the crew all over, and of course family dynamics sweet, angsty and mental health themes of the arc of being a michael robinavitch daughter.
a/n → do i make a part 3? also, finally part 2!
MASTERLIST ! BEING MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH'S DAUGTHER MASTERLIST
Dennis liked to fix things, mend them, sit with them, take the time to lovingly care for them. Unfortunately for someone with the last name Robinavitch, that kind of affection didn't resonate with you; you weren't sweet or carefree about life. And certainly, being in control gave you a certain inner peace, but ever since the only guy you could think of who wouldn't reject you did, something in your pride shattered. You weren't an angel, you could admit that; you knew you weren't the good, innocent girl everyone promised. Your love life wasn't exactly linear, nor were you exactly a devoted gentleman to every lover; you were there to enjoy it while it lasted because you were aware that things are temporary. But the truth is, ever since the day of Pitt Fest, something about that line felt off.
Perhaps that's why every story or memory sounded different and foreign to you. Everyone seemed to move on once that chaos passed, but the feeling of unease within you hadn't disappeared since that day. See you around… You remember those moments like they were yesterday, because that rejection reshaped something in your mind, in how you perceived yourself. You weren't sure if it was wrong, but something was definitely wrong.
Two months. You weren't focused on work anymore, you didn't feel like seeing anyone, not new people or exes, you were completely empty in that respect. In fact, it was becoming increasingly unbearable to see Whitaker. You don't want to sound like a player, but at that point, whatever they thought of you didn't matter anymore, and so what if you were a player? Women weren't shaming your father for it. If anything, they liked him more. You swallowed your annoyance and never said a word again. Stupid Whitaker… The guy who got a stupidly cute haircut a few weeks ago and for some other stupid reason now has stronger arms. If it wasn't enough that you weren't going to have a chance with him, he had to rub it in your face. And his kindness—why on earth did you have to be so kind? you often wondered.
The synchronized approach didn't help either; there were no more clashes, but rather, when their hands met in the same spot to stop bleeding, instead of a fleeting glance, it was a sidelong look to check on each other's condition. Everything since that day was supposed to be about being good coworkers. And of course, you couldn't take anything personally, because there was no point in being jealous when literally nothing had happened, but you couldn't help but look. Sometimes you saw some nurses flirting with him, and you wondered if he was completely blind or if he was choosing them. But you couldn't help frowning at him specifically, because you felt sorry for the number of women he could ignore, whether by accident or not, because you were one of them now.
“You’re not going to kill him like that,” Abbot murmured to you from beside you. It was early morning, and everyone was already getting ready for the day shift.
“I’m not trying to,” you replied disinterestedly, glancing at someone else. Jack usually kept an eye on you, watching out for you.
“You’re not going to kill him like that,” Abbot murmured to you from beside you. It was early morning, and everyone was already getting ready for the day shift.
“I’m not trying to,” you replied disinterestedly, glancing at someone else. Jack usually kept an eye on you, watching out for you.
“You’re not a very good liar, Robinavitch. My therapist says that we don’t have to hide our feelings.” You raised your eyebrows, not very surprised; you were used to that kind of comment coming from him.
“And do you do that, Dr. Abbot?” you asked curiously, turning in your chair to look at him.
“Just when I want to,” he replied nonchalantly, and you nodded, rolling your eyes without giving it much thought.
You couldn’t help but watch Dennis from afar again. This time, the rounds were starting, but you couldn’t help intentionally eavesdropping on the other people’s conversations—another trait you inherited from your father, who loved to explore during his rounds.
“I was wondering if you wanted to get a drink sometime, maybe tonight?” asked the nurse you didn't know because she was so new to the area. But since you were following them because of the case they'd just been assigned, you looked on expectantly, waiting for Dennis's response.
Dennis smiled, chuckled softly, and paused—one of those pauses you knew so well because you'd made it more than once: “Maybe.”
You couldn't help but react somewhat dramatically, so your lips parted into an oval, and you frowned at the guy. Of course, neither of them paid any attention to you; it was better that way. But as Dennis took the gloves off one of his hands, you quickened your pace to confront him, not in an embarrassing or accusatory way, but simply pointing out the fact.
“You're a player!” you exclaimed, stopping both of you in your tracks, taken aback by the unexpectedness of that statement.
Dennis frowned, but flustered by the sudden accusation in the middle of the hallway, he opened his mouth, searching for the words: “No, I am not,” he complained.
“Players let an open door, you did that! By saying maybe,” you explained, pointing your index finger at his chest, almost touching it.
“Oh, yeah? And how do you know that?”
“Because I am one,” you replied so casually that you gave yourself away. Dennis raised his eyebrows accusingly, and you began to stammer, “A retired one… of two months,” you clarified, slowly trying to regain your composure.
“Sounds like a tough job,” he mocked you with an observant tone, and you noticed Trinity Santos’s influence starting to show in him.
You opened your mouth in offense and, with the glove in your hand, hit his arm. “Screw you,” you said, but a smile couldn’t be suppressed.
You opened your mouth in offense and, with the glove in your hand, punched his arm. “Screw you.” But a smile couldn't help but spread across your face.
Dennis chuckled, as if amused by your sudden, confident way of speaking to him. Perhaps it was because he hadn't seen you with such personality in weeks, something he wouldn't admit he liked. “Screw you too.” He raised his eyebrows slightly, the corners of his lips turning up a little, but he didn't respond offended, instead speaking softly, as if he were finding common ground between you.
Neither of you knew that this would be the moment when you would become friends. You both enjoyed teasing each other, Dennis obviously only to a certain extent, because the truth is, you started it all. Like when there was a religious patient whose prayers you didn't feel like dealing with, you'd pass the job on to Dennis, saying, "Your turn, little Jesus." He'd roll his eyes at the time, but when he had the chance to get revenge, he would. For example, when there was something more complicated he could avoid doing, he'd call you and say, "It's a job for the favorite intern, you know?" And, as always, you'd force a smile, and you'd do it.
And when Trinity didn't feel like thinking about anything, she'd always invite you for drinks at a bar near the hospital, with Dennis, of course, always by her side. Sometimes when Trinity got incredibly drunk, you guys would carry her. God, you'd even hear her complain about her relationship with Garcia, even though she tried to hide it. Santos was a girl with many illusions beneath that solid exterior: "I think she hates me."
Trinity's pout made you and Dennis, who were carrying her on either side of her body, lose your balance. "She just said no to you today," Dennis said, sounding conflicted as he tried to keep you from falling, trying to prevent his friend's negative thoughts from growing.
"Dennis is right, believe me, someone saying no to you isn't the end of the world," you agreed, dragging yourself along with her. You didn't notice Whitacker actually frown and glance at you out of the corner of his eye at your words.
Trinity made another pained sound, shaking her head, and plodding down even further. You almost tripped, nearly causing all three of you to fall. It took a while, but they somehow made it to the room and let her rest on her bed.
“Does she often do that?” you asked Dennis, pointing at Santos.
“Just… when she’s really, really drunk.” You smiled a little at his amused expression. You looked back at Trinity, and the sudden feeling that you shouldn’t be there washed over you. Your discomfort filled the room, but before you could escape, Dennis continued: “Do you wanna…?”
( . . . )
“You do admire my dad a little too much.” You raised your hand, showing your index finger and thumb almost touching, smiling at him as you sat comfortably at one end of the couch.
“Wha—? That’s not true,” Dennis tried to deny, sitting at the other end, also comfortably, and you immediately shook your head.
“It is. But I get it, everyone wants my father’s thumbs up, it seems like he feels the need for validation from everyone… even me.” You raised your eyebrows, sighing as you realized this.
Dennis had never thought about it this way until that moment, when something clicked for him, making him realize how much an approving smile from Michael Robinavitch could affect him and everyone else. He looked at his hands, his mind racing with the thought that if everyone else struggles to swallow Robby’s pride, he wondered how difficult it might be for you, and for the first time in a long time, he looked you in the eye: “Sounds rough.”
You wrinkled your nose, a little disinterested. "From time to time, yes. It is just harder to take care of him when he doesn't want to. He is not big on the emotional stuff, neither I am, so..." You tried to laugh, but only a weak laugh came out. ”But what about you, Mister yes?”
Dennis frowned, taking the question by surprise. "Me? What about me?"
“You're always saying yes, to pretty much everyone” You explain yourself.
I have hesitated. “I—I don't always say yes”
"You do, you say yes or maybe or others. You have a serious problem with the word not being in your vocabulary"
“I do say no.” I try to convince myself. You raised your eyebrows, judging. Dennis stammered: “I do say no to you, you know?” He remembered moving his hand giving an example.
“Seems like it’s only me on that list,” you said again, narrowing your eyes, without dwelling on what you’d said. Dennis went quiet; something in his expression changed at that moment, which you noticed but chose to ignore, leaving him wondering why you were on that list more than once.
( . . . )
“You missed the appointment today.” You sat down next to your father, offering him a beer, on one of the park benches after a long day at work. “Dr. Jefferson told me,” you explained before he could protest.
“Traitor,” Robby said without resentment, not refusing the drink.
“Do I have to worry about you?” you asked, glancing at him sideways and taking a sip of beer.
“You always worry about me,” he commented, knowing that no matter what he did, your concern was the most commonplace thing in the world, mirroring your movements. You rolled your eyes.
“I know you don’t like to talk about it with me, but is it working?” you asked, innocently, but with many doubts.
“You mean talking to a psychiatrist?” he asked back, and you nodded, waiting for his answer. “Sometimes yes… Sometimes it doesn’t.” You nodded again, looking into your father’s eyes, which were trying to give you some hope that things were alright.
“Can I help?” you asked for the first time. Robby raised his eyebrows, touched, but with a chuckle on his lips, and shook his head.
He placed his hand on your knee to comfort you, saying softly, “You’re always helping.” You smiled weakly. “So… Whitaker?”
You immediately made a face, which made Robby burst out laughing even louder. “What about him?” you asked, confused.
“New first-year resident mentor, what do you think?”
You frowned and really analyzed him. “I think he will be… okay.” You tried to say it casually, because you knew that if you started listing the reasons why he would be good, it would be suspicious. “Why are you asking me?” You asked again, Robby looked at you with a smile, and you raised your eyebrows in surprise. “Holy shit, is he your new favorite?” you teased him.
“Shut up,” he shook his head with a smile. “You’re still the first, thought,” he said, tilting his head.
“Whaaat? Did I just hear that right? Am I actually your favorite?” You beamed, bouncing slightly in your seat, and your father started to laugh. You both laughed for a few seconds, and you sighed, falling into a long silence. Even though you wanted to enjoy the moment, your mind still seemed to be stuck on that unsettling feeling, the one you'd often wondered if it stemmed from other people's doubts, your father's, or your own doubts that had been swirling around in your head for months.
“Dad, do you think there is something wrong with me?”
“You think there is something wrong with you?” Your father asked you in return, turning his head curious as to what you were going to say, a subtle frown appearing on his forehead.
“When you and mom broke up, when I was really little, she was really sad, she didn't move on, not until years… And I've seen you go woman for woman since the longest I can remember… I think for that reason I don't know… it is weird.”
“What do you mean by that?” This time more worried than before.
“You’re either the one who stays ecstatic in time or the one who goes faster than time… You let people pass you by, or you pass people by. I’ve been both, and neither seems to have a happy ending.” Something in Robby’s chest tightened. For a long time, he thought none of his actions would affect you that much. In fact, he thought the further you stayed away from such actions, the better for you—the less damage caused. “Lately, I’ve been thinking I was selfish for being the one who passes people by… But I think I pass them by because I believe I don’t deserve them. I thought I was protecting myself from others, but in reality, I was protecting them from me.”
Robby wanted to cry. He saw himself, right inside you. He hugged himself, without asking permission or hesitating, regretting how much you resembled him. You frowned, confused, but hugged him back the same way he hugged you. He wanted to say sorry, but he knew it was pointless, so after pulling away from you, he looked you in the eye and asked, “Are you sure I’m the one who needs a psychiatrist?”
You knew it was his way of saying he cared, and you just laughed. Your father looked at you again, serious this time. “You need to travel. You’ve been putting it off… I think it’s time.” You frowned, confused. You’d been planning it, but all these years you hadn’t wanted to do it for him, you didn’t want to leave him alone. You started shaking your head. “I can take care of myself.” You raised your eyebrows, more doubtful and less convinced. “I can live without your bossy ass.” You rolled your eyes with a smile.
“Are you sure? Really, really sure?” You insisted, and Robby started nodding repeatedly with a smile.
You smiled. Maybe it was time for you to take a break, for the first time in a long time. You'd never left the city, not even been more than two cities away. Your father never had much time for vacations or anything like that. And as soon as you finished high school, you went straight to college without a break. And it's always been that way.
After spending time with your father, you started walking, but you noticed Whitacker was still sitting outside the hospital and approached him, curious. "What are you still doing here?" you asked.
Dennis looked up at your voice, instinctively moving his folded hands to his legs. He gave you a smile, his eyes holding something you couldn't quite decipher yet.
"Uh— Garcia and Santos are having a big night tonight."
"Ohhh. I get it, so what are you going to sleep here tonight?" you joked.
Dennis suddenly remembered that this had once been his reality and smiled at you. "Maybe?" Dennis joked, tilting his head and wrinkling his nose slightly. There was a pause where, like him, you looked at your hands, searching for answers.
“I’m going to ask something inappropriate.” Dennis frowned, but something resembling happiness was about to form on his lips. “Do you want to sleep at my house?” Dennis raised his eyebrows in surprise, and you started to stammer. “Not in a sexual way!” you clarified nervously, covering your mouth. Dennis suddenly laughed. And you realized how much he had grown in awkward moments.
He stood up from the hospital steps, ready to walk beside you. After a few minutes of comfortable silence that felt like an eternity, you both blurted out different phrases at the same time: “I have news!” “I was looking for you!” Both of you spoke in such nervous tones that you both laughed for a moment.
“Really? Why?” You frowned.
“Uh— It’s not important, actually. Do you have news?” Dennis asked curiously.
Something about you made you nervous; you didn't know how to explain the sudden change of plans. "Uh— I'm going away for a while, for my silly travel trip, remember?" you announced, trying to smile, waiting for his reaction.
Something about Dennis stopped him. You didn't know if it was the bombshell news, his bad luck that it had to happen just when he was ready to take the plunge into love, or his decision not to interfere, not wanting to ruin your plans. That was the first time he'd ever said yes without hesitation to you.
Two months.
Two months passed and you were back. Back for the Fourth of July, the idea was to surprise everyone. Your father already knew, but you decided to return on the day Frank was coming back too. You weren't going to let your father kill him; after all, at one point he was the favorite of favorites, someone your father had taken in. Part of you was angry that your father had been hurt, but another part knew that wasn't your fight to end. There you were in the waiting room, about to go in, when you saw Frank. You gave him a small smile as you slowly approached him.
"Look at you, Kevin McCalister, you came back home." Frank smiled at you, surprised, but also grateful for your unexpected welcome.
"Hey...? You seem happy to see me," he commented, puzzled.
"Should I not be happy?" you asked, frowning. “Don’t worry, Langdon, apologies for later, let’s just get along, it’s my first day back after some time too,” you explained, looking inside.
Frank frowned, not wanting to ask, but you both went into the dressing room to enter the ER. You came in with renewed energy. The fresh air had done you good; it changed the way you walked, making you lighter and less worried. Including some good therapy sessions, you entered the ER excited, with most of the staff happy to see you.
As soon as you saw your father, you gave him a huge hug, unlike anything you’d ever seen before, which left everyone confused. Neither of you were known for being affectionate, so seeing you so happy was almost like something out of a movie or an alternate universe, because no one, I repeat, no one could ever be so demonstrative of affection toward Robby, the depressed Robby. Dana watched you for a few moments, processing what she’d seen. “Are you sure you didn’t take drugs on your trip?” she asked, and you laughed.
“Don’t worry, spiritual people just teach me some yoga,” you explained teasingly.
“Naked yoga?” Abbot asked, joining the conversation.
“Uh— What is he talking about?” You frowned, confused, at your father.
“Yeah, not today,” your father replied, pointing behind you. You understood from his posture that this was no longer your father, but your boss, and you immediately turned around. “This is Joy and Ogilvie, MS3 and MS4.” You raised your eyebrows, somewhat surprised, and greeted them, scrutinizing them from head to toe. You knew your father would ask questions about it later. Your smile hadn't appeared until you saw the third person behind them.
“Dennis,” your smile couldn't help but escape.
Dennis smiled too; he couldn't help it. “Hey,” it escaped his lips like a sigh. Joy could only grimace at the obvious, Ogilvie just wondered what the hell was going on.
a/n → guys, i'm multishipper, (take it as platonic or ship, just have fun with it) i just love to see a little silly character that happens to be a the daugther of robby having fun teasing everyone on the pitt.
MASTERLIST ! BEING MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH'S DAUGTHER MASTERLIST
Michael Robinavitch's daughter is used to seeing Dennis Whitacker celebrate every compliment her father gives him. It's a little strange, but no one can take away the expression on her face when a man is so adoring toward his father. If it wasn't Trinity Santos making a specific face with each interaction, it was her. And of course, to make it even more obvious how loyal she is to her father, besides being an expert at teasing people, she keeps count of every time Whitacker's chest swells with pride when he makes his father proud. So when Dr. Robby came out of the patient's room after congratulating Whitacker, his daughter couldn't help herself: "You're doing it againnn."
"What?" he asked, confused, looking at her.
Little Robinavitch subtly climbed up to him. "You worship him," she pointed out, raising her eyebrows suggestively.
Whitaker's nerves rose to his cheeks at the sudden accusation. "I don't."
"You do," she insisted.
“I don’t,” he repeated.
“So, you don’t like him?” She tilted her head, asking a quick question.
“What? I—” Dennis began to stammer. Of all the people he expected to see like this, it was anyone but his boss’s own daughter. She looked at him, waiting for an answer that never came.
“Okay!” She shrugged indifferently. “By the way, today you’re on fire on the worship count, 3 and it’s only 11.” She winked, patted him on the shoulder, and smiled before leaving.
Dennis Whitacker was left replaying all the interactions he’d had with his boss and blushed as he realized the obvious. The worship count was obvious, from quoted phrases and celebratory push-ups to doing everything possible to make Robby Rovinavitch proud. Meanwhile, little Robinavitch texted her father down the hall: “Fourth time on the Whitaker is my favorite count, dad, I’m watching you.”
JUST SAW AN EDIT OF GIRLDAD MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH, make my day truly, kinda motivate me to keep going with my masterlist of michael robinavitch daughter and probably also, opening very soon requests?? answer if you guys like the idea, idk, but truly thank u so much for the support on my pitt works💕
there's many functions on tumblr and i'm glad you learned a new one ^-^ i wish you all the best on your writing journey &many happy comments ❤️
thank u so much for this, I really appreciate it, being new to this fanfiction writing community on tumblr is nerve-wracking, thank you so much for this message 💕
please consider putting a 'read more' into your fic posts 🙏
i'm really new at this app, so i didn't know that existed or what it was😭😭😭 i had to google it, but i did it!!! actually really helpful, thanks for the suggestion <3 i truly didn't know that existed
summary → 4,1k. Dennis Whitaker has a soft spot for his boss's daughter, or when Michael Robinavitch's daughter learned the hard way that she is indeed a player.
content warning → two awkward cuties in love. romcom-ish, slowburn, a little of angst, a little comedy, mentions of the crew all over, sort of the not so good beggining of this love story. and of course family dynamics sweet, angsty and mental helath themes of being a michael robinavitch daughter.
a/n → reminder that english is not my first language, so i am trying my best. if you want a part two set in season, let me know <3
MASTERLIST ! BEING MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH'S DAUGTHER MASTERLIST
It all started with a sudden, unexpected encounter, where Dennis bumped into you in the middle of a case. You exchanged confused glances, and Dennis felt like he wanted to disappear after the judgmental look you gave him. It wasn't a very good day for either of you.
You'd had a fight the day before with your father about how your simple suggestion that he see someone for his mental health had set him off. Perhaps you hadn't used the best words, but in his mind, he felt like you were implying that he was broken. Because Michael Robinavitch could put up with it from anyone, because everyone could think whatever they wanted, but his daughter… So, there you were, arriving half an hour late for your shift, bumping into one of the new guys, and everyone staring at you in confusion. You looked at your father, and his first thought was to punish you. He told you he was going to require you to supervise all the juniors on their first shift. He said that even though the senior residents had responsibilities toward them, yours was to prove that everything he had taught you wasn't for nothing.
You frowned, confused and angry, trying to understand, but you couldn't help it. Instead of protesting with "Dr. Robinavitch," a "Dad!" came out, loud enough for everyone to hear. First hour of the shift, and you'd already messed up more than once. You muttered a small "fuck," and that's how everyone in the ER found out your well-kept secret.
Your father just looked around and gave you a judgmental look. You took a deep breath and met his gaze as if you accepted all the responsibilities he'd left you with. With that, he left. You turned around and noticed Santos, Whitaker, Melissa, and Javadi looking at you expectantly, with flashes of empathy. And as much as you wanted to avoid them, they were now your responsibility. So for a few hours, you watched them from behind, checking that everything they did was alright. Sometimes Frank, Samira, or Collins asked for your help, but your father never once asked for it.
You weren't so sure when Dennis Whitaker started appearing in the group. He began by asking small questions, trying to get your help. He noticed when Robby ignored you, so he would look to you and ask for guidance to make sure you were included. And the more condescending you were to him, the more he seemed to want to help. You didn't know if it was out of pity or shame, but you weren't going to refuse his help. So, every now and then, you exchanged subtle, grateful glances.
When you finally got a break... You analyzed all the new recruits. Trinity Santos seemed to be handling everything well. Victoria Javadi found good company with McKay. Mel King had already taken refuge with Frank Langdon. Finally, there was Dennis Whitaker, who looked at your father with wide eyes, as if he were a hero. You didn't blame him; you looked at your father that way too.
"Handling the punishment well, mini Robinavitch?" Langdon asked, walking past you, teasing you. You glanced at him sideways, following him with a grimace that erased any trace of good humor.
“Shitty nicknames already?” you asked irritably. It hadn't even been a day since the bombshell dropped, but a hidden smile crept across your face. Even though it annoyed you most of the time, you appreciated that he cared about you in his own way.
“I think it's cute. Everyone knew you were like his mini twin, but nobody had proof,” Samira commented, still engrossed in the papers she was reading. “And don't feel bad, he'll get over it.” She was referring to your father and glanced at you, checking you out. “Do you know who your dad's new favorite is going to be?” she asked, standing next to you curiously, trying to change the subject.
You frowned, offended. “What? I'm not going to answer that.”
Donnie laughed as he walked past. “Told you! She's not going to give any hints. I bet you still have the crown, mini Robinavitch, don't give up!” He pointed at you with his finger, rooting you.
You frowned even more, confused. “Thanks?”
“And you? Do you have a favorite?” McKay asked casually, glancing at you with a smile, Javadi following close behind, her gaze attentive.
“Why is everyone suddenly interested in my opinion on that?” You asked, puzzled by the unusual behavior.
“Because we care,” Frank replied immediately, and you grimaced before responding, “Last week you told me I should disappear like Kevin McCallister.” Samira gave him a judgmental look.
Frank stammered at the sudden judgment: “Uh— That was with fellowship?” He suggested you try to be friendly and frowned, changing the subject. “Didn’t you have students to take care of?”
You wrinkled your nose in annoyance at him. “Didn’t you too?” You countered, starting to help again. The moment you spotted one of them, you quickly approached with a smile that vanished when you saw Dennis with his face covered in blood.
“Is that it?” You didn't even finish your question before he looked into your eyes as if he'd just experienced the most traumatic event of his life. “Let's help you clean up, shall we?” Dennis nodded immediately, and you guided him to an empty emergency room bed. You took a paper towel with some water and held it out, asking for permission. He paused, somewhat surprised, but then nodded, allowing you to touch his face.
You made a sympathetic face. It was only 11:00 a.m., and it seemed like bad luck was following him. He'd already been through three scrub changes, all with disgusting situations, and one patient had died. “Why does something always happen to you when I leave you alone for a few minutes?” you asked, teasingly, before starting to clean his face with your right hand while holding his chin with your left.
“I bet you were really good on your first day,” he said with his eyes closed, his voice a little shaky.
You let out a laugh that didn't quite come out as you looked down. “I wish! My first day I was so nervous I didn't remember half the stuff I learned, oh, and I lost a patient for three hours, which is a lot, because this place isn't that big.” Dennis raised his eyebrows, surprised to learn you hadn't exactly been a prodigy from the moment you arrived. Given the respect everyone else had for you, it didn't make sense. He asked a small “Really?” opening his eyes, his eyebrows raised, a look of comfort on his face. “Yeah, I think my dad was so embarrassed of me that day,” you said with a smile so natural it didn't even seem like it hurt, too focused on cleaning him up to notice the empathy in his eyes.
There was some truth in admitting that Dennis couldn't fully understand you the first time he saw you, seeing you with a carefree girl who didn't take things seriously, but now he realized that was just a misconception. And looking at him closely, having you so near, there was a certain vulnerability he hadn't noticed before, as if something had been revealed to him. That rebelliousness, painted with smiles, sarcasm, and cynicism, that you so charismatically presented to others, faltered when you felt your father's disapproval. Suddenly, a silence fell over you, fixed only on the features of your face; he didn't even realize he'd been somewhat captivated by you until you finished cleaning up.
You glanced at him for a second, a smile on your face, tilting your head slightly, puzzled. “Look at that, you have blue eyes,” you said, meeting his gaze as if you'd discovered something new, a subtle smile creeping across your face. Dennis couldn't help but linger in that brief moment a little longer, a slight blush rising in his cheeks, but he couldn't break eye contact with you.
There was something about the way he followed you with such intense focus that made you nervous, but before you could respond or even realize what was happening, you let out a small shriek when you saw a rat scurry across the floor. For a moment, you moved quickly, avoiding getting too close, almost slipping, but an unexpectedly strong arm wrapped around your waist. You could even feel the warmth of his hand against your skin as he pulled up your scrubs. You blinked for a few seconds, stunned by the sudden closeness.
“Um— Strong grip,” you felt your cheeks flush, which wasn't typical for you. You took a quick step back, distancing yourself from him. Dennis was also somewhat embarrassed; he raised his eyebrows for a brief second in reaction to his bewilderment, but the corners of his lips, which were usually in a dejected line, gave him a subtle pride when he saw you also nervous.
( . . . )
As the hours passed, you became more open and shared more with the disciples under observation, specifically Dennis and Trinity. Your father's punishment seemed to grow more enjoyable over time. There was something funny about watching them in the chaos of their first day, or perhaps you simply enjoyed watching them and accompanying them through their adjustment process.
Dana, who had watched you grow up since you were MS3, glanced at you with a smile. "Looks like you have new friends," she remarked, her warm voice adding a touch of pride.
You frowned, confused, glancing around. "You mean sloppy hands and Kermit?" you asked, pointing at them with your thumbs.
"That was just one time," Trinity complained, remembering how embarrassed Garcia's face had been when she dropped the scalpel.
"Why Kermit?" Dennis asked, somewhat offended.
“You stand like him when he’s sad,” you explained, making an observation without meaning to offend. Trinity wanted to laugh, but held it in, and Dennis shifted his posture. Dana raised her eyebrows authoritatively.
“What? She started with the nicknames,” you pointed at Trinity.
“And you followed,” Santos accused you back.
“Well, at least you have people your own age to talk to now. Now I’m not going to be your best friend here.” Trinity and Dennis exchanged glances, wanting to laugh at you. You opened your mouth for a second, offended.
“Maybe we were soulmates and I was born in the wrong generation,” you suggested, shrugging slightly. Dana raised her eyebrows, judgmental but not surprised by your natural irony.
“Yeah, sweetheart, and we were clubbing together,” she replied immediately, even more sarcastically.
You smiled and didn’t miss the opportunity: “That sounds fun.” This time, Dana gave you a look that made it clear enough was enough, and you genuinely felt a little scared. “Too much?” you asked in a low voice, and she nodded. We understand you had to escape before she killed you, so you turned to look at Santos and Whitaker, muttering “Let’s go” without letting a note escape your voice.
Robby barely saw you pass by, called you Doctor along with your name, and asked, “Can we talk?” in a serious and suspenseful tone that Trinity asked, “Damn, what did you do now? Don’t do a walk of shame.” I advise you.
You sighed, a line forming on your lips, and started walking toward him in that distinctive way you do when you're in the "my dad yelled at me in front of everyone, I yelled back, and I deeply regret it" situation.
"She's definitely doing it," Dennis murmured to Trinity as he watched you walk, while she responded with a disappointed "Mh-hm."
For Dr. Robby, talking to most people was easy. If they didn't understand, fine, no problem. In fact, talking to beautiful, strong women? Men with emotional issues? There was no challenge. Except for his kryptonite, his first and only biological daughter.
Facing that was like facing something harder than crossing Mount Everest, and when you're a mentally broken father trying to cope while hiding it from your overly observant daughter, it's hell. So yes, just so you have some context… Dana did scold him.
She gave him a lecture on how to deal with frustrated, angry daughters, with huge expectations placed on their shoulders, and how he was the father of the year, belittling your efforts in public. Because, in short, your father, even if he didn't want to admit it, needed you more than you needed him. He liked that you shared the same field of work; he could teach you everything, and that gave him a satisfaction no one could compare to. In fact, his best days were seeing you so focused that he felt his legacy was so much in your hands that he could see a bright future for you. Robby Robinavitch was an innate father figure, not only to you but to all his disciples, and if one of them leaves, everything becomes unstable.
Once they were in the corner of a hallway, alone with their arms crossed, serious, he took a deep breath. “Look, I might have overstepped this morning…” He began to apologize. “with you.” You frowned in surprise, nodded, looking at your hands.
“Uh—Yeah, me too. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you, not like that,” you replied in his same convoluted way of speaking. “I shouldn’t have told you that yesterday. I don’t think you are…” In between, you could hear your father trying to intervene with a “It’s okay,” but you ended up looking up and shaking your head. “I just want you to be okay.”
Robby paused for a moment, listening to your words, which, like him, were difficult for you to say. He looked at you with a certain tenderness and nodded. He still wasn’t used to this new state of your relationship, where you were no longer seen as head doctor and student, but as father and daughter. Because of this, the next words were difficult for him to say.
“Look now, I need as many hands as possible… And I… need you, I need… my daughter.”
“Woah, that took you some time,” you teased him. He rolled his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest, beginning to loosen. “Almost fell asleep,” you continued, smiling. “However… I need you too.” Robby smiled as if his daughter, who was always a bit grumpy, had given him a golden torch. “But don’t think you’re free. We’re going to have that conversation, Dad,” you ordered, not in a disobedient or self-centered tone, but as someone demanding mutual respect.
“Since when are you so bossy?” he asked, frowning in surprise at your audacity.
“Because I’m my father’s daughter,” you replied nonchalantly with a small smile. Robby smiled, flattered and somewhat proud.
“Put your gloves on and let’s go.” He tilted his head slightly, his eyes gesturing toward a case awaiting them.
You looked at him, excited and starting to feel cheerful. “You’re the boss.” You followed his instructions, taking hand sanitizer from one of the dispensers, just like he did.
You started walking to receive a new gurney with a patient. You knew this case would take many hands, and of course, he called his official team for now: Langdon, Collins, Mohan, McKay, and you.
“Everyone, watch and learn.” He called to everyone on their first day, walking past them with authority, hiding his excitement as they lined up to watch. When he sensed you following behind, he smiled slightly, just like you used to do since you were a child.
You turned to look at all the newcomers, raising your eyebrows at them, and murmured, “He wants to show off.” You gave them the same excited smile.
“Hear that!” He answered you by putting on his isolation gown. “Ready?”
“Right behind you, Dad.” And that's how you put on the show of the century. You were a good doctor, but not because you were extraordinary at what you did, or because you were the smartest, or the strongest, or anything like that. Anyone who had the privilege of seeing you could see that your greatest magic was knowing what others needed. If you needed to take a step back so others could shine, you would. You read them and their needs with such care and affection that sometimes your father could look at you and you could sense what he asked for before he even spoke. But that acquired habit wasn't just with him anymore; you did it with others too. In other words, you were the undeniable glue behind a quick and harmonious job.
Trinity, who had underestimated you, finally understood why you were the favorite. Javadi, after seeing you, wanted to do a whole interview with you, exploring a million ways to connect so deeply with a parent. Melissa King looked at you with a desire to work with you and found the way you and your father communicated charming. Dennis, on the other hand, looked at you with pure admiration, and at you with a smile. You returned it for a moment, momentarily losing your concentration.
“Robinavitch,” your father called again, drawing your attention. You blinked in surprise, refocusing. Robby looked first at you, then at Whitacker, repeating that eye movement. He saw you both looking somewhat frightened, as if you'd been caught. Robby simply frowned deeply.
That was the last moment of peace you had that day. Everything else was a blur. If you want a summary, I'll give it to you in the simplest and least painful way: you couldn't save your father from a breakdown, you couldn't even go into that room because you're used to him pushing you away with his emotions. With trembling lips, you couldn't find the words to stop his pain, frustrated with yourself for not being able to be a pillar of strength. Jake, whom you love like a brother, was falling apart in another part of the hospital… Your eyes began to water.
But someone touched your shoulder. You turned your head and frowned, blinking several times. Dennis… He didn't have to say a word. He just gave you a nod, asking permission to pass, but also intending to say: Don't carry this burden, not now.
You took a few steps back, tears escaping for the first time, which you immediately wiped away, regaining your composure. And you went to find the only person you could help at that moment: “I know you don’t want to see him right now, sometimes I don’t want to either. I know you held some faith in him, I do too, but he couldn’t do anything more, none of us could. But you’re going to regret it so much if you’re mad at him for something he can’t control, I… regret it.” You said, referring to your anger that he didn’t want help, but could you blame him? You finally realized that it wasn’t about fixing things or finding a way to heal his pain. It was about being there to help him so that the burden wasn’t so heavy, because it’s not our job to close other people’s wounds. “I know today is probably one of the worst days of your life… However, I know one thing, sometimes the only thing we can hold on to is the wishes others have for us. It might not make sense now, but I know, Dad, that the only thing he holds on to right now is the hope of seeing you again one day.” Jake looked at you, his cheeks wet with tears, understanding what you were saying. Something comforted him, but he couldn't respond, so he simply wrapped his arms around you in a hug.
You felt like you were doing the bare minimum, unaware that your father had been listening the whole time with Dennis by his side, keeping him company. When you bumped into them, Robby looked at you, on the verge of tears. You placed a hand on his shoulder in comfort: "I meant it, Dad. I wish you could find hope again, too."
Robby placed a hand on your cheek: "You've grown." You smiled, your lips pressed tightly together, but didn't pull away.
"Don't get too emotional, you're gonna explode," Robby laughed and watched you walk away when they called your name. Robby stood there for a moment, silently processing everything. Suddenly, he frowned. Dennis was still there, wearing an emotional smile, as if he'd witnessed the greatest reconciliation of the decade.
“You’re not being nice to me because of my daughter?” Robby suddenly asked, just because of the way he looked at you whenever you were near him. Dennis opened his mouth and began to stammer nervously, unsure of what to say. “I’m messing with you.” Robby shook his head with a smile and continued walking alone.
( . . . )
The day was almost over; the worst was behind them. As was tradition, most of them were heading to the park for a beer after a long day. But as soon as you saw Dennis, you changed course and ran toward him through the hospital corridors.
“Whitaker!” you called. He turned around immediately, a little scared, as he had been all day, and you stood in front of him. “Some of us are going to the park, if you want to come…” you invited him subtly. Whitaker glanced nervously around, unsure how to decline your offer, but you read him immediately. “It’s okay, you can come another day.” He smiled, relieved.
“Uh— You did pretty great today.” You tried to add something to make him forget he’d turned you down.
“Oh, yeah. Thanks, you did pretty great too. I actually wanted to say thank you about my dad. You didn’t have to do that, but you did.” You said nervously, forcing a smile, not entirely comfortable remembering how vulnerable you'd been in that moment. "Do you recommend Nebraska?" you asked suddenly. Whitaker frowned, confused, not understanding the nonsensical question. "I mean—I want to take a trip to some places, and you're from Nebraska, sooo."
"Oh, I get it, yeah, for sure. Do you want to travel?" he asked, intrigued.
"Yeah, just a little, a silly idea. Connecting with nature, animals, and myself, I guess? I'm still planning," you said, making a face, trying not to look foolish.
"Animals? Do you like them?" he asked again, smiling.
"Uh—I had a fish once."
"A fish?" He narrowed his eyes, trying not to make fun of you.
"For a week, the class fish," you said, proud of yourself, and he held back the smile that threatened to break out. “Hey, that fish came to my house as a pet by the end of the week was my child,” you explained somewhat dramatically, taking steps toward him as he burst out laughing.
“What was his name?” He teased you for the first time, unconsciously taking another step toward you as he adjusted his backpack, tightening his grip on the single strap resting on his shoulder.
“I really want to say Nemo,” you teased him back.
“Dorys?” he interrupted with a joke, and you smiled.
“Silly, but no, his name was John.” You laughed, and he laughed too. You enjoyed seeing him so close, smiling, without being on edge. “The fearless smile suits you.” You tilted your head, watching him.
“You always like that?” he asked, looking at you with the same longing as you. You frowned, puzzled. “Extremely flirty?”
You raised your eyebrows, surprised by how direct he was, so you thought about it for a moment. “People often tell me it’s hereditary, actually,” Dennis said, lowering his gaze with a smile and shaking his head. He wasn’t sure if he loved it or was afraid of it. It wasn’t like he wasn’t grateful that literally the prettiest girl in the place had flirted with him, but Dennis needed to know there was more to it than just hanging out for fun, so he took a step back, confusing you.
“See you around,” he simply said before leaving, and for the first time in your life, you felt like your father the first time you saw him get rejected, recalculating his life. You opened your mouth, somewhat shocked. Were you really that much of a player? Dennis Whitacke didn’t become a challenge that day, but he was the guy you wanted to prove to that you weren’t playing games.
coming back today with BEING THE MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH'S DAUGTHER!!!! EDITION: Dennis Whitaker as the love interest (mostly set on season 1), see you soon <333
BEING MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH'S DAUGHTER ! LOVE EDITION: how he would react to his daughter dating a certain partner?
dynamics → father/daughter duo!!! michael robinavitch as a dad & fem!reader daughter.
content warning → 2,1k. spreading michael robinavitch girldad agenda (again)!!! multiple romantic interests, multiple scenarios, different love tropes, comedic duo father and daughter, the crew all over. some drama, some funny, some heartwarming things going on... also, i only wrote the potencial four solid love interests that my head could think of, enjoy <3
a/n → i actually made a masterlist of being the daugther of michael robinavitch (so go check it out, cuz i am gonna add more things very soon, tysm for the support for this silly idea that i had <3) i wanted to add jack abbot, but in my head, at least at the imagine of being michael robinavitch daughter, he is like an uncle who has she swore that was in love with his dad hahaha (actually i added that as a new point on the first headcanons: here)
MASTERLIST !
BEING THE DAUGHTER OF MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH MEANS. . . he'll always have an opinion or reaction about who you date, whether you like it or not, unlike how your father treats Jake Malloy (your honorary brother), who has had the most intrusive version of him. Which he gives to you. So everyone is clear, your father has always judged who he dates. Below are a series of Michael Robinavitch's reactions upon learning about his beloved daughter's partner:
IF YOU DATE TRINITY SANTOS. . .
When you confessed that you were seeing someone, your father looked at you strangely, because you usually never say things so seriously since no one is usually serious in your heart. But he took a small breath and asked, “Who is it?” You pressed your lips together as if you were preparing him for a bomb. And you murmured, trying to smile to soften the answer, “Trinity… Santos?” Michael Robinavitch raised his eyebrows, not believing what came out of your mouth, and went through two states of astonishment. One small and one large. The first was, how had he not noticed until that moment? And the second, the larger one, was that he swore you were arch-enemies. A pure hatred and competitiveness between you that he didn't fully understand until that moment.
“I thought you guys hated each other,” he simply replied, still somewhat confused.
“No…?” you said uncertainly. “I mean, not anymore,” you corrected yourself immediately when you saw him raise an eyebrow. “We’re over that phase,” you admitted with an embarrassed grimace, realizing you hadn’t handled it well. “We fake it now… You know, the rivalry. You’re the first to know about this, well, second, Dennis knows.” You corrected yourself immediately. “Wait, no, third, Uncle Jack found us once.” You corrected yourself again. Robby raised his eyebrows in surprise, and you made another apologetic face: “Don’t get mad.”
You received a message on your phone, and speaking of the devil… You stared at your screen, a million questions swirling: Are you okay? Is he angry? Is it because Abbot found out first? You laughed as you read the text. It took your father a moment to process all the information you’d given him in such a short time, but when he saw your smile, he knew. “Are you happy with her?” he asked, because that was all that mattered.
You looked up at him with a warm smile: “Yeah, Dad, I am.” Your father placed his hand on your shoulder, wanting to show that he was there. You both smiled at each other, still leaning against the car outside the hospital.
“Awww, you guys are so cute when you don’t want to kill each other, do you know that?!” Trinity interrupted you from a few feet away, most likely looking for you. You looked at her, eyebrows raised at her sudden appearance, but amused by the situation. “What? You guys are in a public space,” she explained. “Did I say something wrong?” she asked, approaching you.
You let out a small laugh. “No, you didn’t.” You looked at your father as you do when seeking his approval, and he nodded. Santos looked at you with a suppressed tenderness that she wasn’t going to show on her face, but she smiled.
“So… Sir, do you want to go for a beer someday?” she suggested to her now “father-in-law.”
“Not happening, Santos,” your father immediately denied, and you stifled a laugh.
“Okay!” She raised her eyebrows, not taking the rejection personally. “We’ll work on it,” Trinity gave Robby an awkward smile.
IF YOU DATE SAMIRA MOHAN. . .
When you wanted to tell your father you were starting to see someone, you were so eager to say it was Samira Mohan, but the truth was, at that point, you hadn't even kissed or confessed your feelings in any way. In fact, the friend zone seemed to follow you everywhere you went, along with a look of frustration and sadness that your father couldn't understand. It was the first time in a long time that he'd seen you like this. That day, he sat down with you for dinner. You weren't even eating your food, just lost in thought.
"Okay, tell me. What is it?" He put his fork down on his plate and stared at you. You looked up from your plate at him.
"Nothing." You shrugged, looking away. Your father gave you a disbelieving look, clearly not believing what was going on. You rolled your eyes and sighed, "Fine, there is something...or someone."
"Is it a guy?" You immediately made a face, shaking your head. “Is it a girl?” he asked again, and your answer gave him everything he needed to know.
“Who is it?” he asked. You looked at him doubtfully and whispered, as if it were a secret, “Samira…”
“Mohan? She’s good and can see it.” He nodded, approving of your choice, and recalled the moments he’d seen between you two. “There’s a vibe.”
“A vibe? Woah, that really helps,” you said sarcastically, excitedly. “Is it more like I’m really, really in the friend zone and I just yearn?” Your father chuckled and looked at you affectionately, pausing.
“Can I give you some advice?” You raised your eyebrows, surprised and unexpectedly intrigued.
“Advice from a man who doesn’t have relationships that last more than two months?” You tilted your head slightly accusingly, but not seriously.
“At least I don’t get friend-zoned.” You opened your mouth, surprised by the insult, but laughed nonetheless at the unexpectedness. “You should go and tell her how you feel,” he advised.
“Is that it? Just go and tell her?” you asked with a genuine smile, and he simply nodded. “Like, going to work tomorrow, find a moment and tell her?” you asked again.
“Yeah, go for it, tiger,” your father replied, encouraging you not to hesitate. You simply smiled at him and this time continued eating with renewed energy.
IF YOU DATE FRANK LANGDON. . .
When your father found out that you and Frank Langdon had been involved, even you didn't know he were going to tell him. Because the last few times you saw Frank, you and he were no longer anything, so when he apologized and said that rehabilitation came with extreme honesty, you never considered that he might reveal that you two had ever been together. But he returned after his 10 months of rehab, and the words "be honest above all" began to make sense in your head.
You were walking down the hallway at The Pitt to ask for help from the nurses, but you frowned when you saw everyone in an awkward silence. You stopped in your tracks, swallowing hard, your father and Frank standing in the middle, the center of attention. All the blood drained into your feet, and you wished the earth would swallow you up. If it weren't for you appearing, your father would have completely ignored Langdon to ethically continue his work, but as soon as he saw you, he gave you a death glare, so instead of continuing on your way, you slowly began to back away.
“Don’t you dare, young lady,” he warned you. You grimaced, stopped in your tracks, and walked sheepishly toward him, avoiding everyone’s gaze.
“Dad, you said you were never going to call me that in public,” you complained with a grimace.
“So you two were a thing?” your father asked. Fuck, he knew now. You stared at Frank, eyes wide, shaking your head. He tilted his head at you with a grimace and whispered apologetically, “It just slipped out.” You looked at your father as if you hadn’t heard that and forced an awkward smile.
“Whaaaat?” A fake high-pitched tone of voice, feigning surprise, came from yours. “No,” you tried to deny. Your father looked at you for a few seconds, closed his eyes as if his patience had run out, but took a deep breath and looked at you again.
“You’re a terrible liar,” he told you, and that’s how you surrendered. “It was just one time,” you tried to explain. But Frank whispered, “More than one,” and you gave him a judgmental look, throwing up your hands in frustration. “You’re not helping.”
To avoid awkward silences, you acted immediately. “Okay, I’m going to solve this quickly.” You raised a hand as if asking permission to speak and started saving your skin. “You’re mad because I didn’t tell you, but did you really want me to give you another reason to hate him?” You planted that thought in his head as if it were a proposal, giving him a little pout. “And you, worst timing ever.” You opened your hand, pointing at Frank’s entire body. You sighed, a little stressed, with the same expression your father had had a few seconds ago: “Just to be clear, right now you two are not allowed to use me as a lure to avoid your real conflict. Solve it, don’t drag me into it, got it?” You gave them a smile, giving them both a thumbs-up, trying to ease the tension. “Plus, Dad, I’ve been shutting the door on his face the last two months,” you admitted to your father.
“Really?” your father asked, impressed, and you nodded. “That’s my little girl.” He raised his hand to give you a high five, then a fist bump, which you returned, a little confused by his pleased reaction.
“Now, I’m going to keep working, and you two should too.” You clapped your hands. “Let’s wrap this up, everyone.” You called out to all the onlookers who hadn’t yet started working and the people watching. Dana leaned back with a smile. “Show is over, ciao, adiós, we’re done.” Mel King stifled a small laugh; she'd finally understood a joke in time, and you gave her a smile, appreciating that she'd enjoyed your language joke.
Everyone started moving again, and you didn't look at either your father or Langdon. Perlah and Princess looked to you, your comfort nurses, so you positioned yourself between them, your hands in their arms, and said, "Perlan, Princess." You announced, "I'm going to need a whiskey after this." They both glanced at each other for a split second, then looked at you and nodded with a small "mm-hm."
IF YOU DATE DENNIS WHITAKER. . .
When you introduced your boyfriend to your father, he just wanted to laugh. He glanced at Dennis Whitacker standing next to you and chuckled, a short, small laugh. You were both nervous; you'd been mentally preparing your boyfriend for the worst because you knew your father could react in any number of unconventional ways. But he laughed, as if it were some kind of joke you were playing on him. I mean, he knew about Whitacker because you'd mentioned him as "subtly" as you could, but he still didn't believe it. You looked at him with a frown and surprised eyes. As soon as he realized you were serious, he composed himself and blurted out, almost dumbfounded, but still with his calmly raspy voice, "Wait, are you serious?"
"Yeah, pretty much, Sir," Whitacker offered a half-hearted attempt at a smile. Robby realized this was real and blinked a few times. You'd never introduced him to anyone so... Whitaker! The list of bad boys, hippies, rock stars, and conceited guys was immense, and seeing someone so… nice? It definitely struck him as incredibly odd. After blinking for a few seconds and analyzing the two of them, he simply smiled genuinely.
“What? What are you doing?” you asked slowly, a little scared by his bright, genuine smile. But your father didn't say anything; he was already picturing a wedding between the two of you in his head, because after so many years, you had finally found someone who approved. You slowly turned your head to Dennis, sharing an alarmed look with him, and then looked at your father with him. “I think we broke him,” you murmured.
“I’m going to let you two talk,” Whitaker reflexively kissed you on the cheek for support and left to let you both process things.
Robby opened his mouth slightly surprised and watched him leave, nodding thoughtfully: “Kiss on the cheek, he is bold.” He raised his eyebrows, judging the move.
“Dad…” This time, you were the only one who called his attention. There was a pause between you, staring at each other, and then suddenly, unexpectedly, you both smiled.
“I can’t believe you both pull each other off,” he whispered teasingly with a smile.
“Dad!” you complained, embarrassed, hitting his arm and letting out an offended laugh.
“What? You’re asking me for advice because of him, right?” You started shaking your head repeatedly, while at the same time, he nodded repeatedly.
“I’m not going to do this right now, Dad. You’re delusional and too excited, that’s scary, stop that,” you started pointing at him, but he didn’t stop acting all cheerful. “At least try to be sad about it,” Robby immediately tried to frown.
pleaseee i love your dad!robby headcanons, they're so good, cant wait to read more of them
thank uuuu so much for the love on my robby!girldad headcanons, i really thougth people weren't gonna like this idea that i had, but for this reason, i just made a masterlist for this cuz they are definitely more to come <333
BEING MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH'S DAUGTHER MASTERLIST !
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀HEADCANONS !
BEING THE DAUGTHER OF MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH MEANS, HEADCANONS SEASON 1
BEING THE DAUGTHER OF MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH MEANS, HEADCANONS (SEASON 2 COMING SOON)
BEING THE MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH'S DAUGTHER, LOVE EDITION: how he would react to his daughter dating a certain partner?
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀IMAGINES !
WORSHIP COUNT, HUCKLERROBY
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀FRANK LANGDON AS LOVE INTEREST !
BEING THE MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH'S DAUGTHER ! EDITION: Frank Langdon as the love interest (COMING SOON)
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀DENNIS WHITAKER AS LOVE INTEREST !
BEING THE MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH'S DAUGTHER ! EDITION: Dennis Whitaker as the love interest (PART 1, SEASON 1)
BEING THE MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH'S DAUGTHER ! EDITION: Dennis Whitaker as the love interest (PART 2, PRE-SEASON 2)
Your headcanons and works for the pitt are soooo goood!!! the robbys daughter hc had me giggling 💜💜💜
Thank you so much for this!!! (so glad you enjoy it!!!) I am genuinely very grateful for all the support on my pitt projects. This motivates me so much because there will definitely be more to come. For you to know, I am currently working on:
being Michael Robinavitch's daughter (edition: how he would react to his daughter having a certain partner?)
being Michael Robinavitch's daughter (edition: Frank Langdon love interest)
being Michael Robinavitch's daughter (edition: Dennis Whitaker love interest)
Dennis Whitaker one-shot (because there are never enough, haha).
