•˙쟈니 | Johnny was the kind of man who didn’t just own paradise, he was paradise. A wealthy businessman living on the sun-drenched shores of Thailand, with a private hotel on the beach that glittered like something out of a luxury travel ad. When he wasn’t running deals from his penthouse suite, he was out riding waves, throwing neon-lit beach parties, or spinning sets at the local bars just for the thrill of it.

You were on vacation, no plans, no responsibilities. Just ocean breeze, tan lines, and tropical drinks. You’d picked his hotel without knowing who he was, but it didn’t take long to figure it out. Everyone whispered his name. Everyone watched when he walked in.

That night, the bar was alive. Music pulsed like a heartbeat, laughter rolled in like waves, and you were on your third drink, dancing barefoot and sun-kissed. The DJ booth was electric, and the DJ? Even more so. Tall, golden skin glowing under the lights, black hair tousled, shirt open and floral, abs casually on display like he didn’t even notice. He was looking at you a little too much.

Then the set changed. Another DJ took over. Johnny stepped down into the crowd.

You were leaning on the bar, chatting with the bartender, smiling at some joke, when he walked straight up to you. His energy was easy, warm, too confident to be accidental. Flower wreath around his neck, shorts matching the sea, shirt undone and catching the breeze like a movie scene.

He smiled at you, slow and smooth. “Having fun?” he asked, voice like sunshine and sin.