#thesturniolotriplets

[babytomatoes21]

SAVING PRIVATE WRINKLETON - m.s.

wc: 808 cws: fluff, swearing, battle with a couch

matt goes batshit crazy looking for mr. wrinkleton

"where the fuck is he?" matt mutters, frantically scanning the living room. you glance up from the book in your hands, eyebrow raised.

"who?"

“mr. wrinkleton!” he exclaims, offended, like you should’ve known.

your brain processes this, and you feel a sinking feeling in your stomach. "oh god, you're serious. you lost him?"

“he’s been missing for twenty minutes!” matt says, eyes wild with panic. “i can't find him! i checked everywhere! the bed, the bathroom, the kitchen... and now i’m starting to think someone stole him."

you blink at him, trying not to laugh, but his genuine distress is making you nervous. "matt, he's a stuffed pug."

"he's more than that!" matt shouts, hands on his hips. "don't go around saying shit like that."

“okay, okay," you say, trying to calm him down. "let’s just look under the couch. maybe he’s there?”

matt freezes, eyes locking on you as if you just suggested the most absurd thing in the world. “you're a genius."

before you can even react, he’s already on the ground, shoving his hand under the couch cushions, pulling them out like he’s excavating ancient artifacts. his face is flushed, eyes wide with frantic desperation. "mr. wrinkleton better be under here."

you watch him struggle for a moment, then sigh. "babe, are you sure you're not overreacting?"

“i’m not overreacting!” he looks up at you like you're the one with the problem. “i’m just trying to find him before i lose my mind.”

you snicker, but the mood shifts quickly when matt, with all his might, begins to try to lift the couch. you can hear him grunting, his face redder than a tomato.

“matt, what are you—?”

“i’ve got it! i’ll just lift it up—”

he yanks the couch up and... it barely moves. he huffs, adjusting his grip, but then—bam—he slips, his hands shooting out from under the couch, causing him to lose balance entirely. his feet kick up into the air as he falls forward, and the entire couch crashes down onto his back.

“oh my god,” you say, stifling your laugh as he writhes beneath the couch. “matt, what are you doing?”

“i’m looking for him!” matt gasps from beneath the couch, somehow managing to sound like he’s fighting for his life. “i can’t give up now, okay?”

“i’m pretty sure you just gave up when you fell under it,” you tease, crouching down to peer under the couch. "no sign of him, huh?"

matt growls in frustration, but you hear a slight whimper as he continues to struggle under the weight of the couch. "i need him! i can't function without him!"

the couch, in all its glory, is now precariously balanced on his back, but it’s still holding together. that’s when you realize you have to do something before things go from bad to worse.

“matt, stop,” you say, pulling at the couch. “let’s get you out first. then we can look somewhere else.”

but matt’s still fighting it, hands slapping at the couch like it's his worst enemy. “no! i’m close! i can feel him! he’s under here somewhere, i know it.”

you roll your eyes. “alright, alright, kid."

so, together, you both lift the couch with what feels like the combined strength of a thousand people. you barely manage to get it to the side—just enough for matt to scramble out from underneath it, covered in dust and half-exhausted. the second he stands up, though, he’s not celebrating. instead, he’s scanning the room with the intensity of someone about to conquer an entire civilization.

he kneels down and peeks under the couch one more time. his eyes widen, and he reaches underneath, pulling out—finally—mr. wrinkleton, triumphantly holding up the stuffed pug like a prized trophy.

“yes!” he shouts, pumping his fist into the air. “i knew it! i told you i could find him!”

you blink at him, genuinely impressed despite yourself. "you really are insane, you know that?"

“insane? no,” he says, his voice absolutely serious, holding the stuffed pug up to the sky. “just a man on a mission.”

but then his expression drops, and he looks down at the now-tangled mess of cushions, crumbs, and random junk strewn across the floor. “okay... now what?”

you raise an eyebrow. “we’re not doing this again.”

matt glares at you. “you owe me one. after all that, i’m putting mr. wrinkleton on the couch for the rest of the night. no one’s touching him.”

you snicker, finally cracking. "yeah, yeah. you’re definitely gonna need a few more hugs from that stuffed pug."

he scoffs, hugging mr. wrinkleton like he’s a small child. “don’t offend mr. wrinkleton like that."

and as you watch him curl up on the couch with his stuffed pug, you can’t help but think, maybe the chaos was worth it. just a little bit.

a/n: I'm bored out of my mind

tags: @mattswifeyy @courta13 @p3sthoe @ivysturnss @billiesturns

dividers by @hyuneskkami @vxnitra💗

© babytomatoes21

[thesturniolotriplets]

The triplets: hey we’re going on tour see you soon

My genuine reaction:

[lozsturniolo]

Look at their hands. You know they be exploring shit! I can’t stand it. Drives me insane 🙈

Nick and Chris - dam

#sturniolotriplets #nicksturniolo #mattsturniolo #chrissturniolo #sturniolotripletsclips #nicolasstruniolo #mathewsturniolo #christophersturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolotripletsedit #sturnioloedits #fyp #nick #matt #Chris #nickgirl #teampurple #thesturniolotriplets #sturniolohands

[starrii-sturns]

FOR ALL MY NICK GIRLS/ BOYS

[babytomatoes21]

CARTASTROPHE - m.s.

wc: 482 cws: fluff, swearing, cereal box abuse

matt's feeling particularly silly during a quick run to the store

the plan is simple: run into the store, grab a few things, and leave.

except, of course, nothing is ever simple with matt.

it starts off fine. you’re pushing the cart like normal, tossing in snacks while matt trails behind, half-distracted by whatever dumb joke he just came up with. but then, for some reason only known to him, he decides that walking is boring.

“babe, get in the cart,” he says, completely serious.

you blink at him. “what.”

“get in. i’ll push you.”

“matt, we are in public.”

“so?”

“so, i am not getting in the cart.”

he huffs. “lame.” but then his eyes light up with an idea, and suddenly, you realize you should’ve just gotten in the damn cart.

before you can react, he’s climbing onto the edge of it, hands gripping the handle like he’s at a skate park.

“matt, don’t.”

“matt, do.”

“matthew, i swear to god—”

and then he’s off.

he kicks off the ground, the cart rolling forward way faster than it should. for a brief second, he looks triumphant, like he’s just unlocked the key to maximum efficiency. but then—

the cart wobbles.

you watch in horror as it veers slightly to the left, right towards a towering display of cereal boxes.

“matt—”

“oh, shit—”

it’s too late. the cart slams into the display, and suddenly, there’s an avalanche of brightly colored boxes raining down on him. matt yelps, disappearing under the chaos like a poorly executed magic trick.

you just stand there, hand over your mouth, torn between concern and the overwhelming urge to laugh.

a few seconds pass. then, from under the pile, you hear the most pathetic, muffled, “i’m good.”

that’s it. you lose it.

tears prick your eyes as you double over, wheezing. matt, still buried in cereal, glares at you as best as he can from his unfortunate position.

“oh my god, stop laughing and help me,” he whines.

“i can’t—i literally—” you gasp, barely able to breathe. “you just got taken out by lucky charms.”

“i hate you.”

still giggling, you start pulling boxes off him, only to pause when you hear an employee clearing their throat. slowly, you both look up to see a very unimpressed worker staring at the mess.

matt immediately points at you. “she did it.”

your jaw drops. “are you kidding me?!”

“you knocked me off balance!”

“BY EXISTING?”

the employee sighs, pinching the bridge of their nose. “just… clean it up.”

matt groans, shoving a box into your hands. “this is your fault.”

“oh, absolutely not.”

“you’re supposed to support me!”

“not when you commit actual crimes in aisle seven.”

he grumbles under his breath as you both start fixing the display, cereal crunching under his shoes as he moves.

“worth it, though,” he mumbles after a beat.

you roll your eyes, biting back a smile. “you’re so lucky i love you.”

a/n: see what I did with the title 😏😏😏😏😏😏

tags: @mattswifeyy @courta13 @p3sthoe @ivysturnss @billiesturns

divider by @hyuneskkami 💗

© babytomatoes21

[babytomatoes21]

SPRITZ AND GIGGLES - c.s.

wc: 770 cws: swearing, FLUFFFFFF!!

you're determined to hunt chris down after he steals your most prized possession

you are royally, absolutely, to-your-core pissed.

it’s been two weeks since you moved into the triplets’ house. matt, nick, and chris – your best friends, the whirlwinds of chaos – have made sure every day since has been annoyingly unpredictable.

you’ve fallen into their rhythm. midnight drives when matt gets bored. watching nick fall down tiktok rabbit holes about the mandela effect. chris constantly getting on your last nerve just because he can.

it’s been fun. way too fun.

but you’re still living with three men. which means, inevitably, you were going to snap.

your precious body mist – the one you’ve practically been married to since you bought it – is missing. the sweet vanilla scent that you spray every five seconds, on you, your sheets, your air. gone. vanished. not a trace.

and there’s only one fucker who would dare.

chris.

chris, who lives to test you. who pokes, teases, and drives you up the wall in ways that only he knows how to. it’s a talent at this point.

you march out of your bathroom, toothbrush still hanging out of your mouth, hair a mess, socks mismatched, looking like you just woke up in a war zone.

“CHRIS.”

you don’t have to wait long. you immediately hear it. that stupid little laugh, muffled behind his door.

you march across the hall and without even knocking, you storm in.

and there he is.

chris is standing in the middle of his room, spinning like he’s on stage, drenching himself in your body mist like it’s cologne. he’s got the smuggest grin on his face like he’s just won the lottery.

it smells like someone exploded a vanilla candle factory.

you stand there, stunned.

chris opens one eye, sees you standing there with your toothbrush like a weapon, and sticks his tongue out.

“bitch,” you hiss, ripping the toothbrush from your mouth and pointing it at him like a dagger.

chris starts giggling so hard he almost drops the bottle. “relax, kid.”

you narrow your eyes. "relax? you're about to be six feet under smelling like a bakery.”

chris backs up, still laughing, holding the bottle up high like you’re not seconds away from climbing him like a tree.

“you want it back?” he taunts, voice sing-song. “come and get it.”

“i will shove this toothbrush down your throat, i swear to god.”

chris tilts his head, doing that fake innocent look you hate so much. “kinky.”

your brain immediately short-circuits. he does this all the time, but it still catches you. stupid. stupid pretty eyes. stupid floppy hair. stupid soft hoodie that’s falling off his shoulder.

and then, of course, he takes it a step further.

“gimme a kiss first,” he says, grinning like he’s the funniest person alive.

your mouth opens, closes, opens again. your heart pounds against your ribcage.

and, for a split second, you swear you catch it – the way he bites the inside of his cheek, like he’s not as confident about the line as he pretends to be.

you regain your senses and shove his face away like it’s second nature. “there’s toothpaste in my mouth, dumbass.”

chris collapses back onto his bed like you’ve personally offended him. “so mean to me,” he whines dramatically.

you grab the body mist out of his hand, only to realize – it’s empty.

you blink.

“chris,” you say.

chris peeks up at you, eyes wide. “yeah?”

you tighten your grip on the bottle. “CHRIS!”

his eyes go wide like you’ve just activated his fight-or-flight instinct, and he bolts. you’re immediately chasing after him, sprinting around his room like you’re on some unhinged reality show, slipping on hoodies and half-folded socks.

he's laughing so hard he can barely breathe. you're not much better, but you’re determined to kill him. giggling murder, but murder nonetheless.

then the door creaks open.

matt pokes his head in, looking at you two like you're the dumbest people alive. “are you two... good?”

nick peeks in behind him, immediately catching on. “nope. they’re flirting again.”

“we’re NOT!” you both shout at the same time.

matt raises a brow, unimpressed. “sure.”

nick shrugs. “whatever helps you sleep at night.” he starts to close the door but stops. “also, chris, you smell like a candle aisle. and not the yankee kind.”

you whip a pillow straight at chris’s face and storm out, cheeks burning.

chris, still lying on his bed with a lopsided grin, calls after you – quieter this time, but you hear it clear as day.

“i love you too,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

and, against your will, you smile.

a/n: this is my first fic and idk what I'm doing lmao!! hope you like it as much as I do :))) feedback and constructive criticism is appreciated!

tags: @mattswifeyy @courta13 @p3sthoe @ivysturnss @billiesturns

dividers by @issysh3ll, @bernardsbendystraws 💗

© babytomatoes21

[babytomatoes21]

𝒊'𝒎 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒚 𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆, 𝒔𝒐 𝑰 𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒊𝒛𝒆 𝒊𝒇 𝑰 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔! 𝑰'𝒎 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 <3

↝ inbox is WIDE open cuties

↝ layla ⭒ she/her ⭒ june cancer ⭒ extrovert ⭒ chris girl ⭒ true crime ⭒ jelly cats ⭒ baking ⭒ reading ⭒ yapper ⭒ streetwear ⭒ silver jewelry ⭒ chocolate ⭒ spring ⭒ cuddles ⭒ perplexing music taste

↝ feedback/constructive criticism is appreciated!

↝ 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

↝ 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

↝ 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒘𝒐𝒏'𝒕 + 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆:

i love writing angst and fluff and will probably mess around with random shit before figuring out what I like. I'm not experienced in writing smut but I'll give it my best!! if it makes you uncomfortable please don't read <3

i will not be writing about very specific kinks, incest, or anything weird. y'all know what I'm talking about. requests are ENCOURAGED 🙏

↝ 𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔:

dont copy my work!! taking inspo is completely ok as long as you ask and give creds. no harassment, bullying, threats, bringing other divas down, racism, homophobia, sexism, etc. please stay kind and respectful.

𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒐 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 ♡♡

dividers by @enchanthings-a, @issysh3ll, @adornedwithlight 💗

© babytomatoes21