#MY HEAAART

[grandmaster-anne]

18 June 2024 Princess Anne and The Duchess of Gloucester on day one of Royal Ascot at Ascot Racecourse, Berkshire.

[terminaxshowtime]

NO WAIT BC I JUST GOT CLARA'S LIGHTCONE FROM THE MONTHLY RESET SHOP PULLS AND I WENT TO THE STORY AND.

AND THEN THE IMAGE

[scottishoctopus]

How long did it take you to learn the pipe organ, Captain??

"A couple of years, mah mothah was mah tutor when Ah started practin' during mah early teens. She was extraordinarily talented and Ah was always wantin' tah be as good as her- uh."

He sadly smiles, reminiscing of the warming and simpler times of him sat next to his mother on the pipe organ bench. Her encouraging smile as she taught him about each individual key to press.

"Since then Ah've gained much more years of experience playin' the instrument. Ah can only hope that if she was alive tahday then she would be proud that Ah'm still playin' her pipe organ."

[ofhope]

He was still convinced that his idea was better, but he supposed he saw the benefit of something more permanent as opposed to a short, fleeting life. Shinobu and her big, beautiful brain — it was because of her that Yoimiya was pulled aside during her birthday festivities and handed over a box the size of her head rather than a wire bug cage.

“Look, I'm — I'm not great at giving gifts 'cause I usually dunno what people like. I mean, aside from my boys. I've been makin' loads of friends lately, but. . . none of 'em have been like you. Every day I'm learnin' something new about you, and it's making me like you more and more.”

Awkwardly, Itto stood a little straighter and scratched at the wild mane of hair on his head. “I told myself I wasn't going to get all ramble-y. Ahh, just open it already! C'mon, it's good! No, it's amazing! I promise!”

The box was only marginally bigger than the gift itself, but that was because the gift was wider than it was tall. Sitting at the bottom was a gorgeously painted and polished onikabuto carved from various woods across not only Inazuma, but all of Teyvat.

“Isn't it the sickest thing you've ever seen?!” He was getting excited just looking at it. His boyish glee got the better of him, and he pulled the onikabuto from its box. He was careful as he set it in his large palm, the wood warm under the light of a slowly dozing sun. “Look, the wings can open! You can set the legs how you want too, so it can sit wherever you want, however you want.”

He pried the wings open, the thicker and ordinary shell portion giving away to allow brightly colored, vibrantly painted thinner pieces to fan out. “I didn't carve all of this 'cause it would have taken me for-ever, but I painted this part. It's supposed to look like the sky when your fireworks are going off, but I'm not the best at painting.”

It wasn't terrible. If she squinted, she might see that there was meant to be a black sky behind the slathered on mess of yellows, oranges red and whites.

“I wanted to get you a real beetle, but Shinobu said this will last longer.” He huffed proudly through his nose and held the elaborate piece for her to take. “Happy Birthday, babe!! I hope you're ready to par-tay!!”

It wasn't of her own volition that her birthday was known -- whilst never turning down attention, it was kind of hard to dispute that whenever you worked in the firework business, one of the loudest, brightest things imaginable! -- it wasn't something Yoimiya made a note of, usually. Projects needed finishing, festivals were being planned, and she had kids to hang out with! They, most often, were the ones that remembered the day, greeting her with a smile, a confection, and a you didn't remember it was your birthday?!

Likewise... it was the first time she and the Oni had been close enough to celebrate one another's birthday. One or the other was usually off, skipping 'round someplace, their own methods of trouble catching up with them before their candles could be blown out, and it was only whenever a shout (likely heard across the entirety of Inazuma, no, Teyvat!) rang out that Yoimiya had turned, met by a head of hair she knew only one had, met by a smile that only he had. With how bright he shined, how could Yoimiya have noticed, quite possibly, the world's biggest gift?!

(She did notice, of course... after Itto called attention to it. Can't blame a girl for being in awe, can you?)

“Oooooh! -- but, Itto, I thought you were saving your Mora?” tick, tick, tick... “Whaaat?! You were saving it for this?! I thought you'd lost a bet or something! Or, well, probably three bets, going by the size of this—” clank, Yoimiya shifted the box around in her hands, just so: not enough to damage any delicates, but enough to gauge what could be lurking inside. “Woahhh, it sounds heavy! And-and feels heavy!”

Pop! went the lid, and brought into Itto's careful hands...

“Whoaaa...” jaw slack, Yoimiya watched attentively, spying every colorful twinkle, watching how the sun danced off of every swipe of beautifully blended paint. “Itto, you didn't - you - you would - AAH!”

Shaking with excitement, she took a leap, making up for their distance and swinging her arms 'round his neck! Careful of potentially knocking free her gift (how was that hers?! she thought of one, five, ten different places she could place it, all for visitors, the world to see!), she breathed in the scent of a soft, woodsy fragrance, the smell of freshly trimmed grass, and hot concrete; all compiled to create the smell of home. Nudging her legs to lock 'round his waist - while she had no doubt Itto could carry ten Yoimiyas', the weight being off-balance would proobably make it hard? - she peppered loud, loving smooches 'cross his jawline, his cheeks, kissing along every red streak, happiness washing over her in waves.

“Itto, seriously, you didn't have to do all of this - and I knoww, I knoww, 'you're my girl! I'd do it anyway!' but, but - I just,” eye-level, she placed one more kiss, right at his lips. “Thank you. Seriously! This is so, so, so cool, I dunno' how the whole world hasn't heard about it yet! Guess we'll have to start at telling everyone at this party, huh?”

Nose-to-nose, Yoimiya hoped her smile was felt, as well as seen. For Itto to know how truly, truly happy he had made her, gift or no gift.

“I love you, you big, stubborn oni. Aaand ~ I love this! A whole, whole, super lot! We have to show the kids first, they're going to go crazy!!”

@xamassed, for Yoimiya's birthday (6/21). ♥

[hsgucci94]

GIIIRL !! YOU KEEP OUTDOING YOURSELF TIME AND TIME AGAIN OMG SOOO SOOO PERFECT IM AS OBSESSED WITH THEM AS I AM WITH YOUR WRITING !! 💖💖💖💖💖💖 xx

Red*

Summary: An extra for Mine*

The one where your mafia boss boyfriend, Harry, comes home covered in wounds and bruises.

And the sight is more than you can handle.

(CW: Use of a safeword!)

Word Count: 2.8k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Red.”

Immediately, the bedroom falls quiet. The squeaking of the old mattress is silenced, the desperate gasps for air are held, and the heated words of encouragement vanish.

Within an instant, Harry is readjusting his hold on your hips and lifting you off his cock to place you beside him. You can’t see his face through the collection of tears in your eyes, but you imagine it’s petrified and concerned. Perhaps even a little surprised and guilt stricken.

And the idea makes your stomach ache.

“Okay,” he agrees quietly, slipping a palm around your jaw to help guide you into his side. Holding you tight as he sucks in a strained breath. “Okay, red. We’re done. We’re done, mama. It’s okay.”

Your sobbing is soft but pained. The images in your head nearly impossible to escape as you shake in his arms and nuzzle your nose into his neck as though to hide. 

You’re trying, you are. Desperately attempting to think of anything else. Anything…besides the marks on his body.

When you close your eyes, they’re all you see. The bruises littered along his temple. The scratches down his chest. The bandages around his ribcage.

The reminder of what he’s been through.

This is how he’d come home to you earlier this evening. Covered in wounds and lesions from a deal gone south. He’d been gone for almost twenty-four hours, leaving you to sit in your distress until you finally got word that he had been rescued and was on his way.

He’d been in rather good spirits when he walked through the door. Grateful to see you while joking about needing a hot shower and a good meal.

But the sight of him – covered in blood with skin turning an unsettling shade of purple – had nearly sent you onto shaky knees. 

You’d taken him to the bathroom to help him clean and dress the wounds. You helped him shower and eat. Had given him some pain medication and proceeded to do everything you could to help him feel comfortable.

But what the two of you had really needed…was each other.

The rush of adrenaline and anxiety and utter relief had consumed you. Nearly knocked you over until all you wanted was to feel him. To know he was okay. That he was home and safe.

That he came back.

But despite how loving his touch, and how deep his thrusts, and how sweet his kisses…you couldn’t shake the panic you’d felt from losing him. Couldn’t look anywhere else but the bruises painted across his beautiful skin or outrun the scenarios in your mind of how he must have gotten them. 

And you wanted to continue. Wanted nothing more than to feel secure again. Safe and comforted by the fact that he was home and in your arms once more.

But every time you’d look at him, tears would flood your eyes. And you’d be reminded of what could have been.

“Sugar?” he whispers now, lips gently pressing to the curve of your bare shoulder. “Baby, can you look at me? Can you tell me what’s wrong? What happened?”

However, all you can do is sniffle and shake your head once, scooting even closer as though trying to disappear through him. 

You hear him sigh before his arm loops around your hip to pull you flesh to his side. “Are you hurt? Did I go too hard? Or hold you too tight?”

More sniffling and head shaking.

“Was it the position? Was it uncomfortable or painful?”

A hiccup this time.

He grows quiet, cheek pressing to the crown of your head. “Mama…I know it’s a lot right now. But I need to know if you’re hurt or feel like you’re in danger. I need to know how to make you feel safe again. Can you…can you please try to tell me? I won’t be mad, I promise. I just wanna help.”

But you can’t find the words. Can’t offer him the answer he wants. Because it was nothing he did or anything he said. It wasn’t his touch, or the position, or the situation. And you’ve never felt safer than here in his arms.

So how do you explain this?

“I almost lost you,” you finally whisper, the admission nearly getting lost into his heated skin.

You feel him shift, and you assume he’s glancing down at your trembling frame. “What?”

Swallowing another sob, you say, “They hurt you. They hurt you and they almost took you from me. They…they did this to you, and I…I…”

The rest of your sentence evades you, but he seems to understand, his hand slipping around the back of your neck to encourage you out of hiding.

You whimper in protest, not wanting to see him when you feel so small, but he doesn’t accept this. Instead, he takes your face in both hands and forces your eyes on his. Keeping you in front of him as you attempt to squirm away.

“Mama,” he exhales, stern but soft. “Listen to me. I’m right here. Okay? I’m right here and I’m okay. You didn’t lose me. You could never lose me.”

Yet the tears only fall faster. Dripping down into his hands like watercolors on a canvas, wet and warm. 

He merely tightens his grip, refusing your wrestling. “Hey – hey. Look at me, baby. Look at me. I’m okay. I’m all right. Yeah? I need you to see that. I need you to see that I’m okay—”

“But you weren’t,” you blubber, grabbing onto his wrists for security. “You were gone, and I…I didn’t know. I didn’t know if I’d see you again—”

“Oh, my sweet girl,” he murmurs, surging forward to press his forehead to yours. “I know. I know, sugar, but I’m okay. They could never keep me from you. Nothing will ever keep from you. Do you understand?”

You want to understand. Want to believe it more than anything. But just because it was true this time doesn’t mean it always will be.

And the thought guts you.

“I need you to look at me,” he says again, thumbs sweeping across the high points of your cheeks. “I need you to see that I’m okay, yeah? I need you to do this for me.”

Your lashes flutter but you can’t oblige his request. Not yet. Just the thought of seeing those scratches – that don’t belong to you – makes your heart wrench.

He brings you closer, lips sweeping down the bridge of your nose, the arch of your brow, and the edge of your hairline. “Please look at Daddy. I need you to see me.”

So, you do. But the moment your eyes find his battered chest, another wounded sound scrapes from your throat. Broken like the cracks of a sidewalk as you reach out to hover your fingers near the marks.

He glances down as well, watching your hesitancy with a gentle frown. “It’s okay,” he says again, guiding your hand to his torso. Letting you feel him despite the way you gasp. “See? S’just a scratch or two. Couple of stitches and I’ll be fine. You and I have done way worse, yeah?”

He’s attempting to tease, but you feel your insides twist. “It’s not okay,” you mumble, the words heavy like the weight atop your chest. “It’s not okay, look at you. They…they did this to you?”

When he realizes you’re beginning to panic again, he squeezes your palm and presses it flat against his heart. “Hey. It’s all right. D’you feel that? I’m okay. It’s steady. Still beating, still stable. M’gonna be around for a long fucking time.”

You sniffle again and trail the tip of your finger around the edge of each bandage, tracing the bruises and scars with reverence.

“I’m okay,” he repeats. “I promise. I promise, mama. Don’t want you to worry about me. Or think about it. Or feel scared. I want you to feel safe, I want to make you feel safe.”

“You do,” you tell him, whimpering again as you melt into his touch. “You do, always.”

His brows furrow and you notice a look of regret settle onto his expression. “Except today.”

Confused, you glance up.

“I scared you today,” he explains, reaching up to brush some hair behind your ear. “I made you feel unsafe. I didn’t see how much you were struggling, and I should have. I failed you—”

“No,” you nearly gasp, almost insulted by the insinuation. “Never, Har—”

“It’s my job to look after you,” he continues sternly. “My job is to make sure you’re comfortable. To anticipate your needs in moments you can’t tell me, and I didn’t. I failed you—”

“No,” you whisper, scooting back onto his lap until you can wrap your arms around his neck and bury your lips against his throat. “No, I promise. Please don’t say that. Please—”

“I promised I’d never push you that far again,” he reminds you, a bit softer but still riddled with regret. “And I’m so sorry I did.”

“Daddy,” you sigh, hoping the dominant nickname will be enough to reach him. To make him understand. “Didn’t push me, I swear. It just caught up to me. Seeing you so hurt. I didn’t realize how scared I’d been until we got here, I guess. And it was all I could think about.”

You hear his breath catch and you know him well enough to know he’s internalizing your admission. Perhaps punishing himself for something completely out of his control.

“I never want to scare you,” he says, and you feel your chest cave in. “I never want what we do to scare you or make you feel unsafe. And I should have waited longer before suggesting it—”

“No, I wanted to do this,” you assure him. “I needed to do this. I needed to feel you, to be with you. To know I’d gotten you back. That you were okay.”

You lean back to see him and notice the way the corners of those beautiful green eyes are turning red. The way his lashes flutter, the way his mouth presses into a thin, distraught line.

“Harry,” you murmur, nails sweeping through the curls lying against his neck. “This is not your fault. I called it because I got overwhelmed but you couldn’t have known that. And you did everything you were supposed to do. You stopped and you talked to me. You made me feel safe again.”

He seems unconvinced and it makes your heart ache to know he feels so much remorse. “I just want you to be okay.”

“I am,” you exhale, leaning forward to press your mouth to his. Kissing him as though your sanity depends on it. “I will always be okay with you.”

He seems to settle into your reassurance, hands once again squeezing your hips as though trying to tell you how much he adores you.

And it seems to dissipate this tight feeling in your chest as you lace your tongue with his and travel your touch down to his cock.

He’s still hard, the tip swollen and stained red. You feel a twinge of guilt over leaving him this way when he so clearly needs the release, but before you can wrap your palm around him, he’s snatching onto your wrist.

Kind eyes find yours while his mouth curls up into a gentle but resolved smile. “No, baby. Not right now.”

Your expression falls as fast as your stomach. “What? Why? I’m…I’m okay now, I want to help.”

His only response is to bring your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss into the tips of your fingers as he murmurs, “We’re taking a break right now, okay?”

“But…Har, I’m okay. Really. I wanted to wait because I thought I wouldn’t be able to stop crying but I’m okay now. I’m green.” 

However, despite your insistence and your honest pleading, he merely shakes his head. “I want us to wait for a while, okay? Just until we feel ready.”

You feel yourself pout but you know there’s no arguing with him, despite the anxious pulling on your heart. “But I am ready, Daddy.”

He chuckles at your attempt, sitting up to kiss your right cheek. “Well Daddy’s not ready yet. I want to kiss you for a little, is that okay?”

You make a rather needy noise before relaxing into his embrace and his comforting touch. “Yes, Daddy.”

Pleased, he guides you back onto the bed beside him, angling your body until he can gently sweep his mouth along yours. Kissing you slow and with more love than you know what to do with.

His tongue feels like silk. Dancing along your bottom lip so effortlessly that it leaves you breathless. Until you’re squeezing onto his hip for balance.

You feel him grin against you. “My sweet girl,” he whispers. “Love to just have you like this. To be here with you.”

He smells so comforting. Good and familiar. Like his body wash and shampoo that you love to inhale. It turns your brain to mush as you focus on the feel and the smell of the man pressing himself into you. Keeping you warm and secure against his chest.

He kisses your top lip before smirking. “Can I tell you a secret, mama?”

You nod, palms slipping around his strong, broad shoulders.

He pauses, just long enough to meet your eye. “I like the pain.”

You feel your breath hitch as you stare at him, a rush of excitement and intrigue filling the aching space between your thighs.

“Liked it then…like it now,” he admits quietly, kissing you once more. “I like when you touch them. Like when you press on them. Like when you scratch your nails down the scars and make them bleed.”

With a delicate and depraved whimper, you shuffle closer, slipping one of your legs between his almost greedily.

He smiles again and it’s so smug. “All I could think about when I was there was how excited I was to feel your hands on them. To feel you touch me. Make the pain worth it.”

Your eyelids feel heavy. A drunken state of lust washing over your subconscious while he kisses you deeper into the mattress. Curling his body over yours until your head nearly sinks through the pillow.

“And I fucking love these lips,” he murmurs between frantic licks to your tongue. “God, could fucking stay here forever. Tasting you. Having you. Feeling you kiss each bruise.”

He’s painting you a new picture. Resetting the trauma in your head until you associate his marks with pleasure instead of pain. With promise instead of regret. Excitement instead of disappointment.

You feel his cock brushing against the edge of your thigh, and you whine again at his insistence on teasing you. “Har, please—”

 “Shh,” he breathes, nosing under your jaw to trail his mouth along the curve of your throat. “Just want you to lay here with me.”

Your pout returns. “It’s not fair—”

“No? I think I’m being more than fair,” he retorts, large hands sweeping across your ribcage. “I’m giving you all my love and attention. Isn’t that what you want? Always beg me to just lay with you and cuddle. S’what we’re doing, yeah?”

You make another noise and push your tits into his chest, hoping for any sort of friction. “Hurts, Daddy.”

“Hurts?” His brow raises curiously but he seems to understand what you really mean. “Hurts how, sugar?”

“S’achy. Feels…feels empty.”

“Empty, hm?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, that’s no good.”

“Mm-mm.”

And for a moment, you think he’s going to cave. You think he’s going to dance those perfect fingers of his down to your cunt and take a little taste. Give you what he knows you need until you’re writhing and crying for him.

But just when you feel him move his hand…he’s taking it away and stretching it out beside him with a yawn.

“Gosh, I’m just so exhausted,” he sighs, fighting a rather large smirk when he sees your reaction. “I think we should have a little nap, hm?”

Before you can respond, he’s looping that same arm around your waist, flipping you around until your back is against his chest, and settling. Chin tucked over your shoulder and touch firm.

You stumble over a gasp and a rather defeated groan, attempting to ignore the feel of his cock pressed so deliciously against your ass.

But Harry’s resolve is unmatched, and even without seeing him, you know he’s grinning.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he finally whispers, and the feel of his breath against your neck sends a chill down your spine. “Once we wake up, if we want to try again…we can. Does that sound good?”

It’s not the perfect solution, but you know it’s the only one he’s going to offer you. So, with a quick nod and another pleased sigh, you slip your fingers around his wrist to keep his hold on you.

He chuckles. 

“That’s my girl.”

IN CASE IT WASN'T SUPER CLEAR, THIS ONE-SHOT TAKES PLACE OUTSIDE OF THE CURRENT ASHER TIMELINE/DILEMMA! Just something for fun! 😭💞💞💞

Previous Part:

~ Pillowtalk*

~ Full Mine Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @acesofspadess @stylesfever @virginvirgo @pagesfalling @creativelyeva @char112244 @snwells @armystay89 @oh-my-hecky-padalecki @blackbookwhore @nellylayhoohoo @22fallenangel22 @watercolorskyy @ilovedilfs32 @nicodoesntexist @lelenikki @happypoptart

[softiedingo]

HIS SMILE!!!!! 😭😭💖

[hampsdesu]

More nan chan sketches

[m0gelf]

Gorda is crying..... he's crying...... heat cry........ heat may cry........... mi gorda😔

[jenniegenics]

I LOVE VINDAD HC SO MUUCCHH

This is a fanfiction comic I drew a long time ago.

I love the little boy having a good time.

The drawing is different from now.

I had a friend help me with the frame layout and used CG for the background.

[merchantofwhispers]

“A thousand years…” Enya muttered under her breath, arms wrapping around her knees and pulling them even closer to her. Her gaze is curious but cautious as she watches Cinead. “Did…did you have a life before? A family? Friends? Do you…miss it?”

He'd tried to warn Gemina in the beginning about the child. It was risky having her with them. How would she explain what they were? Why they didn't eat meals like a normal family? Why they shied away from the outdoors when the sun was up? It seemed that his worries were for nothing as Enya took to the news fairly well, even if it did come with some with sensitive questions.

Cinead sighed, starting to speak before stopping several times as he tried to find the right words. This was a child; Enya was a child. She didn't deserve the wrath those questions usually elicited. She was curious and much to his dismay, he'd grown fond of the little redhead.

"I-.. Did. I do.." Cinead muttered beneath his breath while looking at her with visible sorrow. "I 'ad a normal family, jus' like people today.. 'ad a wife and kids too." Of course they came long after his vampirism, but those details didn't matter.

"-'Ad lots of friends, lots of 'em.. Lot's of 'em over the years, Enya.." He sees her tepid demeanor, the way she's curling in on herself. "Ya'-.. Ya know yer' safe with us, don't ya, Enya? Tha' Minny and I ain't gon' hurt ya', and tha' we ain't gonna' let no one else hurt ya' either.."

He shrunk down, shoulders hunching as he leaned his elbows onto his knees as if trying to match his stature to the softness and meekness of his voice. "Ya' make Minny awful happy bein' 'round." She made him happy too, even if he didn't want to admit it out loud.

@withinkandquill

[rosie-tyler]

Jealous jealous jealous boyy~

[agentv12]

AAAAAAAAAAA LOOK AT THEM

Kit x Tails nation rise up

[the-acid-pear]

The state of my frogs parallels my very own to the point shame escapes me but here's Daniel. Name is a bit of a pun bc as you can see he kinda is missing a hand (not intended ofc but let's get creative) and a peronista (✌️) so naturally no other name fit him. He's also in a band w Nazareno and Jorge, or at least was. I forgot what his role was. He's also very quiet very chill. Not much going on man just vibing. I thought of giving him half lidded eyes in the past w sharpie.

[windsofredemption]

( @liliaciae )

Zamasu was at the park in Conton City, perhaps Zamasu wanted to catch some fresh air? Maybe he felt a bit… lonely?

Anato, Eyre, and Khai were seen sitting at a table, drinking tea with delicious looking treats. As they are talking with their attendants on their side, Rubis, Beadle, and Solune.

They all seem to have a good time and a close bond.

Khai was the first one to notice Zamasu… There was a very uncomfortable eye contact. Khai would quickly turn his head away from him, pretending that he didn't notice Zamasu.

His ears lowered slightly as he frowned.... debating on whether he should even try to approach them... Judging by the look Khai gave, he had a feeling it wouldn't be well recieved... but still...

The shinjin found himself walking over unconsciously- that need for companionship... a friend... it overwhelmed the young ex apprentice's common sense.

' They're going to chase you off or leave- they don't want to be near you- you know this! Why are you setting yourself up for rejection?!' His thoughts screamed. 'After the stunt with your future counterpart- they all know how you truly act and feel!!' Despite the thoughts... he still attempted.

' ' Er... hello....it's been a while....' '

He cursed mentally as his voice cracked from anxiety- his ears staying low to show he meant no harm.

[oohbuggypie]

IM GONNA VOMIT.

I DONT EVEN RESONATE W THE LYRICS OR ANYTHING JUST THAT ONE PART . THOSE PARTS .. UHGHGGGGHUHHHUHHH 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[pianokantzart]

I didn’t realize before but when Mario grabs at Luigi to pull them out of their room so that they can stop Brooklyn from flooding, Mario actually holds Luigi’s hand in his as he pulls him along.

I always thought he grabbed him by the wrist but he actually took the time to place his hand in Luigi’s, I don’t know why but I find that very wholesome in a way I can’t really describe.

It's because grabbing him by the wrist can be interpreted as forceful and demanding, whereas grabbing him by the hand indicates a sense of partnership and comradery! Out of the two brothers, Mario is the impulsive go-getter, but at the same time he respects Luigi's agency. He doesn't boss him around, he just forges ahead while knowing that Luigi will be there to help him out every step of the way, simply because that's how it's always been.

Despite Luigi's natural nervousness, they're partners, and they've always been partners. Mario knows how Lu works, understands his limitations, but still holds a high amount of respect for him despite being in something of a leadership role. Many see Luigi as an easy target to steamroll over, while Mario goes out of his way to raise his sibling up and treat him as an equal... because he is. Though people on the outset may not recognize it, Mario needs Luigi as much as Luigi needs Mario, plain and simple.