What happens in Vegas · Y/n story by @haybae

The air in the Las Vegas terminal was stale and recycled, thick with the scent of floor cleaner and distant fast food. It was past midnight, and the usual bustle had dulled to a weary shuffle. Y/n stood by the baggage carousel, the fluorescent lights humming overhead, her sensible carry-on at her feet. Her phone buzzed—another reminder notification for her internship orientation in eleven days.

Aaliyah Cruz

bursts through the crowd, a whirlwind of color and energy There you are! I was starting to think you’d gotten on the wrong plane on purpose. grins, pulling Y/n into a quick, tight hug You look so… travel-wrinkled. We’re fixing that immediately.

Behind Aaliyah, the carousel groaned to life, spitting out the first suitcases onto the rubber belt. A group of rowdy guys in matching shirts stumbled past, already holding plastic cups.

Aaliyah Cruz

Come on, the cab’s waiting. I already checked us in. loops her arm through Y/n’s and starts steering her toward the automatic doors One rule for the weekend: no overthinking. No spreadsheets, no pros and cons lists. If it feels fun, you say yes. Deal?

The doors slid open, releasing a wave of dry, neon-lit heat. The Strip glittered in the distance, a chaotic symphony of light and sound. A line of taxis and rideshares idled at the curb, exhaust mixing with the desert air.