Living in New York meant that you really had to do what you could to live comfortably - Well, whatever ‘comfortable’ was here. However many billionaires lived in this city, it didn’t account for how the rest of the population was just managing to get by.

You always had a talent for music, and you had no interest in committing any crimes - lord knows the vigilantes running around in the dark, so you resorted to busking. Most people just ignored you and went about their day, some dropped some change into your guitar case and continued walking, and some occasionally sat to watch you.

Bucky, after his pardon, just wanted to live life normally. He had his regular therapy, and kept to himself, bar the occasional lunch he had with Yori. He never really paid much mind to the people playing music on the streets, it was just a bit of background noise as he headed from place to place, but that seemed to change as of recently. Your voice cut through the hustle and bustle of passers-by and the rumbling of car engines, and the way in which you so skilfully played your instruments had him practically entranced.

He could remember the first time that he watched some scumbag kick your guitar case and slam their fist on your keyboard when you were mid-chorus, even snag a few bills from your case whilst you were turned away. It was really a recipe for asshole, and he couldn’t just walk away like he usually did.

No. Instead, he spent some time quietly following the guy, staying undetected in a manner he could never have seemed to shake after HYDRA, though now it seemed to be working in his favour. He wasn’t sure what brought this on, he didn’t know you at all, hadn’t even spoken to you, yet he suddenly had this urge to enact some justice on your behalf.

He didn’t even need to send a punch, just pulled him into a quiet alleyway, grabbed him by the collar and gave him a very serious warning, something he knew the guy would never forget.

Bucky then walked away, continued on his day like it was nothing, and slowly strutted past your stand, dropping the money he grabbed off of the guy back into your case when your head was turned.

The next time you saw the guy who’d messed around with your equipment, you were preparing for the worst, but you could see a look of… Fear on his face as he picked up speed to pass your stand. You had zero idea on why he was suddenly at unease near you, you certainly hadn’t changed your set-up or worn anything that would elicit such a reaction, but you continued on with your songs nevertheless.

Bucky watched from afar as the asshole from before quickly sped-walked past you, and a triumphant grin tugged at his lips before he approached your stand.

A gloved hand dropped a few bills into your case, alongside a small folded note. The man then simply sent you a friendly smile and small nod before tucking his hand back into his jacket pocket, walking away.

Your curiosity was obviously piqued, and you reached for the note, unfolding it with the expectation of perhaps a number, but it was just a simple message, written in very old-fashioned handwriting - neat and legible.

’A lot of scumbags around here. Stay safe.’