who paid for them?
james potter x reader ┃ 1.7k
summary: james isn’t exactly thrilled when he finds out that someone else paid for your nails.
cw: established relationship, slight jealousy, kissing, james is filthy rich in this one, fluff and crack.
One thing about being James Potter’s girlfriend was that you were officially the most spoiled girl in the entire world. This man didn’t just worship the ground you walked on; he made sure you never needed anything at all.
Money had never been a concern. James came from a a family so wealthy it could have been mistaken for another world entirely, yet he carried it lightly.
There was nothing ostentatious about him; more often than not, he appeared in a hoodie and casual trousers or shorts, blending easily with the crowd, as if wealth were the furthest thing from his identity
And yet, for all the simplicity he chose for himself, he never let it extend to you. If James was careful not to wear his privilege, he was even more careful to wrap you in it, as though loving you was the one place he refused to be ordinary.
In short, James loved to see you draped in luxury.
Your walk-in closet had become a curated shrine of designer shoes and handbags, the kind of collection most could only dream about. There were weekly dinners at places where the chandeliers glittered like constellations, surprise gifts that appeared in your lap as effortlessly as his laughter, and every thoughtful indulgence in between.
James spoiled you shamelessly, and you reveled in it, not for the things themselves, but because each one carried the warmth of his love.
If you asked him, he would only smile and say it was because he loved to see his girl adorned in the beauty he always knew she deserved.
Right now, you stood in front of him, breathless and animated as you rambled about your new nail technician.
Your hands were the star of the show — freshly painted almond-shaped nails in a deep, glossy red that caught the light perfectly. James held your hands gently, eyes tracing the curves of your fingers, lips pressing soft kisses to your knuckles like they were precious treasures.
Then, without warning, he slid his hands down to your waist and pulled you close, settling you right onto his lap.
His gaze locked on your nails with an approving smile. “Nails look so good, baby,” he murmured, voice low and easy. “You got red f’me?”
You smiled, a little shy but confident. “Mhm. I know red’s your favorite. Thought you’d like it.” Your fingers instinctively twined around his neck. “Do you?”
James chuckled softly, his thumb grazing the side of your cheek as he brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingered there, as though even the excuse of fixing your hair was too sweet to end too quickly.
“Like them?” he murmured, his gaze dropping deliberately to your freshly painted nails before flicking back up to your eyes. “I love them, baby.”
You raised a brow, not entirely convinced. “You’re just saying that.”
“I’m not,” he insisted, his voice warm with amusement. “Honestly? It’s not just the color. It’s you, sweetheart.” His hand caught yours, lifting it to press a gentle kiss against your knuckles, a gesture both playful and reverent.
You laughed, the sound making him smile wider. “They’re just nails, James.”
“Not to me,” he whispered, leaning in until his breath brushed against your skin. “Pretty nails, pretty girl. What more could a guy ask for?”
Your lips curved, but before you could reply, he tipped his head slightly, studying you with that earnest devotion you were still learning to accept.
“Now gimme a kiss,” James said, his voice low and playful, the teasing glint in his eyes impossible to resist.
You laughed softly, leaning in without hesitation, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was brief at first, warm and sweet, but it carried the kind of electricity that made your heart race.
“See? That wasn’t so hard,” he murmured, his hand lingering against your cheek.
You laughed, heart swelling in that perfect, unspoken way that only James could make you feel.
“I was kind of nervous to try a new place,” you admit, resting your head on his shoulder while holding your hands out to admire your nails. “You know how picky I am. But then my regular spot shut down, and this one was so nice. Like, really nice. Clean, quiet, sweet techs… Honestly, it felt kind of like a spa.”
James hums, gently running his fingers over your freshly done nails. “M’happy you liked it, sweetheart.”
You smile to yourself. “And you’ll be happy to hear that you didn’t have to pay for them.”
That makes him pause. He pulls back just enough to look at you properly. “What do you mean I didn’t pay for them?”
You shrug, casual. “I was going to—had your card and everything. But when I went up to pay, the tech told me they were already covered.”
His brows pull together. “By who?”
“I don’t know,” you say honestly. “Some guy. Said I was cute or whatever and paid before I even realized what was happening.”
James’s hand, which had been lightly stroking your arm, stills. His entire body shifts—shoulders tensing, posture straightening—and then he’s turning you in his lap, so you’re straddling him, his eyes locked onto yours.
“Who paid for them?”
You blink at him, thrown by how sharp his tone has suddenly gotten.
“I don’t know, James,” you repeat, softly. “Some guy. I didn’t talk to him. I didn’t even look at him. I was just waiting and then the tech said he’d already paid and left. That’s it.”
His jaw clenches. “So a guy saw you, paid for your nails, called you cute, and walked out like that was normal?”
You exhale slowly. “I wasn’t flirting with him, if that’s what you’re asking. I didn’t entertain it. I didn’t even smile back.”
“No, I know, baby,” he said, pausing for a moment as his eyes softened on you.
“It’s just that I’ve told you a hundred times, sweetheart—my card is with you for a reason. Anything you need, anything you want, you use it. I don’t care what it is. I’ve told you many times you can spend thousands if you want, and it won’t even make me blink!” His grip on your thighs tightened slightly.
“I was going to use it,” you whisper. “He just… got there first.”
James leans back a little, gaze still unreadable. “Where is this place again?”
You cradle his face in your hands, thumbs brushing just beneath his cheekbones as you look him in the eyes.
“Jamie,” you murmur, voice gentle, “you don’t have to worry. I promise. I don’t even know him. And if I did, I would’ve never let him do something like that.”
He exhales, slow and heavy. His eyes flicker between yours, searching, softening. “I know, sweetheart. I do. It’s just…” He swallows. “I don’t like the idea of someone else thinking they get to do things for you. That they get to look at you and think they even stand a chance.”
You chuckled softly, brushing your thumb across his jaw. “Awww, are you jealous?”
“What? Me? Jealous? Never!” he said quickly, a grin tugging at his lips. “He was probably some ugly, broke dude anyway.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh really? That’s your excuse?”
He froze for a moment, brow furrowing. “Wait… was he not ugly?”
Your eyes widened in mock horror. “James Potter! I didn’t even glance at him!”
Your thumb traced the slope of his jaw as you leaned in, your nose nudging his. “Besides, I am yours, and I’ve got eyes for you only.”” you whispered.
He lets out a breath that almost sounds like relief, hands sliding up under the hem of your shirt to rest warm on your waist. “Just don’t want anyone paying for my girl’s stuff. That’s my job. I like doing things for you, baby.”
You grin. “Oh yeah?”
“Mhm.” He tilts your chin up and presses a kiss to the tip of your nose, then another to your cheek, slow and soft.
“Want you to use my card, want you to text me when you’re nervous, want you to call me when you’re bored. Want to be the one who spoils you, comforts you, makes you smile like that.”
“That is quite a list of wants, James Potter,” you murmur, squishing his cheeks between your hands until his lips pout against your palms. He muffles a sound of protest, eyes glinting with mock offense.
“All I want is what’s mine, baby,” he manages, his words slurred by your grip.
You laugh, leaning forward to steal a quick, playful kiss from his lips. “You’re ridiculous,” you whisper, shaking your head. “And you’re gonna make me cry over a nail appointment.”
James laughs, bright and warm, and pulls you closer into his lap, wrapping his arms around you like he never wants to let go. “Well then, I’ll have to wipe your tears and book your next three appointments myself.”
You gasp, mock offended. “What if I don’t want you to pay for those?”
“Too bad,” he grins. “You’re stuck with me.”
You let yourself melt into him, your face resting against his neck as his fingers trace gentle patterns along your back.
Everything seemed to vanish, leaving only this singular felicity; the quiet sanctuary of his embrace, the steady cadence of his voice, and the ineffable warmth that unfurled within your chest whenever he was near.
After a moment, you pull back just enough to kiss the corner of his mouth. “So dramatic,” you tease.
James raised a brow, his tone half-teasing, half-serious. “You should change the salon. I don’t want him near you.”
You laugh, exasperated. “James!”
“What? I’m just saying. He better hope I never see him again.”
You groan, hiding your face again as he chuckles, arms tightening around you.
“God, I love you,” you laugh, shaking your head.
He smiles against your temple. “I know. I love you more.”
