white lacquer

Supernatural Imagine: Definition Of Brother

Request: Can I request an imagine where the reader is the Winchesters little sister and she’s 16 and she brings a boy home for them to meet and Sam likes him but Dean doesn’t?

Anxiety curled deeply within your chest, furling out with long tendrils of anxiousness of the unknown yet predicted. 

“Why?” You may ask. Well..

You were with a boy. 

You were with a boy who was coming over to yours.

You were with a boy who was coming over to yours whilst your older brothers were there.

Understand now?

You briefly wondered whether you’d been possessed whilst casually mentioning meeting the family of two to Michael, the boy who had caught your eye with soft dimples, a gentle smile and an observant gaze. 

Yet, the lightening of his eyes and the joy that wrinkled the corners of them stole away any hope of you brushing off the question and revoking the invite. 

So, as you stood before the white, lacquered door, hands damp with perspiration, fingers twitching, you couldn’t help but visual a crudely dug grave in the garden, sloppy wooden cross marking the death of a boy stupid enough to mess with the Winchester’s younger sister.

“Ready?” Michael’s voice was tender and forbearing with the distressed disposition you presented, somehow soothing the uncertainty.

You could do this.

Closing your palm heavily onto the brass sphere of the door handle, you twisted it to the right, allowing it to swing open before stepping inside, fingers of your left hand brushing unconsciously against Michael’s plaid sleeve. 

“No, I didn’t miss you Jerk and yes, I got homework, Bitch!” You shouted affectionately into the large expanse of the downstairs, slowly edging towards the entrance, catching the gaze of Michael with a mischievous twinkle.

Watch your language, kiddo! How many more times have I got to tell you?” Sam’s soft yet exasperated tone echoed, drifting in the direction of the kitchen, evidence of his and Dean’s untouchable appetites.

Princess, you’re lucky I don’t condone sororicide or it’d happened ages ago!” Dean’s voice was light and teasing, open to rebuttal of the joking kind. 

But the volume of his speech indicated he was closer than Sam, which caused your heart to double its’ beats per minute, knowing you’d much rather introduce Michael to the youngest brother first, then hide behind him to deflect Dean’s guaranteed hostility.

Gesturing your head to the left, you motioned for the boy with you to follow, sudden surprise catching your breath as he hooked his toned arm around your neck, an obvious display of your relationship.

Belatedly realising you hadn’t responded to Dean’s retort with your own witty remark, the clatter from the kitchen and noise from the television immediately ceased, tension and dubiousness replacing the sounds.

Kid? Talk to me.” The unmistakable sound of a metallic snick echoed dangerously in the quiet downstairs, signifying the safety of a Colt M1911A1 being switched off. The sound was enough to jolt you from the shock of contact with Michael, and realise what that sound actually meant.

“Guys, I’ve got someone I want you to meet.” 

A muted creak from a wooden floorboard located in the doorway of the kitchen gave you awareness of Sam’s attempt to subtly draw attention his way.

Did you meet them in a funky town?” The youngest brother ventured, sneakily slipping the code word in that you’d all agreed to mention when in trouble.

“Nah. Pretty boring town if I’m honest.”

“I grew up in this pretty boring town, thank you very much darling.” Michael’s mocking rung loud as he dug an elbow into your ribs with jest, causing you to not only cringe from the dull pain but also from the pet-name, knowing it wouldn’t settle well with either brother.

All it took was a second for your two siblings to recognise the voice as male, before they were in the room, a few feet from you, chests suddenly wider, height suddenly more imposing and intimidating.

The quiet, heavy swallow from Michael, made in fear, couldn’t manage to even lift your lips in humour.

Dean’s gaze was dark and burning, following the curve of the arm around your neck until it landed on the boy it belonged to, the emerald deepening greatly at the lack of space between your bodies. However, Sam’s eyes held something you couldn’t decipher- they were swirling and warm, the espresso colour holding too many contrasting emotions to make sense.

“Didn’t realise you had a home project to work on from school, kiddo. This your study partner?” The cynical and sombre tone of your oldest brother was practically daring you to try and suggest that anything other than work was going on. Judging by the heavily muscled arms that crossed his broad chest, you knew that he was aware there was something between you two and that he most definitely didn’t approve.

“We don’t have a project to do, Dean.” You mumbled, unable to keep your eyes on his any longer, not wishing to witness the change that would undoubtedly happen.

“Oh? Is that so? Then, do you mind explaining why you’ve got some boy wrapped around you, or haven’t you realised yet?” 

Ouch, that stung.

Dean.” Sam’s voice was stern and reproaching, indicating one of their many wordless conversations was occuring, as Michael’s arm briefly tightened in comfort, letting you know he was still here, before he let go and stepped forward, hiding you slightly from sight with his back.

“I’m Michael, you must be the infamous brothers, Sam and Dean.” You could almost hear the words ooze manners and respect, as both brothers observed the male before you, heads tilted ever so slightly in analysis. 

Dean’s eyes narrowed, lips twisting down and to the right, as he chewed on the inside of his cheek, continuing to try and figure out the person he’d been faced with. 

“Never had a positive history with people called Michael.” Dean grated out through gritted teeth, not liking the way he was covering you with his body.

Damn archangels. 

“He’s in my Geography, Literature and German classes- plans on being a lawyer after we leave.” You explained, knowing this sentence could be the one to break the ice between him and Sam.

Step One: Find a common interest.

 Step Two: Initiate conversation. 

Step Three: Avoid awkwardness.

“Law, you say?” Sam’s eyes brightened faintly, an attempt to hide his curiosity and interest to interact farther with someone who shared a like of law.

Hook, line and sinker.

Dean, however, wasn’t convinced in the slightest.

“Pretty sure I didn’t get off the sofa and come all the way here to discuss Mikey-Boy’s future, so what’s he doing here?” 

Michael’s confident posture faltered slightly, shoulders hunching in with a way to defend the blow that Dean had delivered. 

Indignation and odd sense of protectiveness bloomed in your chest at seeing the boy in front of you droop like all energy had left him.

“Michael’s my boyfriend, Dean! He’s here because I wanted him here and stupidly thought, you and Sam might want to meet him.” You didn’t give him a chance to respond, as you turned to Michael, tears burning the waterline of your eyes.

“I’m so sorry Mike. It wasn’t meant to be like this. Let’s go.” 

You couldn’t hide the crack in your voice and knew everyone had heard it. 

Wrapping apologetic fingers around his warm wrist, you began to turn back towards the door, refusing to let your brothers to see how much this had meant to you.

Dean’s unconscious step forward in your direction after hearing about you leaving went unnoticed by Michael, yet you couldn’t help but feel a swirl of sadness at the thought of your older brother thinking you’d leave him.

“Pizza delivery arrives in about 5 minutes, I’m pretty sure a few slices won’t go a miss.” Sam spoke up, also coping his brother’s actions, scrabbling at any way to keep you there with them, even if it meant allowing in a stranger with them.

“Sizzler Chicken?” Michael piped up, turning his head to face back to both the males, a faint smile curling his upper lip.

“Extra chillies.” Dean reluctantly informed, grudgingly making the effort, knowing the grin that stretched across your face would be worth getting over his ego for. 

“Well, I can’t refuse when I know that now.” You smiled so brightly, teeth desperately grasping onto your bottom lip, trying to not let go so your lips wouldn’t stretch so wide.

At this point, both you and Michael had backed up, residing in your original place, although Sam and Dean were significantly closer, positioning themselves, so the door was blocked by expanse of muscle.

“I’m willing to exchange heads-up about law school if you help me set the table.” Sam offered, raising one eyebrow as he motioned with his head in the direction of the dining room.

“Sounds like a fair trade to me.” Michael grinned, briefly locking eyes with you, before turning to follow Sam, his 6″4 height towering over the boy.

“So, what’s the difference between Immigration and International Law then?” He began, his enthusiasm causing a genuine chuckle to work it’s way out of Sam.Their voices began to drift away, as they moved, leaving just you and Dean with barely a few feet between you.

Your gaze remained locked onto the wooden floor, suddenly interested in the whirls and loops of the twisting material.

“Look at me.” Years of paying attention and taking orders left you unable to disagree.

Emerald eyes met yours, words and apologies causing them to shine and lighten.

“He hurt you?” 


“He make you happy?”


“You’ll talk to me and tell me everything that goes on?”


“You promise to tell me if anything goes wrong, because if that punk hurts you..”

The threat didn’t need to be said.

“I promise.”

It was a silent for a moment longer.


“Yeah, kiddo?”

“Did you order me the fries with the red salt?”

His soft, peaceful laugh settled the sickness and anxiousness in your stomach.

“What kind of big brother would I be if didn’t?”


We take you through the process of creating a luxurious new brush collection.

What happens when the best of two industries come together? Pure beauty magic. In this case, magic of the wand variety. The masters at Japanese calligraphy brush house, Hakuho-Do, have specially crafted a collection of elevated makeup tools with the Sephora PRO Team for the most dexterous application possible.

The hakuho-do + SEPHORA PRO Brush Collection includes five synthetic, yet amazingly cashmere-soft, brushes with bone-white bristles and crimson lacquer handles. In Japan, the color red carries deep significance—representing energy, heat, vitality, and power. Who doesn’t want all those positive vibes when creating their look of the day? And in honor of the country of origin, each brush is named after its shape in Japanese.

Settled in Kumano, Hiroshima, the Hakuho-Do factory has been producing fudes (the Japanese term for calligraphy brushes) for over a century, and currently houses sixth-generation craftsmen of the traditional art form—some of whom have over 40 years of experience under their belts. Of course, this detailed expertise comes with a unique, not-easily-replicated process that makes Hakuho-Do a visionary in the industry.

To manufacture these limited-edition brushes, the Hakuho-Do artisans undergo over 50 steps (all by hand!) to meticulously create top-of-line fudes.

Unlike other brush manufacturers, Hakuho-Do sorts through every hair fiber—made up of a never-before-seen patented blend normally only reserved for calligraphy tools—in order to weed out any considered less-than-premium quality. Once only the best of the fibers are left, artisans brush and shape each bristle head. After the ferrule is attached, each brush is washed and dried overnight to ensure minimum-to-no fibers fall out during application. Finally, the handles are dip-dyed, polished, and cleaned one by one.

Now, they’re ready for you to continue the artistry with your makeup application. The set is only available for a limited time, so add it to your collection for the ultimate beauty toolkit. JESSICA VELEZ