You tousled your hair in frustration, pacing back and forth in the living room. You needed to think fast. Time was running out…

As you mercilessly racked your brains for an idea, your ears absentmindedly picked up bits and pieces of your boyfriend's velvety deep voice, as he recorded a new video for his channel.

"…my name is Markiplier, and today we're gonna play a game called Google Feud…"

It had been three years since fate decided to chuck Mark Fischbach smack in the middle of your path. So many things that weren't supposed to happen decided to transpire on the day that you two met, and in all honesty, you and Mark never would have gotten close if it weren't for them. Destiny must have been high as all hell when it decided that you'd eventually fall in love with someone you met because of a broken nose…

You were working at PAX, trying to keep the lines orderly at one of Markiplier's signing events. You were doing a fairly good job. That was, until an overenthusiastic fan's elbow collided mightily with your nose. There was an ominously audible crack, as well as a great deal of blood. You hated blood. They told you later on that you passed out cold—a fact that Mark never failed to use against you to this day—and when you woke up in one of those employees-only areas, he was in the same room, nursing a bruised rib. It turned out the fan who broke your nose didn't notice what she had done and ran right past your hyperventilating figure. She made a beeline for Mark, sprinting full-speed towards him, and gave him a great tackling hug that caused his injury.

"I didn't think my signing event would get this NOSE-ty. It was ter-RIB-ble, don't you think?" was the first thing he ever said to you, complete with his trademark goofy grin and a wink.

The rest was history.

As you unwittingly smiled at the memories, the sound of Mark's giggling filled the air—he was repeatedly making some joke about "a pet named Steve".

It was this racket that hauled you away from the reminiscing. You put your face in your hands, inwardly screaming expletives at yourself for getting so distracted. Mark's birthday was tomorrow, and you still haven't figured out what to get him as a present. One would think—after nearly two-and-a-half years of being in a relationship with the guy—that it would gradually become easier to come up with gift ideas, but you found it to be the most stressful dilemma in the world.

Mark wasn't picky about those kinds of things, which was precisely the problem. He never asked for anything—except physical action—and he never seemed to want anything either. But whenever it came to getting something for you, he went all-out every single time. For your most recent birthday, he got you a custom-made Warfstache necklace encrusted with real pink diamonds. For Valentine's Day, he took you on a hot-air balloon date. He rented out an entire restaurant for your second anniversary, and took you skydiving on your birthday before last.

So now you were drilling holes in the ground with your pacing, trying to come up with something special enough to give him.

Maybe a new controller, you thought, since he smashed his old one playing "I Am Bread". But that's too simple…

Perhaps a surprise involving a new set of lingerie and a promise for an eventful night would be good enough for him. Of course it would be good enough for him, but I already used that card last year...

"…and as always, I will see you in the next video. Buh-bye!"

Holy shit, why did he finish so soon?!

That's it. You're screwed. You have nothing planned, whatsoever. You put your face in your hands to muffle the obscenities that flew out of your mouth, then composed yourself just as quickly before Mark could find you in that messy state. It was bad enough as it is; you didn't want him catching on to your dire situation.

He found you on the living room couch, reading a novel, acting as though nothing had been gnawing incessantly at your brain for the past two weeks.

You looked up, pretending not to have noticed him initially enter the room. "Hey, babe. How was Google Feud?"

"It was good, but I don't think it'll end up being too long of a video." He stretched out on the couch, resting his head on your lap. "I had fun playing, though."

You put away the book and started to scratch his head soothingly, a gesture that you knew he had always loved. "I know. I heard you laughing a lot…you kept on saying 'a pet named Steve'. Was it some kind of reference?"

"No, I actually don't know why I found that so funny." His endearing giggling started up again. "I just ended up typing it whenever I couldn't come up with anything."

You smiled amusedly. "Classic Markiplier."

He sat up and winked seductively, speaking in his movie-worthy baritone voice. "You know it, baby."

Laughing, you began to read your novel again. Mark put his arm around you, took out his phone, and started skimming through his Facebook page.

"Bujeezus, my birthday isn't until tomorrow, guys. I'm getting so many greetings already," he thought aloud.

At the mention of the word "birthday", something in the back of your brain finally snapped. Your book landed with a soft thud on your lap. "Damn it, Mark. I hate it. I hate it so much."

He looked at you in alarm, thinking he had done something wrong. "(Y/n)—"

"Why does it have to be so freakin' difficult?"

"What's wrong?" he asked cautiously, rubbing the nape of your neck in a calming manner, concern embedded in his eyes.

You crossed your arms, lips stuck out in a pout, hating yourself for acting so childishly—but you couldn't help it. "I can't figure out what to get you for your birthday! I've been trying for weeks!"

Actions stopping abruptly, Mark's eyes widened in surprise. Then he started laughing.

You anticipated this reaction, but it only increased your annoyance. "It's not funny."

"God, I thought it was something serious," he admitted, still chuckling.

You stood up in frustration. "It is serious! You always give me all these crazy presents whenever there's a special occasion, and here I am unable to even come up with a single thing to give you!"

He rose and pulled you into a tight embrace. "I've always told you that it doesn't matter whether or not you get me anything."

You pulled away and gave him a stern look. "No, it's not fair. I want to get you something. What do you want?"

For a brief moment, you caught something flash across his eyes. But you ran out of time to decipher the emotion, because a split-second later he had yanked your lips together.

The kiss was powerful and intense, sending shockwaves of pleasure shooting down every nerve of your body. One of his hands snaked its way around your waist, and the other was keeping a firm hold on the nape of your neck. His lips moved masterfully against your own, robbing you completely of breath, giving you sensations that were both familiar and utterly foreign. You melted into his embrace and ran your fingers through his hair as the kiss grew more heated.

All too soon it seemed, Mark pulled away. "That," he said panting, "that is what I want for my birthday."

You silently agreed that it was totally worth it, but a nagging feeling in the back of your mind kept stubbornly tugging your thoughts back to the issue. It was wonderful, just being with Mark, celebrating his birthday that way. But simultaneously, you felt as though that would seem like you made no particular effort to actually give him anything tangible.

"You'll get plenty of that, babe, I assure you. But just ask for something else too," you pleaded, still trying to recover from the effects of his sudden actions. "Hurry up, request something. Anything."

"Anything?" He raised an eyebrow mischievously. "Well, I'd love another one of those nights like the one you gave me last year."

"Done. I'll give you one of those too. But that's not enough since I already did it for your last birthday. What else?"

"Oh (y/n), believe me, that's all I want," he stated, giddy with excitement.

"Anything material?" you asked impatiently.

"This is besides the new lingerie you're going to get for tonight, right?"

You nodded, trying to keep your face serious, but a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.

"Fine." Mark took you by the shoulders. "You know me, I love random things. So if you really want to get me a birthday present that badly, get me the first thing that pops into your head when I say…GO!"

"Got it," you replied immediately.

You almost laughed. Of all the things…but that was the first thing that came to mind, so apparently that was what you were getting him.

There was some paperwork to be done, so you needed to head off immediately.

"(Y/n)," he called out when you started to leave. "Where are you going?"

"Gonna go fetch your birthday present."

Mark caught up to you, and turned you around to face him. "Thanks for whatever it is, but just remember that you're always gonna be enough for me." He planted a gentle kiss on your forehead.

You smiled and pecked him quickly on the lips. "Trust me, you're not gonna regret that I insisted."

…

He stared at you in shock, the glee clearly pronounced on his face. "What is this?"

"Your birthday present. You told me to get you the first random thing that comes to mind, right?" You held up the Golden Retriever puppy that you had adopted from the shelter just hours previously. "His name is Steve."