Texting another girl prank

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Jack's pov.

"What's up Harlow fam. Today as y'all can see I'm in the studio. Nope y/n is not with me. And I'll let y'all know why. So here's the secret. I'm pranking her today. I'm finna get her ass sooooo good she might just cry"
My homie druski shoots a curious look in my direction.
"Yes brother" I look at him with a smirk. "Me and you. We're pranking y/n"
His eyes narrow and I laugh at how suspicious he is.
"Why you always gotta involve me. Your girl is going to hate me."
"Bruh, she probably already do. You know y/n and her stank ass attitude" I laugh.
"So Harlow fam, my guy Druski here is going to be my " I start and bring my hand up to motion quotations. "Side chick"
Druski burst out laughing. "I aint wearing no wig"
I snort. "Nah stupid, you're gunna text me like a side would and I'm you know... gonna spice up the chat a little. Let y/n find the messages, and then let shit get real."
"You're mean Jack, you already know she will cry."
"Ay listen. In my defence she got me tearful and shi in the last prank it's pay back fair and square."
I playfully slap the back of his head for not backing a homie up.
"Alright, I'll go along but if she crying it wasn't me " he laughs.
"Aight cool let's get starting this shit. So changing your name in my phone to L. That's suspicious enough can't be too bait and put a girls name." Druski sat there laughing at me like I'm stupid and bout to get my ass kicked by my girl, he probably right.
"Okay, now let's make a fake chat as if I'm heading over to a girls house instead of being at the studio."
We sit for a few minutes thinking of some good interesting things to say that would definitely get y/n attention if she saw them.
"Done, now the prank begins ima head home guys set the camera up and hopefully get this fine ass girl good. Revenge better be sweet" I cut the camera off.
"Let's finish off another couple then I'll head home, late of course." I smirk at the extra effort I'm putting into this prank.
"Let's do it. " Druski sits back into the sofa and I head into the sound room.
——-( time skip)——-
y/n's pov.

I snuggle into the blanket trying not to move from my comfy position as I pass time flipping through my Instagram. I should probably head to the kitchen and start making dinner before Jack gets home.
Actually let's ring and ask him what he wants it's getting quite late and he isn't home yet.

*ringing continues to answer machine*
Odd he usually answers straight away. I'll try again.
*instant answer machine*

"Okayyyyyy... don't answer me then"
I throw my phone on my bed and get dressed into an easy two piece gym set. I guess I'll get take out for dinner if he ain't answering me he can eat shit food.
I pick up my phone and check the time 8:30pm. How is it that late I must have had a long nap not a quick one and he isn't home yet that's weird he usually rushes home for food.
Arsehole could have at least texted me he wasn't coming home for dinner.
I grab my keys and slip my balenciaga trainers on, a gift from Jack for no particular reason he just thought I'd like them and he's right I'm obsessed.
Heading out to my car it's already dark out. My belly rumbles oh god I haven't eaten all day no wonder I'm starving. That nap was more like a coma and now I feel like shit cause I have slept too long.
Getting into the drivers seat I decide on the best steakhouse I could think off.
———( pov switch to Jack)——
I open the door to our apartment, I made my hair and outfit a bit rugged to add to the effect.
"Y/n" I call out.
"Babe?" I look around and she isn't even home.
Okay better get the cameras set up then I've got enough time to place a few.
Turning on the main camera I wave at it "ok guys y/n isn't home right now which I didn't expect but that means more angles for you guys to get the 360 on what's about to go down. Does my hair look messy? I tried to you know fake the after sex mess" laughing at my self I drop myself into the centre of the sofa. Laying back I shoot a text to 'L'

L. - I already miss you.

Me -
I miss you too sexy, don't wash me off of you just yet 😜.

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