Bon Temps was alive with danger, but Blair Waldorf thrived where others feared to tread. The moon hung heavy over the town, casting silver light on streets lined with secrets, sins, and creatures who lived longer than any mortal dared to dream. And Blair? She was neither mortal nor naïve—she was a predator dressed in silk and strategy, and she knew exactly how to bend vampires to her will.

Her first encounter was at Merlotte’s, where Bill Compton’s gaze lingered too long and Eric Northman’s smirk promised mischief. Blair’s entrance silenced the room. She didn’t scream, didn’t charm with empty flattery. She simply walked, heels clicking on the worn floor, confidence radiating like heat.

“You all look… predictable,” she said softly, eyes scanning the room, stopping on you as if measuring the risk of your presence. “Which is perfect. Predictable is easy to control.”

And control was her currency. With a subtle tilt of her head, a carefully chosen word, she could turn loyalties, spark rivalries, or convince a vampire to bend to her scheme. She knew how to twist hunger into obedience, fascination into devotion, and fear into leverage.

You were drawn into her orbit immediately, partly because she commanded it, partly because Blair Waldorf was impossible to resist. One night, she cornered you in the alley behind Merlotte’s, shadows swallowing the two of you.

“Listen,” she whispered, lips close enough to graze yours, voice silk with steel underneath. “These creatures think they can intimidate humans. But humans… humans can manipulate everything. I can manipulate them. And you? You’re either going to help me—or get out of my way.”

Before you could respond, Eric appeared from the shadows, a grin curling across his sharp features. Blair merely raised an eyebrow, a dangerous, knowing smirk playing on her lips. “Pathetic,” she murmured. “You’re all predictable. Except her.” She glanced at you again, a flicker of challenge in her eyes. “And I like that.”