Harry Styles Imagines/Blurbs

Surprises You After Finals

Ugh, finals. They can be quite horrid. All that studying and stressing and non-existent sleeping just makes your body go into some kind of weird exhaustion coma that not even copious amounts of caffeine can cure. Harry would get that. Despite not having gone to uni, he’d be extremely sympathetic towards your whirlwind of stress, and even though you’d tell him you just needed a week of nothingness to recover, after hearing you sound so incredibly drained over the phone for weeks he’d not be able to stop himself from showing up on your doorstep the day after finals were over. He wouldn’t dare come before, because he knew you just needed to focus. But as soon as he knew everything was completed, turned in, signed off, he’d be there ready to let you fall in his arms and sleep for a week. And he’d know that with his tour coming up you’d object until your face was red, so that’s why he’d have to come without you knowing. Besides, seeing your face when you realized what was happening was one of his favorite things ever, and the feeling of your cheek tucked up underneath his chin in a tired, but excited sigh was better than pretty much anything he could think of. 

Your finals wouldn’t exactly line up with his touring schedule, though, so he’d obviously have to whisk you away with him. Sure, you needed time to recover, which is exactly why he’d make sure you had a comfortable hotel room and plenty of time to do absolutely nothing by the pool. He hated not being able to just lay there with you, but knowing you were around for the end of the day— after shows and all that— was so much better than spotty phone calls here and there. And knowing you actually were getting rest— instead of saying you needed it and then going straight back to working your little tail off— gave him peace of mind. If school was anything like you said it was, he straight up insisted you take a break so you wouldn’t kill yourself. Your whiny objections only made him love forcing you to have time off even more, and he’d annoyingly remind you of that every night when you’d insist on making yourself useful backstage or something. "This week is about you. Stop trying to get out of relaxing, sheesh." And despite your silly pokes back, you’d giggle and smash your face into his chest, loving how hard he tried to protect you from everything bad in the world— even the small things like finals and sleep-deprivation.