Hunger Games Stylists Novels & Stories

It’s simple and boring—nowhere near extraordinary! Jinda grabbed the mic back and cast a glare at the rude woman, and stated firmly, ‘I thought I made myself clear. You’re the winner, aren’t you? But it’s her styling I love. Do you expect me to wear petals on my lashes when I go shopping with my girlfriends?’ ‘But that’s what styling is!’ Annie argued. God, her voice was reaching an even higher pitch, it’s annoying. ‘Besides.’ Jinda held up a palm to stop Annie from talking. ‘This competition is really to prove that Cintilar, Rose can style, and she didn’t steal your designs. She did everything on her own, didn’t she?’

It was exactly the show that reeled in young viewers and made stars out of nobodies. As romance was my favorite genre, I joined the styling squad, quietly hopeful of being assigned for this play. To secure this position, I sketched a few styling concepts for the lead actress until break: comfortable cardigans, subtle lipsticks, and natural curls. But when I stepped onto the set and presented my ideas to the head stylist, Rebecca, she didn’t even glance at my folder. “No!” She spoke curtly. “We are following a supermodel theme for the Gen Z generation. They won’t like something so tacky.

A Dark Fantasy Romance Unholy Hunger ✦ Some loves are not forbidden by men. They are forbidden by gods. •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• Before Time Learned to Count •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × •••••• × ••••••

THIRD PERSON POV The time came faster than Hailey expected. The soft hum of music floated through the air, mixing with the clinking of glasses and the distant chatter of arriving guests. A knock sounded on her door and before she could reply it was pushed open. It was her father’s team of stylists. Twelve of them. Hailey almost groaned when they came marching in, carrying boxes, makeup kits, and racks of clothes, all expensive looking. She rolled her eyes as they set up quickly in her room, their energy buzzing like a hive of bees.

Nico whispered with a grin. We arrived at the after party. The men, unsurprisingly, had abandoned tuxedos for tailored casuals, black slacks and linen shirts rolled at the sleeves, all effortlessly undone power. But the women, oh, the women were ruthless tonight. Sequins, lace, silk, and velvet, every gown a dagger meant to slice through the competition. And yet, I knew none of them could touch me. Not when Nico had styled me to kill. From across the room, my eyes found Sterling. Casual black, head to toe, polished slacks, an open shirt with the first two buttons undone. I forced myself to look away before the storm in my chest showed on my face.

Ima was supervising the outdoor kitchen, Igho was with her. Even when we hired caterers... The stylists were going to stay overnight to fix herself and mum. The men were busy slaughtering and butchering meat. "Madam which style would you like?" The stylist asked as soon as I sat down. I asked for a long human hair weave on, at least I could straighten or curl it into any bridal style of my choice.

Instead we began to tackle the zips with a vengeance and slowly, bit by bit, they gave in to our superior might. “Ha! Take that sucker!” Violet shouted. “Now for Cal’s and my outfits.” Suddenly I was extremely grateful for my toga, slipping it on with ease and putting on the golden manacles and torc which were part of the outfit. Even Violet’s hooped and corseted velvet dress and killer white wig, which stood five inches high and streamed down her back like a river, were easier to put on than the hamburger. Kayla refused to wear any makeup with her outfit, saying that she wanted to display the ugly truth of fast food – although there was nothing ugly about her so it sort of defeated the poin

Stella lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug, the colour on her cheeks deepening. She glanced at Keyleth, the same time I noticed she had an eyebrow raised, and then, directed her attention back to me. “Well, it's likely the dress. I traded my usual style for—” “Valeras. And I did the styling.” Keyleth added, her shoulders lifting in pride and a lopsided smile on her face. She stared at Stella with what looked like admiration, before turning and giving me a pointed look.

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

POV: Neoma Silk and velvet shouldn't feel this heavy. In the Dregs, weight meant safety. Leather armor. Steel-toed boots. The comforting drag of a knife on a belt—those things kept you alive. This dress felt like a knife wrapped in cotton. Soft. Beautiful. And designed to leave me utterly exposed. "Stand still," the lead stylist snapped. Her mouth full of pins. I stood on a podium in the preparation room. A space of mirrors and blinding lights that smelled of acetone and crushed lilacs. Three attendants fluttered around me like nervous moths.