Ahsoka One Shots

Foster AU

In the last modern AU she had vitiligo (instead of her facial markings) so you can imagine it like that if you want, but I didn't specify either way.

Oh and side note, WRITING CHARACTERS THAT FIT THEIR ROLES IN CANON IS FRIGGING HARD. Don't injure me if Ahsoka's character seems off, okay, it's late and I'm still really proud of this chapter despite it's character development flaws.\

Lastly, sorry I unpublished this. Forgot to delete some stuff, then had to change it's order. It was chaotic lol

That's all.

Enjoy :)

Ahsoka wasn't used to this whole "foster" thing. She was supposed to be at home, on her bed, doing her homework. Not sitting in a police station covered in bruises from her dad's failed attempt at managing his anger. At first it was nothing. A shove in the other direction after her mom's funeral a year ago, he's just grieving, she told herself. He won't do it again.

He did in fact do it again. A few days later. Her friend had taken her out for ice cream and they got back later than she had told her father, and the moment Barriss left he was on her, yelling and screaming eventually throwing a punch. He looked like he didn't know what he had done, saying nothing and walking out of the room.

Long story short, a year later her father was in a prison cell and she was waiting for a social worker to come and figure out where she'd be staying. Ahsoka held an ice pack they'd given her on a particularly nasty bruise on her jaw, sitting in the hard chair wishing she was anywhere but here. School, Barriss', heck, she'd prefer to be on the streets right about now instead of waiting to go live with some distant relative she'd never heard of.

The social worker had olive skin, much lighter than her own, who had been jealous of Ahsoka's thick curls. She had blushed slightly before going back to the task at hand. The woman spoke slowly so every word would be caught.

She'd be sent to a foster home.

Ahsoka knew what it meant, despite the social worker's (Andrea, she had said) insistence to explain everything. She'd be sent to a stranger's house until they could find family who would take her. If no one would take her, she'd be passed around homes until she aged out.

The rest of the night was a blur. A short car ride to an apartment building she could only call slightly above average, and she was waiting on the step of a third floor apartment as the woman knocked. Ahsoka focused her attention on the red brick instead of the footsteps getting increasingly louder until the door creaked open, revealing a man in his late thirties, ginger hair in a pair of jeans and a rumpled t-shirt he'd likely been wearing all day.

"Mr. Kenobi, I'm Andrea, we talked on the phone," Her social worked greeted, an arm out in waiting for a handshake. He accepted, sparing a glance to Ahsoka as he shook it.

With a soft smile he continued. "Call me Obi-Wan, come on in."

As he guided the two inside, Ahsoka made sure to stay behind Andrea and keep low. She didn't need to get herself in trouble right about now, however much she wants to cause chaos. "I won't keep you long, I know it's late. Thank you for being so willing to take her on such a short notice." She realized it had to be at least 10 p.m. Andrea turned around to face the girl, an arm about to be placed around her shoulder before being pulled back. "This is Ahsoka." The girl gave an awkward wave.

"Hey."

Obi-Wan gave a more convincing smile as he spoke. "Hello Ahsoka," He greeted. "Why don't you get your things and I'll show you to your room."

Ahsoka looked briefly towards the floor, realizing she had only the backpack she'd hastily packed when the police came to collect her, tears still streaming down her face at the time. "This is it," She replied.