comes to the end of our page like journey mercies - dad mark lee imagine
surprise?😅
i was watching nct content after ty's comeback and i realized just how much i missed them. so i fell down that rabbit hole, got all emotional and wrote this. i would never forget this series really, it was so unexpected how so many people loved it and kept looking forward to it🥺 i feel like my lee family grew up with me🤍 and yes this is their happy ending, tysm for loving them🤍🤍
also the first fruit THE album for me, literally my top 3 most played last year. I think this wraps it up perfectly.
for the other fics you can check them here:
part1: day with dad mark lee
part2: another day with dad mark lee
part3: a day with the lee's
part4: (prologue) i don't know how to make eggs
part5: glitter pens and goodnight kisses with the Lee's
part6: first love and kisses
part7: naps and baby kicks
part8: then there was three
part9: just like you
part10: fool for you
part11: your day
in this fic minjung is 16, minjee is 10 and minsu is 4
For my other nct works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.
All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2026 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.
(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)
You sometimes forget how young you were when it all started.
You and Mark, still figuring out rent and schedules and what kind of adults you wanted to be, holding a baby boy who looked at the world like he already understood it. Minjung. Your first. Your golden boy.
Now he’s sixteen, standing in front of the mirror in a pressed black suit, fingers flexing nervously like they’re already searching for ivory keys. He’s taller than you now and it still knocks the air out of your chest every time you notice it.
“Mom,” he says softly, because Minjung has always spoken like that, like he doesn’t want to take up too much space. “Is my tie crooked?”
You step closer, fixing it with hands that remember buttoning onesies at three in the morning. His jaw is set, eyes focused, but you know him. You see the nerves humming under his calm.
“You’re perfect,” you tell him, and he gives you that small smile. Mark’s smile. The one that feels like home.
From the hallway, chaos erupts.
“I AM NOT A BABY,” Minjee announces loudly, stomping into the room in a sparkly dress she picked herself. “Babies don’t wear heels.”
They are, admittedly, tiny heels. Pink. With a bow.
Mark winces like he’s been physically wounded. “You were literally a baby yesterday.”
“I was then I’m TEN now” she shoots back, flipping her hair with a dramatic flair that makes Minjung choke out a laugh. “And Dad, don’t embarrass me in front of my brother. He has a recital.”
Minjee is the star of the house. There’s no other way to say it. She walks like the world is her stage and expects applause just for breathing and somehow, she gets it. Even from Mark, who still looks at her like she hung the moon and then personally shattered his heart by growing up.
And then there’s Minsu.
Sweet, sweet Minsu, padding into the room with socked feet, clutching a stuffed dinosaur that’s missing an eye. All the cuteness a four year old can have. He wraps himself around Minjung’s leg like a koala.
“Hyung,” he says, grinning up at him “When you’re famous, can I tell people I know you?”
Minjung crouches immediately, pinching his brother’s cheeks “Of course you can, tell them you have a cool brother”
Minsu beams, like that answer alone made his whole week
Mark watches them with his arms crossed, eyes shiny in a way he pretends you don’t notice.
Your husband, once a boy with a guitar and a dream, now a father of three, watching his oldest prepare for a professional-level piano recital with guest judges and people who matter. People who could change things.
“You good?” you ask Mark quietly
He nods. Then shakes his head. Then nods again. “I just—he’s really doing it,” he says, voice low. “Our kid.”
Our kids, you think, looking around the room. The golden boy. The princess. The sweetheart.
The recital hall is packed. Not just parents and teachers. There are guests of honor, industry people, quiet murmurs that feel too big for a sixteen-year-old’s shoulders. Minjung sits at the piano, posture straight, hands steady.
You hold Mark’s hand. Minjee sits on his other side, whispering commentary like she’s hosting a show. Minsu swings his feet, humming softly until you gently tap his knee.
Then Minjung plays.
And the room disappears.
His fingers move with confidence and emotion, like the piano is an extension of him. Every note is deliberate. Controlled. Beautiful. He plays like someone who loves the music, not like someone trying to prove anything.
And that’s what makes it extraordinary.
You don’t realize you’re crying until Mark squeezes your hand, his own eyes glassy.
“That’s our boy,” he whispers
When the final note fades, there’s a split second of silence and then the room erupts.
Applause. Standing ovation. Minjung bows, just slightly, humble even in triumph.
Minjee claps the loudest “THAT’S MY BROTHER” she announces proudly
Minsu gasps “Hyung did magic.”
Backstage, Minjung looks dazed, like he hasn’t fully landed back in his body yet. You pull him into a hug before he can even say anything, and he hugs you back just as tightly.
“You were incredible,” you tell him
Mark joins the hug, arms wrapping around both of you. “I’m so proud of you,” he says, voice thick. “So proud.”
Minjung exhales, finally letting the nerves go “I was scared,” he admits quietly.
You smile “You still did it.”
Later, you of course had to celebrate and of course Minjee picked KBBQ.
She declares it like she’s doing the family a favor, chin lifted proudly. “We’re celebrating properly,” she says, already reaching for the menu even though she’s ordered the exact same thing every single time.
Mark grins “That’s my girl.”
“She gets that from you,” you say, amused
“I get everything from Appa,” Minjee replies immediately, not missing a beat “The charm. The personality”
Minjung snorts softly beside you, still riding the high. He’s quieter than usual. He keeps smiling to himself, like he’s replaying the recital over and over in his head, checking every moment.
“You really did amazing,” you tell him again, nudging his knee under the table
He ducks his head, ears turning pink “You think so?”
There it is. The did I do good? look. Always has been.
Mark reaches over and ruffles his hair “You were insane. Like… professional.”
Minjung laughs, shoulders finally relaxing.
Minsu is busy carefully wrapping a piece of meat in lettuce, concentrating so hard his tongue peeks out. He holds it up proudly. “I made this one for you, Mom”
Dinner is loud and warm and smoky. Minjee talks nonstop about school, about a friend who was definitely rude to her today, about how she thinks she could be a singer and an actress and maybe a CEO. Mark hums along, adding commentary, the two of them feeding off each other’s energy.
At some point, watching Minjung smile shyly as Minjee dramatically reenacts his bow from the stage, something hits you.
You grin.
“Did you know,” you say casually, flipping a piece of meat, “your dad proposed to me kind of like that?”
All three kids freeze.
Mark chokes on his drink. “Why would you tell it like that?”
Minjee’s eyes go wide. “LIKE WHAT?”
“You know,” you continue sweetly, ignoring him. “He was playing music, super serious, very focused. I thought it was just another one of his moments.”
Mark groans. “Oh my god.”
“And then,” you say, smiling at Minjung, “he just stopped. Looked at me. Got down on one knee.”
Minjung’s eyes widen “Wait wait wait really??”
Minsu gasps dramatically “Appa knelt??”
“I did not kneel dramatically,” Mark says, flustered “I knelt normally.”
Minjee slams her hands on the table “WHY DID YOU NEVER TELL ME THIS STORY PROPERLY?”
“I told you,” Mark argues “I said I proposed.”
“That is NOT the same,” she fires back. “Was there romance? Was there passion? Was there crying?”
You tilt your head “He was shaking.”
Mark buries his face in his hands “Why are you exposing me like this.”
Minjung smiles, soft and fond, eyes flicking between the two of you “That’s actually… really cool,” he says quietly. “Music and all.”
Mark peeks up at him “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Minjung nods “I get it.”
That makes Mark still.
Minjee squeals “WAIT—does that mean when I get proposed to—”
“No,” Mark says instantly. “Absolutely not. Conversation over.”
Minsu giggles, lettuce wrap forgotten, leaning against Mark’s arm.
You watch them. Your chatty girl, your golden boy, your sweet baby and your husband, flustered and smiling despite himself.
Same table. Same warmth.
Different chapters.
You laugh, unable to help yourself.
“It was so your dad,” you say, pointing across the table at him. “He stuttered. Rambled. Forgot what he was saying halfway through.”
Mark lets out a long, tortured groan. “Baby, please.”
You grin wider “And then he just blurts it out. Finally. I think he even said please.”
Mark drops his head onto the table“I did not say please.”
“You absolutely did,” you insist, laughing, pointing again. “Kind of like that.”
Minjung’s smile turns soft, almost fond in a way that feels older than sixteen. He glances at Mark with new eyes, like he’s connecting dots between the man at the piano and the dad at the table.
Minjee is vibrating in her seat. “Then what,” she demands. “What happened next?”
You shrug, casual but sincere “Then… you know. Life.”
They all look at you, waiting
“It was kind of like my own fairytale,” you continue gently, eyes drifting from one child to the next. “Just not the quiet kind. Not the ‘happily ever after and everything stays the same’ kind.”
Mark lifts his head, listening now
“We had you three,” you say. “There hasn’t been a quiet day since. It’s loud, messy, exhausting sometimes—”
“HEY,” Minjee protests
You smile “—but we wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Minsu crawls halfway into Mark’s lap, sleepy and warm. “I like loud,” he murmurs.
Minjung nods slowly. “Me too.”
Mark exhales, looking at all of you like he’s trying to memorize the moment. He reaches for your hand under the table, squeezing it.
“Okay,” he says softly “Maybe I said please.”
Minjee gasps triumphntly “I KNEW IT.”
You laugh, leaning into him, the table full and your heart fuller.
Not quiet.
Not perfect.
But yours.
The walk home is slow. Full. The good kind of tired.
Minjee latches onto Mark’s arm the second you step outside, hanging off him like a determined little koala. “Daaaaaaf” she sings, dragging the word out. “Ice. Crea—aaam.”
Mark pretends to stagger under her weight. “Wow. I suddenly feel… weak.”
“You are weak,” she says sweetly. “Weak to your daughter.”
Minsu giggles from where Minjung is carrying him, small arms looped securely around his hyung’s neck. Minjung doesn’t even flinch, just adjusts his grip automatically, like he’s been doing this his whole life. Which, in a way, he has.
“You did great back there,” Mark tells Minjee. “But it’s late.”
Minjee gasps like she’s been betrayed. “Late?? Appa, it’s a celebration.”
You shake your head, smiling.“She learned persistence from someone.”
Mark sighs dramatically.“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
You let them walk a few steps ahead, Minjee still negotiating terms and conditions, Mark pretending to resist while already losing.
That leaves you beside Minjung.
The streetlights cast a soft glow, just calm. Content. Minsu hums quietly against his shoulder, already half-asleep.
You glance up at Minjung, really look at him. Sixteen. Tall. Kind. Still your baby somehow.
“I’m proud of you, baby,” you say gently
He blinks, surprised, then his lips press together like he’s holding something in. “Yeah?” he asks quietly.
“Yeah,” you nod. “Not just for today. For who you are. Always.”
He exhales, shoulders dropping just a little, like he didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath. “I was scared,” he admits. “I kept thinking I’d mess up.”
“You didn’t,” you say immediately “And even if you did, we’d still be proud.”
He smiles then soft, real. “Thanks, Mom.”
Ahead of you, Minjee suddenly cheers. “YES—ICE CREAM CONFIRMED.”
Mark groans. “I never agreed to that.”
“You blinked,” she says. “That’s a yes.”
Minsu stirs, murmuring sleepily, “Ice cream…”
Minjung chuckles, adjusting his hold. “Guess we’re getting ice cream.”
By the time you make it home, the night has gone soft and quiet in that earned way.
Minjee is completely out, cheek squished against Mark’s shoulder, mouth slightly open, snoring without a single ounce of shame. Mark carries her like she weighs nothing, even though she’s grown enough to insist she hasn’t been a baby for years. He pauses for half a second at her door, adjusts the blanket just right, brushes hair from her forehead with that careful gentleness he only uses when he thinks no one’s watching.
Minsu is asleep in your arms, warm and heavy, fingers still curled into your shirt like he’s afraid you might disappear. You sway a little as you walk, instinctively, the way you’ve done a thousand nights before. He sighs when you lay him down, tiny body settling like he’s exactly where he belongs.
And then finally it’s quiet.
Not empty. Just… calm.
Later, it’s just the three of you in the living room. The lights are low, TV off, the world narrowed down to a shared pint of ice cream on the coffee table.
Minjung sits between you and Mark, knees pulled up, spoon in hand.
Mark nudges him with his elbow “You know,” he says casually, “you hated sleeping.”
Minjung looks up “What?”
“Hated it,” Mark repeats. “Fought it like it personally offended you.”
You laugh “He’s not exaggerating. You cried like you had places to be.”
Minjung blinks, “I did not”
“You did,” you insist. “You’d fall asleep for exactly twenty minutes, then wake up furious. Like how dare we let that happen.”
Mark chuckles “I used to walk you around the apartment at three a.m., whisper-singing random songs because I ran out of lullabies. Walked in circles for most nights there was an imprint on the carpet”
Minjung smiles, small and shy “You did?”
“Yeah,” Mark says softly “Didn’t matter how tired I was.”
You reach over, rest your hand on Minjung’s knee. “You were our first everything,” you say. “First time staying up all night. First time being scared and excited at the same time.”
Minjung’s spoon pauses halfway to his mouth.
“We were young,” you continue, voice gentle. “We didn’t know what we were doing. But we knew we loved you. From the moment we saw you.”
Mark nods. “You made us grow up real fast,” he says with a grin. “But you also made us better.”
Minjung swallows, eyes fixed on the ice cream “I always feel like… I have to do well,” he admits quietly. “Like I shouldn’t mess up.”
Your heart tightens.
You shift closer. “Baby,” you say, using the word without thinking, because he’ll always be that to you “You don’t have to earn our pride.”
Mark adds, “You already had it.”
You smile at him. “You were our first boy,” you say softly. “No one can ever take that place. And tonight—today—you were incredible. Not because you were perfect. But because you were you.”
Minjung’s eyes glisten. He laughs a little, embarrassed. “You guys are gonna make me cry.”
Mark hands him the spoon “Eat. Cry later.”
Minjung laughs, really laughs, and takes another bite. He leans back into the couch, shoulders brushing both of yours, like he doesn’t even realize how naturally he fits there.
Outside, the world keeps moving. Tomorrow will be busy again. Loud again.
But tonight, with melted ice cream and shared memories, you sit there knowing without a doubt
Your first boy is growing up.
And you’re so, so proud.