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jcbbby · 3 months

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME, a gift for everyone! It's a little Caleb Sykes ficlet! Enjoy. :) (I have a longer fic still in the works, btw. This is just a fun lil one off.)

“Give me a whiskey. Double.” Caleb’s deep, gruff voice barked at the barkeep as he sat down at the counter.

The man behind the bar nodded, reaching for a glass and the bottle. A wet popping sound followed by the glug of the pour was music to Caleb’s ears after a long day of travel. He had been riding across the sprawling wilderness for days, sent by his brother to attend to business for the family. There was a matter of debt owed to the Sykes, something that not only were Caleb’s skills and tactics best suited for—but intimidation was something that Caleb reveled and excelled in.

Caleb took his hat off, inspecting it briefly. He brushed a spot of dirt off the brim, setting it down next to him on the counter.

“That’ll be 25.” The bartender set the glass of whiskey in front of him.

Caleb eyed it suspiciously, glaring up at the young barkeep. “This look like double to you? It don’t look like it’s worth even 15 to me.” He growled.

“Well, I-“

Caleb stood up, moving his coat to flash the pistol on his hip. “Now, I’d think real carefully about what you say next.”

The barkeep swallowed harshly, nodding once as he reached again for the bottle. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” He poured another couple glugs into the glass. “On the house.” He chuckled nervously.

Caleb glared, forcefully taking the glass in his hand and taking a swig. He spun around in his chair, leaning his back against the counter of the bar. Surveying the inside of the saloon, his eyes fell upon the unlikely pairing of a young brunette seated awfully cozied up to an older, larger gentleman.

He drank as he watched on, the brunette giggled and twirled her hair, raising a glass of ale up to his sweat-glistened lips almost forcefully. The man chuckled heartily, obviously drunk on the ale and seemingly drunk on this woman. Caleb noticed her hand inching closer to the man’s small satchel of coins, tied to his belt loop. He smirked to himself, quickly realizing what was unfolding in front of him.

The woman extended a small switchblade from the hand, distracting the man by pressing herself against him as she swiftly sliced the roped tying the bag to him. Caleb took another swig of his whiskey, chortling into the glass. Impressive, he thought.

“If you could excuse me, honey. I just want to freshen up for a minute in the powder room. Don’t you go anywhere, okay?” The woman giggled, running a finger along the man’s plump cheek.

As the woman turned around, her smile and bubbly demeanor quickly fell. She made her way toward the back of the saloon, but instead of entering the women’s lounge, she took a sharp turn, scurrying out the side door. Through the window, he watched her slink around the back corner of the establishment. He slugged the rest of his glass of whiskey back, reaching for his hat. He knew he couldn’t let this girl go.

The young woman smirked to herself, plopping down against the back wall of the saloon.

“Too easy, as always.” She chuckled to herself, working to untie the purse and count her haul.

The last several years of her life had been spent on the move, thieving; her only means of living. The comforts of home had evaded her since she was a little girl. Orphaned at the age of 10 due to Typhoid fever, all she knew was survival. She had spent some time in an orphanage, which was a horrible existence. It was overcrowded from children who survived attacks in the Apache Wars and run by strict clergy members. She learnt to steal and fight during her time there, lest she go hungry or be intimidated by the other children but was kicked out at 14 to make room for more. Since then, she had been making her own way, by any means she could.

Caleb quietly approached, rounding the corner at the back of the building.

“Well,” he chuckled. “That was mighty impressive.”

The girl quickly reached for her knife, holding it out in front of her. “Back off.”

Caleb sighed. “Woman, hasn’t anyone ever told you not to bring a knife to a gun fight?” He flashed his pistol, smiling wickedly.

The girl huffed. “You gonna kill me over a few coins?” She tossed the small purse towards him, it landing and spilling at his feet. “Fine then, give it back to your chowderhead friend.”

Caleb bent down to pick the money up. “Oh, I’m not with him, no. And I’m not gonna kill you, darlin’. No, see… I could use a girl like you.” He smirked.

“I ain’t no prostitute, mister.” She scowled.

He chuckled. “No, you certainly ain’t, are ya?”

“You sayin’ I’m too ugly?” She came to her feet, brow furrowed, offended.

Caleb let out a full-belly laugh. “My god, you sure are a feisty one! No, woman, I’m just tryin’ to tell ya I’m impressed with your skill. I watched you hustle that man in there. I think we’d make a great team, you and me.” He handed her the coins.

She slowly took the bag from him, sizing him up for a moment. “Yeah? And who are ya?”

“You familiar with the Sykes family?”

Her eyes widened slightly. “You’re a Sykes?”

He smirked. “The name’s Caleb. And you?”

She took a beat before answering. “Violet.”

Caleb smiled. “Mighty pretty name for a pretty face. Violet what?”

Violet shook her head. “Just Violet. I ain’t got no family, and I ain’t got no family name. I ain’t got nothing.” She tucked the bag of coins into an inner pocket on her jacket.

“Well, you want somethin’?” He smirked.

She looked up from securing her pocket. “Like what?”

“How’s about you come with me, and we can turn those few measly coins into much more.”

“Keep talkin’.” She returned his smirk.

He slowly approached her, his hand reaching up to her cheek. His finger ran along the outside of her cheek and down her jaw. “And maybe…more than money. Maybe a family name to go with it.”

Violet stared up into his piercing blue eyes, icy and deep. To anyone else, they would have been cold and imposing. But to her, they were inviting. She didn’t know him, but she swore in his eyes it was like an ocean of promise.

#jamie campbell bower #caleb sykes #jamie bower #horizon #horizon: an american saga

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oskea93 · 2 months

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Tis the Way the Wind Blows, Hummingbird (One)

Caleb Sykes x OC Horizon universe

⚠️ Warning ⚠️ Story will contain moments of physical, sexual, emotional, and verbal abuse, cursing, murder, suicidal ideations, childbirth, scalping, death, etc. Please do not read if you are triggered by any of these warnings. If you've seen the film or just read about it online, you already know that Caleb is a bad guy. He will remain a bad guy throughout this story as well. He will not be liked and will be vile in every way. Just a heads up if you were looking for a happy Jamie story.

A/N: Oh my goodness guys, thank you so much for the love for this story! I am so glad you all are enjoying it so far! It's only gonna get more extreme and downright dirty from here. Also, if you have any questions about the story, just wanna talk, or whatever, just drop me a message!

● If you would like to be tagged, please comment below ●

Taglist: @austinswhitewolf, @carriewritesblog, @isla-bell-blog, @jcbbby, @eve18ahs

His touch would burn like a batch of fire ants each time he laid hands on me.

The searing pain as his grip would tighten – his cold blue eyes staring into mine as I would beg and plead not to hurt me in front of our children. I would like to say it hadn’t always been this way with Caleb but that would be a lie straight from the devil’s mouth. I would love to tell you that he was once a gentleman who was corrupt by the bottle – that his hands were once full of love and joy but for some ungodly reason I actually held feelings for the man.

I remember the first time I saw Caleb, standing in the dimly lit corner of the saloon, a shadow of a man with haunted eyes that seemed to mirror my own loneliness. His smile was a twisted reflection of charm, drawing me in like a moth to a flame. Despite the warnings that whispered in the back of my mind, I found myself captivated by his words, his presence filling a void I hadn't even known existed. In his arms, I felt a fleeting sense of belonging, as if for a moment, the world made sense and all the broken pieces of my heart were whole again. But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, the cracks in his facade began to show, revealing a darkness that chilled me to the core.

He was the youngest child of the vile woman who birthed him all those years ago – his father a philanderer who only arrived home when necessary. Rumor had it he had spawn all over the territory – the short woman he married long ago idly standing by as she knew there was nothing that could be done. The Sykes family were notorious among the Montana Territory – the fear they placed upon those wanting to settle was enough to make settlers treck along elsewhere. Some would say even the Indians feared the Sykes men – I would argue that on a heavy bible.

Caleb’s anger more than likely rising from the hits of his mother and brother – always on the receiving end of a hand, foot, or even the butt of a gun at one point. I remember watching in the shadows as Junior almost beat him senseless for some measly reason – no reason good enough to knock your kin unconscious for hours on end. I was the one that had to drag him out of the snow that night – into the little shack that his mother had “gifted” us to make house in. The winter’s wind whistling through the loose logs, the fire barely staying lit as the snow floated through the home. When he awoke, he knew that there was no use in going after Junior, his hatred and fury landing upon my skin throughout the night.

I guess you may be asking how I even came to be with the blue-eyed devil – having enough dimwits about me to stay with a man like that. Well for one, it was an act of rebellion. I thought I could change him, hell, maybe even overpower him. I took the blows that he gave me each night, going to bed with tear-stained cheeks as he stepped out to go drinkin with his brothers. The other reason I stayed was because it was a sense of security. I had a leaking roof over my head, but it was covered none the less. I wasn’t wondering the land like the others out there, subjected to the harshness that the land was giving forth. The Sykes fortress was clear of any Indians – the dangers of being ambushed by them pushed at the wayside – unlike those that were travelling to their new homes.

I had married Caleb on the 24th day of January in the year eighteen hundred and fifty-two. The justice of the peace in the town below reading from the holy book as he weaved back and forth from the whiskey coursing through his blood. No kiss was shared – no joyous voices from our closest relatives. Just an empty room. I had run off from Grady’s house – my only bag packed – his best horse trotting underneath me. I had only known Caleb for a number of days before his hands slipped under my dress – the piece of me that I was savin for future husband taken away in a matter of seconds. I guess all’s forgiven in the eyes of God since I ended up marrying the bastard…

I watched as the snow swirled around the open air like paper scraps sent from the heavens above. The fire had long gone out several hours ago – my breath seen clearly as I exhaled in exhaustion. I hadn’t seen sight or sound of him in nearly four days – nothing uncommon nowadays. The wood burning smoke from the big house filtered through the cracks in the wood, the scent causing me to long for a warm room just for a moment of two.

Soft coos broke me out of my thoughts as I turned my attention to the little bundle in the center of the room. I had every blanket and article of clothing I could scrounge up piled atop her, trying to keep the cold off her small body.

“What’s wrong my sweet?” My feet carrying my body towards her.

She had her daddy’s eyes – bright blue and able to look right into your soul. Sprouts of red hair could be seen beneath the bonnet she wore, her little cheeks red with the touch of the cold. Emily was the daughter I longed for – a true gift from the Lord above. She was the second child – one that no one but me cared to have. She was the light of my life – the reason that I never gave up on myself against her father or his family.

I had given birth to Rory – our son – the first-born Sykes grandson seven years ago. Mama Sykes was at the head of the bed as he was born, quickly whisking him off before I could hold him. Caleb was celebrated for once in his life – having the workings to produce a strong male offspring – a male that would carry on the Sykes name and lineage. The Sykes women kept Rory at an arm’s reach from me during his infancy – only pushing him in my arms when it came time for him to eat. They would bring me into the big house as he fed and pushed me right back into the small shake once he was through. This was Mama Sykes dream to have another son she could mold and make her own. It was obvious that she wanted another son like Junior – Caleb being the lowest branch that she so badly wanted cut.

I watched as the years passed as my son shaped into a typical Sykes male. James and Junior would make sure to take him out, teaching him how to trap and hunt, something that a little boy at his age didn’t need to worry about yet. Caleb would just sit back and watch, the fatherly instinct never truly kicking in. He was seen more as Rory’s uncle rather than the his father. I’m almost positive that’s what Mama Sykes even taught Rory to call Caleb.

I would try my best to push my way into his life, only to get shoved back by the Sykes women. They didn’t trust me to be his mother – I was simply the woman that gave birth – not his mother. Hannah, Junior’s wife claimed that spot. Her evil glares cutting right through each time I would look at my son. Mama Sykes and Hannah would mutter awful words about me to Rory, finally breaking through to him. I watched as the baby boy I carried for nine months, suffering 10 hours in agony as I labored, just kicked me away like a speck of dirt on the floorboard.

I slowly picked my daughter up, bouncing her around in the quilt my mother had made before she passed. “Flee as a bird to your mountain – thou who art weary of sin – go to the clear flowing fountain – where you may wash and be clean.”

The sudden sound of a shotgun going off cutting off the lyrics as my grip tightened on the baby. Stepping towards the window, the site in front of me causing my heart to thump against my chest. Gently placing Emily back into her bassinette, I tore open the wooden door, racing over to where my son laid.

“What the hell is happening?” My knees digging into the hardened dirt as I brought his limp body into my arms. His face bloodied and bruised as Robert and Junior stood above – Mama Sykes and Hannah watching from the porch steps.

Junior let out an annoyed sigh, “This doesn’t concern you, Elizabeth.”

“Like hell it doesn’t, Junior.” My tone biting back, fire raging through my eyes as I looked down at my little boy. My hand softly trailing down his cheek, his chest slowly rising and falling.

“He started the whole thing.” Robert, Junior and Hannah’s youngest son scoffed. “Ain’t my fault that he don’t got no fightin skills.”

My eyes cutting up to the younger Sykes, “That’s enough, Robert.” Junior sounded. “Go get cleaned up for supper.”

The boy followed his father’s direction, Hannah smiling at him once he reached the steps. Her last glance finding mine as she walked into the home. Mama Sykes stood stoic on the porch, her eyes dull and full of spite. “Junior, get Rory and bring him in the house.”

“No!” My arms wrapping tighter around my son’s unconscious body. “You will not touch another hair on this child’s head –“ My eyes piercing towards Mrs. Sykes. “None of you are touching my child again.”

“Ain’t your child, Elizabeth.” Mama spoke clearly. “Hasn’t been your child since the day he was born.”

I could feel tears of anger spiking in my eyes, “Oh yeah –“ A sarcastic chuckle slipping, “And who’s idea was that, huh?” Junior stepped closer. “You bunch of monsters took him away from me – turned him against his own mother for what? You see how well his father turned out – think I could’ve done a hell of a lot better than you, Mama Sykes.”

Junior’s large hands pried my arms apart, Rory slipping back onto the ground as he dragged me feet away. His grip like that of Caleb’s but only stronger. My words of pain going by the wayside as his foot kicked into my ribs, a guttural cry releasing deep from my body.

“Get that boy in the house before he catches a death of cold.” Mama’s raspy voice sounded.

Junior looked up to the matriarch, “What about her?” My body still curled into the cold ground. “Whatcha want me to do with her?”

The only sound could be heard was that of the winter birds around as the wind blew – Mrs. Sykes body staying silent for a moment. “She can find her way back.” Her eyes connecting with mine briefly as she turned to enter the home.

I stayed silent, face still pressed against the snowy ground as Junior lifted Rory into his arms, stomping his way up the stairs to the main house. The door slamming behind him once he crossed the threshold.

I waited a few moments before moving – the sharp pain of where his foot had landed making it hard to breathe as I slowly walked back to the building. The echo of Emily's cry reverberated in my ears, piercing through the chaos that had engulfed us. Each step felt heavy, burdened not just by the weight of my own injuries but by the fear and uncertainty that loomed ahead.

With a shaky hand, I pushed the door open, the hinges creaking in protest. Emily's tear-streaked face turned towards me, her eyes wide with a mix of confusion and fear. My heart ached at the sight of her, so small and innocent in the midst of such turmoil.

"Shh, it's okay," I whispered hoarsely, my voice barely above a broken murmur. I knelt beside her, wrapping my arms around her trembling form. The warmth of her tiny body pressed against mine offered a brief respite from the cold reality that threatened to consume us both.

"It's okay, baby," I repeated, the words a mantra to soothe not just her but myself as well. Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring the world around me. In that moment, I felt the weight of responsibility crushing down on my shoulders, the knowledge that I must be strong for her, no matter how broken I felt inside.

I thanked God silently that Emily was so young, her innocence a shield against the harshness of the truth…

“How dare you disrespect my mother and brother like you did, Elizabeth!”

I sat in the corner of the room, the metallic taste of blood lingering on my tongue as I dabbed away the fresh crimson droplets that fell from my split lip. The throbbing ache in my jaw served as a painful reminder of the altercation that had just taken place, but my focus remained unwavering on the man standing before me.

"I was protecting my child – our child," I asserted, my voice steady despite the underlying currents of anger and frustration that simmered beneath the surface.

He rolled his eyes in exasperation, his movements agitated as he paced the confines of the cramped room. "That boy was two steps away from killing Rory, he wa-"

"Robert was teaching him how to act like a man – not some pansy whipped little girl," Caleb interjected, his voice tinged with defiance. The words hung heavily in the air, a stark reminder of the deep-seated differences in our beliefs and values. "Junior and I did the same thing growing up – plus it’s not your word that matters anymore, Lizabeth."

I shook my head, a bitter taste of resentment flooding my senses. "Yeah," I muttered, my voice tinged with sorrow and anger. "You and your goddamn family took that right away." His eyes darkened as he advanced towards me, each step a menacing echo of the power dynamics that had long defined our relationship.

"I was just used as a cow to make sure he was fed and then put back in the pen like some kind of barnyard anim-" My words were cut short by the sharp crack that resonated through the home, the impact of the blow sending a searing wave of pain from my jaw to my temple.

“Always running that damn mouth of yours,” Caleb's voice was heavy with frustration as he hastily unclipped the holster from his waist. My body already knew what was about to happen as I scrambled to get off the floor, the urgency pulsing through my veins. Unfortunately, I wasn't quick enough. Caleb's strong grip closed around my ankles, his fingers digging into my skin as he yanked me across the dirty wood.

His dirt-stained hands pushing up the material of my skirt as his body straddled mine – my arms pinned to my side as my cries mixed with those of Emily’s in the corner of the room…

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