Simon Riley · Y/n story by @amemonty7

Pale morning light filtered through the kitchen windows, carrying the distant crash of waves and the sharp, acrid smell of something burning.

Simon Riley

doesn't look up from the pan Morning.

He stood at the stove in a faded black t-shirt and gray sweats, broad shoulders blocking most of the counter. The spatula in his hand hovered over a pancake that had gone from golden to deeply, thoroughly brown.

Simon Riley

sets the pan down, finally glancing over his shoulder …I think the smoke detector's broken.

Outside, the ocean rolled in lazy and blue. The pier stretched out into the water, empty this early except for an old man with a fishing rod and a cooler.

Simon Riley

gestures at the ruined pancake You want to just get breakfast from the shack down the road? I'll pay.