Apples & Honey - Oneshot
din djarin x gn!reader, jewish!reader (no y/n)
summary: A hired mechanic developing feelings for the Mandalorian finds themselves missing the culture that surrounded them before they started their journey. The stoic bounty hunter asks them to tell him about it, his own feelings starting to grow as well.
warnings: none, but my blog and work is 18+ only. no minors.
notes: this one is all about a jewish holiday, Rosh Hashanah. even if you aren't jewish, I encourage you to read--I tried to weave education into this as well as I could. I just wanted to share my favorite holiday with all of you! enjoy!
thank you to the mods of @starwarscultureweek, this is a few days late for day 3 and day 5, but submitting anyways.
read on ao3 | fic masterlist
You didn’t know much about the Mandalorian that had hired you to work on his ship. He was quiet and kept to himself, usually preferring to stay in the cockpit throughout your travels and only coming down to the hull to use the privy. Your partnership was still new; you’d only been working for him for around 30 standard days, give or take—you’d lost track. You knew he’d open up more as time went on, as would you. Peli had warned you about his indifference towards conversation, so you’d expected his brief remarks to you and the lack of meaningful conversation.
You hadn’t expected to feel your heart flutter when his boots tapped down the metal ladder, or to savor every interaction with him, etching his voice into your brain. It dripped into your ears like honey and seeped into your veins, even if it was modulated through the helmet he wore. Sometimes, when he walked past you, you’d get a whiff of his scent—musk, leather, sweat—and it was a strange comfort. You’d come to enjoy his tough exterior, for you knew deep in your heart that underneath the unbreakable beskar was a tender man with a sense of duty and honor.
The little green child in his care brought out this tenderness. A new duty had been added to your job within the last few rotations: caring for the big-eared baby named Grogu. It flattered you that he trusted you enough to care for and watch over Grogu while he was away from the ship; anyone could see how protective the Mandalorian was. Even through brief, stolen glances, you could see the way he held the child with a fondness only a father could possess. This careful nature and fierce protectiveness fanned the flames of your growing affection towards the mysterious man.
You were hoping that your suspicions about his character underneath the tough exterior were right as you sat on the Crest’s ramp, a scenic meadow in front of you. You tried to relax your body and mind, extending your legs and leaning back with hands planted behind you, eyes closed to feel the sun penetrate every pore. Though the afternoon rays warmed your skin and brightened the tall green grass and its random bursts of flowers, it couldn’t warm your heavy heart.
Earlier, all three of you had taken a trip to the market. It was rare, but after you mentioned your curiosity about the planets you traveled to during his hunts in passing, the Mandalorian dropped out of hyperspace and landed on this random, idyllic, Mid-Rim planet. You hadn’t expected him to listen to you, let alone fulfill your wish. As you’d walked through the market, your heart had felt light and excited about the potential of growing your relationship with him beyond stiff exchanges and brief interactions.
Your heart froze over when you saw the date on a calendar in a random bakery Grogu forced his armored guardian to stop in. Mando had noticed the slight change in your demeanor, asking if you were alright, and you forced a smile and nodded. The rest of the excursion was a blur, muddied by the date. You’d been so busy since joining the Mandalorian that you’d never stopped and thought to ask about something so simple. And now, sitting alone in the sun, you let it sink in.
“You going to use those?”
You jumped, sitting up straight and twisting around to see the Mandalorian standing at the top of the ramp, a finger pointing at the forgotten tools by your side. You’d meant to repair something incredibly minor just to take your mind off things, but you hadn’t been able to focus enough, the task only making things worse.
“Oh, um…no,” you stumbled over your words. “At least, uh, not yet.”
“I thought you were fixing something underneath the hull.”
Kriff, you’d forgotten about mentioning that to him. You bit your bottom lip and turned yourself back to face the meadow. “I couldn’t figure it out.”
There was silence, only the leaves of a nearby tree rustling with a gentle gust of wind.
You felt your heart skip a beat when he said your name, and then the Mandalorian cleared his throat. “What’s really going on?”
The sound of his boots grew closer until he was standing, then sitting next to you on your right. His legs were bent, and he was casually resting his arms on his knees. You felt hot under his gaze as if you were a quarry he wanted to interrogate.
“It’s nothing.”
“You’re a horrible liar,” he said, the ghost of amusement under his words. “Tell me.”
You sighed and crossed your legs, fingers mindlessly toying with the fabric of your pants. “I saw the date on the calendar in that bakery we visited, and I realized it’s a holiday.”
“It is?”
“In my culture, yes.” You dropped your eyes from the bright grass and stared instead at your feet. “It’s Rosh HaShanah.”
You heard a modulated hum. “What’s that? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.”
Your head snapped up to turn and stare at his helmet incredulously. “Really? You’ve been everywhere, and you haven’t heard of it?” When he shook his head, you raised your eyebrows and gently smiled. “Interesting.”
“So,” one of the Mandalorian’s gloved hands waved you to continue as he spoke. “Tell me about it.”
“Well—ok,” you grinned. “I’m Jewish, and my people celebrate Rosh HaShanah, the Jewish New Year. I guess you’ve never heard about it since we aren’t a very large or common people.”
As you’d been talking, your gaze had drifted back out to the meadow, so you turned to look back to the Mandalorian, making sure he was still listening. When you saw that he was, and that he was waiting for you to continue, you carried on.
“Rosh HaShanah in our language literally translates to ‘head of the year,’ and it’s part of the Yamim Nora’im—the Days of Awe, or High Holidays. It lasts two days, and religious Jews will spend almost all day in synagogue, reading prayers.” You gasp and turn to him. “And the shofar! It’s blown during religious services. It serves as a call to repentance since the days ahead are centered around atoning for sins and wrongdoing, called teshuvah.”
He nods and turns his body towards you, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on his thighs. “Is it just prayer?”
You shake your head. “There’s also festive meals and foods. On the first night, it’s customary to dip apples and round challah—a sweet bread—in honey to symbolize our wish for a sweet new year. Ashkenazi Jews, like my family, also make tzimmes, a dish of sweet carrots to symbolize a wish for a year of abundance.”
You smiled at the memory of helping prepare tzimmes, the memory of the sweet aroma of brown sugar and carrots tickling your heart and melting it. The honey you’d dipped your apples in years ago was golden and sweet, and now you had a sound—a voice—to match that delicious taste.
“Sephardic Jews have a special seder—a ceremonial dinner—with specific foods that each get their own blessing, like leeks and dates.” You chuckle. “Food is very important in my culture.”
“It does sound very nice.” The compliment sent heat to your cheeks, making you feel better about being vulnerable about something so precious to you. “Thank you for telling me about it.”
“Thank you for letting me,” you say, feeling your eyes tear up. You looked long across the meadow and watched the tree sway. “I remember sitting in synagogue as a kid and wishing I was better at speaking our language—Hebrew. I don’t remember much now, but I’m glad I know a bit and can remember some prayers, even if the religious aspect of being Jewish isn’t as important to me now.”
“Mando’a is the language of my people. I don’t know much either, but as Foundlings, they try to teach us what they know.” He paused, sighing. “It connects us to our planet, even if it is cursed.”
“I understand that.” You smile longingly. “It’s a joy to be Jewish. We’re not a large people, but we have such rich traditions and practices tied to both our religious and our ethnic identity. Being Jewish isn’t only about being religious—plenty of Jews are secular. What binds us is our traditions, our language, and our perseverance.”
The Mandalorian’s beskar helmet glinting in the sun caught your eye, and you looked at him. “It reminds me of my people. We’re scattered like stars in the galaxy, but we survive. It’s something I and other Mandalorians take pride in.” He nodded at you. “The Jewish people should as well.”
Despite the helmet, you felt so comfortable and seen under his gaze. The smile on your face widened, beaming hope and joy at him. Though you had chosen to leave your home world behind in search of adventure across the stars, you missed the Jewish community you’d grown up around. You’d never had to explain such an important holiday before—nobody had ever asked throughout your journeys. The first person to ask was the stoic Mandalorian in front of you, and you felt more connected to him in this moment than you ever had before.
Here are two people, you thought, who carry the long and ancient histories of their people on their backs, seeing each other clearly like nobody else ever could—ever would.
The warm connection took root in your chest and grew, and you wished you could hold it out for him to touch and see and admire.
You turned back to your grassy view, brow furrowed in thought. “Mando?”
“Hm?”
“Is there water around here?”
“I saw a river not too far from here. It’s a short walk,” he remarked. “Why?”
“There’s this other ceremony done on the first afternoon of Rosh HaShanah, and I think you might like it.” You look at him again, a gentle smile back on your lips.
You barely noticed his helmet tilt to the side in curiosity. “What is it?”
“You go to a body of water and perform the tashlich ceremony. You toss breadcrumbs or pebbles into the water, symbolically casting off your sins from the past year.”
“I’d like to try it, if you’ll let me,” he said, his honey-soaked voice dripping into your heart.
“I don’t remember the prayer, but we can do it,” you smiled.
He stood up with a grunt, offering a gloved hand to help you to your feet. It was a gesture he’d never extended to you before, and the sweetness of it melted your heart. Even now, he stood only a foot away from you, his beskar shining in the sun. Incredibly close, but still far away. Maybe, though, you were slowly closing the distance. The Mandalorian was truly showing his tenderness now with you, and you felt a sense of pride knowing that he had started to extend that softness out to you. It was a warm hug in a moment of sorrow, a moment of grief.
You wished that this year, he would hug you more and hold you closer, and that the honey secretly dripping from his lips would continue to bless you with its hidden sweetness.
“And, Mando?” You smiled. “Shanah tovah. Happy new year.”
“Shanah tovah,” he replied, making sure to say it slowly to copy your pronunciation. His effort made you grin, and he wished you could see the smile decorating his face.
if you want to learn more about jewish practices, traditions, and culture, I recommend checking out this page on chabad.org. educate yourself on antisemitism here and by listening to jews and what we have to say. chag pesach sameach and shalom to my fellow jews <3
Pronunciation:
ROHSH hah-shah-NAH
yah-MEEM nohr-ah-EEM
TSHOO-vuh or te-SHOO-vah
TZIH-miss
SAY-der
TAHSH-lich
shah-NAH toe-VAH
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