"How we feeling tonight, you beautiful people of Singapore!"
The crowd erupted into deafening cheers, your smile already aching at your cheeks, and you could immediately feel the buzz of energy seeping through your veins as the adrenaline settled in nicely. Your nineteenth tour show of the Asia leg and you'd be off for a week after this. You always gave it your all, but everyone and their hot mom knows you save your best for last when you know people will be waiting for you to return from all around the world, dying to know exactly when Y/n Stark will be gracing the stage and their screens again.
"Alright!" You grinned behind the microphone, your sleek black suit with a red stripe down the side of your trousers and red lace bra underneath the jacket clinging to your skin like it was tailor made – it was – and your black sparkly boots making you feel taller than the drummer who was on a platform, "We've got Atlas on bass – give it up for Atlas!" Your friend who you found on Craigslist when you guys were in uni looking for roommates because dorms were insufferable played a few seconds and the crowd went crazy, making you both chuckle to yourselves, "Selene on drums – and even though she spells it like Selene, it's pronounced Say-lah-nay for those of you confused at home who've only read her name on Insta!" The crowd gave a weak laugh, and you shook your head, laughing down at yourself in shame before they ended up laughing along because they agreed, it was a dumb thing to say, "And we move on! The sexy, and only single one in the band, is on guitar – everyone give a big, warm welcome to Leo! It's his first time in this wonderful city!" The crowd erupted again and you silently, playfully gave a scolding to a few up front that whooped suggestively, "And finally, on keyboard and vocals, is our very own, Wanda Maximoff!"
Soon enough, you found yourself dancing around stage, singing your heart out, talking with fans between songs, and sweating your ass off while you had the time of your life.
Two hours later and you were ending the show with one of your classic songs from when you first started out, the one you always close a show with, and the crowd was louder than they had been all night.
"Thank you, Singapore! This is my last show for a bit, and I can't wait to come back here and sing for you all again if you let me!" The crowd went wild, and you let your earpiece droop from your ear, trying not to flinch as you let the noise flood your senses, taking a bow as you smiled, blowing kisses and pressing a grateful hand to your heart when you stood upright again, waving and sending more kisses out as you ran off stage after a final, "Good night and get home safe! Love you all bunches!"
Your chest rose and fell as you were swarmed by people – makeup handing you a towel, your stylist taking your shoes and handing you a bottle of water in exchange, and your agent and handler trying to talk you down off your high. Your ears were ringing as people congratulated you from all sides and you slipped backstage with one final praise from your management.
You stripped your clothes as soon as you locked your dressing room door, voices muffled outside of it now, and you left them on the floor before bounding into the connecting restroom.
You didn't spare a glance towards the mirror, hurrying straight for the shower and getting under the cold water. You took slow, deep breaths as your body rattled with the shock of being so overly heated to being swallowed by an ice-cold sensation that stabbed at your skin as you tried not to gasp, adjusting to the temperature.
After you washed off the sweat and overall grime from the stage, you wrapped a towel around your middle and stood at the sink where you had placed your toothpaste and a brand-new toothbrush. You got it wet as you picked up your phone that was charging on the counter, scrolling through texts from people. You frowned down at most of the messages and put toothpaste on your brush before popping it into your mouthhole as you switched over to Twitter, seeing it explode with videos and comments on the show already. Most of them were positive and your smile returned as you saw how much they loved the performance.
"Y/n?"
It was your photographer, who has a key to the dressing room, so you took a deep, relieved breath – thinking it was someone management had sent back for a split second – and called out, "In the bathroom!"
"Was hoping to get you sweaty and still in your suit," He tutted, and you chuckled, shaking your head before you gave him a shrug, toothbrush still hanging from your mouthhole, "No bother, I can make this work."
He lifted the camera, aiming for a mirror shot, and you immediately threw up a peace sign, not knowing what else to do as you smiled around the brush and raised your eyebrows, knowing you were only in a towel.
"Get what you need, Rory?" You teased and he looked proud of himself.
"You have no idea – you were on fire tonight. Very well done."
"Thanks man, see you in Argentina come the fifteenth?" You asked, already knowing the answer, and even if you didn't, his face told you everything before he even spoke.
"Ten days off, boss," He whistled lowly, then the teasing was back as a shout from your bodyguard on the other side of your dressing room door – the same bodyguard that was absent when a fan ran on stage tonight, but luckily it was just for a hug that you were more than willing to reciprocate before a few crew members guided them away, "Sure you can handle it?"
"Ten days," You repeated because you couldn't quite believe it considering the last break you had was only three and you spent it being handled into different PR photos for your image, so it was still work – but this time, your agent, Johnny, promised you'd be able to disappear without a trace between the Asia leg and the South America one, so no, you weren't sure you could, "It's gonna be...interesting."
