Fanfic My Fanfic Contest

Name of the fic you are fanfic'ing: Wide Awake

Word Count: 2698

Full Summary: On the ninth day away from Bella, Edward gives in and eats an extra bag of cookies. In an attempt to salvage the routine he desperately clings to, he attempts to bake himself a batch of cookies. EPOV. M for language. It's WA's Edward. So . . . yeah.

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Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. AngstGoddess003 owns Wide Awake. I own the fact that when I like something I really like it, and it's a bit creepy and OCD.

Author's Note: This one shot was inspired by chapter 19 of Wide Awake wherein Edward laments the loss of Bella (due to Phil's 12 day trail held in Phoenix) and contemplates what she really means to him. The following line was lifted directly from Wide Awake and placed into this one shot so that this piece can be tied to that chapter in a concrete manner. "I climbed down to the gazebo in nothing but my pajamas, hoping the cold December wind would just keep me the fuck awake." I mean no offense by stealing her words, but only did so to make my words meld with hers. I want to personally thank AngstGoddess003 for allowing us the use of her story to create new scenes from the world she created where cookies are king and Edward likes to say fuck.

Wide Awake: Fuck My Life Fig Newtons

Fuck my life.

It's shit without Bella. Absolute shit.

Bella had been gone for eight days. Today was day nine, and it started shitty and ended shitty.

I told myself yesterday that I would not break the routine. I would not screw up what Bella had created for us, for me. I ate my daily dose of cookies during English because I was fucking starving and thinking about her. I missed her so damn much, even that fucking black hoodie. Every time I saw a stoner pass by in their goth uniform, complete with black jacket or sweatshirt or whatever, I was drawn to them. I chased after a poor girl in the science wing, and once I realized it wasn't Bella, I fucking yelled at her. She couldn't help that she wasn't Bella anymore than I could help the fact that fucking Bella mirages were everywhere due to my sleep deprivation. That shit just happened, and I couldn't control it. I was one pathetic asshole.

By the time I got home, I was so tired I collapsed on my bed. I didn't want to sleep, in fact, I tried not to, putting in my earbuds and playing the loudest damn piece of music I had. It did not fucking work. Not one bit. I woke up from my nightmare screaming and crying, and then found myself crying more because Bella wasn't there. Would she ever be here again? God, I wanted her here with me.

In the haze of my post-nap dementia and missing my girl, I went fucking psychotic and ripped into another bag of cookies. I just needed a taste. One taste. One hit. One piece of her. Anything of her. And this was the closest thing I had to her. I ate those cookies and when the harsh truth of what I had done hit me, I fucking ran to the bathroom and retched into the toilet.

I slammed my fist into the floor and immediately felt the adrenaline rush, which gave me some clarity. I really needed clarity. I really needed to sleep, really sleep, but what I needed fucking more than anything was my girl.

I laid on my bed wallowing like a fucking girl in my 'I miss you' misery until I heard Emmett clanging around in the kitchen. I hoped to hell he was making some dinner because my mouth tasted like ass, and I was hungry. Did I eat anything today other than Bella's cookies? I wasn't sure.

I stumbled my way down the stairs to find Emmett sitting on the couch, eating a shitty hot pocket. I'd rather my mouth continue to taste like ass than actually eat shit. No thanks.

I sat with him in silence while he ate, just needing to be distracted. I felt utterly depressed and wretched, and I knew if I headed back upstairs I'd light up again or take some more of Carlisle's fucking pills.

Emmett took off after he ate to go fondle Rose somewhere, and I was fucking jealous. Why can he do whatever the fuck he wants?

Carlisle was gone too, and if I remembered correctly, which would have been a fucking miracle, he was out for the night.

I was all alone. With nothing and no one to distract me.

Fuck my life.

There was nothing good in it at all now that Bella was gone. I drew in my sketch book for a while to pass the time, but all I could get onto the page were images of her lips, her neck, her hair, which was hard as fuck to make it shiny in a sketch. I wanted those shiny curls back in my hands. I wanted those lips back on mine. I wanted Bella home. With me.

When it reached ten o'clock, I was feeling fucking morose as ever. I decided I needed to do something, anything to keep myself from thinking about her. That was more depressing than losing so much sleep.

I climbed down to the gazebo in nothing but my pajamas, hoping the cold December wind would just keep me the fuck awake. It did, but I was still inundated with confusing thoughts about Bella. I couldn't get her out of my head. I gave up on the cold air and headed back inside, crashing onto my bed to think.

As I contemplated what to do, I remembered that I snarfed down one too many bags of cookies today and wouldn't have anymore to eat tomorrow. That wouldn't fucking do. My whole day would start off shitty if I didn't have my cookies to look forward to.

I ran downstairs and printed out the first fucking cookie recipe I could find. I had to have some damn cookies for tomorrow, and I refused to eat any more ahead of schedule. I needed that schedule, that routine. I relied on it for my sanity.

I searched through the cupboards and pulled out what I needed. We were missing a few ingredients, but I figured if I had the basics it would be too big of a deal. Flour, sugar, eggs and butter were the real necessities, right? Who needs baking soda and baking powder? What the fuck do those things do anyway? I'd have to ask Bella when she got home. If she came home. God, she better fucking come home. What if she doesn't?

Fuck my life.

I fucking missed the shit out of her. I couldn't help that damn shit. I just did.

As I started to mix up the ingredients for the oatmeal cookies I didn't even have oatmeal for, I started to smell her. Fuck, she always smelled so good with her cookies and flowery aroma. Why am I smelling her?

I held the teaspoon I'd just used in my hand and walked it over to the sink. I still smelled her. Why? I lifted the teaspoon to my nose and fuck! it smelled so fucking great, just like my girl. Vanilla. Who the fuck knew that's what I'd been smelling on Bella and on my sheets for so long? Normally I hated the smell of vanilla. Vanilla candles made me want to hurl, but this scent wasn't like that. It was soft, subtle and fucking delicious. Does that make Bella edible? Fuck.

I threw the teaspoon into the sink before I could let my thoughts get away with me. But, fuck if I wasn't already sporting a semi. Dammit! Fucking switch got flipped.

I returned to the counter to resume stirring my should-be-cookies-but-didn't-really-look-like-cookies dough. I picked up the mixing bowl off the counter to hold it against my chest to stir. I needed better leverage to mix everything together. Making cookies was fucking hard. The dough was tough. I wondered idly how strong Bella was. I had never really looked at her biceps before. I wondered if she could hold me down. I'd have to check that shit out when she came home. If she came home. Fuck, not again.

But, who knew biceps could be erotic? Not me. I whipped that dough in a frenzy, trying to concentrate on the task and not on Bella's body parts. But it was useless. I was useless.

I stared at my cookie dough and jabbed my finger at it. It looked like a science experiment except it was missing some really cool shade of food coloring. I swooped some dough onto my finger and ate it. Fuck, it was terrible. Absolutely terrible. What did I do wrong? I followed the shitty recipe. Sort of.

I gave up then and slid my back down the cupboard with my bowl in hand. I ate some more of that shitty dough and tried not to throw up again. Ass mouth plus nasty cookie dough plus vomit did not sound pleasing. What sounding pleasing was eating a bag of Bella's delicious cookies. Cookies she had baked for me. Cookies I hoped she would always bake for me. If she came back. She better fucking come back.

Fuck my life.

I threw that stupid bowl and it crashed into the cabinet across from me, shattering. I was fighting back tears and ready to rage. I wanted to smash some shit up. Instead, I reached blindly behind me on the countertop searching for the little bottle I left there. Once I found it, I opened it and greedily breathed it in like smelling salts. Vanilla.

I inhaled that vanilla like I would die if I didn't. I wished I could smoke that shit so it would stay in my lungs. I smeared some on my shirt so I could smell her there on my clothes. God, I miss her.

I'm not sure how long I sat there, but I knew I was exhausted to hell because Mirage Bella came back with full force. She was shortly followed by a mirage of myself as well. Fuck if I gave a damn. It was all good. She was here.

I could see her, clear as day, in her black hoodie, in my kitchen, baking for me. I didn't care if she was a figment of my imagination. I just wanted her there, so I went with it. I stood up and stood by the sink, watching her shiny curls bounce behind her as she wandered around the kitchen searching through my cupboards. "Don't you have baking soda?"

"Why would I have baking soda? I eat shitty frozen pizzas. Be happy I even have flour."

She smiled at me, and I fucking swooned when she sauntered by me and I could smell her all flowery and cookie-y and shit. So good.

She stood beside me and was silent as she worked on mixing her ingredients. I was curious as hell about her biceps so I did the only thing I could so that I could quell that curiosity. I crept up behind her and pulled that black hoodie off. I threw that fucking ugly thing clear across the kitchen. I planned to burn it, but first: bicep inspection. I let her continue working but leaned into her a bit, my hips pressing against her ass. I could see her right arm beating the ingredients together furiously. I was right; her biceps were toned as hell and fucking sexy. Her arms were so strong. What else can she do with that strong arm? I can think of a few things.

I ran my hands down her upper arms, down to her delicate wrists and finally threaded my fingers with hers, causing her to let go of her spoon and bowl. I stretched her right hand out and held it straight for my inspection. I ran my fingertips over the inside of her wrist, up to her elbow, and then all the way up to her shirt sleeve. She shivered under my touch. Fuck, yeah.

I turned her around slowly and appraised her expression. She looked much like she did the night before she left: determined, beautiful and so fucking mine.

I leaned in to kiss her but stopped mid-way to inhale the air around her. God, she smells so good. I continued my journey to her lips and pressed mine against hers. That fucking switch was on, and the horny motherfucker was in. Fuck me, was he in. I was hard now and willing my fantasy to play out before me. I wouldn't push it forward too quickly. This shit was great. I would simply enjoy it and watch on the fucking sidelines of my sanity.

I kissed her furiously, moving my tongue this way and that, getting my taste, my fill, but it wasn't enough. This wasn't enough anymore.

"Bella, let me . . ." I said, and she simply nodded her head and threw it back giving me access to her neck.

I pushed and pulled and grabbed at her skin all the while kissing her everywhere, anywhere I could reach, even over her fucking clothes. I didn't care.

She was moaning and writhing beneath my touch, and I was keyed up like you wouldn't believe. I hadn't been laid in so long. Too long. And I was all about remedying that. My girl would fucking help with that shit.

I lifted her up onto the counter, and she immediately tried to wrap her legs around me. Fuck that. I pushed her back onto the marble slab and climbed up there as well, causing some cookie-baking shit to fall to the floor. She flinched at the sound of the shit crashing, but I just smirked at her, calming her. She didn't need to worry. It was all for the good of the cause. Plus, it was just cookie-baking shit. Her cookies were fucking delicious but still . . . boo fucking hoo. We were going to get naked; nothing else mattered.

No sooner had I thought the word naked, my girl sat up beneath me and lifted her shirt from her torso without a shred of embarrassment. Funnily enough, when I lost mine she blushed all sweet and innocent and shit. I was doing a fine job at making sure that Mirage Bella was just as adorable as my girl.

I slaughtered her with kisses: deep, rough, and full of longing. I was so getting into Bella tonight. I pulled her bra cup down and latched onto her hard nipple right away. God, she even fucking tasted like cookies. Was I taking this fantasy shit too far? Fuck, yeah, I was.

While my tongue attended to her tit, my roaming hands were getting busy, working on removing her pants. I shed that shit fast, and then lost my own. I ground into her just like the night before she left, and she moaned, breathy and hot in my ear. Fuck.

I slid my hand under her underwear and what I found, wet and warm and Bella, almost made me cum in my own.

I worked her slowly with one hand, building her up and still kissing the shit out of her while playing with her tits. She was all sorts of beautiful, and fuck it all if her moans and whimpers weren't making me want to skip this foreplay bullshit and get to the part I liked best, but this was Bella and she deserved more. More from me. So I gave it to her. I'd give it to her again and again if I could. If we had all the time in the world this was all the fuck we would do because she had turned the goddamned switch, and the horny motherfucker was in the house. I was certain he was not leaving anytime soon. Hopefully she wouldn't mind.

Her moans increased in volume and, before I knew it, she was writhing against my fingers, and I was in fucking agony waiting my turn to take the plunge, literally.

I gazed into her eyes seeking her approval for us to continue. She nodded her head in response and breathed out heavily through her nose, but otherwise stayed mute. She was so fucking quiet, until she wasn't when it mattered. I loved that shit. All of it.

We removed our underclothing, and I was right fuckingthere. I closed my eyes, dropped my head to her neck, and breathed her in. I enjoyed the silence before continuing, but my peaceful state was shot to shit when reality came crashing down on me.

Emmett opened the door and was fucking whistling some shit pop-song I'm sure Rose had inflicted upon him. I was slumped on the floor in my exhausted-high-on-vanilla stupor when Emmett laid eyes on me. The girlfriend-having asshole had a bounce in his step. Fuck him. My life was shit.

"What the hell are you doing, Edward?"

"I'm making Fuck My Life Fig Newtons. What the fuck does it look like I'm doing?"

"Right, night then."

"Fuck you," I grumbled, and Emmett walked away without another word.

I fell asleep on the damned hard kitchen tile, breathing in my girl via vanilla. I couldn't wait until she came home. If she came home. She better fucking come home.

Three more days of shit.

Fuck my life.

Author's End Note: Votes are better than Fuck My Life Fig Newtons, and one vote for Cookieward will earn you a grind on a marble slab by Edward.