A collection of first's with Mary Jane Watson. First Fanfic. Woo-hoo.


The first time she ever felt the sting of a slap by her father was on her eighth birthday. All she wanted was to go to the zoo, maybe even the park. She was bothering her father all day about their plans and perhaps that's what pushed him over his breaking point. But regardless, she was standing in the kitchen behind him, green eyes watching up at him.

"Please, daddy can we do something? It's my birth-"

The words never completely came out. It was a flash, he spun so quickly with his hand ready, she should have seen it coming. She was so little as a child, she flew to the ground with ease at the backhand. Pain was new to her thing, her hands flying to her face as she curled up in a ball and began to sob.

Her father kneels to the ground, hands running over her red hair to try and soothe her. "I'm sorry, Mary Jane." He chanted it over and over, promising that he would never commit the sin again. She believed him, this time. After all, it was only a slap... the first out of many.


Heartbreak is usually associated with boys. She had her fair share of minute flings through high school, but she'd never fallen in love. She never let herself get close to anyone. Anyone, that is, except Gwen Stacy. The two were best friends, and MJ confided all of her secrets into the blonde, including her home life.

Gwen would usually attempt to bring her father into it, promising he could save MJ. She refused, although she felt like she hated her parents, she didn't, and she couldn't put them behind bars. The Stacy family was a second home to her, a safe haven when things got too rough... until that night.

There was no warning, no odd feeling in her gut at all. She was busied upstairs in her room dabbing make up onto her fresh bruise, the television on behind her as white noise. The phone rang, it was Gwen's mother. She should have seen that as a sign, that her mother would be calling her at nearly two AM. She answered any, chipper as ever.

"Mary Jane...is there any way you can come to the hospital?"

She ran through New York as quickly as she could despite her fear of it's streets. Her lungs were on fire, her chest in pain from heaving so heavily. She hated herself for stopping, but she had to empty her stomach of it's contents. Weak after, she hailed a taxi to help her the rest of the way.

Watching a casket lower into the Earth hurt, even worse than the tight hold that Simon, Gwen's brother, had on her hand. Holding in tears hurt her throat, flipped her stomach. The worst pain, was going on without Gwen. Once more she was alone in a world where she had no one. No one to understand her, no one to share her secrets with.

Her first heartbreak fucking hurt...and it was only the first of many.


MJ finds it easy to get lost inside Harry's eyes, she doesn't mind the way his hands always find their place on her body. She doesn't care what the tabloids say about him, she thinks he is perfect. She loves when he brushes the hair out of her face, and the way the two can go out and his eyes remain on her the entire time.

She loves him. She loves him so fucking much.

Their first kiss isn't something spectacular, but she holds it close to her heart anyway. She feels foreign in her red dress and heels, even more so with so much hairspray in her hair.

"Do I look okay?" She hates to sound so insecure.

"You look perfect." He makes her heart skip a beat.

She's nervous as she stares in the mirror. Her first play. She knows all the lines, but she's scared to death she will somehow lose her memory when she steps on to the stage. She's starting to panic, breathing heavier and heart pounding.

But he stops that panic attack before it hits, because he kisses her. And it feels so good, and she feels so alive, like she can conquer the world now. It feels good to be kissed, she thinks, his kisses feel good. And that was just the first of many.


She hates spending the night with Harry.

His help eyes her, they know what goes on when they vanish behind the steel doors of the elevator. He sometimes doesn't even bother to wait until the doors as closed to attack her again. Harry has a way of kissing her in just the right places and holding her close enough that she can feel his breath on her skin no matter which way he turns. She hates it but she loves it.

By the time they get to his room, clothes are already scattered in the hallway and she's giggling, she's high off his touches and kisses and she wants to stay in this moment forever. She loves that he can scoop her up off her feet, be it bridal style or picking her up and letting her long legs wrap around his waist.

As good as everything feels, she can't help but fall nervous underneath him as he kisses various places on her skin. They've been here before, they usually stop before it gets too heated though. But tonight, they aren't stopping. And she doesn't want him to because, damn it, she's Mary Jane Watson and she's tired of being a virgin.

Once she was proud of being twenty and never having sex. She knew how to use her body to get what she wanted, sure. She was a flirt and knew how to bat her eyelashes and what tight dresses to wear but none of it changed the fact she was completely innocent. She was a tease, actually, but she was a damn proud one.

It was silly of her to expect the worst pain she'd ever felt in her life. The pain was still there, sure, but it was more a sore and uncomfortable pain than a sharp one. Some girls in school compared this to being shot. She wanted to roll her eyes. As minutes go by, she's suddenly starting to enjoy herself.

He moves and it triggers a moan, he kisses her lips and her back arches beneath him. Sex is nothing she ever needed to be scared of, sex is actually pretty great. Maybe spending the night with Harry isn't so bad after all. It's just a little different this way. But it's the first out of many nights like this.


The next morning, she makes her way into Harry's bathroom to find a brush and possibly a spare toothbrush. She stares at herself in the mirror for a long moment before finally roaming through the drawers by the sink. Opening the cabinet, an unlabeled pill bottle falls to the ground and rolls.

She stares at the bottle as she picks it up, ready to place it back in it's home before her eyes raise to the cabinet it fell from. It's only the first of many.