[Snakes and Monsters] Riverdale x Tokyo Ghoul - Reader Insert

= Chapter 5 =

The night began to get late as you seat yourself on the couch. Your time with Toni made you feel comfortable, something that only the presence of your father could do. Having found many things in common with the female. Sensing a presence at the front door, suddenly then no longer. Sitting for a few seconds longer to detect the presence once again but, nothing. Pacing slowly to the door, opening it to find nothing but rain hailing down before you. Looking down before you, a rectangle box encased in a brown paper and twine string holding the wrapping closed. Picking up the box, its weight rather light for anything to be of threat to you. Returning to the confines of the building, slamming the door behind your body. Placing the package on the small table before you, sitting yourself back onto the spring loaded couch. Looking at the package in curiosity. Pulling the knot of the twine allowing it to unravel from around the four sides of the mysterious object. The paper sides of the wrapping slide open. Passing your hand through one of the open sides grabbing the boxed contents. Sliding it past the the brown paper wrapping its black surface being seen in the fain light bulb above your head. Throwing the paper on the ground and placing the black box where its incased body used to be. The box an elegant, black matte. Two letter stamped into its lid. WS. 

"Fuck!" You grunt as you slam your fits on the table either side of the box, watching as it lightly jumps from the table at the aggressive action. Storming your figure past the table and the box, slamming the back door open, letting it swing angrily on its hinges. Stepping down the two stairs only to kick the cold, leather boxing bag with the full force of you foot, front onwards. Stepping closer to the bag, before returning to its centre position from its swinging motion you move into a sprint of uppercuts, then turning into a barrage of straight on punches. The bag staying in a steady position for your rampage of attacks as it does not allow it enough time to return and become still. Allowing the bag to swing back into place watching the down pour of rain before you. Stretching your arm out towards the rain. Watching it fall from the endless sky into your palm, traveling its way down your wrist, to you forearm before dripping to the cement ground you stand upon from your elbow. It's feeling soothing, cooling on your bleeding knuckles. The water washing the blood away, wounds cleaned as they close up. Sweat falls from your brow as you close your eyes in attempt to relax your anger. 

Entering your house once again in a less angered state. Looking down at the box. Lifting the lid, its small black hinges holding it in connection with its bottom counter part. Inside lies peacefully your terror. A red mask, placed upon a white suit, matching tapered trouser and black button up shirt, all neatly folded. Taking the mask in your hands, its metal surface matching the coldness of you hands. Its surface a metallic red fitting to the lower half of your face. All of its edge angular and the covering on your nose almost shaped like a card's club, 2 circle shapes in either side below your checks. (Note: imagine Tatara's mask.) Attached to the end of the mask near the ear,  two hooks held into place with imbedded magnets. Standing from the couch, stepping towards the bathroom to the left of the soulless room. Leaning one hand on the rim of the sink, the other raising the mask to your face. Sliding the two hooks over your ears, the mask positioning itself comfortably on your face. Concealing your identity to even those who know you like the back of your hand. Looking  at your reflection, changing the nature of your eyes. To be full of colour to dark piercing red surround by an abyss of black. Veins traveling along the outskirts of your eyes. Your reflection taunting you. Hating the image of the monster you see before you. With your build up of rage bursting once more, punching the centre of the mirror, watching as shards of glass from from the wall to the sink. Ripping the mask from your face the hooks staying in place around your ears as you disconnect the magnets from one another. Throwing the mask to the floor, hearing it smash against the tiles covering the floor. Finding its way to be hidden behind a small basket planned to store clothes in need of a wash. You too falling to the ground laying your back against the wall, your elbows resting steady on your knees and your hand grasp the side of your head. One at a time unhooking the joins of your mask, throwing them against the ground in the opposite direction of your body.