i want it all ( gg next gen )

𝙘𝙤𝙘𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙚, 𝙘𝙤𝙘𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙜𝙤 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮, 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙙𝙖𝙮

8 months later.

Scarlett Van der Woodsen blinked back tears after accidentally poking her eyeball with her Burberry kohl eyeliner.

"Ouch!" The girl squeaked, throwing her head back and wiping her eyes as she hopped up and down in her Louboutin ankle boots.

Scarlett's twin brother Salinger, or Sal as everyone called him, poked his head around the door of his sister's walk-in closet. He was the handsome, seemingly vacant yet perplexing stoner type, and was going through a phase of writing depressing love poetry when he was baked.

"Breakfast," he notified her simply, before waltzing off.

Scarlett licked her pinky and fixed the smudge of eyeliner, before following her brother into the kitchen. Their other, eleven-year-old, brother Theodore was listening to music on an old Walkman that their father had bought for his birthday (Theo was already going through the classic 'old soul' pretence, which seemed to annoy everyone but their adoring parents).

Her father Dan was reading a copy of the New Yorker when his son and daughter came down to the kitchen. He was a writer turned publisher, and when he wasn't working, which was most of the time, Scarlett could always expect to see him reading the New Yorker or scribbling down something in his leather-bound notebooks. He was a huge family man though, so the moments he did get to spend with his three kids, he would go all out.

It was easy to forget Dan was Scarlett's dad, since she usually went by her mother's surname on the Upper East Side, but they weren't all that different really. Scarlett was a whiz reader, and though she couldn't quite sit through some of his movie tastes, she could talk to him for hours about books.

"So," Serena said, floating in and kissing Theo on the top of the head. "Waffles?"

And that was when Salinger and Scarlett's phones went off.

xoxo

The ticklish but comforting sensation of fur brushing against Hadley Waldorf's nose is what woke her up. Her Russian blue cat, Kitty Minky, was curled around the top of Hadley's head, her bushy tail brushing against the girl's nose.

There door swung open and the cat jumped off the bed, padding across the plush Persian rug towards the maid, Kate, who stood in the doorway.

"Excuse me, Miss Hadley," she spoke politely. "Your mother wants you to come down for breakfast."

Hadley groaned and rolled out if bed. She had only just got back from a month-long vacation in St Barts and was in desperate need of a haircut. Her shiny chestnut hair hung in it's natural waves way below her collarbone, almost two inches longer than her signature length.

The girl descended the winding staircase of the Waldorf-Bass penthouse barefoot in her baggy green silk pyjamas, rubbing her turquoise eyes.

Her mother, Blair sipped a mimosa at the dining room table dressed in a Fred Perry tennis outfit. She kept up a strict schedule of 3 tennis sessions per week in order to maintain her taut calves and insisted Hadley do the same.

"I thought you were in Paris," Hadley yawned, slumping down in a chair and crossing one leg over the other. She picked up and almost croissant and took a huge bite.

"Lovely to see you too," Blair pursed her lips. She was well aware of her daughter's bitterness at her constant travelling, but she was the CEO of a multimillion-dollar fashion house, what could she do. "I was in Paris, but I wanted to be back for your first day."

"Sorry," Hadley said, flashing her mother her most winning grin, to which Blair smiled. "Where's dad?"

"He headed out to the Empire early for a board meeting," Blair told her, popping a grape into her mouth.