A/N: Hey, everyone! After reading AA fanfics for a while, I finally had the courage to write my own! One of my favorite characters would have to be Wocky. There was something about him that's so endearing. I don't know, lol. This story is basically how I see Justaki (Apocky?). Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Ace Attorney series or any of the characters therein.

Guilty or otherwise, they should've locked him away in jail. Not only would it have given him "mad street cred" and made him "the ultimate G," a life of defending himself from inmates would've kept his mind more...occupied. And away from one Apollo Justice.

Ever since Wocky was declared "not guilty" of murdering Meraktis, Alita's imprisonment weighed him down; his "fallen angel" had hit the ground. Hard. For weeks on end, Wocky cried for her in solitude. In public, he traded his "weak-ass" feelings for a bitter, furious exterior that chased customers away from his family's muffin bakery. He was tarnishing what good the Kitakis were struggling to establish, earning himself the moniker of "The Fanged Fox."

Along with his newly-aggressive nature, Wocky gained a knack for being distracted that worried his parents. He constantly replayed his trial in his head until the memories were dull and the tears stopped, at the expense of what he was doing at the time. He cared less and less for Alita as time passed (the gold-diggin' bitch!) and focused more and more on the young defense attorney who helped him out: Apollo Justice.

The thought of Apollo made Wocky's heart fumble in his chest in ways he didn't understand. Made him twitch and break out into a sweat. For a while he blamed the sensation on his heart regaining strength after surgery, but he knew that wasn't it. What he felt about Pointy-locks now was what he used to feel about Alita long ago: like he could sacrifice his life to protect him, like he wanted to hold him in his arms forever.

Wocky didn't mind being gay; after all, the word "gay" started with a "g" and he was always calling himself a "G" anyway (as a gangsta, of course), so why not adopt the new title? It was one more "g" to add to how badass he was. To Wocky, being a G meant following a different path from everyone else. And if that path led to Apollo Justice, then it was the one he'd follow.

But how? Where did these thoughts come from? Was it misplaced respect for someone who saved Wocky's life? Maybe, but that didn't stop him from lying awake night after night, picturing how brave Justice looked in court, raising objections and sharing evidence. From picturing how fly he looked in that red suit.

Though it drove Wocky to utter embarrassment to admit it, he couldn't sleep until he ran his own hands all over his body, imagining that he was relishing in Apollo's touch—leaving himself moaning and panting with desire. How he began each morning with a cold shower, promising to never think about Apollo in such a way again, only to break that promise the next night. A wack cycle unfit for a dope gangsta.

Something had to be done.

Wocky was the kind of guy to tackle his problems head-on, taking care of them with the gracefulness of a bull. It was that same rashness that led him to write Apollo a letter (he couldn't risk calling the Wright Anything Agency if someone other than Justice answered the phone, nor could he bring himself to talk if he were to get through to him). In a letter Wocky felt as if he could control exactly what he wanted to say. He was going to act cool, keep it "one hundred":

Yo! Attorney-Man!

Haven't heard from you since I dodged the clink! Howzit goin', dawg?

See, I've been thinkin' about my trial and shit lately. How things

went down. Imma need you to meet me for a talk down at the park.

You know the one. Friday, at noon sometime? Beast. You best be there!

Wocky

Satisfied with what he wrote, Wocky folded his letter and crammed it into an envelope. He ran down to the mailbox before returning to the muffin shop. There he baked trays and trays of pastries while humming a lively tune, much to his parents' amusement.

It was three days later, Thursday afternoon, when Wocky was given a letter from the Wright Anything Agency by one of his fellow mobsters. Ignoring the confused look on the man's face, Wocky hid himself in his room, giggling like a schoolgirl as he forced a pocketknife along a corner of the envelope. Once the letter was opened, he reached inside the envelope, pulling out a perfectly folded paper. With clumsy fingers, Wocky opened the letter and read:

Wocky,

I'm doing fine, thanks. We're to meet at People Park, right?

Sure. I'll be there. See you then.

Apollo

Wocky couldn't help but grin at his luck. Justice was agreeing to meet him! He studied the neat, cursive handwriting that peppered the paper in his hands, tracing each loop with his eyes. He could see Apollo writing at some fancy desk, tapping a pen against his lip ever so often in thought. So hawt! Reluctantly, Wocky raised the letter to his nose, sighing in bliss at the faint scent of pine trees. He was definitely going to marry the defense attorney. He was gonna!

The name "Apollo Justice-Kitaki" was drippin' mad swag, yo!