No Chance in Hell 3:| All Is Fair, This Is War
Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!fitness instructor!Reader Word Count: 3.7k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Fic Masterlist]
Warnings: 18+; gym rat!Reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, sexual tension, forced proximity, smut, arrogant Jax, canon typical violence
a/n: Things are starting to pick up a little... All feedback (reblogs/comments/likes) is very appreciated!
Series tag list: @kmc1989 @lycanbeks92 @catswonderland @magic-sprinkled-daydreams @shiggynuggiez @rayray017 @stevie75 @deesh-e @chloe-skywalker @kylorensbaby @themusingofagothicsoul @lanadelrey10 @dugiioh @latinakitty17 @persephone-in-the-reeds @peterftpercy @mermaidlover006 @jmamas92
Leaving your house in the mornings for work required skill. There was always a careful balance involved when it came to lugging everything you needed to bring with you to Iron Pulse, especially since you stubbornly refused to take multiple trips out to your car.
With your gym bag slung over one shoulder, you carried a pale green tumbler filled with coffee in one hand while your car keys were looped through one of your fingers. Cradling a white shaker bottle filled with your protein shake pressed to your chest with an arm, you always struggled not to drop it and let its contents splatter all over your driveway. In your opposite hand you carried a forty ounce blue water bottle, the handle of which you held with your ring and pinky fingers so that you still maintained the ability to open and close your front door when you left.
Shuffling your way carefully down the walkway that led from your front door to your driveway with your hands completely full, you made your way towards your silver Toyota which Teller had so chivalrously forced his minions to return to you late last night. After their unexpected visit, you’d tossed and turned in bed struggling to fall asleep because the entire ordeal had left you with countless questions.
Why had Jax so stubbornly and irritatingly refused payment for his garage’s services? Was it simply because he wanted to insult you to the point of stating that even your money meant nothing to him? Or had your first instinct been correct in assuming that he was planning to hold this little “good deed” over you as if you now owed him a favor in return? A shudder ran through you at the idea of owing that asshole anything.
Stopping beside the driver’s side door of your car, you carefully shifted your hold on everything you were carrying, managing to place your water bottle, tumbler of coffee, and shaker bottle onto the top of your car. Glancing down at your car keys, you pressed the button to unlock the doors before sidestepping to the back door and pulling it open. Bending down, you slipped the gym bag off your shoulder and tossed it into the backseat.
Returning to the driver’s side door, you opened it and began moving the three different drinks from the roof of your car and transferring them into the cupholders in the center console. Once you’d finished, you settled down into your seat with a tired sigh, annoyed that Teller’s stunt last night had kept you awake for so long. It was already bad enough that the Sons’ sudden appearance last night had initially scared the shit out of you, you hated feeling like Jax had also succeeded in causing you to lose sleep, too.
Pressing the ignition button, you heard the Toyota quietly rumble to life beneath you. But just as you’d begun shifting in your seat, trying to stick your car keys into the side pocket of your biker shorts, something along the dashboard caught your eye. After sliding the keys into your pocket, you reached forward and grabbed the white sheet of paper that’d been sitting innocently there. You suspected it was just an invoice from Teller-Morrow for the new tire and their services, so you were baffled when you saw that it simply contained one line of typed text.
You’re collateral bitch
Brows knitting together as you stared down at the sheet of paper in your hands, you became confused at the three words staring back at you. You were collateral? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Collateral for what?
“What is this?” you muttered to yourself.
The longer you stared at the few typed words on the page, the sooner you began to realize that this must’ve been some stupid little message left to you from Jax. He and his guys did have your car last night, so it only made sense that they’d have been the ones leaving you notes. Apparently sending his minion to deliver his message last night wasn't enough, he needed to leave you this bullshit, too.
But was this meant as some sort of a joke? Was he trying to scare you by leaving cryptic and creepy notes in your car? Or did he somehow mean that you were collateral for the labor and parts he hadn’t charged you for?
“I shouldn’t have taken my car to your stupid garage,” you grumbled at the paper. Crumpling it up into a ball in your hands, you shook your head in irritation. “You just can’t be a civil human being for one second. Fucking jackass.”
You carelessly tossed the crumpled up ball of paper over your shoulder, letting it fall onto the seat behind you. Buckling yourself in, you chose to ignore the pointless message, having every intention to forget about it. Whatever he meant by it, you knew that it was just another way for his dumbass to harass you, and you weren’t in the mood to play into any of his little games with him.
“Slow and controlled,” you encouraged, standing just off to the side of Miriam's reflection in the gym mirror behind you. “Don't focus on the extra weight, focus on the movement. Just give me two more reps.”
Eyes locked onto the steady rise of the dumbbells in Miriam's hands, you watched as she worked through the strain of her muscles and pushed through to finish two more of the bicep curls. A proud smile broke out across your lips when she’d finished, turning and setting both fifteen pound dumbbells down onto the bench beside her with a satisfied huff.
“Now how many almost seventy year old women can do that?” Miriam gloated, slightly breathless.
“Not many,” you agreed, still smiling. “You're doing so well. You've made so much progress in these past few months already.”
“I've noticed my back isn't bothering me like it used to, either,” she said. “And it’s all thanks to you.”
“Oh no,” you replied, holding up a hand and shaking your head. “You're the one putting in all the work, I'm just here bossing you around.”
Miriam hummed a thoughtful noise in the back of her throat as she picked up her water bottle from the floor. She tipped it back and took a long drink while your attention drifted over to the digital clock mounted on the wall. You had a few hours left at the gym before you could go home, and you planned to throw in a quick run once you got back. You'd been slacking on cardio lately because it was your least favorite thing to do.
“How is it that you're still single?”
The corner of your lips twitched into a smile at Miriam's question, your focus returning back to the older woman as she pushed some tufts of white hair away from her sweaty forehead. In her first training session with you, she'd relentlessly tried to set you up with her grandson. She'd gushed about how smart and successful he was through the first three sets of exercises before attempting to seal the deal by showing you his Facebook profile picture. Admittedly he was hot, but you still weren’t interested.
“Because I'm not mentally in a place for relationships,” you reminded her. “And no, I don't want to go on a date with Kevin. You’ve already tried hard enough to push that ship and it has sailed right on by.”
A cheeky grin met your immediate refusal before it faded from her lips, something serious taking its place. “As much as I wouldn't mind you for a granddaughter, I wasn't talking about him,” Miriam said, slowly bending over to set her water bottle back onto the floor. “I just don't understand why you're so adamant to be with anyone.”
“Charming isn't exactly teeming with quality men,” you pointed out. “I'd rather be single than date a cheater, an alcoholic, or an abuser. Or any of the countless men in this town who embody all three awful qualities.”
Turning to look across the gym towards the large windows at the front which overlooked the Sons’ compound, you spotted a handful of leather vests crowded around a table. Smoke rose up in heavy plumes from their cigarettes, creating a gray cloud that hung ominously above the tops of their heads. One golden blonde head in particular was shining blindingly bright beneath the late morning sunlight, and your lip curled back in distaste just as a hand slammed down onto your shoulder.
You startled at the touch, gasping loudly in surprise as your pulse skittered in shock. Miriam covered a hand over her mouth to stifle her quiet laughter as you whipped your head to the side. Dominic–also known to you and everyone around the gym as Beast–grinned gleefully back at you, amused at how he'd managed to startle you. Your shoulders sagged when his hand fell away, your heartbeat beginning to calm when you realized it was just him.
“Was the sneak attack necessary?” you asked him.
He shrugged his shoulders. “You're the one who's jumpy today, Peach. What's with that?”
“I'm not jumpy, you just move far too quiet for a man of your size,” you disagreed. “And you're interrupting my session.”
Miriam turned at the waist, picking up the set of dumbbells again before positioning herself in front of the mirrors. She smiled back at you and Dom, though it was a bit strained from holding the weights.
“I don't mind the interruption,” she assured you. “Ten reps, right?”
“Yeah,” you answered. “At least eight, but I know you can push this last set to ten again.”
Attention returning to Dom, something about the way he was still smiling at you gave you pause. It wasn't his casual, easygoing smile, there was something almost giddy about it, and it raised your suspicion. Glancing back at Miriam, you monitored her form as she worked on her last set of bicep curls before shooting Dom a sidelong look.
“What?” you demanded. “You look like you won a year's worth of free Chipotle. What's with the face?”
He shrugged again as if playing it off, but the smile continued to stretch wider over his mouth. “Nothing,” he answered innocently. “Just seems like you haven't looked at tomorrow's schedule yet. Figured you'd be in a mood by now.”
You blinked slowly back at him, trying to decipher what he was getting at. He wasn't wrong, you hadn’t checked the schedule for tomorrow yet. All it told you was who was working what shifts, which generally never changed since you all had set schedules, along with information about the scheduled group classes and training sessions. You usually gave it a look at the start or the end of your shift depending on the day, but since you'd gotten distracted this morning talking to Donnie–an older gentleman who came in and did quite a few miles on the stationary bikes every morning–you hadn't looked at it yet.
“No,” you said. “Why?”
Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Miriam's interest had been piqued. You could tell by how she'd paused between repetitions, the dumbells lingering at her sides as she craned her head towards you both. All it took was one flick of your brow in her direction before she continued on with her exercise, but she shamelessly continued eavesdropping as she did.
“You've got a new trainee on the books,” Dom informed you, that smarmy look still on his face. “Will booked them last night. They specifically requested you for a trial session tomorrow morning.”
Miriam let out a curious noise low in her throat as she continued her bicep curls, her eyes wide with intrigue, but your lips dipped into a disapproving frown. Dom being this gleeful about a new booking who specifically requested you would only be for one of two reasons. Either Will had booked a really hot girl who the whole gym would want to prey on, or it was one of the perverted gym bros thinking he'd shoot his shot while working out alone with you. Which had unfortunately happened a few times already.
“Who is it?” you asked.
“Apparently,” Dom began, slinging an arm over the nearby shoulder press machine and leaning his weight against it, “Juice was raving about how great you are and it sparked some interest from some of the Sons.”
The second you heard Juice’s name, your eyes narrowed into annoyed slits. Dom didn't even need to tell you who'd signed up to train with you after that, because the sinking feeling in your gut already did. There was only one Son who'd request you specifically, and not because they actually wanted to train with you, but because they wanted to torment you.
“The murderous look on your face says you already know it's Jax Teller,” Dom observed.
“I refuse,” you stated, firmly shaking your head. “I'm not doing it. No way in hell will I take him on as a client. Absolutely not.”
Dom tipped his head towards one shoulder, his lips pulling to the side as he shrugged off your tenacious rebuff. Miriam wasn't even hiding her interest now, her eyes darting back between you both as she finished her last few repetitions.
“It’s ultimately your call,” he said. “You've got the right to decline him. And he is a dick. But…”
Your frown deepened as he trailed off. “But what?”
“This is your territory, Peach,” he pointed out. He swept a large hand around the gym to accentuate his point. “I say take him on and put his ass through hell. Run ‘em into the ground. Don't back down to him just because he’s trying to get under your skin. You gotta speak to that asshole in the only way he understands, which means showing him that this place is yours and not his to take from you.”
Crossing your arms over your chest, your lips thinned into a disapproving line as you turned your head, looking back out through the front windows of the gym. Teller’s blonde head was always easy to spot among the others, and you glared so hard through the glass at him that you hoped he could feel it.
Dom unfortunately had a point. Teller only understood the language of the streets, and he was intentionally trying to encroach on your territory as if to prove to you that he still owned every part of Charming–including this gym. Running and hiding from him wasn’t the answer, you needed to show him that you wouldn’t back down when he stepped a toe over the line.
So you needed to forget about not playing his stupid games. If he wanted a fight, you'd push back against him.
“Fine,” you bitterly replied, still glaring at the back of his head across the street. “I'll put him through the paces. Doubt his ego would let him back down no matter how hard I work him.”
Dom pushed off of where he was leaning against the workout machine, a triumphant grin spreading over his face as he crossed the distance towards you. He tipped his chin at you, pride gleaming in his dark eyes as he reached out and lightly knocked a fist into your shoulder.
“That's our Princess Peach,” he said. “Fuck ‘em up.” He shot Miriam an apologetic look when she frowned at him, a sheepish expression quickly taking over his face. “Sorry, Mrs. Whitman.”
Miriam huffed as Dom turned and headed back towards the front desk in the gym, shaking her head as she carried the dumbbells back to the weight rack next to you. Quirking a brow at her, you wondered what that'd been about. She wasn't usually so affected by swearing.
“Shame about that Teller boy,” she said, setting her weights back in place. She turned back around, a dip in the corner of her mouth. “He never used to be so…combative when he was younger.”
“I find that rather difficult to believe,” you muttered.
“He was kinder,” she pressed. “Had this sweet girl he used to date, too. And, well,” she paused, laughing a little to herself, “they were a little wild back then, got into some trouble. But what teenagers don’t?”
Miriam quieted, her eyes narrowing as she stood in front of the weight rack suddenly studying you with a strange intensity. You shifted uncomfortably beneath her scrutiny, not particularly wanting any further discussion about Teller. Especially not anything to do with his love life–past, present, or future.
“You remind me a little of her, you know,” she said after a moment. “The way you push back against him. Not something you usually see around Charming.”
“Well someone needs to knock him down a few notches,” you said. Gesturing your head to the side, you motioned her towards the cable machine across the gym. “C'mon, tricep extensions are next.”
Miriam followed after you, picking up her water bottle as she passed where it sat on the floor by the bench. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her wiping sweat from her brow with her forearm, noting how even her breath still sounded. You'd been honest earlier, she was improving.
“Just a shame,” Miriam repeated sullenly. “That club changed him. Turned him into something nearly unrecognizable from the young man I remember seeing around town.”
You snorted in response, walking past a row of chest machines. “I'll be honest,” you told her, “I've got no sympathy for the devil, Mrs. Whitman. Now let's talk about upping your weights on tricep extensions, because I think you're on a roll today.”
By the time you reached the bottom of your driveway, you were entirely out of breath. Sweat rolled down the back of your shirt in multiple trails, each one tracing a damp line down your spine. Your sports bra was drenched after your run, the fabric clinging uncomfortably snug against your skin with each gasp you took for air.
Panting as you tried to even out your breathing, your hands landed on your hips while you started up your driveway. You craved the spray of a cool shower and a chance to get your mind right for tomorrow morning since you’d be stuck training Jax Teller for an entire miserable hour. You needed to go through a nice haircare and skincare routine, eat a good dinner, and watch something relaxing before you went to bed tonight. You would do whatever it took to get you in the mindset to let all of his taunts and disgusting comments roll right off of you. Because come tomorrow morning, you wanted the upper hand against him.
Shuffling up the driveway past your Toyota, your tired feet struggled to carry you up towards the front door. The muscles in your legs might’ve begun steadily losing that burning sensation you always got at the peak of your run, but that was just slowly easing into a persistent dull ache instead. But as you passed the driver's side of your car, something white tucked beneath your windshield wiper caught your attention.
Stopping just beside the side mirror, your face scrunched up in confusion at the folded slip of paper that hadn’t been there when you’d left. Leaning over the hood of your car, you plucked the paper out from underneath it. Still breathing heavily as you straightened, you unfolded the page to discover another note with a single line of typed print.
Time's almost up gym whore
Eyes narrowing down at the paper in your hands, you recalled the note you'd found inside of your car earlier this morning. Was this another stupid prank message from Teller threatening you?
“Two in one day?” you muttered irritably to yourself. “Seriously man?”
Beginning to crumple the paper into a ball in your hands, you shook your head at the absurdity. Would he really stoop so low as to leave you threats like this? Was this truly his twisted idea of a joke?
With the paper balled up in your fist, you continued the rest of the way up your driveway and towards the front door. You slipped your keyring out of the pocket of your sweaty biker shorts, chest still heaving as your breathing gradually began to even out. But as you slipped the key into your door, you were surprised to see that it was already unlocked. Brows creasing together, you hesitated for a minute, staring down at the doorknob. You usually never forgot to lock your door, even if you’d only just gone on a run for a few minutes.
Shaking your head, you figured maybe this time you'd rushed out the door a little too fast because you’d wanted to get your cardio out of the way. You'd need to be more careful next time and make sure that you locked the door after yourself. As you stepped inside and turned around to shut the door after yourself, you paused when you spotted a black, windowless van parked down the street.
You hesitated in the doorway as an unexplainable prickle of fear bristled the hairs along the nape of your neck. That van had been sitting there when you’d first left your house, and so had the man sitting in the driver's seat. You'd been gone for only fifteen minutes on your run, so it seemed rather strange that he was still just sitting in a parked car not doing anything. A parked car that you'd never noticed on your street before today.
Nervously wetting your dry lips, you quickly closed the front door the rest of the way, making sure to immediately lock the deadbolt afterwards. Maybe this was all just a part of some elaborate prank from Teller, or maybe you were just overreacting because of the stupid notes you’d found from him today, but something about that van left you feeling unsettled.
