Lazy Sundays were a rare, sacred blessing in the Seo household. It was a rare day where Changbin didn’t have clients to train, where you didn’t have to frantically answer the door in sweats while breastfeeding a baby, and most importantly—where no one under three feet tall decided to reenact a live-action wrestling match at seven in the morning.

But not today.

Today… something was brewing. Literally. In the form of sweet chocolate milk and warm honey butter pancakes.

You stirred slightly under the sheets, the weight of warm blankets and baby softness pulling you back into sleep. Your arms instinctively curled around the little burrito beside you—your and Changbin’s newest baby girl, only a month old, snoring tiny baby snores in her fuzzy pink onesie. She was an Omega, just like you. And thank god she was another Omega in this house full of Alphas.

She’d been up three times during the night, demanding food like the literal royalty she clearly thought she was. You were utterly exhausted, but you were also, somehow, still completely in love with the chaos that was your life.

But the sudden peace in the house was suspicious. Too suspicious.

Then you heard it. A whisper. A heavy thud. A very suspicious clang of metal.

“…Hyung I said no we gotta carry it carefully—!”

“I am careful! You’re just walking like a wobbly potato!”

“I’m two, you hedgehog!!”

CLANG.

Your eyes snapped open. Oh no.

Downstairs in the kitchen—the definitive chaos epicenter of their luxury home—the two miniature Alphas of the household were hard at work.

Seo Haneul, age five and full of absolute main character energy, was dragging a tray loaded with chocolate milk in two sippy cups, a plate with tiny, beautifully cooked honey butter pancakes cut into hearts, and a small vase holding one very unevenly snipped tulip.

Beside him was the younger force of nature: Seo Haru, age two, who was already lifting his older brother’s backpack like it weighed nothing at all. Alpha genes? Oh, those were definitely inherited from Daddy.

And speaking of Daddy—Changbin stood leaning against the kitchen island, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked way too buff and way too amused for someone watching his pristine kitchen be terrorized by two baby-sized hurricanes.

“You sure you don’t want help, champ?” Changbin asked, hiding a fond smirk as Haneul dramatically wiped sweat from his brow.

“I GOT THIS, Appa,” Haneul huffed, adjusting the heavy tray like he was carrying royal treasure. “Me and Haru are gonna do this for Eomma. You made the pancakes. We gotta do the delivery.”

“Yeah!” Haru added eagerly, though he mostly just repeated words and pointed at random objects. “Muffins!”

“No muffins,” Haneul snapped, pushing the tray forward with surprising strength. “Stay focused, soldier.”

Changbin chuckled softly, taking a sip of his coffee like a proud father watching beautiful chaos unfold. Which… he absolutely was. “Alright. Operation Breakfast Bomb is a go. No casualties.”

“YEAH!”

“…Wait, what’s a casualty?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Changbin said quickly, coughing into his hand.

Back upstairs, you were trying your absolute best not to panic. But panic was a perfectly natural response when you were a freshly postpartum Omega, lying in bed while your five-year-old and two-year-old Alpha sons plotted something downstairs. And your Alpha husband—was actively letting them.

Your eyes flicked to the baby beside you. Still fast asleep. Bless.

Then, the heavy bedroom door creaked.

“SHHH!”

“I AM SHHH!”

The door swung open dramatically.

You sat up immediately—your pillows fluffing, your hair a total mess, and your eyes wide with anticipation.

And in marched Haneul and Haru like two very proud little Alphas on a grand mission.

“Eomma!!!” Haneul yelled, grinning from ear to ear. “SURPRISE!”

Haru, far too excited to wait, completely let go of his side of the tray and darted toward the bed like a mini heat-seeking missile. “MAMA!”