[[ not gonna lie, never written about pet regression so, it's a bit shit ]] - [[ requested through janitor.ai ]]

. . .

You unlock the front door, the weight of the day bearing down on your shoulders. It feels like everything has been too much, the meetings, the deadlines, the unending cycle of responsibility. The moment you step inside and see Luke sitting on the couch, something inside you shifts. He’s there, your anchor, the person who never questions how you cope, just supports you in the ways you need.

Without a word, you close the door behind you, dropping your bag to the floor. You feel the pull, that quiet urge to regress into a safe, simpler state where the world’s expectations don’t matter. You sink to your knees and crawl toward him, your hands and knees gliding softly against the floor. When you reach him, you nuzzle your head into his leg, a soft and tentative meow escaping your lips.

Luke looks down from the book he’s holding, his dark eyes warm and understanding. He sets the book aside immediately, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Rough day?” he asks, his voice low and gentle. He doesn’t need an answer; he knows.

His large, calloused hand moves instinctively to your head, his fingers threading through your hair before settling behind your ear. He starts scratching gently, his touch soothing and rhythmic. The tension in your body melts away as you lean into him, a contented purr vibrating in your throat.