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fallinallincurls · 2 days ago

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this was so cute!! we love domestic, fall moments with quinn aw!

𝐏𝐔𝐌𝐏𝐊𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐎 | 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

— cozytober masterlist !

summary: as you and quinn have a little pumpkin carving contest, a hidden talent of his emerges.

warnings: quinn being a bully (kidding but also not), halloween fluff!

word count: 1.59k

notes: fic number three of cozytober! also making it a headcanon that quinn would actually be a secretly elite pumpkin carver.

The sun was just beginning to set as you and Quinn stepped through the rows of pumpkins, your uggs crunching on the hay-strewn path. The air was crisp with that signature fall chill, and the scent of autumn leaves filled your senses. You loved this time of year—the cozy sweaters, the pumpkin-flavored everything, and, of course, the Halloween traditions. But what made it even better was doing it all with Quinn. It was your first fall that you were spending with Quinn and you were elated to do fall-themed coupley stuff with him.

Rows upon rows of bright orange pumpkins stretched out in front of you. Quinn’s hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, his breath coming out in little white clouds.

“Think this one has potential?” you ask, nudging a round, medium-sized pumpkin with your boot.

“It’s… okay,” Quinn says, you snorting at his pickiness around pumpkins. “It’s a perfectly average pumpkin.”

“Alright, buddy,” you say, rolling your eyes and picking the pumpkin off the ground. “I’m taking it.”

You continue on, stepping over rogue vines, while Quinn scans the patch for the perfect pumpkin. Finally, Quinn picks one—big, smooth, and almost annoyingly perfect. Of course, he would. Meanwhile, yours is a little less flawless, but it has character, you tell yourself. It’s smaller, but round with just the right amount of wonky.

Once back at your place, you both set up at the kitchen table, spreading out newspapers and pulling out carving tools. Quinn insists that you carve in secret—“so we can do a big reveal at the end,” he says, waggling his eyebrows like this is some high-stakes challenge. You agree, slightly amused by how into this he’s getting.

The kitchen is filled with the sound of scraping, slicing, and your occasional grunt of frustration as you work on your pumpkin. The strong scent of pumpkin guts filled the air as the two of you worked side by side, throwing the seeds and pulp into a bowl. Every now and then, Quinn would glance over at you, trying to sneak a peek at your progress.

“Hey! No peeking at my masterpiece,” you scolded, pointing your spoon at him.

Quinn held his hands up in surrender, a smirk on his lips. “Alright, alright, sorry. I’ll wait.”

You go for one of those basic patterns—the triangle eyes, a jagged smile. It was simple, but you figured it was foolproof. Quinn, on the other hand, seemed focused, too focused, as he meticulously worked on his pumpkin. His brow was furrowed in concentration, tongue poking out slightly in the way it did when he was deep in a thought.

“Almost done over there?” Quinn calls from his side of the table, sounding suspiciously confident.

“Almost,” you lie, frantically trying to smooth out the jagged lines that seem to get worse the more you touch them.

After what feels like forever, Quinn finally announces, “Alright, the moment of truth. Ready?”

You hesitate, glancing down at your pumpkin. It’s…well, it’s not your best work. The eyes are uneven, the smile is crooked, and the whole thing is more ‘lumpy blob’ than ‘spooky jack-o-lantern.’ “How about you go first.” you suggest, hoping that Quinn’s carving will make you feel better about your own.

Quinn turned his pumpkin around with a dramatic flourish. And you froze.

“Oh my god,”

Quinn has somehow carved an intricate scene—Jack Skellington and Sally, perfectly etched into the smooth orange skin of his pumpkin. The detail is incredible, down to the stitching on Sally’s dress and the eerie grin on Jack’s face. It’s from your favorite movie, The Nightmare Before Christmas.

“How did you—?” you stammer, still staring at it in disbelief.

Quinn rubs the back of his neck, looking oddly proud of himself. “I know it’s your favorite, so I figured I’d give it a shot.”

Your heart squeezes. He knew. He remembered. “It’s amazing,” you say softly, still staring at the pumpkin like it’s a masterpiece in a gallery. “Seriously, Quinn, this is…it’s perfect.”

He grins, his usual cocky confidence flickering in his eyes. “Yeah? You like it?”

“Like it? I love it.”

But then you glance down at your pumpkin — your sad, lopsided creation — and suddenly feel a wave of embarrassment. Compared to Quinn’s masterpiece, yours looks like it was carved by a five-year-old.

“Alright, your turn.” Quinn says, urging you to turn around your pumpkin to display your artwork.

“Nah, that’s okay, I think this one ought to go in the compost.” you joke, picking it up and turning to take it out to the bins.

“Hey, hey, no backing out now,” he says, pulling you back to him. “Let’s see it.”

You sigh, placing it back on the table and reluctantly turning it to face Quinn. You hold your breath, bracing for the teasing you know is bound to happen.

To his credit, Quinn tries. He really does. He looks at your pumpkin, his lips twitching as he fights the urge to laugh. You see it in his eyes, the struggle to hold back, but after a second, he just can’t help it and he bursts out laughing.

You cross your arms, fighting a smile. “You’re mean”

“No, no, I’m sorry,” Quinn says between laughs, holding his hands up in surrender. “It’s cute! It’s, uh—” he pauses, still chuckling. “It’s unique. Yeah, that’s the word.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but you can’t help but laugh too. “Yeah, ‘unique.’ That’s what people say when they don’t want to say it’s bad.”

He steps around the table and nudges you with his elbow, his laughter fading into a softer smile. “Hey, I’m serious. It’s cute. I mean, I wasn’t expecting you to carve, like, Michelangelo or anything.”

“Gee thanks, I’m glad you kept your expectations low for me,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“Hey, hey,” Quinn says in a soft tone, stepping behind you and wrapping his arms around your torso. “It’s actually really cute… in a kind of dopey way.”

You snort, pushing out of your boyfriend's grasp, going back to Quinn’s pumpkin that you can’t help but admire. “Whatever, at least we have a cute pumpkin to display.”

“Yeah… you know I think I’ve found my true calling.” Quinn joked.

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Pro pumpkin carver instead of pro hockey player? Bold career shift,” you quipped, crossing your arms and giving him a playful look.

Quinn shrugged dramatically, eyes twinkling. “The heart wants what it wants, babe. Sure, scoring goals is fun, but nothing beats the thrill of carving cartoon characters into a gourd.”

You burst out laughing, the sound filling the cozy kitchen. “Right, because that's totally the dream: trading in ice skates for carving tools.”

He stepped closer, slipping his arms around your waist again, pulling you into him with a smirk. “Hey, don’t underestimate me. Maybe I could be the first dual-career athlete and pumpkin carving champion.”

You couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across your face. “I can see it now—‘Quinn Hughes: NHL star by day, pumpkin Picasso by night.’”

“Now that is a title I could get behind,” he said, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. His playful grin softened as his lips lingered for a moment. "But really, this was a good night. You’re a pretty great carving partner, you know?”

You smiled up at him, warmth spreading through you as you rested your hands on his chest. “I’d say the same about you, but I think you might have stolen the spotlight.”

Quinn chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “How about we light these suckers up and see how they look in the dark?”

You grab the package of tea lights that you’d purchased from the Dollar Store earlier that day, placing them in the middle of your pumpkins and lighting them, before flicking off the kitchen lights. The small flame illuminates the inside of your pumpkins, fully showing off the designs.

“How does it look worse in the dark?” you groan, Quinn chuckling softly.

“I think it has… a rustic charm. Like, it’s so bad, it’s good.”

You roll your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “You’re terrible. But fine, it can stay.” You step back, admiring his intricate carving of Jack and Sally, illuminated now in a way that makes it feel almost magical. The soft candlelight flickers, casting shadows that give Jack’s face a slightly sinister edge while Sally looks hauntingly beautiful.

A thought suddenly pops into your head, and you turn to Quinn, eyes lighting up. “Alright, we have to watch Nightmare Before Christmas now. It’s basically a requirement after this,” you say, gesturing to his pumpkin. “You can’t just carve Jack and Sally and not watch the movie. That’s sacrilegious.”

Quinn grins, stepping closer to you. “You sure you’re not just looking for an excuse to cuddle up and watch your favorite Halloween movie?”

You smirk, raising an eyebrow at him. “Maybe… but you’re the one who set the mood with this carving, so really, it’s your fault.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he pulls you into a warm embrace. “Alright, alright, I’ll take the blame. But you’re in charge of making popcorn. I’ll go put these on the porch.”

“Deal,” you say, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before slipping out of his arms.

As you head to the kitchen to grab popcorn, you feel a rush of warmth and contentment. This was exactly what you’d imagined—a perfect fall night even if your pumpkin didn’t turn out exactly how you’d hoped.

#fic rec #quinn hughes #so so good!!#please read this!!#my heart #i loved it #give me this please #🥹🥹🥹

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