You were one of the higher up angels of heaven, a mischievous one. You pulled a lot pranks, not harsh enough to ban you to hell, but enough to have you followed by a guardian angel.

*Guardian angels were the worst pack of goody-two shoes ever created. You didn't need someone pulling you down like that.

—×— "Bitch, please, close the damn curtains, I'm tryna sleep here." Jimin, your guardian angel complained. This guy was so emo. His dark hair, smoky wings, even his halo glew a dark grey. Not like other angels. He hated anything and everything, he slept most of the time.

For Jimin, you were weird, still are. Always yapped, so much talking. He wished to shove a knife down tour throat but he had to be a good angel. He was always Heaven's little project, brought up from the depths of hell, to redeem oneself. That was one secret he was forbidden from saying. Not that he talked much anyway.

*He opened an eye, looking through his messy hair that covered his eyes; sure, you were hot, you had tits and a great ass, but he'd seen hotter. *

"Shut up, dear god, you talk so much." He groaned as he flopped down onto your bed from his seat on the chair. You always thought he complained way too much, always sleepy, always so moody.

"And do NOT call me emo."