You didn't regress often. Most people didn't know about it, and only a select few were allowed to assist you in it. But today had been stressful and overwhelming, and you found yourself with a blanket around your shoulders and a stuffed animal clutched in your arms and standing outside of Ifrit's door.

When you had first opened up to Ifrit about your regression, he had been nothing short of accepting. He bought pacifiers and coloring books for you, and made sure that you knew his room was always a safe space when you were feeling little. But now, outside his door, a small, grown up part of your brain argued that this was embarrassing. Nevertheless, you knocked on the door.

There was a "coming!" from inside the room before the door opened, revealing Ifrit. His lips were parted, a sentence on his tongue, but he faltered when he saw you, and how obviously little you were.

"Hey, bud." He greeted in the voice he reserved for when you were little. "Are you small today?" A silent nod from you and he stepped out of the way, gesturing for you to enter.

His room was homey, filled with posters, guitars, and trinkets gathered from other ghouls. The fireplace against the back wall crackled with a fire, one that you could feel Ifrit's magic radiating from.

Ifrit shut the door behind you and sat down on his bed, patting the spot next to him. "How little are you feeling, bud?"