#wwx’s feelings about lan zhan kissing the peacock are as follows:

[sashabarkov]

wangxianxuan?

oh i LOVE me some good wangxianxuan, it’s one of my favorite rare ships

the “unhealthily” and “unrequited” circles are situational; it entirely depends upon when in time we’re talking about. in the gusu days it would probably be (or at least start out as) either unhealthy or unrequited (possibly both!), with a fair amount of repression, jealousy, denial, and hate-makeouts that are definitely based in more than hate—in short, Very Messy. after all, wwx and lwj already have their thing going on, and the wwx vs jzx rivalry is well known; it’s not that much of a stretch to throw in lwj’s famed vinegar-drinking abilities and center the jealousy around wwx having a rivalry with someone other than him. maybe that’s where the hate-makeouts come in! maybe lwj tries to stake a claim (thus giving jzx an eye-opening “mark me down as scared and horny” moment). maybe lwj accidentally stakes the wrong claim! cue a furious lecture from lqr about how “you can’t kiss people who’re already betrothed! i expected better from you, wangji!”, and an engagement cancellation from jfm bc “evidently the current engagement was not to jin zixuan’s tastes”, and a Whole lot of artwork from nhs bc “eligible bachelors #2 and 3 kissing each other? hot!”, and most importantly a whole mess of complicated feelings and emotions from wwx. which he’s not gonna think about right now. or maybe ever. just like he’s not gonna think about lan zhan kissing the peacock!

...oh no, now he’s thinking about lan zhan kissing the peacock. oh no, why can’t he stop thinking about lan zhan kissing the peacock?!

and i’m gonna stop there before i plot a whole fic on this post but you get the idea

[stiltonbasket]

Hello!!!! I love the qin su!WWX au, what does the scene where he figures out LWJ likes him and not Qin Su look like? (I'm a sucker for your fluff scenes between the two in TMAAF)

In retrospect, confronting the love of his life about the dead love of their life was probably one of Wei Wuxian’s most poorly thought-out ideas. Heartsick though he is, Lan Zhan has been coping with Qin Su’s death in his own way--namely, by sighing heart-brokenly when he thinks Wei Wuxian can’t hear him, and breaking five pairs of chopsticks at every meal because Wei Wuxian can’t get out of the habit of referring to Jin Guangyao as his husband--and it wasn’t his business to interfere.

But Wei Wuxian has always been an expert at saying the wrong thing at the worst possible time, which is what happens when he goes up to his zhiji after dinner one night and apologizes for stealing the body of the woman who clearly holds his heart in death just as she did in life.

“I am not in love with Qin Su. I scarcely even knew her,“ Lan Zhan says hoarsely, staring at Wei Wuxian through the crimson glow of their campfire. “What in heaven’s name made you think that?”

“You don’t have to pretend, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian entreats, wringing a fold of his skirt between his hands. “I...I’ve seen the way you look at me, and you’ve started wearing mourning clothes, and the way you treat me--Lan Zhan, you don’t even let Zixuan eat the sweets you buy, even though he’s so much thinner than I am, and you won’t let him sleep beside me even though Jin-furen was his half-sister--”

“I have never been in love with Qin Su,” his friend repeats. He closes his eyes in an uncharacteristic show of weakness, as if it would have been agony to look at Wei Wuxian for even a moment longer; but then he opens them again, and the breath flies out of Wei Wuxian’s body as Lan Zhan’s gaze holds him transfixed like a butterfly tacked down to a board.

“Wei Ying, I am in love with you.”

He freezes.

Surely--surely, Lan Zhan hadn’t said that he loved--

“You’re confused,” he says desperately, trying to ignore the hope welling up in his bosom. “You must have liked her, and now--now that her body is near you, and I’m the one living in it, you think that you lov--”

“Did you think I branded myself with Wen Ruohan’s blazon out of love for Qin Su?” Lan Zhan’s voice is tight and heavy with pain, and somehow still so quiet that Jin Zixuan sleeps on, undisturbed; but he might as well have shouted his confession at the top of his lungs, because Wei Wuxian’s ears are ringing with it. “Did you think I made vows of chastity and wore mourning for sixteen years for her?”

“Lan Zhan, you...”

“I have loved you from the moment I first saw you,” his friend whispers. “But you need not think on it, if it troubles you. I will endeavour to keep better control of myself from now on.”

Wei Wuxian gapes at him. “That’s the last thing I want!” he protests. “I--Lan Zhan, if you love me, and I love you, then--then we should be together, shouldn’t we?”

“That is gratitude for these last two months, and nothing more,” Lan Zhan whispers. It sounds like a sob, like a mourning cry of agony echoed in Wei Wuxian’s own heart, and he suddenly wants nothing more than to jump over Jin Zixuan’s peacock head and fall into Lan Zhan’s arms. “I would rather you spurn me outright than force yourself in such a way, Wei Ying. I am still your friend, just as I always have been, so let us say nothing more about it.”

“Well, I’ve got a lot to say about it!” he shouts, making Jin Zixuan snuffle in his sleep and mumble something about radish demons. “I like you, Lan Zhan! And unless you push me away, I--I’m going to kiss you!”

Lan Zhan springs up in alarm and staggers back into the brush surrounding their campsite. “Wei Ying!”

But Wei Wuxian has the advantage of not having a solid wall of trees at his back, so catching Lan Zhan takes less than a second; and then his arms go tightly around Lan Zhan’s slender waist, bringing them face to face before his friend can run away.

Lan Zhan’s eyes are red, he notes dizzily. Is it the smoke from the campfire?

Fascinated as he is with Lan Zhan’s dark eyes, Wei Wuxian cannot tell which of them moves first. But one of them must have moved, because Lan Zhan’s hands are on his waist now, and his breath is warm on Wei Wuxian’s cheek like the touch of a hesitant finger.

“Wei Ying,” he croaks, weeping into Wei Wuxian’s hair, “my darling, please--”

“Yes,” he whispers back. “I’m yours, Lan Zhan. Don’t cry, sweetheart, I can’t bear it if you cry!”

Lan Zhan kisses him under the pine trees for what feels like hours, though it was probably only a minute or so--but then something hard bounces off Wei Wuxian’s back, and Lan Zhan’s hand flies toward his belt before Jin Zixuan’s furious voice comes out of the darkness.

“Really?” he hisses, brandishing one of his boots. “Right in front of me? What is wrong with you two?”

“Inn,” Lan Zhan decides, gathering Wei Wuxian up into his arms. “Hold on, Wei Ying. We are going.”

Jin Zixuan’s enraged shrieks follow them almost all the way back to town, but Wei Wuxian can scarcely hear him over the song of his own heart beating in time with Lan Zhan’s, or the precious hum of Lan Zhan’s voice saying his name.

Wei Ying, Wei Ying, Wei Ying, he sings. My love, it could never have been anyone but you.