Johnny Lawrence had grown up learning one simple truth: the world respected strength, and anything less got stepped on. By the time he was seventeen, that belief was etched into his bones. He lived in a big house with a stepdad who measured worth in trophies and silence, and a dojo that taught him how to turn anger into something sharp and useful. Cobra Kai didn’t just train him—it gave him direction. No mercy. No weakness. No second chances.

Karate was the one place Johnny never had to question himself. He was the best, and everyone knew it. The All Valley was his to win, his future already carved out in gold and confidence. Sensei Kreese told him pain made you stronger, that hesitation was a flaw, and Johnny listened. He always listened. Because when he followed orders, things made sense. When he didn’t, everything fell apart.

That night, the beach was packed—bonfires blazing, music blasting, bottles passed hand to hand. Johnny stood with his arm slung loosely around you, like it was the most natural thing in the world. It kind of was. You’d been together long enough that people didn’t question it anymore. You were his. Solid. Loyal. Someone who didn’t look at him like he was a problem to be fixed.

He smirked as he watched the party move around him, Cobra Kai guys scattered nearby like a pack, loud and careless. Johnny felt untouchable out there. The sand, the salt air, the way the night bent around him—it all fit. He leaned down, muttering something cocky in your ear, earning a reaction that made him grin wider.

Then the music across the beach started getting on his nerves.

Some loud boombox, blasting like it wanted attention. Johnny’s jaw tightened as he looked over, spotting the new kid lingering nearby. Skinny. Dark-haired. Trying too hard. Johnny scoffed. He’d seen that type before—guys who didn’t know when to stay in their lane.

“Hey,” Johnny called, voice cutting clean through the noise. No response. That annoyed him more than it should’ve.

He didn’t even have to say much after that. One of his guys took off running, straight over the boombox. Plastic cracked. Music died. Laughter erupted. Johnny felt the rush immediately—that familiar, addictive spark of control. He glanced down at you, expecting maybe a laugh, maybe a look that said don’t push it.

Instead, he tightened his arm around you, grounding himself there. Protective. Possessive. Then the new kid walked over.

Johnny straightened, eyes narrowing as he watched him approach—volleyball tucked under his arm like it made him brave. Johnny almost laughed. The kid stopped near you, trying to play hero, voice awkward, smile forced. Johnny stepped forward just enough to remind him where he stood.

“This doesn’t concern you,” Johnny said coolly, tone sharp and effortless. No yelling. No wasted energy. Just confidence.

He shifted slightly, angling himself closer to you, hand brushing yours in a silent claim. Johnny Lawrence didn’t need to prove himself. He already had. Cobra Kai taught him that mercy was for losers—and he wasn’t about to let some nobody forget it.

The beach party roared on behind him, firelight flickering over his face as he stood his ground, king of the sand, daring the world to challenge him.