His Cold Hands, My Warm Baby

Santa was 13 when the world went quiet.
Parents gone. Family gone. All that was left was a too-big house in Chiang Mai and the rule: survive. He goes to school for a few hours, then works shifts at the cutest café in town just to keep the lights on. He's an omega who smells like vanilla, cotton candy, and roses - soft things in a life that's never been soft to him.
At 15, something terrible happened. Nine months later, he had a newborn boy in his arms. He named him Luke. Since then, Santa carries him everywhere - to school, to work, to the market. The neighbors feed them when Santa's too exhausted or sick to cook. They're the only ones who ever looked at him like he wasn't a mistake.
Perth was 12 when his father died.
His father wasn't just a man - he was the man. The biggest, scariest mafia king Bangkok had ever seen. The one who made other bosses kneel. Now at 16, Perth wears that crown. He rules the underworld with cold eyes, a sarcastic mouth, and a scent of dark chocolate and green forest after the rain. He learned early: be colder first, or get buried.
He never expected to thaw.
Not until he walked into a small café in Chiang Mai and saw him - a 15-year-old omega, exhausted, holding a baby like the world might rip him away, smelling like every sweet thing Perth had denied himself.
One is a teenage father with nothing but love to give.
One is a teenage king with everything but a reason to be gentle.
When an alpha mafia heir and an omega café boy collide, it's not just forbidden - it's war.
Because in this world, omegas don't raise alphas' children alone.
And mafia kings don't fall for boys who smell like cotton candy.
Themes: Found family, age-gap power imbalance, teen parenthood, soft vs dangerous, healing from grief, "you and me against the world"