Archive of Our Own ^beta

The final school bell had rung for the day and most of the 78th Class Of Hope’s Peak Academy had left the classroom for the day, but a few girls remained after the chime faded out.

Even in the stuffy, trapped-in heat of the room, Celestia Ludenberg silently shuffled a deck of cards on her desk; her index finger ring rapping gently on the plastic backs as she did. Hidden under her layers of makeup and frilly gothic clothing, the SHSL Gambler was paying the price of going all in on her royal aesthetic.

She was sweating like a pig.

Rivulets of sweat rolled down the gambler’s pale belly under all the frills of her dress while a single bead -unhindered - rolled down her left cheek from her forehead.

Even her undergarments were suffering under the dry heat that was convecting Celes from within her bulky clothes; the polka-dot panties lace was now grayed and dropping from over-saturation of sweat soaked in.

But even the state of her underwear paled in comparison to the hellish situation that was occurring below Celes’s hips.

Her midnight-black thighhighs were practically cooking her feet within. The silk socks drew all the light to them and absorbed it all, along with the resultant heat. The black fabric hid the splotches and trails of sweat that only marginally darkened the already dark threading, but the wearer could feel the effects of all that heat and sweat that was draining down her slender legs to her feet.

The soles of her socks, covered by the heavy and stuffy enamel of her red Mary Janes, were soaked through and through with accumulating perspiration.

That warm liquid only got worse as the now-sticky socks spilled over -threads maxed out on absorption - with every minute relief-bringing movement Celes tried to take within her shoes.

She mentally cringed at the squish of heated sweat exchanging from her sock sole to her Mary Jane’s sole. The gambler fumbled her cards in her distraction.

She needed to act, now.

Instep of one Mary Jane pressing against the upper heel of the other, Celes risked the possibility of scuffing her precious shoes to take them off without drawing attention to her break of character; that act alone said more than enough of how much the gambler wanted to free her soles from the pitfalls of her own outfit.

With a pop that was louder than Celes wished, the first red shoe slipped off of her foot and clattered lightly on the floor. The noise was cringe-worthy alone, but now she had to free her other foot with only her sweat-drenched sock to push on it with.

Pressing the wet sole against her heel, Celes subtly gritted her teeth as she pushed down on the back of her Mary Jane; the movement of stale lukewarm sweat in between her sock and foot made her grind her clenched teeth in disgust.

With a similar pop to the first, the second shoe fell to the floor under the desk, and now the gambler was able to air her black socks out.

Letting out a sigh of relief as quietly as she could, Celes closed her eyes in little moment of bliss. The gambler’s toes wiggled and scrunched almost on reflex as they were free of the impromptu sauna that those bulky Mary Janes created.

“Ahem.”

A voice shattered Celes’s moment.

Red eyes shooting open, Celes managed to hide away her anxious look on her face as she made her sidelong glance to the desk to her right; the lavender-haired detective sat there -and had been there - reading a book she’d now put down.
Waiting till Celes had her attention on her, Kirigiri gave a single wave of her gloved hand past her own nose, signing to something with the motion.

Celes’s cheeks flushed red and burned with shame far hotter than her feet had in her shoes prior.

Kirigiri was saying her feet -understandably drenched - were not just soaked with sweat, but smelled quite strongly of it too.

Humiliated utterly at the most unladylike accusation, Celes stared back at her desk and quickly worked at getting her hellish shoes back on, even if it meant making that apparent odor worse later.

The detective watched with a better poker face than the gambler could have ever managed. The black-haired girl -trembling with embarrassment - reached under the desk to grab her Mary Janes and quickly stuff her feet back into them, ignoring the strain on the delicate strap that the quick action dealt.

To Kirigiri trained nose, the scent coming from that girl’s direction was certainly pungent; she’d had enough of it already.

Standing from her own desk as Celes ashamedly finished putting her shoes back on in the most clumsy and pitiful ways for an even more pitiful reason, Kirigiri said nothing to the gambler as she reached the door.

As she opened the door, Kirigiri turned her head back -purple hair fluttering - and gave the already humiliated Celes one more twist of the knife on an issue she was well-aware was driving deep into the girl’s persona.

Celes saw and understood the annoyance hinted in the detective’s glance.

“You’ve made the room smell awful, so I’m leaving” was the message that was shared within that meeting of eyes between the two girls.
And as the detective closed the door behind her, Celes found herself staring back at the cards on her desk; the heat consumed her again and sweat ran from her pores freely.

The gambler was too busy feeling mocked by the Joker Card staring up at her.