Mean Things To Call People Novels & Stories

They ate chocolate and talked about their lives, schools, friends, and the most important topics: MOMPI, RUDRA, PORISHMA, and DAVIS. "What should I call you? 'Aunty' doesn’t sound good," Ansh said innocently. "Hmmm, I don’t mind being called 'Aunty,'" Shakti replied, and Ansh shook his head. Shakti sighed deeply. "What are you going to call Rudra?" Shakti asked.

“No, ma’am. And you mean ‘Dead Ted.’ I’d advise you to refer to him by his actual name. Respect isn’t optional, especially not here.” I blinked, caught off guard by the edge in his tone. “What’s the big deal? I’m just—” “Respect and names save lives,” he interrupted, running his hands through his hair. “I understand things might be done differently on your father’s side, but here, names are more than titles. They reflect who someone is. For future reference, I'd advise you to refer to people how they want to be addressed. It’ll keep you breathing longer, Miss.”

“What do you mean?” “I don’t know,” I say resentfully. “I mean, should I call you Oliver when we’re… you know… at it?” He gives me a baffled look. “Firstly, ‘at it’? And secondly, why?” “Because it’s your name?” “I don’t think you’ve ever called me Oliver other than when you’re annoyed with me. It would just be weird now.” “I can’t sleep with you and call you by your surname.” He laughs again. He’s thoroughly enjoying himself, the bastard.

When are you free to call? I quickly typed a response. Me: You can call now. All my classes for today ended almost an hour ago. My phone rang all of a sudden; the caller ID showed my mom’s name. “Mom? Is there anything wrong?” [Can’t I call without something going wrong? Can’t I just call because I miss you?] I rolled my eyes. “Mom, spare me the dramatics. You sounded serious in the text.” [Well, it’s not that serious... but it’s important.]

She chuckles, “That’s because I am their boss. It’s a title, not a nickname.” Mal mulls this over, “So people call you by your full names all the time?” he smiles, “I’m mostly called ‘Mal’ and he’s ‘Ash’.” She frowns at that, but nods. “What’s the matter?” “’Mal’ means ‘bad’. Malcontent, malfunction, malignant.” She shudders at the last one, “I won’t be calling you that unless you insist. I’d rather call you ‘Kai’, unless that’s a non-starter.” He smirks,

Our father-son relationship had always been tumultuous, but in that moment, we found a fleeting connection. Lost in my thoughts, I was startled by the vibration of my phone, disrupting the peaceful ambiance. The screen displayed 'Park.' I had been avoiding Park's calls for a while now, knowing that I owed him an explanation for my recent behavior. Reluctantly, I answered the call, preparing myself for the inevitable confrontation. "This is not acceptable, Mr. Albert," Park's voice boomed on the other end. He was clearly displeased with me. Using surnames was Park's way of showing his disapproval or maintaining a distance in his relationships.

I said cautiously, not sure what to expect. But the call had already ended. I stared at the phone for a moment, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. Relief that whoever it was hadn’t stayed on the line to explain themselves, and frustration because now I had no idea who it was. "Alright," I said, nodding slowly. "But remember, we don’t call people without asking first, okay? Especially people we don't know very well." "Okay, Mum," he agreed, looking a little sheepish now.

What the hell did that mean? A call interrupted my thoughts, the phone buzzing on the cushion. I glanced at the caller ID—Mom. Shit, time to act normal.

Respect. "My parents... You must wait until they tell you to call them by their names; otherwise, my father is sir. He'll likely assess you as a business acquisition first and a person second. Don't be offended. It's his way." Jin's voice was matter-of-fact, without any trace of resentment. "My mother will probably tell you to call her Eomma, which means mother in Korean.” I blushed. I wouldn’t dare call his mother my mother, even if it was in a completely different language. Besides, I should practice my pronunciation some more or else I may put him in a tight spot.

I thought he would compliment back, but he brought up another topic. “Can we skip calling each other with professional addresses at times like this?” he muttered. “You can only call me ‘sir’ during work. Same as me to you. Let’s call each other by our real names when we go out. Darwin –” he pointed at himself and then to me after “--- Jill…” I chuckled and nodded. “Okay… Darwin…” I said slowly. And after that, I could not help but cackle completely. “Goodness. It sounds so foreign!”