Serena Van Der Woodsen
➜ Upper East Side Heiress
➜ Model and Party Girl
➜ Best Friend to #BlairWaldorf
➜ #GossipGirl’s Favorite Target
➜ ALL RP/Banter Welcome
♡ for a random starter.
RT for your favorite blonde.
»about surviving whatever chaos the universe decided to throw our way. Surviving the very members of our own family and all of the secrets and life choices they keep and make.
And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t just a little curious to see what it would be this time.
»family, and — “Serena!” My mother’s voice floated through the air, cutting through my thoughts like a razor. “Can you come help with the seating arrangements? Lily Rhodes does not seat people on a whim.”
I sighed, setting down my coffee and smoothing out my silk blouse as I »
»walked into the dining room.
The table was set impeccably, of course—fine china, crystal glasses, and an autumnal centerpiece that looked like it belonged in a magazine. But it didn’t matter how beautiful everything looked. Thanksgiving wasnt about the presentation. It was»
»other way. But me? I was Serena Van Der Woodsen. The IT girl. The flawless, charmer. The golden girl who was supposed to glide through Thanksgiving like nothing could touch her. And maybe, just maybe, this year I’d actually pull it off. No surprises. No drama. Just dinner, »
»my notifications. She’d already sent three cryptic messages about what she was bringing—none of which I believed for a second. Blair wasn’t the “bring something” type; she was the “arrive in Chanel and judge everything on the table” type. And honestly? I wouldn’t want her any »
Thanksgiving mornings always had a way of sneaking up on me, equal parts chaotic and charming. The penthouse was already alive with the hum of preparation— cater waiters rushing around with a tray of hors d’oeuvres, my mother fluttering about, sipping coffee in a silk robe, and»
»Thanksgiving without some grand reveal, some secret slipping out over cranberry sauce, or someone storming out before dessert. I knew better than to think this year would be any different. It never was.
I glanced at my phone, the group text with Blair blinking at the top of»
»me feel grounded. The smell of rosemary and sage drifted through the air, mingling with the warmth of freshly baked pie crust. It was the kind of scene that could almost make you forget the inevitable storm that was coming.
Because Thanksgiving in this family wasn’t »
»Eric offering unneeded but earnest suggestions for the table settings. It was… quintessentially Van Der Woodsen or Rhodes. It really applied to either at this point.
I leaned against the kitchen island, cradling a mug of coffee I didn’t particularly need, but holding it made»