Tom Kaulitz-My Living Nightmare-

Blood Oath – Part 1

Tom Kaulitz had built an empire people were too afraid to name out loud.

His organization stretched across cities, and one rule was known by everyone:

Never touch Chantelle.

She wasn't just someone Tom cared about—she was under his protection. Anyone who ignored that rule usually disappeared without a trace.

One rainy evening, Chantelle was leaving a café when a black van screeched to a stop.

Masked men jumped out.

One grabbed her arm.

Another covered her mouth.

She fought, kicked, and screamed, but they forced her into the van before speeding away.

Within minutes, Tom's phone rang.

A distorted voice laughed.

"We've got Chantelle."

The room around Tom fell silent.

Every person in the mansion froze.

Tom stood slowly, his expression cold.

"You have ten seconds to tell me where she is."

The caller laughed again.

"You think you're still in control?"

Tom didn't answer.

He simply hung up.

Then he looked at his closest men.

"Find them."

No shouting.

No panic.

Just quiet determination.

Within minutes, vehicles roared out of the estate.

Meanwhile, Chantelle was taken to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. The kidnappers tied her hands and locked her in a small room while arguing among themselves.

"You have no idea who you kidnapped," one muttered.

Before anyone could respond—

A loud explosion shook the building.

The lights flickered.

Gunfire echoed through the warehouse.

The kidnappers rushed toward the entrance.

Tom had arrived.

He walked through the smoke with several trusted allies behind him, refusing to let fear slow him down.

The kidnappers realized too late that they hadn't trapped a victim.

They had started a war.

Tom's only focus was reaching Chantelle before anyone could hurt her.Blood Oath – Part 2: The Hunt Begins

The warehouse shook as another explosion thundered through the building.

Dust rained from the ceiling.

Alarms screamed.

"Fuck! He's here!" one kidnapper yelled, fumbling with his rifle.

"No shit, you idiot!" another snapped. "Get to the girl! She's our only bargaining chip!"

Locked inside the cold storage room, Chantelle heard every gunshot echo through the concrete walls.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

Then...

Silence.

A silence so heavy it made her heart pound harder than the explosions had.

Outside, bodies of armed guards littered the floor, while others fled deeper into the warehouse in blind panic.

Tom Kaulitz walked through the smoke with a calm expression, his black suit stained with dirt. His eyes searched every hallway.

"Split up," he ordered his crew. "Nobody touches Chantelle."

One of his men nodded.

"They've got at least twenty more inside."

Tom's jaw tightened.

"Then twenty more are about to make the biggest mistake of their fucking lives."

From somewhere above, a voice echoed through the speakers.

"Tom! You arrogant bastard!"

Tom looked up.

A masked figure stood on a metal catwalk, laughing.

"You really came alone?"

Tom smirked.

"You think I need an army for cowards like you?"

The man laughed louder.

"You'll never leave this place."

Tom didn't even blink.

"We'll see."

The lights suddenly died.

Darkness swallowed the warehouse.

For several long seconds...

Nothing.

Then footsteps.

Not running.

Walking.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Someone was moving through the darkness.

One kidnapper whispered, "Where the fuck is he?"

Another answered with a shaky voice.

"I... I can't see anything."

A scream ripped through the silence.

Then another.

The kidnappers fired wildly into the dark, hitting concrete, pipes, and each other in their panic.

Tom kept moving.

Focused.

Patient.

He wasn't charging blindly.

He was hunting.

Meanwhile, Chantelle pulled at the zip ties cutting into her wrists. They refused to give way, but she kept trying.

The metal door creaked.

Someone was outside.

The handle turned.

Slowly.

She held her breath.

The door swung open just enough for a shadow to slip inside.

For a terrifying second, she thought another kidnapper had come for her.

Then a familiar voice whispered from the darkness.

"Chantelle."

Tom.

Before either of them could move—

A deafening alarm blared.

Heavy steel doors slammed shut throughout the warehouse.

Red emergency lights flickered on.

The masked leader's voice echoed over the speakers once more.

"You've found her, Tom... but now neither of you is leaving alive."

Tom looked toward the ceiling and gave a cold, fearless grin.

"You talk too fucking much."

He stepped in front of Chantelle, ready for whatever came next.Blood Oath – Part 3: The Devil's Game

The warehouse trembled as the heavy steel doors slammed shut.

Red emergency lights bathed the corridors in a dim, unsettling glow.

Tom instinctively stepped in front of Chantelle, shielding her.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low.

She nodded, though her hands still shook.

"I knew you'd come."

Tom managed a faint smile.

"I always will."

A distorted laugh crackled through the speakers.

"Touching."

"Shut the fuck up," Tom growled, scanning the room.

A hidden panel slid open nearby.

Two frightened figures stumbled out with their hands bound.

Taylor.

Ria.

Both looked exhausted, bruised, and terrified.

"Chantelle!" Taylor cried.

"Oh my God..." Ria whispered, tears welling in her eyes.

Chantelle rushed over as Tom cut their restraints with a knife he'd taken from one of the kidnappers.

"You guys okay?"

Taylor swallowed hard.

"They've been moving us from room to room. They kept saying we were bait."

Ria nodded.

"They wanted all of us here."

Tom's expression darkened.

"So this was never just about Chantelle."

The warehouse speakers clicked again.

"Congratulations. You've reunited."

"But the game's only beginning."

Monitors flickered to life across the room.

Security camera footage filled every screen.

Some showed empty hallways.

Others showed armed kidnappers taking positions.

One screen displayed a timer.

30:00

Taylor stared at it.

"What the hell is that?"

The masked leader laughed.

"You have thirty minutes."

"Escape..."

"...or watch this building become your tomb."

The countdown began.

29:59.

29:58.

Tom looked at everyone.

"We're getting out."

No hesitation.

No fear.

Just certainty.

Ria took a shaky breath.

"There are too many of them."

Tom checked the magazine in his pistol before looking toward the nearest exit.

"Then they should've brought more."

The four of them moved into the maze-like corridors together, unaware that hidden cameras followed their every step.

From the control room, the masked leader watched with a smile.

"They're heading exactly where I wanted."

His second-in-command frowned.

"What if Kaulitz reaches you?"

The leader's smile only widened.

"Then he'll finally learn why I spent years preparing for this night."Blood Oath – Part 4: Brothers in the Dark

The timer continued to count down.

28:41.

Every second echoed through the warehouse like a ticking bomb.

Tom led Chantelle, Taylor, and Ria through a narrow corridor, his pistol ready. No one spoke. The silence was broken only by distant footsteps and the hum of flickering lights.

Then—

A voice crackled through Tom's earpiece.

"...Tom."

He stopped instantly.

"...Bill?"

Static.

Then a familiar chuckle.

"Took you long enough."

For the first time that night, Tom smirked.

"I was starting to think you got lost."

"Fuck you," Bill replied with a laugh. "I'm in the control room. These idiots have cameras everywhere, but they forgot I know how to turn their own system against them."

The warehouse lights flickered.

Several security cameras suddenly pointed away from the group.

Bill's voice returned.

"I've looped the feeds. You've got maybe five minutes before they notice."

Tom nodded.

"Good work."

Chantelle smiled with relief.

"Bill's here..."

Taylor let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"Thank God."

Ria looked around nervously.

"So we're not alone anymore."

Before anyone could move—

A burst of gunfire echoed from the hallway ahead.

The group ducked behind stacks of rusted crates.

One of Tom's men rushed around the corner, breathing hard.

"Boss!"

"They know you're heading for the control room!"

Tom cursed under his breath.

"Of course they do."

Bill's voice cut back in.

"Tom... there's something you need to see."

One of the warehouse monitors flickered on.

It showed the masked leader standing in a dimly lit room.

Behind him were walls covered with photographs.

Photos of Tom.

Bill.

Chantelle.

Taylor.

Ria.

Some were years old.

Some had clearly been taken only days before.

The room fell silent.

Bill's voice was unusually serious.

"He's been watching all of us."

The masked leader slowly removed one glove, revealing a deep scar across his hand.

"You don't remember me," he said calmly.

"But I remember every single one of you."

Tom's expression hardened.

"Who the hell are you?"

The man only smiled.

"You'll find out soon enough."

The screen went black.

Somewhere in the warehouse, heavy metal doors began opening.

More footsteps.

More voices.

They were surrounded.

Tom looked at Bill's location on the map flashing across his phone.

"Hold the control room."

Bill laughed softly.

"I wasn't planning on giving it up."

Tom glanced at Chantelle, then at Taylor and Ria.

"Stay close. Nobody gets left behind."

With Bill guiding them through his earpiece and enemies closing in from every direction, the twins prepared to fight their way deeper into the nightmare.Blood Oath – Part 5: No Way Out

27:03.

The countdown glowed across every monitor in the warehouse.

Tom tightened his grip on his pistol as he motioned for Chantelle, Taylor, and Ria to stay behind him.

Bill's voice came through the earpiece.

"Three armed guys coming from the east hallway... two more from behind. Don't stop moving."

Tom smirked.

"Always watching my back."

"You'd be dead without me," Bill replied.

Tom chuckled. "Keep dreaming."

Despite everything happening around them, the exchange earned a nervous laugh from Chantelle.

For a split second, it felt almost normal.

Then the lights died again.

Darkness swallowed the corridor.

"What the fuck?" Taylor whispered.

Ria grabbed Chantelle's hand.

"I don't like this..."

A metallic clang echoed somewhere ahead.

Then another.

Footsteps.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Someone wanted them to hear every step.

Bill's voice became urgent.

"Tom... they've cut my camera access. I can't see you anymore."

Tom's expression hardened.

"Then we're doing this the old-fashioned way."

He switched on a flashlight.

Its beam revealed long corridors lined with abandoned machinery, broken glass, and rusted chains swaying from the ceiling.

The place looked like it had been forgotten for decades.

Suddenly—

A loudspeaker crackled.

"Mr. Kaulitz..."

The masked leader's voice echoed through the building.

"You built your empire on fear."

"Tonight..."

"You finally get to feel it."

Tom rolled his eyes.

"You really love hearing yourself talk."

Silence.

Then...

A slow clap echoed through the warehouse.

One clap.

Another.

Then dozens.

The sound bounced off every wall, making it impossible to tell where anyone was.

Taylor looked around in panic.

"Where are they?"

"No idea," Tom answered calmly.

"But they're close."

Without warning, a flashbang exploded at the end of the hallway.

Everyone shielded their eyes.

Shouts echoed in the darkness.

When the ringing in their ears faded...

Ria gasped.

"Chantelle?"

Tom spun around.

His heart dropped.

Chantelle was gone.

Only a broken zip tie lay on the floor.

"Chantelle!" Tom shouted.

No answer.

Bill's voice burst through the earpiece, tense for the first time that night.

"Tom... they took her. I'm trying to track them, but they're moving through maintenance tunnels."

Tom's jaw clenched.

Every muscle in his body tensed.

"They've got exactly one chance to let her go."

Taylor swallowed.

"And if they don't?"

Tom looked toward the dark tunnel ahead, his eyes cold with determination.

"They'll wish they never learned my name."

Far below the warehouse, hidden behind thick steel doors, Chantelle slowly opened her eyes.

She wasn't alone.

A figure sat in the shadows, watching her.

When he finally spoke, his voice was calm.

"Welcome to the real game."The lock clicked into place with a definitive, metallic snap that echoed in your chest. Tom didn't move from the doorway. He just stood there, twirling a silver lighter between his fingers—flick, click, flick, click—the tiny flame illuminating the sharp angles of his face before plunging it back into the dim shadow of the green room. ​"You look tense," he said, his tone casual, almost conversational. But his eyes, dark and unblinking, tracked the slight tremor in your hands as you set the wardrobe shears down on the table. ​"It's late, Tom," you said, forcing your voice to remain steady. "The crew is packing up the trucks. I should go help them." ​He let out a short, humorless laugh, stepping away from the door. Every step he took toward you felt deliberate, like a predator closing a gap. "The crew doesn't need you. I do. There's a tear in the lining of my leather jacket. Fix it." ​He tossed the heavy garment onto the table, right over the shears. When you reached for it, his hand shot out, wrapping firmly around your wrist. His grip wasn't painful, but it was absolute. ​"And don't look at the door while I'm talking to you," he whispered, leaning in just close enough that you could smell the bitter edge of clove smoke. "It's rude." ​Part 2: The Corridor of Echoes ​You managed to pull your hand away under the pretense of grabbing the sewing kit, your heart hammering against your ribs. You worked in silence, fixing a tear that didn't exist, while he paced the room like a caged animal, occasionally strumming an unplugged electric guitar. The silence between you was louder than the stadium speakers had been an hour ago. ​The moment he turned his back to light another cigarette, you made your move. ​You didn't think; you just lunged for the door, threw the lock, and burst out into the backstage corridor. The heavy door slammed shut behind you. ​The hallway was cavernous, stripped of the pre-show chaos. The bright fluorescent lights hummed a sickening, low frequency. You ran, your sneakers squeaking loudly against the concrete floor. But the exit doors at the end of the hall—the ones that led to the loading docks and safety—looked miles away. ​Behind you, the green room door clicked open again. You didn't hear him run. You just heard the steady, slow thud of his boots, echoing so perfectly in the concrete hallway that it sounded like he was walking right beside you. ​"You forgot your bag," his voice drifted down the corridor, amplified by the acoustics, calm and terrifyingly amused. ​Part 3: The Dead End ​You reached the exit doors, throwing your weight against the metal crash bar. ​Nothing happened. It didn't budge. ​Panick flared hot in your throat. You slammed against it again, but a heavy chain had been looped through the handles on the outside, secured with a massive padlock. You were locked inside the venue's underbelly. ​The thudding of the boots stopped. ​You turned around, backing up until your spine hit the cold metal of the chained door. Tom was standing twenty feet away, silhouetted by the harsh overhead lights. He held your black backpack in one hand, dangling it by the strap like a trophy. ​"They lock the stadium down at midnight," he said, taking a slow step forward. "Security sweeps the perimeter, not the inside. I told them we needed the space to work on some arrangements." ​"Let me out, Tom," you breathed, looking frantically around for another exit, a fire stairwell, anything. ​"Why?" He tilted his head, his dreadlocks shifting over his shoulders. "We're just getting started." ​Part 4: A Game of Shadows ​He didn't rush you. That was the worst part. He played with the distance, stepping into the deep shadows cast by the structural pillars of the stadium floor, then reappearing closer than before. ​You broke into a sprint again, veering left down a maintenance tunnel that led toward the arena bowl. It was darker here, lit only by the green glow of emergency exit signs. You ducked into a concrete alcove behind a stack of flight cases, pressing yourself into the smallest space possible. ​You held your breath until your lungs burned. ​The silence returned, thick and suffocating. Then, the sound of a guitar pick dragging slowly across a wire mesh fence nearby. Screeech. ​"I know this place better than you," Tom's voice came from the left. ​A second later, a whisper came from the right. "I know exactly where the shadows hide." ​Your eyes widened in the dark. It felt like the nightmare was bending reality; his voice was everywhere at once. ​Part 5: The Arena Floor ​Driven by pure adrenaline, you burst from the alcove and stumbled out into the massive, empty arena bowl. ​The scale of it was dizzying. Thousands of empty plastic seats rose up into the darkness like a silent, ghostly audience. The massive stage sat stripped and bare at the far end, bathed in a single, eerie blue work light. ​You ran across the open floor, your footsteps echoing in the vast space. It felt like running through water. No matter how fast you moved, the exit tunnels on the other side seemed to recede. ​From the high-tech rigging above, a sudden electronic hum flared to life. ​The massive jumbotron screen above the center stage flickered violently, casting a blinding white light across the empty floor. You froze, squinting up at it. ​The screen wasn't showing a logo or a graphic. It was a live feed of the arena floor. It was a live feed of you, standing alone in the center of the room. And on the screen, standing directly behind you, was a tall, shadowed figure. ​Part 6: The Mirage ​You spun around instantly, your heart leaping into your throat. ​There was no one there. The floor behind you was completely empty. ​You looked back up at the jumbotron. On the screen, the figure of Tom was taking a step closer to your onscreen self, raising a hand to touch your shoulder. But in the physical room, you were completely alone. The dissonance made your head spin, a sickening wave of vertigo washing over you. ​"Do you think you can separate what's real from what you're afraid of?" ​The voice didn't come from the hallway or the stage. It boomed directly out of the stadium’s massive PA system, rattling the fillings in your teeth. ​You covered your ears, dropping to your knees on the cold floor as the audio feedback shrieked through the empty stadium. The white light from the screen burned against your eyelids. ​Part 7: The Control Room ​The noise abruptly cut out, leaving a ringing silence in its wake. The jumbotron went black. ​You realized then that he was controlling it all from the sound booth—the elevated glass press box at the very back of the arena stadium. If he was up there, the floor was clear. You had a chance to get to the front lobby doors, which might not be chained. ​You scrambled to your feet and ran toward the main concourse tunnels. You pushed through the heavy double doors into the outer ring of the stadium, where the concession stands sat dark and shuttered. ​It was a labyrinth of identical concrete curved hallways. You kept turning right, trying to find the main glass entrance. ​Then, you saw it: the glow of streetlights from the outside world shining through the massive glass facade of the main lobby. Freedom was less than fifty yards away. You sprinted toward it, tears of relief pricking your eyes. ​Part 8: The Glass Wall ​You slammed your hands against the glass doors of the main entrance. Through the panes, you could see the empty street, a distant streetlight flickering, a parked car. Safety was right there. ​You grabbed the handles and pulled. Locked. You pushed. Locked. ​You grabbed a heavy metal stanchion used for crowd control, raising it over your shoulder to smash the glass. ​"I wouldn't do that," a calm voice said from the shadows of a nearby pillar. ​You whirled around, holding the metal bar like a weapon. Tom stepped out into the faint light filtering through the glass. He wasn't breathing hard. He hadn't been running. He looked entirely at ease, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his oversized hoodie. ​"It's reinforced plexiglass," he said smoothly, walking a slow circle around you, just out of swinging range. "You'll just hurt yourself. And I need you in one piece for tomorrow." ​Part 9: The Trap Shuts ​"Why are you doing this?" you screamed, your voice cracking in the empty lobby. "Let me go! Just let me leave!" ​Tom stopped walking. The playful, mocking amusement vanished from his face, replaced by a cold, vacant intensity that was infinitely worse. ​"Because everyone leaves," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register. "The fans leave when the lights go up. The crew leaves when the tour ends. But you? You're the one who makes sure everything holds together. You don't get to walk out." ​He took a sudden, explosive step forward. ​You swung the metal stanchion with all your might. It hit nothing but empty air—he dodged it with terrifying agility, his hand clamping down on the metal bar and ripping it effortlessly out of your grip. It clattered loudly across the polished floor. ​Before you could run, he grabbed your jacket, spinning you around and pinning you against the cold glass door. ​Part 10: The Awakening ​The cold of the glass bit through your clothes. You were trapped between the locked door to freedom and the heavy weight of his presence. He leaned in, his face inches from yours, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a terrifyingly possessive grip. ​"You're ours now," he whispered, a faint, cruel smile returning to his lips. "Welcome to the tour." ​The world began to spin. The streetlights outside the glass grew blindingly bright, blurring into a solid wall of white light. The sound of his breathing morphed into a loud, rhythmic thumping— ​Thump. Thump. Thump. ​Your eyes snapped open. ​You were in your own bed. The harsh morning sun was pouring through your window, burning your eyes. Your heart was racing, your sheets soaked in cold sweat. From the apartment floor below yours, a neighbor was heavily slamming a door—thump, thump. ​You sat up, trembling, letting out a long, ragged breath. It was just a dream. A terrible, suffocating nightmare. ​You reached for your phone on the nightstand to check the time. As the screen lit up, a notification from a music news app popped up across the glass: ​Tokio Hotel announces surprise stadium tour extensions. Wardrobe and crew hiring immediately in your area. ​Your blood ran completely cold.

(Enjoy the bot! This might be a warmer version then the original but.and chantelle is me but u can make it urelf instead im too lazy after writing this)

Tom is very cocky and he likes to tease women.only women.with men he's a bit colder