GeorgeNotFound Shipping One-Shots

George's Not Great Day💛💙💚

Hey! Quick trigger warning! The following chapter contains conversations of outing, mild gender dysphoria, use of the f slur, misgendering. If any of these things upset you please click away!

There are also a couple of times when you will see '*****' in place of Gog's deadname. however the word girlfriend is used in relation to him

anyways enjoy

George wanted to cry.

His day had started off awful, his mom having woken him by yelling at him and telling him that he was running late. The entire time he was getting ready his mom was insulting him. Calling him useless among other things.

His morning got worse when he caught sight of his chest in the mirror as he was about to leave the house. Despite the baggy shirt he wore, the swell of his chest was still visible. He tugged on his shirt, hoping that it would help hide it better.

When it didn't work he felt frustrated tears come to his eyes. He balled his hands into fists and hit them against his thighs, stomping his right foot and letting out a frustrated growl as he did so.

He wiped his eyes and began mentally preparing himself for the tough day that he knew was coming.
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When he arrived at school he immediately went into the cafeteria to find one of his boyfriends. He stood at the entrance or the large room, quickly scanning in search of Dream or Wilbur. When he couldn't find either of them his already bad mood turned even more sour.

He found an empty table and sat down, laying his head down and trying to hold back tears as he waited for the bell to ring. He just wanted his boyfriends.

He had planned to find one(or both) of them, cling to them until they had to go to class, and beg for one of their hoodies.

Not that he'd have to beg. Both boys were massive fucking simps who would commit murder if it meant George would be happy. So him wanting one of their hoodies wouldn't be a problem at all. Except for maybe them arguing over who got to give him theirs.

But now his plan was ruined.

So he continued to sit there sulking until the bell rang.
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His first-class went without a hitch. His teacher had been out sick and she hadn't left any work. So he spent the class with his head down, drifting in and out of sleep as the period went on.

Unfortunately, second period did not go as smoothly.

They had been given a quiz.

Over something that George hadn't been there to learn. And as expected George failed it.

To make matters worse, the teacher had them call out their grades so he could put them in the grade book.

As he listened to the other students call out their grades, the feeling of dread and embarrassment grew.

Almost all of them had grades above ninety, the lowest grade being eighty-three. When the person with that grade had called out their answer a few people asked how they did so badly, saying that the quiz had been easy and calling them stupid for getting such a low grade.

He felt like sobbing.

"*****?" His name was called.

He mumbled his answer, the words spoken so softly and quickly that they couldn't be heard.

"What? Repeat yourself."

He spoke the words again, equally as quiet and fast.

"*****, quit mumbling. I can't understand you."