pokemonsavvy so a basic background! Malva is helping Siebold in the kitchen and she notices the microwave isn’t acting properly. So when it starts hissing and stuff like that, she commands him to get down, to which Siebold refuses. She then tackles him to the ground and during this, the microwave explodes and burns her.
“Siebold! Get down, now!” Malva screamed at Siebold who took absolutely no notice of the pinkette’s sudden shriek.
“If it’s the microwave again, just leave it alone…” He groaned, completely tired of hearing about the microwave.
But Malva wasn’t the type to go down easily.
“For Aceus’s sake, Siebold. The more you dismiss the problem of that damn microwave the worse it’s going to get! Who knows?! It could explode right now!” She exclaimed.
“Malva! Would you shut up about that damn microwave! Nothing is going to happen!” He scolded her, casting a mean glance to the woman behind her.
“You can be such a prick sometimes, you know that?” She retaliated.
This shock Siebold and as he finally turned around, the microwave suddenly shut off. He glanced at it warily for he was sure that a second ago the time read 1:03. Malva quickly looked over to the microwave and noticed an unsettling aroma fill the air, along with a strange popping noise.
Malva looked over to the confused blonde and back to the microwave and confirmed that something was wrong. The popping noise continued for a minute or so, then soon after it stopped. Replaced with the eerie silence was a hiss.
In a flash Malva ran over to Siebold and tackled him to the ground only while she did so, the door to the microwave burst open and released the contents of what was inside.
To Siebold, the next minute seemed to have happened in slow motion. As the two were falling to the ground, the apple tarts bloomed like a flower, only to catapult the contents everywhere. Within seconds, the steamy hot filling of the fruity desert had hit the fire type elitist on the back of her shoulder.
The shriek she emitted was none that Siebold had heard before. He was sure she had to have been used to being burned by her Pokemon but this scream suggested otherwise.
When Malva finally stopped, all Siebold could do was stare. He had never seen her so vulnerable before! So helpless,so weak, so blind…He had to do something.
Quickly he scrambled to his feet, and rushed over to the phone.
“Siebold, I’m fine.” Malva squeaked, her voice barely audible.
She slowly propped herself up on one arm, but winced in pain.
Siebold dropped the phone and quickly rushed over to her.
“No Malva, you stay put.” He commanded not giving her a chance to reply and rushed back to the phone.
She groaned in response. She absolutely hated this, feeling all weak and having to have someone take care of her. It bounded her will of feeling independent.
“…Yes, I will take her there myself, no need for an ambulance. Alright, I’ll be there shortly.” Siebold finished and then hung up.
“You didn’t seriously call the doctor did you?” She muttered, knowing that his answer wasn’t going to be one she liked.
“Of course I did. Don’t be silly.” He merely responded and began to pick up Malva.
“Siebold I’m pretty sure I can walk–”
“No, I don’t want to you to injure yourself anymore.” He interrupted as he carried her to his car.
Siebold gently sat her in the passenger seat and walked over to the driver’s seat.
The car ride there was silent except for the occasional, “Are you alright?” When Siebold went over a bump in the road. To which Malva reassured him that she was doing okay.
I saw fanart. That’s all of an excuse I need, it seems.
Malva is sick in his bed.
She wakes up like that, eyes puffy and nose dripping. There’s something going around the Plateau, and she must have caught it on her trip back from Luminose. Nothing was apparent last night. She ate, laughed, kissed, and scratched with the same amount of ferocity - with that perfect cross between sensual and playful. It could sate him for days, really.
Right now, however? With her hair down and disheveled, shivering underneath his thick, blue blankets…it was hard to believe her fingers brushed up against his chest hours before, her touch twisting his throat, his grip tightening around her soft hips…
“Siebold,” Malva’s voice is raw and low, and he can tell from her infliction that she hardly likes the sound, “It’s cold.”
“I know,” Siebold replies, throwing his side of the covers over her as he rummages the floor for a spare pair of sweats, “Do you think putting your clothes back on will help?”