
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9327122.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Banana_Bus_Squad, Youtube_RPF, Derp_Crew_-_Fandom, youtube_-_Fandom
  Relationship:
      Brian_|_The_Gaming_Terroriser/Brock_|_Moo_Snuckel
  Character:
      Jonathan_|_H2ODelirious, Anthony_|_ChilledChaos, Adam_Montoya, Evan_Fong,
      Tyler_|_I_AM_WILDCAT, Max_Gonzalez, Ryan_|_Ohmwrecker, Craig_Thompson,
      Bryce_McQuaid, Brian_|_The_Gaming_Terroriser, Brock_|_Moo_Snuckel
  Additional Tags:
      Gang_Rape, Rape, Violence, Domestic_Violence, Dehumanization, Child
      Death, Childhood_Sexual_Abuse, Childhood_Trauma, Child_Abuse, Child
      Neglect, Psychological_Trauma, Gore, Gorn, Torture, Blood_and_Torture,
      Kidnapping, Underage_Sex, Underage_Drinking, Consensual_Underage_Sex,
      Underage_Prostitution, Underage_Drug_Use, Gangs, Gang_Violence, DMZ, Loss
      of_Parent(s), Miscarriage, Mental_Instability, Repressed_Memories, Non-
      Consensual_Kissing, Non-Consensual_Touching, Non-Consensual_Underage_Sex,
      Depression, Cutting, Suicide_Attempt, Suicidal_Thoughts, Suicide_Notes,
      Implied/Referenced_Suicide, Drug-Induced_Sex, Drug_Use, Drugged_Sex, Drug
      Withdrawal, Non-Consensual_Bondage, Hair-pulling, Necrophilia, Collars,
      Choking, Asphyxiation, erotic_asphyxiation, Abusive_Relationships,
      Emotional/Psychological_Abuse, Verbal_Abuse, Control_Issues, Loud_Sex,
      Angry_Sex, Hate_Crimes, Hate_Sex, Crying, BDSM, Sadism, petting, Master/
      Pet, Pet_Names, Unhealthy_Relationships, Unhealthy_Coping_Mechanisms,
      Major_Character_Injury, Graphic_Depictions_of_Illness, Illnesses, Praise
      Kink, Slurs, Homophobic_Language, Bullying
  Series:
      Part 8 of YOUTUBE_RPF, Part 1 of Don't_Think_I_Don't_Know
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-01-15 Chapters: 3/? Words: 1241
****** Because, Despite What You Think, I Do ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     The sequel-prequel to 'Don't Think I Don't Know'
     READ THAT /BEFORE/ READING THIS.
     IT ISN'T FINISHED, BUT THIS WON'T MAKE SENSE W/OUT READING THE LATEST
     CHAPTERS.
     ty
***** Evan *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Living with a single mom was more than difficult for Evan. Living in the inner
city only made it worse. He had witnessed first hand his mother's multiple
rapes, and done nothing to help her. He was too young.
When his mother was at work and Evan was too old to go with her, but not old
enough to be by himself, she sent him off to a babysitter.
He was only seven, and the babysitter, a rough looking man with a name that
escaped his memory, knew this very well. And yet, hands would brush against his
young body like a whisper, gracing his edges and bare chest with massages. 
He never spoke of it, not knowing it was wrong, even when things escalated and
the man was teaching him how to use his mouth, he stayed silent.
It continued until he was twelve, and his mother started sending him to school.
He didn't know much, so he was behind, but, having a yearning to learn, shot
forward.
He was bullied frequently, and found himself against a wall one day in tenth
grade, a group of much stronger boys cornering him.
"So, 'Fong', whatcha gunna do? Huh, you faggot?" Evan's breath grew faster as a
tall boy with blonde hair and striking green eyes stepped forwards, grabbing
his jaw.
"You're probably turned on right now, cornered by a bunch of guys. Well, you
know what happens to fags like you?" Evan shook but said nothing until the
blonde boy punched him.
"Answer! Go on!" Evan spit blood before answering.
"They-They... I d-don't know..." The blonde boy shoved him to his knees while
another tied his wrists behind him with a zip tie.
"You're about to find out, fag." Anther boy had spoken, and then Evan tried
phasing into the wall. All the other boys started pulling their pants down, and
their underwear followed. To Evan's horror, they all started peeing on him as
he fell on his side, squirming. Once they were done, a kid with red hair
stepped forwards and stomped on the side of his head, knocking him out.
When Evan regained consciousness, he was in his house, vision blurry, and his
mother stood over him, blood on her shirt and hands. 
"Evan? Evan, dear?"
"Mmhh?" Evan was unable to recall his memories, and the next thing he knew, he
and the woman that called him her son were moving across the country to a
different city.
Chapter End Notes
     Yo, this chapter focused on Evan. I might do a second one later, but
     this stuff is just prequel stuff and not entirely necessary to the
     story, although it adds another layer of... Something to the story.
***** Brock *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Brian was in highschool, the tenth grade, specifically, and went to school with
his best friend, Brock. The two of them were sitting on Brain's bed, on their
phones, when Brock cleared his throat.
"Yea, Brock?"
"Uh... Never mind, it is way too weird." Brian looked up, grinning, playfully
punching Brock in the shoulder. 
"Nothing's too weird for me, buddy!" Brock stared down at his phone, face red.
"Have you ever watched, um..."
"Yes?"
"G-Gay porn?" Brian paused, looking oddly at his friend who was avoiding eye
contact.
"U-Uh... Strange, um... Strange question..." Brock finally looked up.
"Well?" Brain looked away, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.
"I... Y-Yes?" Brock turned even redder.
"Oh..."
"Why'd you ask...?" Brock coughed, sweating a bit.
"Just, um, wondering. By the way, do you have any beer?" Brian sighed with
relief, glad to be away from the other topic.
"Yup. My dad's stash is downstairs. Want me to bring some up?" Brock nodded.
A few hours later, and they were both drunk out of their minds, giggling and
taking selfies like white girls, when, all of a sudden, Brock pitched playing
truth or dare.
"Ugh, fiiiine. But you're... You ashhk me. I can't speaaaak." Brock smiled.
"Would... Would you- YOU. Wouy'ever... Fuck me?" Brian grinned and said yes,
blushing. One thing lead to another and soon the two were naked, chests flush
against each other. 
"Briiiiii. Brii. D'you have... Have lllluh... Lubeee?" Brian nodded, moving
away to grab a bottle from his bedside table, covering his fingers with an
ample amount before slowly pushing his index finger inside of Brock, who's back
arched as he grabbed hold of Brain's shoulders straddling him. After stretching
Brock out as vest he could, Brian slowly added another finger, scissoring them.
His fingers brushed against a bundle of nerves that made Brock's vision hazy,
and his fingernails dug into Brian's shoulders.
"Fuuuuck... Right... Right there..." Brian nodded and slowly pulled his fingers
out, rubbing the excess lube on his straining erection. He lifted Brock up by
the hips and carefully let him down, fully seating him then letting him adjust.
"Youu good?" Brock nodded, his untrimmed hair getting in his face as Brian
started thrusting in and out of him, every once in a while hitting the bundle
of nerves, causing Brock to scream.
It was a few hours later when Brock woke up, head pounding. He saw the scene
before him and panicked, cleaning everything up and putting Brian's clothes
back on very carefully. He made it look as if nothing had happened, too scared
to face the consequences of fucking his best friend. When Brian awoke, Brock
found he couldn't remember anything, and was relieved- but strangely
disappointed.
Chapter End Notes
     Yeet *dabs*
      
      
     /fknkillmem
***** Anthony *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The small Italian's first own memory was of nearly drowning in blood, the hot,
murky liquid staining his pale, dangerously skinny nine year old body.
Everything before that was a simple blur.
He could smell nothing, hear nothing, taste nothing, see nothing- his senses
were overwhelmed by the blood pouring down his throat. 
However, he could feel. The pool of blood was in a room, only one light hanging
above, and he could feel the various stray limbs and bones floating about him.
They were the bodies of his classmates, turned into somewhat of a human
smoothie. He had somehow escaped the jaws of the great blade and played dead.
They had been taken hostage by a woman with a gun, lured into what Anthony
could only assume was hell. Breathing was difficult when he was face down,
floating, not knowing if the woman had left the room. 
He held deadly still as he heard the door open, and rough voices begin
speaking. There was movement in the blood, and he felt it. Someone was touching
his arm, holding it. Through all the thick, hot blood, the hand was a cool
oasis, saving him. He looked up, black hair drenched with blood, and clung to
the figure, a kid about fourteen years old, give or take. 
The teenager waded through the blood and climbed up to the floor, handing the
boy to a taller figure. Anthony reached for the gentle cool of the teenager,
but was denied. He passed out.
The next the Anthony knew, his eyes fluttered open. He was not at home, but was
in an unfamiliar room. The whole room was faded, pastel pink, and EVERYTHING
was covered in lace. Looking down at himself, Anthony found he was clean, no
blood to be seen, but was wearing a tight pink dress that made him look like a
doll, white tights, white Mary Jane's, and his black shaggy hair was put into
two pigtails. He was looking in a mirror and he turned red, not used to his
clothing. 
Anthony turned around at the sound of footsteps and looked up to see a man
staring down at him.
"Hello there, Anthony. My name is Walter Montoya, and I will be taking care of
you."
Chapter End Notes
     For those that didn't get the memo, each chapter will be slowly
     extended, revealing more about each character.
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