The Talented Mr Ripley - Tumblr Posts

It has been YEARS since I watched "The Talented Mr. Ripley" for the first time and I'm still addicted to Jack Davenport ever since stupid Peter Smith-Kingsley stumbled into the frame.

This movie should have a warning solely dedicated to him.

Something like:

*beep boop beep*

"Attention viewer.

This movie contains:

For some viewers,

might cause obsessive behaviour or extreme hyperfixation .

Please make sure you can handle

, before you continue watching.

*boop beep boop*

Would I have listened?

But a warning would have been nice, I guess?

Warmth

Pairing: Peter Smith-Kingsley/Percival

Genre: Hurt/Comfort , Angst

First of all, I don't know how to call this ship.🙉

It's a crossover between Percival from Kingsman, and Peter Smith-Kingsley from The Talented Mr. Ripley(I want to give Peter a better chance. I'm really sorry but please kindly fuck off Tom Ripley.)

The story's setting is after what happened in Argentina. Percival was still grieving and struggling to move on. As time went by, he met that one pianist during his mission in Rome, who  looked so much like his lost love.

And that's how they met, how it all started.

"Something troubling your mind?"

"I don't want to talk about it." 

Percival instantly regretted how he responded; his harsh voice, how blunt his choice of words was. And most of all, he didn't even glance at Peter, as if his presence irritated him.

But isn't that what he aimed for from the start? By making himself unpleasant, dull, and undesirable in the most polite way possible, then Peter could leave him, and he would be alone and miserable again as he should.

How wrong he was.

"I understand." There was no anger or sadness in Peter’s voice. Just an acknowledgement.

They both silently sat there on the bench, not too close but close enough that their hands were next to each other. So close that Percival could feel Peter’s hand radiating with warmth; warm, welcoming, and could be his too.

The opportunity already presented itself there, standing on the porch in front of the door. Only if Percival let him in, let him relieve his suffering, filling that empty void in his heart where James used to be.

Only if he could move on. 

Only if he allowed himself to feel loved again.

"I'm sorry." Percival quietly apologized.

"It's okay." Somehow, Percival knew Peter said that with a faint smile; even when he wasn’t looking at the other man directly. "I know you must be upset. And if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine."

Percival didn’t expect Peter’s hand gently placing on top of his after that.

The pianist's touch was different from what he used to. Peter's hand was quite soft compared to James’s calloused ones. His fingers were more slender, but no less warmer than James’s, as warm and gentle as the first breeze that arrived in spring.

Still, this wasn’t James. Peter couldn’t be him. He could never be. But if he could help ease the pain, that was all Percival needed, all that mattered.

"But if you ever need a shoulder to lean on, I promise I'll be there."

Now is the time. The thought flashed in Percival’s mind. For a brief moment he almost wished for Peter's hand to stay there, tenderly holding him forever.

Good things about Percival Morton 

Percival is beautiful.

Percival Morton is a man in his late 30s with a tall and slender frame. His well-trimmed raven hair was always neatly gelled and combed.

His lips usually pursed shut into a thin line. If the circumstances were right, they offered polite smiles from time to time, which was rare to see. Peter had seen that a few times. But the most memorable one was that one time when he played a piece Percival liked.

His eyes were deep in color, dark and quite hard to read. Most of the time they appeared to be indifferent, barely showing any emotions. However, when taking a closer look, Peter could notice a little flicker of sorrow reflected in those beautiful walnut eyes.

What was the cause of that, Peter hadn't figured it out yet. He wasn't sure if he could.

Percival is a mystery.

Not much is known about him, aside from being an Englishman, and that he came to meet his business partners in Rome.

Percival wasn't a talkative person and always kept to himself. Peter never heard him mention anything related to his personal life; never knew if he was single or already had someone waiting at home, never knew if he had any children or pets. No matter how Peter tried to engage him into the conversation, his attempts proved to be fruitless when Percival managed to dodge the question every time. 

So Peter decided to not prying anything further and let him be. 

Percival has a secret he doesn't want to tell.

Despite not being the most interesting person ever, Peter always looked for ways to get to know Percival more.

He would invite the man to his favorite cafe for a cup of coffee, and took this opportunity to exchange some chitchats.

Until a week after they first met, Percival started to visit him at his studio. He would sit next to the piano, observing Peter while he practiced. In return he would play anything Percival would like to listen to; from classical pieces to his version of new arrangement nursery rhymes.

It almost seemed like Percival started to warm up to him.

And yet Peter felt like there was something between them; like an invisible wall keeping him from reaching any deeper.

He was so close, physically close, as they sat next to each other while enjoying the view of the city in the late afternoon.

When he decided to take Percival's hand, keeping him in the lightest grip, he expected Percival to pull away.

He didn't.

Combined with the way his fingers curled back towards his hand, Peter knew he probably needed this more than he wanted to admit.

So close, and yet so far.

Rêverie

Pairing: Peter/Percival

Genre: Fluff, with a little bit of angst

First of all, this is written in second person PoV. "You" in this drabble is Percival. (Not you readers! This is not x reader fic lol.)

And I highly recommend reading this while listening to Rêverie by Claude Debussy. Do it. There's a reason for this and you'll know why.

This morning is quiet and serene; something you really appreciate after you have dealt with loads of paperworks for almost an entire week.

Now, you are lying on the bed, leisurely enjoying the peacefulness this morning brings to you. You have been absent-mindedly gazing at the white curtain since you are awake, watching it flutter along with waves after waves of gentle breezes.

That is when you start to notice; there is no arm or leg wrapping around you like usual. Where is he? You roll over to look at the other side of the bed. It’s empty; no traces of warmth left when you lay your hand on the sheet. Same goes for the pillow. He must have already gone long ago.

Then you hear something; the answer to your prior question comes in the form of faint melodies softly playing in the distance. So you decide to get up, stretch yourself a little bit, then leave the bedroom.

The music is getting clearer and clearer as you walk down the corridor. When you start going downstairs, you finally recognize the song; it is one of his favorite classical pieces. Peter probably has mentioned the name before but you always failed to remember it. It sounds dreamy, and makes you feel like you're in a dream-like state.

And there he is.

Peter, still in his navy blue satin pajamas, is playing piano in the living room. Rays of morning light from one of the windows shines on him. The way his hair shimmers, how his skin glows brighter under the sunlight, everything makes him look like an angel.

The sight before you seems almost too good to be true. He is so young, graceful, and breathtaking. Everything feels unreal.

And yet, there he is.

In your house.

Yours.

"Morning, dear," Peter greets you, while his eyes still focus on the keyboard beneath his hand.

"How did you know I’m here? "

"Instinct." He smiles as he answers.

"Oh, am I interrupting you? "

"Quite the contrary, amore," Peter replies. You would never get tired of his endearment. He speaks Italian now and then even after moving back to London to live with you, and you absolutely adore it. "Actually, this daily practice interrupts me from admiring you.

You cannot help but smile back. You walk across the room to join him on the same bench, watching his fingers working magic on the keyboard, and also fighting back the urge to lean on his shoulder.

"Did you sleep well? " Peter asks. He slows down the tempo until it’s more like casually playing rather than an actual practice.

"Mm."

"There’s some coffee left." He makes a gesture towards the kitchen. "I can make some pancakes for you too, if you like."

"No, no. You don’t have to. I don’t want to bother you,"

And that is when Peter stops playing. He turns to face you. One hand withdraws away from the piano to caress your cheek. His touch is tender, as if you are his most precious person ever.

Wait, you are.

"You’re never a bother to me, my dear Percy." His voice, the way he calls your name makes your heart warm and fuzzy. You cannot help but lean into his hand, wanting more of his warmth, his lovingly gaze, everything.

If heaven existed, this would be it. This is your definition of heaven.

"Percival? "

Strange. He just called you by your pet name. Why would he starts calling you by your-

"Percival? "

The second call of your full name startles you, shattering the dreamy illusion you’ve created without knowing as you snap back to reality again; no more blissful morning, no more sitting side by side.

And you are not in your own house, but in a studio, sitting on a chair with your head tilting to the side a little bit.

It was all just a dream, of course.

You would never have a chance to live like that again. There is no more ‘living happily ever after’ waiting for you, no second chances, not since–

"You’ve been staring at the wall for a while now, is everything all right? " Peter asks with a puzzled look on his face.

No, but I'll pretend to be fine just like I always do. You thought, as you straightened yourself back to your usual stoic persona; the mask you always wear and doesn't have a plan to take them off anytime soon.

"Yeah, I just…I think I was daydreaming a bit."

"How fitting. The piece I just played for you is called ‘Rêverie’." Peter gives you a reassurement smile. "Don’t worry, I got the same reaction as yours when I heard this the very first time. It sounds so dreamy, don’t you think? "

"I think so," You said. "It was so beautiful."

His smile grows wider. And you are, too. Especially when you–

No.

Stop it.

Stop.

"Whenever I hear this piece, I imagine myself settling down with someone I love. We would sit on a bench together while I played something."

It doesn't help at all when Peter's vision is awfully accurate to what you’ve had in mind earlier. Is this a sign? You wonder. Is this a sign for me to finally move on?

But what about him?

"How about you? What were you daydreaming about? "

Us.

"Good old memories." You lied, of course. You always do.

But it’s probably better than telling the truth.

You're not ready for that.

You guys better check this out, or else....

Boop

I think I didn’t introduce this AU properly when I posted the "Warmth", "Rêverie", and "Good Things about Percival Morton" drabbles. So let me sit back for a while and rearrange my thoughts for a bit.

Okay, I’m ready. Here we go again.

May I present to you, ‘Percival meets Peter Smith-Kingsley because why not?’ AU.

The story started in 2016, two years after Kingsman : The Secret Service, which means James died for real. Percival’s emotional state was a total trainwreck and never actually recovered from the loss. No matter how much he tried to act as if he was fine, at the end of the day he was still broken. He would come home, mourned every night he saw the bed he shared with his husband empty.

It went like this for two years after James's death. Time helped ease the pain a little bit. However, it would take only one trip to Italy to render his recovery process back to zero again.

It could be either a long-term mission or a vacation. I haven't decided on this yet. One thing for sure was during his stay in Rome, fate sent him another twisted and cruel test in the form of one young pianist, who looks almost identical to James.

Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Peter Smith-Kingsley.

I like to imagine they met on a street or in a cafe. Like, Percival was enjoying his coffee when another customer came in and sat at the table not very far from him. And when he glanced at the newcomer’s face, he was shocked to see his husband there, except that he looks about ten years younger.

It took years for Percival to heal from the loss, to put himself together, to forget the pain. All the efforts he took to overcome grief immediately diminished at the moment he saw Peter, when the face he just had seen reminded him of what he had lost.

On the other hand, the young pianist was fascinated by the sight of a man he saw. It might sound cheesy if he called it ‘love at first sight’, but that was the closest words to describe how he felt the moment he locked eyes with this one stranger.

Peter felt attracted to Percival since they first met.

Percival wanted to push Peter away, but at the same time he also wanted to keep him, as he saw Peter as a remedy to the loneliness he had been enduring since James was gone.

A second chance, even.

Meanwhile, Peter was more than willing to offer his sincerity, his warmth, his feelings, basically everything he had to get to know Percival more. 

He wouldn’t mind being a placeholder. As long as Percival was happy, that was all it mattered.

And that marked the start of their journey.

Since my attention span is too short to write anything longer than 2000 words, I decide to make this a series of drabbles about them in different situations. I'll start posting them more from now on(hopefully).

There’s a bit of an age difference, but not so different here. Peter is 28, while Percival is 36 in this AU. So prepare for the 'you're too young to be with me' excuse. Actually, there's a lot of excuses Percival could come up with.

You can find works and drabbles related to them in my Peter/Percival tag.

Fanfiction

If you like Percival from "Kingsman" and Peter Smith-Kingsley from "The Talented Mr. Ripley", this au (created by @eveningearlgrey) will be a real treat for you

Please check it out and leave some love 🥰

You better check this out imidiatly or else-

So...um...I did something

It's actually Peter/Percival but this time Peter is the older one. They met while Percy was on a mission. Peter was a bit older(at least older than James when he died, oops–) and Percy was kinda young and just recently became Percival. And...

Okay, bye–

Insensitive

Summary : At some point there was a time where Peter confessed his feelings to Percival. It didn't end well.

(This is inspired by the song "How Insensitive". The version I've listened to is from Stacey Kent. Feel free to listen to that while reading whatever I've written down there.)

He took it well.

No whining, no causing a scene, he just listened to what he said with his brows furrowed, his lips pursed shut, and nodded.

"I understand."

That was all he said before silence filled in between them. The words were reassuring. However, his eyes told a different story when Percival saw them; a wavering mixture of regrets and sadness suppressed with all his might from surfacing. It was the best attempt at putting himself together even though his facade was slowly corroding from the acid Percival so politely poured all over him. He was quite sure that with only a matter of the right place and the right time, this fragile wall of dignity would eventually crumble down.

The crack was even more visible when he left, when the usual 'see you later.' was replaced by an unfamiliar sentence.

"Let me know if you wish to not see me anymore."

Percival didn't answer, and Peter didn't wait for one. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn't know what to say. So he sat there, watching the young man's back disappear into a crowd of pedestrians.

And it was well deserved of him to feel what he felt at the moment. Since he was the one who snuffed the joyful aura out of that sunshine, he deserved it all; the pain, the suffering, the punishment.

What once used to be sweet melodies felt like thousands of needles stabbing him all at the same time. Each note carelessly tore up all the old stitches Percival had been hiding under his sleeves, letting the wounds bleed out with possibilities he could have if he wasn't such a foolish bastard.

"Percy."

How his velvet voice could have called his name. 

"Would you like to hear me play?"

How his eyes would look at him lovingly.

"I miss you."

How Percival could have held him, tell him how much he loved him.

"I love you too, Percy."

For what he had done, Percival's reverie would haunt and taunt with countless images of a life he would never be able to achieve, again and again until forever ended.

He deserved it.

Compliment (Peter/Percival drabble)

Summary : Peter loves receiving feedbacks and compliments, especially if it comes from someone who he tries to impress; that certain gentleman who Peter often invites to see him during rehearsals or practicing hours.

"Have you ever heard this one?"

"I have," Percival replied. "Though I have to admit that I'm not familiar with classical music, I've heard it a few times before. Especially the beginning."

"Oh, you mean this part?" Peter said, then played the first few notes of the piece.

"Yes, that's it."

"Do you like how I play it?"

Percival hummed to himself before answering back with a genuine smile.

"I love the way you interpret it too. You were really gentle. I think that's the most gentle version I've ever listened to."

Peter's heart swelled with delight. He felt as if his whole world had brightened up when he heard Percival's comments.

"Would you like to listen to it again?"

"Aren't you tired?"

"I have to practice this piece anyway, so why not?"

Percival didn't object. He leaned back into the chair, both hands cupping a mug of warm tea on his lap.

"Whoever lives with you must be so lucky." Percival glanced at the piano, then Peter. "Must feel like heaven, to be able to hear this everyday."

Peter was tempted to respond to that remark, but this was already a heaven to him. This was enough.

Besides, he was afraid that his response might ruin this moment they were having.

So he kept himself silent, and let the sound of music bury his unspoken wish back inside the deepest part of his mind.

"You could be that lucky person, you know?"

.

.

.

.

.

The second round of practice was done.

Peter looked up and turned to the chair, now empty. In fact, it had always been empty since–

No

Peter halted his thoughts from reaching the reason why the usual spot was left unoccupied.

It was awfully quiet today.

No audiences, no applauses, no praises. The moment Peter stopped, the room suddenly fell silent, no more compliments afterwards.

"I'm sure you like this, don't you?"

No responses.

So Peter began playing for the third, forth, fifth or more times, while he let his mind fabricate all the possible comments he could get if he was here.

"You did well, Peter."

"I love you."

"Still as gentle as ever."

"I really love you."

"I like how you play it."

"I love you too, Peter."

Even if he had to keep practicing until his wrist hurt, or all of his fingers trembled from soreness, Peter would be more than willing to do so.

He would do everything to hear those compliments, or Percival's compliments, or just his voice again.

He would do everything, just to have those moments back.

Just to have Percival back.

Peter/Percival drabble #5

Summary : When sorrow bled clear from his eyes, Peter couldn't stop himself from playing.

It was beautiful; both the song and its inspiration. This was one of his best works so far; probably because he was pouring out his heart and soul while composing this piece back then. 

The imagery was still vivid in his mind. Whenever he played it, he always saw himself on the balcony late at night, gazing at the moon with pure admiration and love. 

Even though he knew well that it was impossible, that no matter how hard he tried, how far he reached out his hand, it was not for him to own. He would never be able to be there; with the moon, with him. 

Yet his heart wouldn't listen, and that was why he couldn't stop; neither his fingers from playing, nor the warm streak of tears from rolling down his cheek.

Unfinished draft of the day is on the way :'D

For more context; Percy sneaks up from behind and covers Peter's eyes while he's practicing.

It's not much, but most of my drafts aren't anything much anyway so–

Another draft dump because why not?

This is a continuation of the previous post, where Peter was challenged by Percy to play with his vision completely blind.

(He got a kiss last time btw)

This time, Percy proposed another challenge, but would Peter be able to earn his well-deserved rewards? We will never know.

Or maybe I know but I just won't post this entire thing on here

I'm back at it again. :D

Not sure where this will lead me to, but I hope I'll see it soon. And I hope it won't turn to angst

For those who's wandering, it's Peter daydreaming about him and Percy in different places.

To everyone who hasn't seen this movie yet.....

GO WATCH IT NOW!

DO YOU REALLY WANT TO MISS OUT ON THIS CUTIE!?

I THINK NOT!

If I can't find a man that looks at me, talks to me and touches me like Peter, I don't want a man.

Sorry not sorry.

My standards are: Peter Smith-Kingsley

Jack Davenport as Peter Smith-Kingsley THE TALENTED MR. RIPLEY (1999) dir. Anthony Minghella

If I could, I would kiss away all your scars.

If I could, I would help you ease your pain, chase the sorrow away from your eyes.

I would do anything in my power to see you a little bit happier. I would suffer for you. I would carry your despair. I would trade all the happiness I have in my life for whatever you have, if it means I could see your smile once more.

Still, deep down inside, I'm fully aware that even if I do all those things, even if I sacrifice myself for the sake of your happiness, I would never be able to replace him.

I know that I could never be him.

But if I could be something of use to you, then use me all you want.

I don't mind at all.

At least seeing you happy makes me happy.

Jack Davenport in The Talented Mr. Ripley

Y’all hear me out, please hear me out on the gif of him..

If you liked the idea of Saltburn but didn't like the execution, or you did like Saltburn and want more please watch 'The talented Mr Ripley '(1999)

THE TALENTED MR. RIPLEY (1999) dir. Anthony Minghella

The Talented Mr. Ripley (1999)