Havoc Girl Quotes

he’s that guy: the lawless, solitary, hurricane-hearted one who wreaks havoc, blowing through towns, through girls, through his own tragic misunderstood life.

Nobody listens when bad girls cry.

Men have selfish motivation, want, and desire tainting their vision; little girls have dreams, ambition, and honesty turning theirs crystal clear

They knew, none better, the havoc caused by a good-looking young man to the hearts of adolescent girls.

Aren’t pretty girls supposed to be scared of monsters?

The force that played havoc with the cortisol in my blood was the same force that helped my body recover; if I felt better one day and worse the next, it was unchanged. It chose no side. It gave the girl next to me in the hospital pneumonia; it also gave her white blood cells that would resist the infection. And the atoms in those cells, and the nuclei in those atoms, the same bits of carbon that were being spun into new planets in some corner of space without a name. My insignificance had become unspeakably beautiful to me. That unified force was a god too massive, too inhuman, to resist with the atheism in which I had been brought up. I became a zealot without a religion.

There are times when girls are inspired, when they want the risks to go on and on. They want to be heroines, regardless. They want to take a joke beyond where anybody has ever taken it before. To be careless, dauntless, to create havoc--that was the lost hope of girls.

You’re with a girl. She’s brown-haired and side-swept. I imagine that she’s the kind of girl who can easily shop for jean shorts, and speaks kindly more often than not. She seems like the kind of girl who hates New York City because it wreaks havoc on her shoes (really she just thinks it’s a big and scary place), but once had the time of her life in Spain on a backpacking trip when she was 23. Her gaze is focused on the embracing couple as near strangers capable of judgement. She stands bolted next to you like you’re her anchor in the social storm. You two seem finely matched… but what do I know? (Nothing at all.) I accidentally saw a picture of you and it reminded me that I was dating a man rightfully shaking his fist at God, while trying to hold my hand with the other. I was reminded of how fiercely we tried to hold our relationship together, and how devastated and relieved we were in its destruction. There’s water under that bridge. I accidentally saw a picture of you. No big deal. I wrote about it.

Ezmia, on behalf of everyone in this room, I apologize for what the world put you through, and I forgive you for all the havoc you caused trying to heal,” Alex said. “I’m sorry your family was killed when you were a little girl. I’m sorry no one was there to comfort you when you had your heart broken over and over again. I’m sorry the fairies never showed you the kindness they showed everyone else. And I’m sorry you felt revenge was the only way you could piece yourself together again.

He’s full of shit and we both know it. If he thinks I’m the same scared girl who’s going to cower in the corner, he has another thing coming.

You wanna do this?” he asks, though his hands are gripping for my tank. “Speak now or forever hold your fucking peace, Little Bird.” I do what any girl would do with Kingston Axton half naked on top of them, wanting to eat you alive. I hold my fucking peace.

American boys have a lot in common with their counterparts in England and Australia. In all three countries, boys are on the wrong side of an education gender gap. But there is one major difference: it is inconceivable that reports on the US boy gap would emanate from the US Congress. A Success for Boys campaign would create havoc in the United States. The women’s lobby would rise in fury. The ACLU would find someone to sue. Legislators would face an avalanche of angry faxes, emails, petitions, and phone calls for taking part in a “backlash” against girls.

Hey...you okay?" I recognized the voice-how had my dreams known his voice?-but when he crouched down next to me, I skittered away. "Don't touch me!" I snapped. He held up his hands to show he was harmless. "Okay, okay," he said with a smirk. "You were the one chasing me." I glared at him. It was an impressive show of restraint on my part, when the truth was that having him physically in front of me was wreaking havoc on my body and my brain. My heart was pounding fast, and my mind played a loop of every moment we'd shared in my dreams. I forced myself to remember he was a stranger. Quite possibly a dangerous stranger. I needed answers from him, but I also needed to stay strong. "I'm sorry," he said. "I thought you were hurt." "I am hurt. I twisted my ankle." "Maybe you shouldn't be chasing strange men through the woods, then." "Maybe you shouldn't pretend you don't know who I am." His eyes widened in shock for a moment. "You reme-" Then he twitched his head briefly to the side, as if flicking away an unwanted thought, and his face relaxed. Only the clenched muscle in his jaw gave away any tension. "You must be mistaken. I don't think we've ever met." "Really? You look at most girls like you were caught with your hand in their purse?" "I don't know what you're talking-" "And then you ran away. Full speed, even though you knew I was trying to catch up with you. That's not normal. That's not how you act with a stranger." The man pursed his lips and pressed his right fist to his temple, a gesture I'd seen him make so many times I almost lost my grip. Somehow I managed to stay steely eyed. He lowered his fist and smiled, though the smile didn't reach his eyes. "I reacted poorly," he said stiffly. "I don't have a good answer for why, other than I like to keep to myself. I only came back because you were hurt, and it seemed irresponsible to leave a girl all alone in the middle of nowhere. But if you'd rather I left..." "No. "Fine. Let's take a look at your ankle.

the girls rush

He looks up, and his lips tilt into a genuine smile. He only gives them to four people: the girls, including Heather … and me. His affection hasn’t escaped my notice. Actually, I find myself leaning into it the way a flower tilts toward the sun. Even a voodoo lily needs light.

I think about Scarlett Force then, that race car driver from a few years back, the one with the three boyfriends. She was caught once, having an orgy in the girls’ locker room with them.

Like everything else with Havoc, we create our own traditions. Skeleton faces and wolf howls and a girl that’s too wild for one boy to possess on his own.

Until the world stops favoring the wealthy and corrupt, until there are opportunities for girls like Stacey Langford, you have to accept that they’ll do whatever it takes to survive. They shouldn’t have to sell their bodies, but the world you’ve created gives them few choices. But go ahead, mansplain to me what a revolution looks like. I’ll wait.

Now, however, things were really in a fine mess; both old lovers were married, and not to one another. The confusion, the anger, the tears the situation would produce made Doosie wonder if the whole business—romance—could possibly be worth it. She herself had long since reached negative conclusions on the matter of the worth of romance, but the only person she could find who shared her view was Calamity. They had discussed the subject several times and agreed that no pleasure men brought was worth the havoc they wreaked through selfish and contrary behavior.

I want to stay with the Havoc boys; I want to be a Havoc Girl. I always have, since I was eight years old. They might not’ve called themselves Havoc back then, but they were still my boys.

There will never be enough for me, a moment where I’m satisfied and ready to move on. Once you’ve found your girl, you just fucking know.

Bernadette asked how many girls I’ve been with. I have no idea. I didn’t count. I don’t care. There is only one girl in this world that I need, and it’s always been her.

Can’t take credit,” I say with a shrug of one shoulder. “One of Stacey’s girl’s aunts did it for me. Also, we draw heavily on black culture here in Prescott, so I kind of need to acknowledge that, too.

Wakey wakey, Vex. Aren’t you going to answer? It’s your mother, and this is the fourth time she’s called. Would you like me to tell her you’re indisposed?” Hold on a second. It didn’t take long for her bleary mind to grasp Leo was here. In her room. About to talk to her mother at— she squinted at her clock— seven in the morning. Eep. Her eyes shot open, but before she could flail an arm in his direction and demand the phone, he answered. “Meena’s phone. Can I help you?” She moaned, her super hearing meaning she heard her mother’s very polite, “Excuse me, but who are you, and why are you answering my daughter’s phone?” If this were Meena, she’d say something like “I’m a serial killer, and sorry, but your daughter is all tied up right now. Muahahaha.” Of course, the last time she did that, the SWAT team wasn’t impressed, and she wasn’t allowed to hang out with Mary Sue anymore. Trust her Pookie to stick to the truth. “I’m Leo.” “Hello, Leo. How are you today?” Her mother ever Miss Manners. “I am just purrrr-fect. Yourself?” “Um. Er. Would you mind passing the phone to Meena, please?” “I would, but she’s kind of… indisposed.” Did he just smirk at her as he said it? She frowned. He grinned. It was a sexy grin, a mischievous grin, but that still didn’t prepare her for him saying, “How about I get her to call you back once we’ve located her clothes? With my help, I’m sure I can get her dressed in no time. Or not.” How low and husky he said it, his eyes boring into hers, wicked promise within them. Of course, that wicked promise would have to wait, given what he’d just said to her mother! “Are you insane?” she mouthed. “If I’m insane, then it’s totally your fault,” he replied, aloud. Uh-oh. “Peter! I need you now!” Her mother forgot her manners and yelled for Meena’s dad. Not good. So not good. Poor Leo. And she liked him so much. Even if it was only going to be a verbal barrage, she still yanked the covers over her head so she wouldn’t have to witness the carnage as her daddy came on the line. Unfortunately, she could still hear it. “Who the fuck is this, and what are you doing with my daughter?” Daddy didn’t bother with niceties. “Hello, sir, I’m Leo, the omega for the pride harboring your daughter while her spot of trouble blows over. As to what I’m doing with your daughter, I am trying to keep her out of trouble, but not succeeding very well so far. She has a knack it seems for causing disasters.” Familiar laughter boomed. “That’s my baby girl.” At least her father didn’t see the havoc that followed her as a problem. Mother wailed she’d never get married if she didn’t start to act like a proper lady. “As to my presence with your daughter, just keeping an eye on her. We’ve run into a issue with an old beau following her here.” “That Russian prick showed up?” “Indeed. And events have escalated where I fear there is only one thing to do. It’s drastic, but inevitable. ” The click of the door cut off the rest of that conversation. What the hell? She poked her head out, only to note her bedroom was empty. While Meena hid under the covers, Leo had wandered away. Still talking to my father. That couldn’t bode well.

He wreaked havoc, but his path of destruction was invisible. The girls and I were the casualties of an amnesiac.

Wreak Havoc- Skylar Grey A Little Party Never Killed Nobody- Fergie Gangsta- Kehlani You Don’t Own Me- Grace Bonnie and Clyde- Kellie Pickler Kill of the Night- Gin Wigmore I Feel a Sin Comin’ On- Pistol Annies Raise Hell- Dorothy Renegade Runaway- Carrie Underwood Black Widow- Iggy Azalea Hard Out Here- Lily Allen Fix- Chris Lane Make Me Wanna Die- Pretty Reckless Natalie- Bruno Mars Grenade- Bruno Mars Criminal- Fiona Apple Hunter- Ella Fence Gunpowder & Lead- Miranda Lambert Addicted to Love- Florence & The Machine Titanium- David Guetta & Sia Talking Body- Tove Lo Tornado- Little Big Town Fastest Girl in Town- Miranda Lambert Just Tonight- The Pretty Reckless Ready Set Roll- Chase Rice Till I Collapse- Eminem Remember the Name- Fort Minor Kill!Kill!Kill!- The Pierces Hard- Rihanna Cherry Bomb- The Runaways Bad Romance- Lady Gaga Gasoline & Matches- Julie Roberts Loca- Shakira My Medicine- The Pretty Reckless Fake It- Seether Psycho- Puddle of Mud All or Nothing- Theory of a Deadman Next to You- Buckcherry Better Dig Two- The Band Perry

We all have wounds, we can either open them up to the light of day so they can heal or we can keep them buried, where they will fester and one day wreak havoc on us.

We all have wounds & we can either open them up to the light of day so they can heal or we can keep them buried where they will fester & one day wreak havoc on us. (page 244)

I came in here planning to wreak havoc, yet I’m sitting on his lap like some kind of fucking good girl. Yet there’s something comfortable in it that I don’t understand.

At some point, I’m marrying that girl—whether it’s legal or not. Shit, if this country ever gets its head out of its Puritan-rooted ass and puts polyamory on the ballot, I’ll vote that shit in and take Mrs. Harbin down the aisle.

In the same breath, she looks like a little girl who’s just been told that Santa doesn’t exist and God isn’t real and the tooth fairy is really just a demon with too-sharp teeth.

The girls attend Oak River Elementary; the boys and I build an empire; our love blossoms and amplifies and turns the entire world into a dream that I never, ever want to wake up from.

You can raise three little girls even when you’re just barely past the little girl stage yourself. You can fall in love with five beautifully broken boys. You can wreak havoc and make chaos, chase mayhem and incite anarchy, and in the end, you can find your own sort of victory.

Having a miscarriage in the middle of the gang war is … impossible. Nantucket, Bernadette. You could’ve had Nantucket. Hah. But really, you can take the girl out of Prescott, but you can’t take the thirsty ho out of the girl.

Like I told Stacey’s second, that girl Vera, I handle all this dick with a wet pussy and a smile.

QUEEN OF THE FREAKS” by AViVA is playing on my new phone, left on the coffee table and turned up as loud as it can go. It makes me smile at Police Girl as she looks between Vic and me. This is my motherfucking personal anthem.

Once upon a time, there was a girl who dreamed in prose and pretty phrases. She quickly learned that life is at its best unfair and at its worst perversely cruel. Her dreams became nightmares, nightmares made of monsters new and old. And so she summoned them, her five dark horsemen, to wreak havoc and sow chaos, to twist mayhem and denote anarchy, to declare victory over every wicked, ugly thing she’d ever seen. They came to her, those horsemen, and in return for their vile vengeance, they took her heart and held it in their inked hands. They claimed her flesh with carnal delight, but it was her soul that they craved most of all. And to them, she gave it freely and without restraint.

You,” Aaron says, looking me dead in the face. The shadows make his green-gold eyes hard to make out, but that’s okay. Just as I’ve memorized Vic’s gaze, his smell, his taste, his feel, I’ve memorized Aaron’s. I’m going to carry little parts of their dark souls inside of my own. “Not the girls, not my friends … just you, Bernadette.” He leans in toward me, capturing my chin in gentle fingers. “You’re my endgame.

Aaron slides into me with the hot, hard length of his shaft, completing this macabre and carnal ritual, officially anointing this den of sin with the seal of Havoc Girl. It’s a point of pride for me to ride the last man in my harem, working my body against his as our moans mingle together, and I become acutely aware of four other sets of eyes watching us both.

Don't you love how men can openly fantasize about fucking a bunch of girls, or having a threesome, or enjoying a harem of their own? The second that shit gets reversed, it's all disgust and she's a ho, she's a slut, she's loose. What a bunch of crap.

You hesitated to kill Kali because there’s still a shred of innocence in you. You are living proof that the world can try its hardest to crush a person’s soul and still fail. You are second chances and beautiful beginnings, Bernadette. You hesitated because you wanted to make sure you gave that girl every chance in the world. If you have to believe a lie, believing that other people are inherently good is one you might as well stick with.

Tonight has shown me that maybe I'm not the girl who wants to run away from the monster, but maybe the one who secretly wants to be found by him.

I don't know if I'll ever be able to go back to the girl I was before stepping foot inside that fucking carnival. He's ruined me. Broken me so that nothing normal will ever feel right again. Tiny fragments of me are scattered across that place, just like the shards of glass that cover the floor of the fun house.

Little girl small and fine/What should I write for you here/I could think of many things/Including also a kiss/Upon your little mouth.

I’m just relieved as fuck that it isn’t actually mine. Nah, the only girl I want to have a baby with is Bernadette. I figure she’ll have to have one for each of us, so we’ll have like, five kids. Five kids, five dads, one mom. Most of the guys on our crew don’t understand this arrangement. They’d rather they were the one with five women on the side. The thing is, when you find the right woman, you know it. And when that woman is the same person your brothers love, it all falls together. Family.

Everyone—even rich Oak Valley Prep girls—know that Prescott boys are the best fucks. Shit, they look even thirstier than I am, and I am one thirsty fucking bitch.

This Prescott bitch needs to get her fucking nails done. Like, Jesus, for a Prescott girl to have nails like I do now is considered a cardinal motherfucking sin.

We’ve never shared any girl,” Aaron adds, and I feel my focus on Vic snap. Wow. Blinking, I try to clear my head and focus on them both at the same time. They pull me in opposite directions; I’ll have to be strong enough to pull them toward me instead. “Not once.” My body flushes with heat, but I turn quickly back toward the backyard, finishing my cigarette. I’ve never heard anything more romantic in my entire life. My Havoc Boys. Mine.

Everyone needs a goal in life, don’t they? A dream? As ours were stripped from us, one by one, I think we all took this sweet, little girl who needed us and turned her into an obsession.

maybe I’m not the girl who wants to run away from the monster, but maybe the one who secretly wants to be found by him.

Often when painful situations occur, we bury them down in our subconscious believing that if we do not think about them they will not harm us. For us, it often feels less painful if we don't have to think or talk about it. This is the absolute wrong way to manage pain because if we don't deal with our hurts they resurface in our relationships and wreak havoc causing us to harm the people who are closest to us. It may sound crazy but the saying is true that we hurt the ones who love us the most.

My girl. My world. My joy and my pain. The air I fucking breathe. Mine.” Staring into her beautiful

Don’t worry about cop girl,” Callum tells me, his voice like a bell in a quiet, country church, one that’s covered in cobwebs and hasn’t been used in years but which calls all the lost souls to its shuttered doors.

You’re so fucking gorgeous right now. Keep coming for me like a good girl.

That’s my good girl,

Token friendships between poor girls. Both of us wanting so desperately for more, our screams drowned out by the wicked silence of the world. Nobody listens when bad girls cry.

...I’d take that sort of death [though], death by drowning in a little girl’s affections. They have no ulterior motives, little kids. That’s what makes them so much better than adults.

Diana Fox, a striking young beauty of only twenty-two. She had gotten into trouble when she was a teenager, when another student at her high school had been arrested for plotting a shooting at the school. He had been infatuated with her, and all of his social media ramblings indicated that she was part of the plan, but she had denied it. Unfortunately, she had once engaged him on instant messenger when he was ranting about how the privileged students were causing so much havoc for everyone else, and she thought he was only joking when he talked about killing them all. She had gone along with it during the chat, thinking it was only some sort of cathartic role-play, but that series of messages was enough to convict her of being a co-conspirator. Because of the severity of the threat, the sixteen-year-old girl was tried as an adult and sentenced to twenty-five years to life in prison.

I learned to hold my compassion for Daddy and my wounds from him in the same heart. I learned that I was seeking approval and love in every man I met, and I slowly began to teach myself a better way. I learned that we all have wounds, and we can either open them up to the light of day so they can heal or we can keep them buried, where they will fester and one day wreak havoc on us.

If you don't know what a VSCO girl is, Google it. Maybe you'll be as disturbed as I am,

Let me get it,” he says, standing much too close for my comfort. It’s downright suffocating. “Not a chance, darlin’,” I drawl, giving him a dose of his own medicine. I hand the youngish sales lady my tags and bury my gaze inside my purse in search of my wallet. When I look up, I find a loopy smile on her face and it’s directed at him. The happy bastard smiles right back. “Are you two done? Can I pay for these, or would you like to go on a date before you ring me up?” They both turn to stare. She’s cherry red and pushing all the wrong buttons on the register while Dane’s busy scowling at me. I hand her my credit card without taking my eyes off of him. “Did I do something to you, Stella?” The thing is, I’m not mad at him. I’m mad at myself. I cannot believe that I allowed myself to fall under his spell. I don’t blame the sales girl either. She never stood a chance under the magnetic force that is Dane Wylder. I fell for it and I’ve been vaccinated against this particular virulent disease. I have Paul Donovan to thank for that. Turning back to the sales person, I take the receipt she hands me. “I’m sorry,” I murmur. “Hormones––they’re wreaking havoc.” “Oh, I get the same way when I get my period,” she replies in the sweetest drawl. “Thanks for your help,” I tell her in an apologetic tone. With that I walk away from the counter, and the two of them. A second later a big hand grabs a hold of my upper arm. I stop and turn, my expression not a happy one. “You didn’t answer me?” “No, Dane. You did nothing. Like I said, it’s the hormones.” He looks pensive, his sexy lips pursed as he’s mulling this over. “We should get you some ice cream.” I don’t know whether to laugh, or cry. He genuinely thinks ice cream is the solution to our problem? Then again he doesn’t have a problem. I’m the one with the urge. I’m the one with the craving. Unless ice cream comes in a flavor called Sweaty Sex With Dane, I don’t want it…and about as smart as jumping out of a plane with no parachute. The ride will be fast and thrilling and most certainly prove painful when I hit bottom. “What does ice cream have to do with it?” “Maybe it’ll make you nicer. You know, take the edge off.” My eyes automatically narrow. “Maybe we need to give each other space.” “No,” he huffs, arms crossed in front of his broad chest, his shirt straining against the swell of his pecs, expression locked in the determined position. “No?” “No. No space. I see what you’re doing here. This is some kinda female mental jujitsu. You say you want space, but you don’t really want it.” I’m seconds from punching him in the nut sac, which is almost directly in my line of sight. There is something to be said about being short. Or for him being grotesquely tall. “I…I’m going to…I can’t.” I flee to the cosmetics department in search of the Holy Grail, a flat iron, before I do or say something I’ll regret. And find one. Thank the Lord. This goes a small way to propping up my mood. I’m almost tempted to purchase two.

Saddle horses lined the hitching-rails as far as Brite could see. Canvas-covered wagons, chuck-wagons, buckboards, vehicles of all Western types, stood outside the saddle horses. And up one side and down the other a procession ambled in the dust. On the wide sidewalk a throng of booted, belted, spurred men wended their way up or down. The saloons roared. Black-sombreroed, pale-faced, tight-lipped men stood beside the wide portals of the gaming-dens. Beautiful wrecks of womanhood, girls with havoc in their faces and the look of birds of prey in their eyes, waited in bare-armed splendor to be accosted. Laughter without mirth ran down the walk. The stores were full. Cowboys in twos and threes and sixes trooped by, young, lithe, keen of eye, bold of aspect, gay and reckless. Hundreds of cowboys passed Brite in that long block from the hotel to the intersecting street. And every boy gave him a pang. These were the toll of the trail and of Dodge. It might have been the march of empire, the tragedy of progress, but it was heinous to Brite. He would never send another boy to his death.

The girl was a child of the Isle of the Lost. You know the one. Just off the coast of the United States of Auradon. The isle was home to every evil villain and sidekick who had ever plotted, cursed, cheated, plundered, or wreaked havoc. The girl was seven, and although she had been marooned there when she was a baby, she always knew she was destined for greater things.

I don't know if I'll ever be able to go back to the girl I was before stepping foot inside that fucking carnival. He's ruined me. Broken me so that nothing normal will ever feel right again. Tiny fragments of me are scattered across that place, just like the shards of glass that cover the floor of the fun house.

Tonight has shown me that maybe I'm not the girl who wants to run away from the monster, but maybe the one who secretly wants to be found by him.

You’re such a little freak, Blair. How does this feel, being my own personal cum slut? Letting me use your body any way I fucking want.” I thrust once more, deep, knowing that’s all she needs to shatter apart. “Come for me, princess. Show me how good you feel.” She lets out a low whine as she comes, and I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than how she looks right now. Breaking apart, hair sticking to her body as she sweats, green eyes ablaze. “Breathe through it, princess. You got it. You’re so fucking gorgeous right now. Keep coming for me like a good girl.

There’s a good girl,” he murmurs darkly. “Let me feel how fucking messy this little cunt can get for me.