Hunger Games Stylists Novels & Stories

The before and after photos would be pretty spectacular. “What style-off?” Darius asked, turning a furious glance at Carter. “No one said anything about a style-off. What the fuck even is a style-off?” It seemed that both Darius and Frankie were equally matched in the poor style department. Frankie might be wearing an old ratty t-shirt and jeans that looked like they were older than Mia, but Darius wasn’t much better in his worn sweatpants and hoodie. “It’s the angle we’re going for with the series,” Carter said, not at all put off by Darius’ death stare. “Liam and Mia are going to compete to see who the best stylist is.”

She’s in her thirties and is wearing a jarring and bright contrast of a suit jacket, a skirt and a turban, plus a boa-sized layering of shawls and scarves. At least 20 minutes is spent filling out the personal information sheet. Because Kate is terrified out of her wits, she goes on auto-pilot. Her brain takes over and she has an almost out-of-body experience where she watches her own self going through the motions. The head examiner says “… yadda, yadda, yadda cream of the crop yadda, yadda, yadda…” and freely associating, Kate’s hyperactive imagination takes all of them to the Reaping. The head examiner – because of her eclectic fashion sense – turns into Effie. “Happy Hunger Games! And ma

"If you're healthy enough for the springs, you're healthy enough for the Alpha’s Banquet tonight." He led her into the building. It was a hive of Omegas and stylists, the air thick with the smell of musk-oils, pressed flowers, and sharp grooming chemicals. Avery stifled a sneeze, her nose twitching. "Make her look like a Montgomery Luna," Hudson directed as a lead stylist approached. "And mask the marks on her neck." "She is exquisite, Alpha," the stylist whispered, her eyes roaming over Avery’s porcelain skin. "A natural canvas. This will be an honor."

“Just to see what feels right.” Caden tenses beside me. “She already knows what feels right.” Mum gives him a look, but says nothing. The stylist brings over a red satin number. It’s fitted. Deep plunge neckline. High slit. I raise my eyebrows. “We’re starting spicy, huh?” Mum waves me into the dressing room. “Just try it.” Caden groans as I vanish behind the curtain. “This is a trap.” ⸻ I step out, feeling very exposed.

I have always dreamt that when I finally become a stylist that I should style you someday, five years back, I love the way you dress them, I am happy to style you today" I said. " Thanks" I said. The stylist and her team began to style my hair, the costumier arrived with several gowns sewn in traditional fabrics but in mordern gown styles with head gear. After the dressing, I stood up and stare at myself in the T.V and I almost not recognize myself . I smile to myself. I stare into the mirror and smile happily and my mood change again , I remembered someone, Adeoye, I began to pray not to set my eyes on him because I know I can't resist his child and the guilt of this kids being his will hun

Emily wanted her to look nothing short of stunning, and for that, she had enlisted the help of Cassandra Clare, the most famous stylist in the world. Cassandra Clare was renowned for her exquisite taste and unmatched talent in transforming individuals into breathtaking works of art. Her presence brought a sense of euphoria to any room she entered, as she always seemed to be in her best moods while working her magic. As Cassandra set to work, Gabriella was taken aback by the attention and care the stylist poured into every detail. The room seemed to come alive with creative energy as Cassandra orchestrated the process with finesse and precision. Time seemed to stand still as Gabriella was ado

“Wow, you’re really testing my patience. You’re a monster, Kenzo. You’re threatening the lives of orphans over hair color?” “I’m simply making sure my asset meets the standards I’ve set. Sit down. Now.” Lyra felt her chest tighten with hatred, almost suffocating her. She walked back to the dressing chair, her legs heavy as if dragging metal weights. She dropped into the seat and shut her eyes tightly so she wouldn’t have to witness the destruction of herself. The work began with terrifying precision and complete silence. The sharp smell of chemicals from the hair dye invaded her senses. She felt her hair pulled, cut, and coated with a cold liquid that felt like poison on her scalp. The styli

The skyline bleeding into the lake in the distance. Simple. Elegant. Intentional. Just how I wanted it. Another ping. Tomi’s update. The team was in position. Tabs were being kept. Movements logged. Patterns forming. I locked my phone and leaned back. Everything was going accordingly, just how I liked it. Except the stylist was still talking, something about draping and silhouettes and how “this shade of ivory would soften anybody’s aura.” I didn’t even look at her. “That’s enough.”

The staff hesitated, "Well, but it's for a lesser-known video gaming player. The project isn't as prestigious as this one. Miss Hudson, you are KM Group's cooperative stylist, so we will do our best to provide you with the best resources." I glanced at Alyssa to find her doing me but I remained calm,I knew that she was probably thinking that only a fool would willingly diminish their own standing by taking the initiative to style a video game enthusiast's appearance. “Then I will change to that side," I said and smirked at her dumbfounded expression. Was she expecting me to beg her? As I walked away,I turned back to her. "Miss Miguel, your face is losing collagen. You should've prepared bett