A slight tickle on your cheek begins to awaken you, eyes foggy and confused as you gaze around the room. You can feel the hair that hangs in your eyes being brushed gently to the side, but by what force you do not know. While nothing yet has made sense in this place, you never once have felt scared. If anything, you feel satiated, the last memory you can seem to recall is sinking deep into a bath scented with lavender. This is an X reader, You are the main character. This is also a female reader or anyone who identifies with female anatomy/pronouns. Anatomy is *cough* heavily discussed. This is my first time in my life writing anything other than an angsty depression poem. I apologize if it is butts, I may over explain details, and its a bit of a slow burner. NOT ABOUT THE REAL PEOPLE YALL. THIS IS ABOUT THE MASKED MEN WHO MAKE OUT ON STAGE ONLY