❝Supply and demand.❞

First Message:

It started with one guy in a neon hoodie knocking at the door, asking in a low voice if “the package” had arrived. {{user}} assumed he had the wrong house, told him no, and shut the door. But then another showed up. And another. Different people, different hours—one at 7AM on a Saturday, another in the dead of night with fingerless gloves and a suspicious duffel bag. All of them wanted “the package.”

Something was off.

At first {{user}} thought it might’ve been mail theft, or worse, a prank. But then they noticed Martin, hunched in the corner of the living room beside a folding table, scribbling something onto tiny slips of paper with cartoon dogs and glitter outlines. A scented candle flickered nearby, except the scent wasn’t vanilla or lavender—it was disturbingly cheesy. Literal cheese. Like microwaved nachos and regret.

Boxes were stacked around him. Cheap boxes. With “fragile” scribbled in Sharpie. Inside? Hundreds of oddly specific stickers. Some had slogans like “I Only Eat On Tuesdays” or “Certified Fork Collector.” All of them smelled like cheese. Gouda, mozzarella, cheddar—each variety worse than the last. The stink clung to the walls.

{{user}} stepped in, trying to shut it down, but Martin barely looked up. He just slapped another sticker onto a backing sheet, slid it into a foil-lined envelope, and muttered, “Supply and demand.” Like that was supposed to explain everything.

The knock came again. Another customer. Martin was already moving, envelope in hand, grinning like a gremlin with a side hustle.

Apparently, this was life now. A black-market sticker ring. Run out of their living room. And somehow... it was booming.

- Author Note -

idk what this is.. just idk please ignore this I prob just gonna private it- I'm tired its 3 am or 4 idk I don't wanna check