#oeznik

[tougotstrangeld]

little doodle of zemo and oeznik ❤️

they mean so much to me especially with the theory that oeznik was the one to raise zemo

[laysiegetohell]

There are no suspects in the bombing.

[evilwinterfruit]

Did anyone ever tell Oeznik that Zemo was alive and just locked in jail or does he think that killing the flag smashers was Helmut’s final wish? He looked rather upset in the final shot.

[albinod1no]

Working on a kinda joke au, but wow! Baby zemo! And his Butler/Guardian, Oeznik (Yes, like the mcu one. but not super elderly, bc you KNOW an elderly man would be having a heart attack every minute of taking care of this little shit) He's like, 10-13 here, I'd say? absolute little goblin of a boy.

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

Hunting Roses - Chapter 6

AN: This is a yandere Zemo fic. That means that it will have dark content. I do not endorse these relationships and behaviour in real life. This chapter contains drugs and non-consensual drugging and canon typical attitudes and behaviours for the X men universe when it comes to mutants.

Translations:

“Нет. Вам не нужно входить.” - “No. You don't have to come in.”

“ты не тот, кого он хочет.” - “You are not who he wants.”

The past few hours had passed in a blur for Natasha.  She had half expected Zemo to board a plane with Oeznik and Carl and leave her alone in America to lament her failure to ensure Carl’s safety like she had vowed to Heike.

Instead, she found herself in the back of a car driven by Oeznik with the stoic man not engaging her in any conversation whatsoever.  Not that she had expected him to chat with her the second she was alone with him.  Zemo followed closely behind Oeznik in a car with Carl.

It seemed every time that she thought about escaping the car that she was in, Oeznik would glance at her in the rearview mirror and shake his head with a small smile on his lips.  Natasha heaved a sigh the second time this happened and slouched down in her seat.

They arrived at their destination shortly after and Zemo looked every part the devoted father as he carried a tired Carl through the elegant doorway.  Oeznik climbed out of the car and gestured for Natasha to do the same.  Unwillingly, she obeyed the unspoken command.

She stepped forward and with surprising agility, Oeznik moved in front of her and blocked her way.

“Нет. Вам не нужно входить.”

“Why?” Natasha demanded in English.

“ты не тот, кого он хочет.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Natasha fired back, annoyed that he was choosing to speak to her in Russian.  Not only did it remind her of a past she had been trying to move on from but it also demonstrated that Oeznik and Zemo had done their research when it came to the Avengers.  The two men had to have known that speaking Russian was something Natasha only did with people she trusted deeply.

As Natasha came to that realisation, it dawned on her that the two men must have done their research on you as well.

“That means that they would know how you reacted to the Mutant Registration Act all those years ago.”  Natasha thought.

And then a worse thought struck Natasha.

“What if Zemo is the force behind the Sokovian Accords?  He clearly has the wealth and power to influence people like General Ross and his home country of Sokovia was devastated by the battle with Ultron’s forces.  That would tie in with what Heike and Heinrich discussed when they came to the compound to talk with us.”

Natasha half expected Oeznik to say something else but the man remained silent. 

“Perhaps he thinks he’s given away too much information?”  Natasha thought hopefully.

Her hopes were dashed when Oeznik returned to her side as the elegant doors opened and Zemo strode out of them.

“I apologise for the delay, old friend,” Zemo addressed Oeznik as if Natasha wasn’t there.  “I needed to ensure that I had everything ready.”

Oeznik inclined his head and then looked towards Natasha. 

Dread filled Natasha as she noticed the movement.

“It’s not that he thinks he’s given away too much information but the fact that I won’t be able to remember it correctly!” Natasha amended her previous thought.

“Judging by your expression, you have come to the correct conclusion.  “You might want to ask your Captain about some of the things that HYDRA were planning in the 40s if you can remember to ask.”

“How long do I have?” Natasha asked fighting the feeling of helplessness that was now clawing at her insides.  This was bringing back memories of the Red Room.  She figured that it would be a waste of time to demand how he had dosed her.

Zemo tilted his head, “Not too long.”  He remarked mildly as if he were discussing the weather. 

Figuring that she didn’t really have anything to lose, Natasha addressed Zemo, “You are nothing more than a rat who plays at being a Baron!”

A look of fury overtook Oeznik’s features but Zemo merely looked amused.  “Do you really think it upsets me, calling me a rat?  I don’t mind it.  Rats are very intelligent and they have a strong survival instinct.  And I would argue that I am well suited to my role of Baron and am not as you say “playing” a role.  Now, you may want to get in the car before you lose consciousness.  I estimate that you have about a minute before that happens.  Oeznik will ensure that you reach the Avenger’s compound safely without my son and without any trace of the drug in your system.”

Natasha’s vision was starting to go grey around the edges and her legs were beginning to shake alarmingly.  Very unwillingly, she climbed back into the car and with fumbling fingers, she managed to click in her seatbelt on her fourth try before darkness overtook her.

[sholiofic]

My prompt for the fluffverse: Oeznik giving Sam and Bucky the shovel talk

See Tropical Fluff Verse tag for other installments. (There's no particular chronological order.)

---

It had been a constant, ever since they had been traveling with Zemo, that his butler showed up randomly wherever they went. Sam had never actually caught Zemo making contact with him, or figured out exactly what their method of communicating was; it could be something as normal as regular phone calls, or some completely bonkers Zemo thing, dead drops or burner phones or a private radio transmitter hidden in his teeth or messages written on tree bark in invisible ink, who knew.

In any case, they had arrived in the Colombia house to find the sheets turned down and fresh food in the refrigerator. There was a plausible non-Oeznik-related reason for this (a couple who lived nearby did regular caretaking on the place; they had already stopped in a couple of times to bring supplies and do light housekeeping). But nevertheless, Sam was deeply unsurprised when he came into the kitchen and found Oeznik restocking Zemo's liquor cabinet.

"Want a hand with that?" Sam asked as the elderly butler very slowly transferred one bottle at a time of assorted, probably very expensive cognac and Scotch from a padded crate to the cabinet.

"Very much appreciated," Oeznik said in his scratchy voice. He stepped back and then proceeded to give Sam specific directions about the placement of each individual bottle.

Bucky came in with a crate in each arm. "That's the last of it. Oh, hi, Sam."

"How much alcohol does one middle-aged terrorist need, exactly?" Sam asked. Those crates were bigger than this one.

Oeznik didn't appear put off by the phrasing. "The baron needs to be able to entertain. Those go to the wine cellar."

Bucky heaved a sigh and picked up the crates again.

"There's a wine cellar?" Sam said.

Oeznik pointed to the next bottle in the crate. "That one should be placed beside the fruit liqueurs. No, on the left."

Bucky was back a few minutes later, empty-handed. "Help you out here?"

"We're just finishing up," Sam said, arranging the last bottle to Oeznik's specifications and wondering how this was his life. "Where exactly is his baronial highness, anyway?"

"Napping in our—in his room, last I saw," Bucky said.

What he had started to say, Sam guessed, was "in our room," since they had all been sharing the master bedroom since the first few days they'd been here. It made Sam realize, with a slight drop in his stomach, that he had absolutely no idea how much Oeznik knew about the nature of their relationship, or how much it was safe for the guy to know, for that matter. 

Keeping his voice light, Sam said, "God forbid he should lift a finger to help. So you gonna just drop in, leave some booze, and head out again?"

Oeznik shrugged slightly as he carefully, at glacial speed, piled all of the shredded paper padding back inside the crate. "Might I prevail on you to carry this out for me, Mr. Barnes?"

Sam trailed them out into the afternoon heat and humidity, and found that Oeznik had arrived in a vintage delivery truck, pastel blue, in perfectly pristine condition, that looked like it dated to approximately the 1940s. Only a light spray of mud above the wheels marred its gleaming perfection. Bucky put the crate in the back with other empty crates, giving the vehicle an admiring look as he did so.

"You're just gonna leave without talking to him," Sam said.

"There's no need to. Arrangements have been made." Oeznik patted his pockets. "Ah." He found his keys and then turned to the two of them. "Might I have a word, gentlemen, before I go?"

"Yeah?" Sam said. Bucky looked up from an admiring inspection of the gently curving fenders of the truck.

Oeznik cleared his throat, smoothing down his lapels with small fussy movements. "The baron has been through a great deal of upheaval, tragedy, and loss in the past decade."

"Some of it self-inflicted," Sam said.

Oeznik didn't acknowledge this. Instead he went on in his light, cracked voice. "He has come to care for both of you, perhaps more than you know."

Well, way to make him feel like an asshole. Bucky was quiet, his metal hand resting on the truck fender. Sam said carefully, "Does he, er—talk to you about us?"

"I am not unobservant," Oeznik said. "I simply wanted to be sure that you both understand the baron does not give his trust or his ... consideration lightly. And—" His voice darkened a shade. "I will not see him hurt."

There was a brief pause as the butler opened the driver's side door, and Sam traded a swift glance with Bucky, who was wearing a slight frown. Then Sam said, "We aren't going to."

"See that you don't. I would hate to clean up the resulting mess."

"The, er, what?"

The car door slammed. Oeznik raised a hand in a palsied wave, and turned the engine over.

"Hey—"

The vintage delivery truck pulled away, navigating the turns of the house's sweeping crushed-shell drive. 

Sam looked at Bucky and said, "Was that a shovel talk?"

"I don't know what that is, but it sounded kind of threatening."

"How threatening, exactly? He's like ... ninety."

"I'm a hundred and seven, Sam."

"Shut it."

"Look, we both know he—"

"Yeah," Sam said shortly, because the Flag-Smashers' death was a can of worms they hadn't opened yet, and Sam wasn't sure he wanted to examine it closely.

"Yeah," Bucky said, his voice soft. "Anyway—"

"Ah, you're out here," said Zemo's voice from the shadowed doorway. They both turned. He was lounging in the entryway, wearing a loose bathrobe open nearly to the waist. His hair was tousled and sweat-dampened from sleep, and something in Sam's chest cracked a little.

Oeznik, I don't know if you'll believe me, but you've got nothing to worry about.

"Your butler was here," Bucky said.

"Yes, I know," Zemo said brightly. "There's fresh swordfish soaking in milk. It reduces the fishy taste, you know. Have you had it with mango?" His voice had the slight over-brightness when he was trying a little too hard to cover some emotion, which made Sam wonder what he was covering, exactly. But his eyes were soft, and the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth was genuine.

"You're so weird," Sam said, but he went from the sun-splashed courtyard into the shadowed foyer, with Bucky on his heels. Zemo put up no resistance when Sam put an arm around his loosely robed waist and kissed him, then passed him neatly to Bucky.

"So that's a yes on swordfish," Zemo said, a little breathlessly, when Bucky was done with him.

"That's a yes on swordfish," Sam said. "And I think we've got a wide selection of booze to go with it, so if you make the drinks, I'll fire up the grill."

[altlincolnlee]

Just the best couple in the show.

[local-spacegirl]

The MCU really just gave DC's Alfred Pennyworth a worthy opponent when they created Zemo's butler huh? Talk about staff loyalty.