Seeing Basen in uniform for the first time reader.exe has stopped working
Pairing: Basen x fem!reader
Word Count: 1,8k
Synopsis: You've seen him casual, dressy, serious as usual , even half naked. But seeing him in the armor of the forbidden army.
Warnings: this is hilarious y'all, I love Basen, just imagine their faces in the end I'm dying
You know something’s off the minute you catch a glimpse and the flying lights outside. Out of instinct, you get up from your futon and wrap yourself up in a random yukata you find nearby as fast as possible.
Oh, you waited for this day way too long by now. The day master Jinshi finally springs into action and reveals his true colors, the day you get your friend back. Is Maomao doing alright, will it be too late when they finally get there?
The cold air of the night hits you like a wall, but you couldn’t care less. You have to find Gao-Shun or Basen, look out for something you can do, something you can help with. After all, Maomao is your only true friend within the lonely walls of the inner palace, the only one who understands how messy being the personal servant of master Jinshi can be – even though she doesn’t know how much yet. You just have to help, you just have to be useful-
“(y/n)? What are you doing out here all alone and without a coat? You’ll get cold walking around like that.”
Suddenly you forget how to exist. Within the split of a second, your usual fussy mouth goes dry like the desert, your eyes widen despite the torch he holds straight into your face. You can literally feel the heat rushing up your cheeks, your pulse spiking in a truly concerning way.
There he stands, the boy you know since childhood. You’ve seen him wearing his civil servant uniform, somehow casual robes, his training gear, but never in your life…
You’ve never seen him wearing the full guard armor of the forbidden army. The way the breastplate and shoulder guards hug is already tight muscles even more, how well those few strands of hair frame his oh so serious face.
“What is it with men wearing uniform…,” you mutter to yourself while soaking up every last bit of his appearance.
To be honest, you were more than keen to see Basen as nothing more than a friend, a pain in the ass created by Gao-Shun to annoy you every single minute of your life. But the older you get, the more you start seeing him in a completely different angle. The more you look at him, the more you actually like what you see.
Just like now.
Basen tilts his head slightly, squinting at you with a mix of confusion and concern, his torch flickering shadows across the angles of his face.
“You’re flushed,” he comments, stepping forward without hesitation.
“Are you feverish?”
No, but I might be dying of something else entirely, you think, heart practically punching your ribs from the inside.
“I—I’m fine,” you stammer, clutching the yukata tighter around your body as if that’ll somehow keep your composure from unraveling completely.
He frowns, not convinced. Typical Basen. Typical “I know everything better than everyone anyway” behaviour.
“It’s the middle of the night,” he mutters, voice quieter now, more serious.
“You shouldn’t be out here. The palace is crawling with patrols, and… it might not be safe soon.”
You catch the faintest glimpse of something in his expression. Not the usual frustrated patience he reserves just for you, but something heavier - tense. There’s something going on, and it’s not just about Maomao and the stinging fact that he’s wearing that damned uniform.
Oh god, that uniform.
“Then let me help,” you blurt out in a desperate attempt to punch some mind back into your brain.
“You know I can be useful. I’ve trained, I’ve studied. I... I can’t just stand here and do nothing.”
I can’t just stand here and think about what you might look like without that uniform.
Basen breathes in sharply, clearly caught off guard by your sudden twist of behaviour.
“Listen, I know you’re a decent fighter, but this isn’t a game. There are lines. Orders. Even Jinshi-”
“Damn the orders, Basen!” you snap, louder than intended, surprising even yourself.
His eyes widen slightly, and you see something shift, something crack through that soldier mask he’s worn ever since Gao-Shun dragged him into the royal machinery.
He moves fast. One step forward and he’s right in front of you, towering slightly, his armor glinting in the low firelight.
“You’ll freeze,” he mutters again, softer now, and then, to your disbelief, he shrugs off his outer cloak and drapes it over your shoulders without waiting for permission.
The warmth of the fabric is nothing compared to the warmth of his hands when they linger just a second too long on your shoulders.
You don't breathe.
You can't breathe.
Basen is standing too close. His armor smells faintly of iron and smoke and something uniquely him, something clean and grounding like pine bark after rain. His face is calm, impassive, focused on your wellbeing like he’s been trained to be. But you? You’re spiraling.
His hand brushes the side of your neck as he adjusts the cloak and your knees very nearly give out.
You silently curse the gods, the empire, the armor, and his unreasonably shaped shoulders.
He finally steps back, seemingly satisfied that you're not about to drop dead of hypothermia in the middle of the courtyard.
“There, that’s better.”
No. It is absolutely not better.
You’re flushed from your ears to your toes, cheeks burning in a way that no winter night could ever explain. Your heart hasn’t stopped racing since he called your name, and every time you blink you see him standing there in that uniform. The fitted breastplate. The precise lines. The way his hair is half pulled back, framing the sharpness of his cheekbones like he was plucked from a painting of a war hero and dropped right into your unfortunate love life.
You’re not even thinking intelligible thoughts anymore. Just a string of curses, embarrassing daydreams, and internal screaming.
He doesn't notice.
Of course he doesn’t.
Basen, brilliant soldier, deadpan expert, emotional wall since age twelve - he just nods once and says, “I’ll find Maomao. Go back inside. It’s safer.”
You force a nod, trying to look brave and competent and not like you’re currently writing mental poetry about his chestplate.
He turns, footsteps heavy against the stone, torchlight throwing long shadows as he disappears into the dark.
And you just stand there. Dumbstruck. Cloaked in his scent. Still red in the face.
Bonus:
You’re gone when Basen returns—off on an errand, apparently, or avoiding him like the plague, which is fair. Since your stinging question about his wellbeing was answered positive, the embarrassment started creeping right back in.
He doesn’t think much of it.
Until Gao-Shun levels one of his dad stares at him across the table.
“What?” Basen grumbles, sitting down to remove his boots.
Gao-Shun sighs through his nose, the way he does when he’s halfway between disappointment and secondhand embarrassment.
“You really didn’t notice, didn’t you?”
“Notice what?”
“The way she looked at you. Last night.”
He gives Basen a long look.
“In full uniform.”
Basen pauses, brow furrowing.
“She was cold. I gave her my cloak.”
“She looked like she was going to pass out.”
“She said she was fine.”
“She lied, you idiot. She was blushing so hard she could’ve heated the whole palace.”
Basen blinks. A beat. Two.
“She…what?”
Gao-Shun leans back, all dry amusement now.
“Maybe next time, wear the uniform less often. Or more. Depending on your goals.”
Basen sits in stunned silence, brain finally connecting dots it’s never bothered to examine before. The sharp words. The nervous stammering. The way you looked like your soul left your body the moment he showed up.
“…I gave her my cloak,” he mutters again, like it’s somehow the most intimate gesture known to mankind.
Gao-Shun doesn’t even try to hide the amused huff that escapes his nose.
That’s when the shoji door slides open.
And chaos starts to reach its peak.
“Ah, speak of the devil,” Gao-Shun says without turning his head.
You step into the room with master Jinshi by your side, arms still tucked inside that very same cloak Basen wrapped around you last night - big, warm, his. You freeze the moment you see them, your foot half-raised, halfway through a greeting that promptly died in your throat.
Three pairs of eyes land on you.
Basen stiffens so hard he looks like someone dropped an arrow down his backplate.
Gao-Shun just calmly takes a sip of tea like he’s watching his matchmaking efforts unfold in real time.
And then-
“Oh my.” Jinshi grins like a fox let loose in a henhouse, folding his arms as he leans ever-so-casually against the nearest beam like the two of you didn’t just enter the room together.
“Is that Basen’s cloak? How… intimate.”
You feel the blood drain from your face and then immediately flood back in with double the force. No, he can’t be serious about that. What on earth is Master Jinshi revering to? And why now? With him sitting right there?
“Excuse me?!” you manage, eyes wide in horror.
“It was cold!”
Basen abruptly stands up - too fast, nearly tripping over his own boot which is more than unusual for him.
“She was cold,” he blurts out, expression full deer-in-the-torchlight now.
“It was…I gave her the cloak, she didn’t…it’s not…”
Jinshi raises an elegant eyebrow.
“You mean you voluntarily gave her the cloak off your back? How noble. How selfless. How... very telling.”
“I hate everything happening right now,” you mumble into the collar of the cloak, which for some godforsaken reason still smells like him.
“I hate all of you.”
Gao-Shun chuckles under his breath.
“Well, at least now it’s mutual confusion.”
Basen, cheeks slowly turning red for once, dares to look at you.
“You…you really looked like you were going to pass out?”
You glare at Jinshi, who is still grinning like he’s watching the juiciest court drama unfold live. Who of these two traitors spied on the two of you the night before Basen left?
“I was fine. Just... warm.”
Jinshi tilts his head oh so innocently.
“From the gesture or from the uniform?”
You choke on your own saliva.
Gao-Shun puts his cup down.
“Basen, next time, try actually talking to her before dragging her into a political storm and a romantic crisis.”
“I wasn’t- it wasn’t-!”
Nope, that’s more than you can take. You turn around and march right back out the door, shouting over your shoulder: “I’M RETURNING THIS STUPID CLOAK LATER!”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then Basen, breathlessly: “She said ‘later.’”
Gao-Shun and Jinshi answer in unison, dry as sand:
“She’s into you, idiot.”
