Daydreams | Harry Styles One Shots

Paradiso Rosa.

A/N: Soft, famous Harry.
Part Two of La Villa Gialla. Swipe header for song.

Ask and you shall receive, my loves! I wanted to do a part two at some point and then we were blessed with Harry in Venice so...

Paperotto returns!!!! But not the moustache. I miss it. He needs to bring it back, I will not rest until- Okay bye.

C.W: sexual content (softish smut again just dirty talk, lil bit of choking) alcohol & drug use (wine & weed- lightly mentioned) & coarse language.

I used google translate for the Italian so I'm sorry if it's not right - if you're fluent let me know so I can correct it if need be, please!

Word count: 16.2k

Enjoy!!

***

If someone had told Harry five years ago that he would have three movie roles under his belt before he turned thirty, he wouldn't have believed them. He might have even laughed.

He always had a fascination with the movie industry but his management had been strict for the majority of his career. He couldn't see a life past the music and the touring. He was so overworked and controlled, he couldn't imagine them loosening the reigns. But now he was his own person. Solidified and powerful enough to go after what he wanted. He worked with his team now. He wasn't controlled like a money-making puppet anymore.

His latest film had wrapped up filming a few days prior. But he stuck around in Venice, not wanting to leave it just yet. He'd traveled all over the world. Seen wonders and sights that measured to indescribable beauty. But Italy was different.

Italy was golden sun bouncing off calm rivers. It was orange juice and charcoal on sketching paper.

It was a yellow villa, soft and selfless and simple.

With his fans crowding the streets for a glimpse of him, he holed up in his hotel room, brushing up on his Italian. They were camping outside in diminishing numbers and while he wanted to be kind, he couldn't help but wish he could have an ounce of privacy. At least while he was filming a movie, of all things.

Inwardly, he wondered how much of this film hadn't been spread across social media already.

He loved being on set. Truly. He loved that the different call times kept him on his toes. He loved getting to know the crew and his co-stars. He loved memorizing his script and finessing how to deliver his lines.

And above anything else, he loved pretending to be someone else.

But, however good his acting skills were, he couldn't hide his embarrassment at how his job was treated like a meet and greet. He felt like he was causing a strain on the entire film crew by simply being there to do his job. He'd been anxious showing up on set and filming scenes.

Italy had been a nice change in pace from the UK. It was sunny and exciting and, yeah, he'd be lying if he said he didn't think of Irene almost every moment.

He wondered where she was now. All this time on, was she still in her yellow villa? Taking dips in the pristine river with Cannoli, sneaking into her neighbors garden to pick fresh fruits from it. Drawing lovers, those who had passed and those to come. He wondered what kind of lucky lovers she'd had since him. And if, like him, she'd wish they were someone else. Him.