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Summary
“Welcome to Dough Re Mi, may I take your order?”
Harry snorts, lips curling in a half-scoff. Who the hell calls a bakery Dough Re Mi? What, did they pull the name out of their asses?
“I’ll just take a scone with cream and jam. Black coffee. Large.” He doesn’t bother looking up from his phone, his thumb flicking aimlessly through his emails.
Or:
5 times Harry calls Louis omega, and the one time he calls him my omega.
