GIRLSLOVEJAHSEH @kynswrldd - Tumblr Blog

{ authors note: hey my shaylassssssss! PLEASEEEEE do not beat me up! 🧍🏿‍♀️i just graduated college with my bachelor’s degree in health scienceeeee 🤭. i’m sorry for the delay, life after college is crazy and the job market is shit 😭. i really need to be writing more since im unemployed, but i be having laziness and writers block badddd. but im back :) a surprise series otw! probably tonight 😁 <3 ~ K 💋 }

⤥ ☜♡☞ ☜♡☞ s͙y͙n͙o͙p͙s͙i͙s͙: A viral tweet pulls Kynadi into Tyriq’s orbit after he sees it during an interview. What starts as a funny moment spirals into follows, lurking, and a DM that changes everything. As their chemistry unfolds in real time, the internet watches closely—while something genuine begins to build beneath the attention.

⤥taglist: @coochieruntz @moodymp4 @gyattttsblog @kaylalb @luv4kyky @In4president @marvel-dork98 @imanaged @rejithink @slowaache @manitsunamii @brains-2-beauty @kissmyteef @sofia-da-1st @sp4nishj0int @khaos99 (comment to be added next time, also for some ppl it wouldn’t let me tag :/)

⤥ word count: 4.3k+ or something like that irdk 🧍🏿‍♀️kind of proofread, excuse mistakes!

⤥ read part one and two first! 🫶🏾

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THE SOCIALS

“ 'ꛕꛎꚶꕷ𖤢 𖢧ꛅ𖤢ꚲ 𖤀𖣠ꛘ'𖢧 ꛅꛎꚴ𖤢 ꛎ ꛕꚳꚶ𖤢 ꔪꚶ𖢧 𖢧ꛅ𖤢ꚲ 𖤀𖣠ꛘ'𖢧 𖦪𖤢ꛎ𖤀 ꚲ𖣠ꚶ ꚳꛈ𖢉𖤢 ꛈ 𖤀𖣠… ”

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WEDNESDAY, OCT 22 — 11:08 AM

ATLANTA, GA — HER LIVING ROOM

The apartment is quiet in that soft, late-morning way where time feels slower than it actually is.

Sunlight filters in through the large windows and curtains in thin, uneven lines, stretching across the hardwood floors and climbing lazily up the side of the couch where Kynadi is curled under a blanket. The air still holds onto the faint trace of outside from earlier—cool, clean, mixed with whatever candle she burned the night before.

Willow is tucked comfortably between her legs, warm and unmoving, completely settled in like she has no plans of getting up anytime soon.

Kynadi had already done what she needed to do for the day—fed her, walked her, let her burn off just enough energy before bringing her back inside. That small sense of productivity was what made the nap hit harder than expected.

Now she’s just waking up from it.

Her body is still heavy, her mind somewhere in between rest and awareness as she shifts slightly under the blanket. Her bonnet has slipped back just enough to expose the edges of her hair and scarf, and her face still carries that soft, unguarded look people only have when they’ve just woken up.

She reaches for her phone without thinking, fingers brushing against it where it rests near her hip. The screen lights up instantly, too bright for her liking, and she squints as she unlocks it, thumb dragging across the screen until Twitter opens out of pure muscle memory.

She doesn’t have a reason. She never really does. It’s just… a habit.

Her lips press together as she stares at the blank tweet screen, thinking for a moment. Not too hard—just enough to land somewhere in that space between honest and unserious.

Her thumbs start moving.

Pause.

Delete.

Start again.

She reads it once, expression barely changing, then locks her phone and tosses it onto the couch beside her like it doesn’t matter.

Like none of this matters. Like the past 24 hours didn’t just happen and like she definitely didn’t fall asleep with a quiet smile she couldn’t fully explain.

Like she didn’t wake up and, for a split second, wonder when he had texted her was it real.

Willow shifts slightly, pressing closer into her legs, and Kynadi exhales softly as she sinks deeper into the couch, pulling the blanket up just a little higher.

For a moment, everything feels normal again.

Uncomplicated.

—

ACROSS THE COUNTRY — LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

11:34 AM — HIS BEDROOM

Tyriq’s space carries a different kind of quiet.

Not empty—just controlled.

Sunlight pours through the wide windows of his apartment, sharp and uninterrupted, casting long, clean shadows across the floor and stretching toward the bed where he sits. The room is spacious, minimal, the kind of place that looks put together even when it isn’t.

On the wall across from him, his mounted TV plays reruns of Teen Titans, the volume low but steady—background noise more than anything else.

He isn’t watching it.

His attention is already elsewhere. His phone in hand.

Scrolling. Per usual, he’s chronically online.

Shirtless, with grey sweats sitting low on his waist, he leans back against the headboard, one long leg stretched out across the mattress while the other bends slightly, foot planted into the sheets. He looks relaxed, but there’s something deliberate in the way his thumb moves across the screen—unhurried, but not careless.

There she is. Again.

Right at the top of his timeline like she’s been waiting for him.

He reads the tweet once, eyes narrowing slightly as the corner of his mouth lifts.

Then again. Letting it sit.

A quiet smirk settles in.

“Why is she like this?,” he murmurs under his breath, voice low, almost absentminded.

There’s no overthinking it. No second-guessing.

His fingers move before he can even talk himself out of it, tapping into the reply bar like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He hits post. Just like that.

Then leans back a little further into his pillows, phone still in his hand, gaze lingering on the screen a second longer than necessary.

Not waiting in an obvious way. Not checking. Just… aware.

Because whether either of them wants to admit it that

this isn’t random anymore.

And somewhere underneath the humor, underneath the ease of it— there’s something starting to take shape.

Something people are already beginning to notice.

Even if they haven’t said it out loud yet.

THURSDAY, OCT 23

By the next morning, it’s not subtle anymore.

What started as a couple replies has turned into a full conversation people feel invited into. Not because either of them said much—but because of how it looked. The tone. The timing. The way neither of them backed off.

Now? The internet has decided and once the internet decides something, it doesn’t let it go.

It starts with a repost.

A Tyriq updates page—one of the bigger ones—throws the interaction up on Instagram. Clean screenshots, both tweets stacked, usernames bold, captions already framing the narrative before anyone even opens the comments.

Within minutes, the comment section is flooded.

@/jaylovesrih:

nahhh he be ON her 😭

@/imaniarchive:

this not even funny no more… link up already

@/zayfrmthe6:

i’m calling it now they gon date idc

@/niawrld:

the tension??? HELLO???

@/tyfanpage23:

he don’t reply to nobody like this btw

@/ari2pretty:

oh they definitely talking off here…

@/marcus.m0v:

oh i’m so sat for this. i hope they link 🤭

—

And that’s just Instagram.

Twitter is worse. Because Twitter was even more parasocial.

Every quote tweet adds another layer. Another assumption and another reason to keep watching.

—

Under Tyriq’s most recent reply, the comments are moving too fast to keep up with:

@/desssdiaries:

LINK UPPPP

@/twinempress:

we see what’s going on don’t play with us 🌚

@/jordynswrld:

just date already damn

@/kingzayyy:

bro flirting in 4K

@/niahluvrr:

he not slick 😭

@/tayy2fine:

and she keep responding too … yeah they locked in 💔

—

And somewhere in the middle of all that— Tyriq is scrolling through it and fans know it. He’s very guilty of being chronically online lately.

Laid back in the same spot as yesterday, one hand behind his head, the other holding his phone just above his face. His expression doesn’t change much, but there’s a quiet amusement sitting in his eyes now.

He taps a tweet.

Likes it.

Scrolls.

Another one.

Likes that too.

A small smirk pulls at his mouth as he exhales softly through his nose.

“…they too bored,” he mutters amused.

But he doesn’t stop.

Doesn’t ignore it.

If anything— he leans into it just a little. He’s definitely enjoying this.

Across the country, Kynadi is staring at the exact same thing.

The same clips.

The same screenshots.

The same people dissecting every interaction like they’re piecing together a relationship in real time.

Only unlike him, she handles it differently.

She doesn’t like a single post.

Doesn’t repost anything.

Doesn’t quote tweet, doesn’t feed into the chaos, doesn’t give people even the slightest confirmation that she’s entertained by any of it.

Instead, she scrolls past everything with practiced indifference, her face unreadable as she lays against the pillows of her bed. To anyone watching, she’d look completely unaffected. Like none of it matters enough for her attention.

But she reads every single tweet.

Every “LINK UP” buried in the replies.

Every “we know what’s going on.”

Every “just date already.”

Every overly invested parasocial stranger speaking about them with the confidence of someone who actually knows them. Her thumb slows at certain ones though.

Pauses just a second too long before moving again. Like she’s trying not to linger.

Like she notices herself doing it and corrects it immediately after.

A quiet scoff leaves her as she tosses her phone onto the bed beside her, shaking her head despite the faint smile threatening the corner of her mouth.

“They’re so annoying,” she mutters under her breath.

The room falls quiet again. But she doesn’t mute the threads.

Doesn’t turn the notifications off. She doesn’t stop checking.

And when her screen lights up again only seconds later, her eyes flick toward it instantly—almost instinctively.

That’s the shift. Not the tweets. Not the attention.

Not even the people online turning them into something bigger than what it is.

It’s this.

The awareness settling between them now. The fact that they both feel it. And the fact that neither of them is walking away from it.

—

iMessages

3:04 PM — Later On That Day

It doesn’t stay public for long. Not completely.

Because somewhere between the viral tweets, the endless replies, and the nonstop notifications flooding both of their phones… they start texting.

For real this time. Not just reacting to posts.

Not just joking publicly for everyone else to watch. Actually talking and at first, it stays light. Easy. Safe.

The kind of conversation that doesn’t ask for too much. The kind that lets them test the waters without admitting they’re doing it.

—

But it doesn’t stay surface-level. Not for long. Because after a while the replies come quicker. No more long pauses. No more overthinking.

Just… good conversation, great even. They start filling in the gaps.

Where they’re from and what their days look like. What they do when they’re not online.

—

She stares at that message a second longer than she should.

Time starts moving without them noticing, messages stack, and minutes blur. They turn to hours, days even.

They talk about random things—food, routines, what they hate, what they avoid, what they actually enjoy when nobody’s watching.

He tells her about filming, how repetitive promo gets.

She tells him about editing, how long she sits in front of her laptop trying to get everything perfect.

And for some reason— that sits with her.

LATER — FIRST CALL

It’s not planned. It just… happened.

Kynadi is outside when her phone rings.

The sky is shifting into that soft evening blue, the air cooler now, brushing lightly against her skin as Willow moves ahead of her on the leash, nose low to the ground like she’s investigating something important.

Kynadi is dressed comfortably—gray fitted romper, slightly oversized hoodie thrown over it, bonnet still on she didn’t even consider taking it off.

Her phone buzzes in her hand.

She glances down.

Pauses.

Because it’s him.

FaceTime.

Her stomach flips instantly.

“…bro,” she mutters under her breath, stopping mid-step.

Willow tugs slightly at the leash, but Kynadi doesn’t move.

She just stares at the screen for a second.

Then answers.

—

On the other side, Tyriq is laid back against his headboard again, one arm resting behind his head, the other holding his ipad up. He’s in a black hoodie layered over a white tee, grey sweats low on his waist again, his facial hair just starting to come in enough to soften his jaw.

The call connects. And for a second— neither of them says anything.

Just looking.

Taking each other in for the first time like this. Unfiltered. Unedited. Very much real.

Tyriq had seen pictures of her before, obviously.

Seen the Instagram posts everyone obsessed over. The selfies that pulled hundreds of thousands of likes in minutes. The candid clips people reposted on TikTok with dramatic music behind them like she wasn’t a real person.

He knew she was beautiful.

Everybody did. But FaceTime is different. Pictures don’t move.

Pictures don’t blink slowly when they’re tired or laugh mid-sentence and tilt their head afterward like they’re trying to hide it. Pictures don’t capture the softness in someone’s voice or the way their eyes shift when they’re caught staring back too long.

And the second Kynadi’s face appears on his screen, Tyriq feels his entire body tense.

It catches him completely off guard.

Because she’s prettier than he expected somehow.

Not in an overly done, intimidating way either.

Pretty in a way that feels dangerous because it’s effortless.

Her skims set swallowing her frame while warm sun that spills across deep brown skin that looks unreal even through an iPhone camera. Her lips are glossy like she’d applied something absentmindedly, and her lashes cast faint shadows beneath her eyes every time she looks down.

Tyriq forgets how to speak for a full two seconds.

Which never happens to him.

Usually he’s smooth naturally. Confident. Quick with words. But now his brain is short-circuiting over the fact that she’s real. Moving. Smiling at him in real time.

Not a post. Not a picture. Him. Yet somehow that makes him more nervous than he already was..

Kynadi answered after the third ring, the camera angled toward the sky for a second before her face finally appears on screen. Dim lighting from the setting sun, soft city sounds and her Bare face.

Tyriq stares a little too long. And she notices immediately.

“You gonna say something,” she asks softly, trying not to smile, “or just look at me weird?”

“…hey,” he says first, voice low, a small smile pulling at his mouth. he got up to walk in his kitchen.

Kynadi shifts slightly, adjusting her grip on the leash as she glances away for half a second before looking back at the screen.

“…hi.” Her voice is softer than usual. Quieter. There’s a pause. Like the kind where both people suddenly forget how to act the second the call connects.

A quiet laugh leaves him, low through the speaker.

“My bad,” he says, leaning his back against his marble countertop. “You just look different on FaceTime.”

Her eyebrow lifts instantly. “Different bad orr…?”

“Nah.” His grin spreads slowly. “Different good.”

“What you outside?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

She nods slightly, pushing a loose strand of hair back. “Um, I’m walking Willow for the night.”

He watches her for a second, smiling a little wider.

“Let me see her.”

Kynadi turns the camera toward Willow, who barely acknowledges it, still focused on the ground.

“She’s so cute. Let me babysit.” He said all up in the camera.

“You know what actually? yeah, come on.” she says.

The silence after that is brief but warm.

Kynadi looks down for a second, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear before glancing back at the screen.

“You nervous?” he asks suddenly.

She scoffs. “Please.”

“You are.”

“I’m literally not.”

“You keep fixing your hair.”

Her hand freezes halfway to her curls.

Tyriq starts laughing immediately.

“Oh my God,” she mutters, covering part of her face. “You’re irritating already, been aggravating me all day foreal.”

“But you answered though.”

That shuts her up for a second.

And he notices that too.

He laughs softly.

“Did you eat today?”

She looks back at the screen, brows lifting slightly.

“What?”

“Did you? Yesterday you said you was editing and you barely ate. That’s why yo’ head be hurting.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a small smile there.

“Please.. but yes i ate Tyriq.”

The smile on his face softens as he watches her look away from the camera again, suddenly shy in a way she hasn’t been over text all week.

“Why you smiling like that?” she asks quietly.

“‘Cause,” he says easily, eyes staying on her, “I was tryna figure out if we talked this good off messages too.”

Kynadi bites back a smile. “…and?”

“And I fear you might actually like me a little.” Tyriq said adjusting his ipad.

“and i think the feeling is mutual.” he replied.

He leans back casually to hide it, rubbing a hand across his jaw while trying not to stare too hard at the screen. He’s trying not to blush, but shit he is anyway. It’s impossible not to.

Especially when she laughs softly at something he says.

Especially when her face relaxes and he catches the smallest glimpse of shyness underneath all her “attitude” through texts and occasional voice notes.

That’s the part that gets him, not even just how beautiful she is.

It’s how soft she seems underneath it.

Tyriq realizes very quickly that this is already becoming more than what he planned for it to be.

Because now he wants to keep calling her.

He wants to learn her expressions. He wants to know what makes her laugh harder. He wants to see that look on her face again when she gets flustered and tries to hide it by acting irritated.

And honestly? That realization makes him even more nervous than the call itself. The conversation starts slow. Small.

Pieces of silence slipping in between sentences.

But it doesn’t stay like that because he doesn’t let it. He fills the gaps easily asking questions of all sorts. Tyriq teases her just enough while keeping her talking.

And slowly— she completely relaxes, she’s more comfortable.

She leans against the side of the sidewalk now, Willow sitting beside her. He shifts slightly in his bed, adjusting his hoodie. Their eye contact lingers longer.

Their smiles come easier. At one point, she laughs—actually laughs—and covers her mouth like she didn’t mean to.

He notices. Of course he does. “Why you do that?” he asks.

“Do what?”

“Hide your laugh.”

She shrugs slightly, looking away. “I don’t know.”

He studies her for a second. Then shakes his head, smiling.

“Don’t do that. It’s cute and I like it when you laugh..” Her cheeks warm slightly, if she was a lightskin she’d be cherry red.

She doesn’t respond to that. She just looks down for a second, then back up. And something settles right there in that moment.

Real enough to feel. Because now— it’s not just tweets. Not just jokes.

Not just people watching from the outside trying to piece something together, It’s this.

A conversation that flows too easily. Eye contact that lingers a second too long. Smiles that come without thinking. And whether they say it or not— they both feel it. Something starting. Something quiet.

THURSDAY, OCT 23

The next morning:

YOUTUBE — @kynadiswrld

The thumbnail is simple.

title: “WEEKLY VLOG: life lately… + addressing him 😭”

The video opens softly with a trending hip hop song mashup and a flash of montages.

Camera slightly angled, natural lighting pouring in through her window, her room clean but lived-in—LED lights dim, vanity behind her, products scattered like she had been getting ready but stopped halfway through.

She’s in a loose tee, glasses, hair out this time, freshly done.

“Hey y’all…” she starts, adjusting the camera slightly, lips pressing together like she’s debating how she wants to do this.

A pause.

Then a small smile.

“Okay… first of all, I wasn’t gonna say nothing.”

She exhales through her nose, already shaking her head.

“But y’all are actually insane.”

She cuts to clips.

Her tweets.

His replies.

Screenshots flashing on the screen.

The comment sections.

The edits.

The “LINK UP” spam.

She comes back on screen, eyebrows raised.

“Like… y’all don’t have jobs?? School?? Responsibilities??”

A beat.

“…because why am I waking up to think pieces about a reply??”

She laughs, covering her mouth briefly, then dropping her hand.

“But I will say this—” she leans forward slightly, tone shifting just enough to make it feel intentional, “—he is funny.”

Another pause.

Smaller.

“…I’ll give him that.”

The video flows into a vlog.

Her walking Willow.

Editing at her desk.

Talking about her routine.

But there are small mentions sprinkled in—

Little comments.

Throwaway lines that don’t feel throwaway at all.

“Yeah, I gotta finish editing this before I… get distracted again.”

Cut.

—

“Don’t ask me nothing else about them tweets either ‘cause I’m not explaining nothing.”

Cut.

—

“…and no, we’re not dating. Y’all need to relax.”

She says it quickly. Too quickly. The comments? Instantly flooded.

MEANWHILE — THAT SAME NIGHT

Tyriq is bored.

That’s really what it comes down to. That’s normally what it comes down too.

He’s back in his room, hoodie on, hood half up now, leaning forward in his chair this time instead of laying down. His laptop is open in front of him, YouTube pulled up, and for a second he just stares at the screen like he’s debating whether he’s actually about to do this.

“…finally,” he mutters, rubbing his jaw.

Then he clicks.

YOUTUBE — @TyriqTV (REACTING LIVE) !

The channel is old.

You can tell— all his videos were privately except like one.

Random videos from years ago, inconsistent uploads, thumbnails that don’t match his current image at all.

But that doesn’t matter.

Because the second he goes live— people find it. He was surprised because he hadn’t been on his channel in almost four years.

The viewer count jumps.

100K.

101K.

102K.

200K.

Climbing wayy faster than he expected.

“What is up YouTube! It is… ya boy TyriqTv mannnn!” He laughs as he does a little dance.

The chat starts moving immediately.

“IS THIS REAL???”

“HE BOUT TO WATCH HER VIDEO 😭”

“TYRIQ DON’T EMBARRASS US”

“HE LIKE HER BAD”

He leans back slightly, adjusting the camera.

“…y’all be doin’ too much, just chill gangggg!” he says, already smiling.

He clicks her video.

It starts playing. At first, he tries to act normal. Just watching. He was quiet. But that doesn’t last long, per usual.

The moment she says, “y’all are actually insane,” he huffs out a laugh.

“Facts,” he mutters.

Chat SPAMS.

“NOT HE AGREEING WITH HER???”

Then she says it.

“He is funny, i hate to admit. this is so going to boost his big ass head.”

Tyriq pauses the video immediately as he leans back in his rolling chair. Running a hand over his mouth like he’s trying not to react too much.

“…aight that’s it i’m officially a comedian,” he nods as he chuckled.

Chat LOSES it.

“OH HE LIKED THAT 😭”

“REPLAY IT”

“LAUGHING HER OUT THEM DRAWLS, I KNEW IT”

As the vlog continues, he gets more comfortable now talking over parts.

When she says, “I gotta finish editing this before I… get distracted again,”

He tilts his head slightly in the camera, “…what that mean Kyn? Hm?”

“SHE TALKIN ABOUT YO ASS”

“YOU THE DISTRACTION”

“KYNNNN????”

“WAKE IT UP”

He laughs, shaking his head, “Nah, nahh y’all funny as hell.” But he’s still smiling. Still watching. Still… very much invested.

By the end of the video, he’s leaned all the way forward, elbows resting on his knees, completely locked in. Some would say enamored even.

“… 10/10 video! Go watch it, like it, and subscribe to her, allat.” he says cheesing.

Too simply. Like that explains everything or anything.

The stream ends, but it doesn’t stop there.

THE BLOGS

It hits fast. Screenshots. Video clips. Headlines already written before the full context even settles.

“TYRIQ WITHERS REACTS TO INFLUENCER KYNADI’S VIRAL VIDEO 👀”

“FANS THINK THERE’S MORE GOING ON AFTER LIVE REACTION…”

“HE WATCHED THE WHOLE THING… TWICE???”

The Shade Room posts it.

The comments? Some good, some bad.

“my boy said he needs that BADLY iktr 😭”

“he’s sooo invested ❤️😭”

“this not one sided at all 😛”

“writing a fanfic now 🤭”

“chile he’s easy for everyone, mfs just thought he was with quen.”

Now there’s no pretending it’s just jokes anymore because shit just got very real. Her phone flooded with mentions, texts, and even some calls from her friends.

LATER — THAT NIGHT (iMessage)

Her phone buzzes. She already knows it’s Tyriq, who else would it be honestly. Her heart thumps as she clicks their thread.

meaning aka he definitely is about to indeed start.

She laughs softly, still cheesing and blushing as she shook her head.

“you already did”

She bites her lip slightly. Trying not to smile more than she already has been.

The conversation flows easier now, no hesitation and no awkward gaps. Just back and forth, natural and light.

She doesn’t reply immediately, another pause.

Then he sends it casually. Like it’s nothing. Like it definitely didn’t just sit in his mind for longer than it should have.

Kynadi’s thumb stills against the screen as her heart dropped to her ass and her throat felt tight.

The glow from her phone reflects faintly across her face as her eyes lock onto the message, every other sound around her fading into something distant and muffled. For a second, she just stares at it, unmoving, like her brain needs time to catch up to what she’s reading.

She reads it once. Then again. Slower this time. As if the meaning might change between each line.

Oh shit.. OH SHIT! Do I have to throw up? Why do I feel nauseous? She thought to herself panicking internally.

A quiet breath leaves her lips, almost unnoticeable, but her chest tightens anyway. Beneath the steady composure she wears so well, her heart shifts in that subtle, dangerous way it has before—soft enough to ignore if she wanted to.

Except this time, she can’t because it feels more tense now. Heavier. More real.

Up until now, everything existed behind screens and speculation. Rumors. Lingering looks. Strangers online piecing things together like they knew anything about either of them. It had all felt distant enough to deny. Easy enough to pretend none of it mattered.

But this? This steps beyond that. Beyond the safety of keeping things unspoken.

Her fingers tighten slightly around the phone as the realization settles fully into her chest. If she says yes… there’s no pulling back after it. No pretending. No returning to whatever this was before.

Everything will change the moment she does.

Should she go?

#Spotify #tyriq withers imagine #tyriq withers #cameron cade #cameron cade x reader #black!reader #tyriq withers x black oc #tyriq withers x black reader #tyriq withers x reader #cameron cade x you #tyriq withers x black women #fanfic

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