Larkpresses
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The silver has been lost, Janosh is still alive, and he must make the trek back to Kuttenberg to say goodbye to his light, his love, his Leszek.
Between life and death, in the hazy fog of a half-dream, Adder drinks the blood of a mysterious stranger. When he wakes, he wakes in hell- and without Janosh at his side.
Adder is gone. Leszek has died. What remains now is the mosquito.
A melodramatic horror-romance about reunion, transformation, and love.
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[ART - Not a written work]
A place to put my Jadder NSFW art and sketches, one piece per chapter -
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Janosh/Brabant/Adder NSFW sketches. Sorry for this one (I am not sorry)
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NSFW Jadder Week sketches
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Janosh had felt his absence like hunger- an aching void that he had tried to fill with the company of the Pack, with chores, with prayer, with drink, with food. None of it had worked. None of it ever worked. It was Adder who starved him, and only Adder who could sate him.
Reunited once more. Light Sub!Janosh/Dom!Adder
Series
- Part 2 of Sweet Reunions
Recent series
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- 13,998
- Works:
- 2
- Bookmarks:
- 2
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Summary
Five years ago, Janosh Uher was stabbed to death in the kitchen of Montecarlo's Rest, and has been trapped there as a ghost ever since.
Two months ago, Adder moved to Prague and became stuck there, at rock bottom working a dead end job at a once-great restaurant.
It takes this loud-mouthed Pole at the end of his rope to wake Janosh up and convince him to investigate his own murder—but doing so attracts the attention of someone more desperate and dangerous than Adder or Janosh bargained for, who will do anything to prevent the truth coming out.
But whatever the uncertainty and danger, one thing is certain: Adder and Janosh see each other. And through their odd, immediate connection, they both become more real.
Bookmarked by Larkpresses
07 Aug 2026
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“We need start before Adder,” Janosh finally said, and it seemed like even the rain was quieter now, was listening. “Much before. We need start with Janosh. Because story about Adder is story about Janosh. We need start in beginning, when Janosh was little. We start with Janosh Gilet.”
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Janosh Gilet was five years old when his whole world fell apart. Then seven, eleven, eighteen. Thirty-nine. Despite all that came before, that one hurt the most.
Now, in the year of our Lord 1412, he is forty-eight. And surrounded by his friends, by candlelight and April rain, and by a rising religious revolt tearing through the heart of Prague like the Inquisition's hot-glowing iron through flesh, Janosh feels like it is finally time to tell his story. A story of injustice and rebellion, of joy and suffering, of rooftops and harvest dances. Of blue eyes and golden hair, and a hand in his. Of love. Of loss.
Series
- Part 3 of Dum Vita Est, Spes Est
Bookmarked by Larkpresses
16 Jun 2026
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After so much of his life spent running, escaping, surviving—it’s good, Janosh thinks, to focus on the clear blue sky ahead of them, the crunch of their footfalls and the bright summery smell of the air, the taste of good food after a long day, a drink and a fuck and a hard sleep.
And Adder beside him, looking ahead into the rising sun and smiling.
(Janosh is annoyed and inspired by Adder's approach to life over the course of their relationship)
Bookmarked by Larkpresses
01 Apr 2026
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Adder's looking for closure.
He doesn't find it.
Bookmarked by Larkpresses
31 Jan 2026
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Adder thought he'd fucked his way through every configuration of limbs and holes. Has chased it across borders and bedposts. He never expected to find something he couldn't walk away from. Janosh, who cooks, curses, and speaks a thousand tongues, has been waiting—patient as always—for Adder to realize what he's been offering.
Two mercenaries. A plum. A mounting debt.
Bookmarked by Larkpresses
19 Jan 2026