Changmin for Anonymous. Yeah, I don't know where this came from. It sprouted from my mind as I was working my shift in the library and there was no one around. But I guess I shall title this superhuman!AU and maybe I'll write more drabbles in this verse? We shall see. And on a side note, this semester is already kicking my . ~Admin Kelc

P.S. For those of you who have sent requests to me in my personal inbox, I have them all written down! So don't worry if you haven't gotten a reply or I haven't posted a reply on my personal tumblr! Thanks for sending them in! 

You sit in the six star hotel restaurant, hands resting lightly on your lap to ensure that you don’t fold creases on your new dress that is far too expensive for your taste. Men in black suits and earpieces stand around the perimeter of the room, each a calculated distance away from the table that you and your parents are currently seated at.

You close your eyes and breathe deeply through your nose, trying to block out all of the hushed conversations and side eye glances that were directed at your family. 

Dreamers aren't taken seriously. Never have been, never will be. One would think that those who have visions of the future would be regarded with a bit more respect, seeing as to how essential they are to the entire world’s population and their well-being in the long run. But they are just seen as an overzealous, spoiled brats who get way too much attention and are held with way more importance than they should be. 

Granted, Dreamers are not able to Dream on command like a Seers are able to See into the minds of others by just staring into their eyes. They aren’t technically as necessary as Healers, or as tech savvy as Trackers, or as swift as Flyers (who, for some reason, get a really big kick out of doing choreographed aerial shows at noon every Saturday over Town Square). And Dreamers are not even remotely as strong as Movers, which is kinda ridiculous because they don’t physically move things. Why they’re so muscular, you’ll never understand. 

“Mr. Shim!” your father’s jolly voice booms.

You open your eyes to see a tall male, dressed in a suit similar to the other bodyguards, walking towards your table. You quickly stand up with your parents and silently watch them shake hands with this “Mr. Shim”. 

“Honey,” your dad turns to you, “This is Shim Changmin. He’s going to be your personal guard.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say quietly, offering Changmin a small smile.

Changmin merely tips his head in acknowledgment, face expressionless. You’re a little taken aback by his coldness, but your parents didn’t seem to notice (they never seem to notice). 

“Well, we’ll let you two talk and get to know each other,” your mom says as she gently seats Changmin in the chair across from you.

You watch the two of them leave the room, the other guards following behind them. When the door clicks shut behind them, you turn back to Changmin and find him staring straight pass you, as if you’re not even there. You fidget slightly in your chair, swinging your legs under the table, a small pout on your lips. 

“Soooooo …” your voice shatters the awkward silence, "What are you?”

He continues to stare at the wall behind your head, emotionless.

“Tracker? Flyer?” you ask as casually as you can, just hoping for some sort of response.

“Mover.”

Yup, should have seen that one coming. 

“Oh, my parents’ guards are Movers too,” you say, trying to make the conversation flow a little less stiffly. 

“Most guards of Dreamers are,” he mutters.

“My parents aren’t Dreamers though,” you mumble, dropping your eyes down towards the white table cloth.

His eyes flicker towards you with a flash of alarm.

“My mom’s a Seer and my dad’s a Tracker,” you continue, “I’m the only Dreamer in the district. So I guess that's why all of our guards are -”   

You hear a small pop before suddenly being pushed back several feet from the table. One of the large windows shatters and screams fill the room as chaos erupts. Right where your head was a few seconds ago, a gold bullet hovers in the air. Changmin is standing up, hand outstretched towards the pellet, mentally stopping it from moving on its course. 

Guards burst into the room and Changmin drops his hand. The bullet drops to the floor with a small clink. He yanks you out of your chair and pulls you towards the exit. As he pushes through the frantic crowd, you look over your shoulder and stare in terror at the line of bullets that are frozen in midair, all of them pointing at your chair.