I think I liked you better when you didn't have a knife in your hand, Peaches

Like the start of every hot housewife p*rno I've ever seen

By mid-afternoon, Blake had deemed today as an utter wright-off.

The rain was lashing hard at the windows and a whistling wind seemed to blow an icy cold draft under every door, dropping the temperature inside the gloomy factory by several degrees.

There was no way she or any of the other Saviours could work in the garden for the rest of today. So instead, the caramel-blonde woman had relegated herself to doing something elsethat had taken her fancy on this cold, dark and stormy day.

And so, after heading back to her room an hour ago, ditching Danny around the corner (only needing him as far as the end of Negan's corridor to try and get a rise out of the dark-haired Saviour) Blake had hurriedly gotten dressed, flinging on a pretty flowery dress that tied at the waist and a pale blue button up sweater from her closet, and had soon, with a contented sigh, headed down to the marketplace and the stores, to pick up the items she required before bringing them back up here to her room on the second floor.

And now here she was.......making brownies.

Blake hadn't baked anything since waaaaay back before the start of all of this. And even then, that had been just a birthday cake for one of her colleagues at work, that David and his friends after coming home drunk one evening, had torn apart and devoured amongst themselves, before it had even reached her anyway.

Blake wasn't sure what had come over her.

Here she was...baking....like a good little wife. A sudden urge having overwhelmed her to make something sweet during this rare bit of spare time.

And so, after picking out the ingredients (perhaps a little selfishly) from the pantry, she had come up here and gotten to work.

Although Blake's intentions were not all that selfish, hoping that once she was done, she could go downstairs and share them with some of the lower-ranking Saviours, of which were mainly kids and older folk, in the dining hall later.

Her room had a small little kitchenette on one side, that Blake had not even touched since she had arrived here at the Sanctuary, the worktops gathering dust and the small powered oven never having even been switched on.

Even whilst living at Alexandria, Blake had only ever stuck to making easy dishes like pasta with sauce and eating heated canned goods where she could get it. After living out on the road and eating only basic scavenged rations and roadkill, finding even those bland foods too much for her stomach to handle.

Cooking wasn't exactly her forte, but hey, neither was gardening, and Blake had soon taken to that well enough.

But now the caramel-blonde woman was stood at her kitchen counter, mixing ingredients in a large bowl, as the window over to her right rattled a little with the carrying wind.

She pondered now what a winter in this place would be like.

The Sanctuary itself was large and built up, but certainly draughty at times, so it wasn't really a surprise to her that the wives had requested pants to wear. For really that wasn't that much to ask in this world, now was it?

Blake dwelled on the women a little now, wondering how their sore-heads had been this morning, and wondering whether Negan had been to see them as he had threatened to. She promised herself that she would make time to go see them later today and have a catch up.

But Blake, a little lost in thought, jumped now, as the door behind her was suddenly shoved open.

She hurriedly dropped her wooden spoon into the bowl with a small clatter and clutched a hand to her chest in fright, turning quickly to see Negan strutting through the door, without Lucille for once, but with a wide, arrogant, questioning grin, fixed onto his long, bearded face instead.