Chapter Text
"The gods may have spoken, but Nature only bends to a goddess."
-Grace Curley, "The Light That Binds Us"
She feels pain and terror for the briefest moment. Like a blink. And then… she feels nothing.
There’s a moment when her world is dark and quiet and empty.
Lonely, even.
And then it is full of light like she’s never known. It’s blinding in a way that makes her want to cry the moment she opens her eyes.
Sitting up, she stretches and her body feels as if she’s gotten the perfect amount of rest that she’s been trying to achieve all of her life. Her body is clothed in a white linen midi dress with a shirred bodice and three-quarter length sleeves that fall beautifully off of her shoulders and culminate in a ruffled cuff at her wrists. Her feet are bare and she realizes that she’s not on a bed as she had thought.
No, she’s been asleep on the same white wisps of air that circle around her ankles when she stands.
What is this place?
As if answering her unspoken question, a pathway of lit tiles appears out of nowhere and her instincts tell her to follow it. The scenery to her right and left is the same as if she’s on an airplane; clouds? Can that be right?
Is this… Heaven?
If it is, that means–.
Just ahead, she sees a large set of golden gates that call out to her. Her pace quickens as the magnetic pull of the gates beckon to her. They open as she reaches them and she’s almost certain that the peace she feels heightens by ten. Walking through them, they shut behind her and she’s absolutely certain that she’s meant to be here.
The further she walks, the more this place begins to feel familiar, like she’s been here her entire life. Her favorite clothing and food shops create what looks like a town center that caters specifically to her. She gasps when she spots the little taqueria from her childhood. It had closed down many years ago when the owner, a lovely older woman named Soledad, had passed. Her husband died shortly after of a broken heart and even though she’d been young, she can still remember the loss of walking past the shop’s dark windows.
Giddily, she ducks inside and is filled with more joy than she can put into words when Soledad turns around, that same vibrant smile that she’d always worn.
There are a couple other patrons that turn to look at her. There’s a curly-haired woman and a young girl whose baby face holds doe-like eyes and a soft smile and then there are the brunettes appraise her with different expressions. The tallest is sitting on one of the tables, feet in the chair before her, looking amused. The other one, looks like a mischievous pixie, complete with the short skirt and crop top made of the same white linen as her own dress. The final one stands in a silk button-up shirt and pants, hands in the pockets.
She’s the boss here. Clearly.
“I told ya she’d come here first,” the tall gitana gloats.
“Pride looks good on no one, Saray,” The Boss responds.
“Sorry, but where is ‘here’ exactly?” She asks.
The doe-eyed bambi smiles. “Heaven, of course.”
“So,” she wonders slowly, “I’m… dead?”
The curly-haired one chimes in, “Yes and no.”
“Yes, your physical life on earth is over, but your real life is just beginning,” The Boss tells her.
“And that would make you, what? An angel?”
The Boss laughs, and the women around her chuckle as if she’s just told the cutest little joke.
“No, I’m God.” She grins and pulls one of her hands out of the pockets of her pants and unnecessarily readjusts her immaculate shirt. “But you, Macarena Ferreiro, can call me Zulema.”
Macarena’s jaw drops.
“Why Zulema?”
“It means ‘peace’, you know.” The pixie-haired one says matter-of-factly. Zulema snaps her fingers and a lollipop appears immediately in the pixie's mouth, shutting her up.
“I was getting there, Triana,” Zulema says, and by her tone, Macarena has the distinct impression that Triana is constantly overstepping her boundaries with Zulema. She points to each of her angels and ticks off their names. “These are Rizos, Saray, Cristina and Triana. They’ll be your guides as you enter into this new phase of your life. For the most part, you’ll see that everything here is what your heart desires and I trust you’ll be able to find everything you need.”
“Then why do I need guides?”
“We’re really here for emotional support,” explains Rizos. “Your happiness here in Heaven is of the utmost importance to us, but sometimes it can get a little overwhelming.”
“Happiness?”
“That, and not having everyone you love here can take a little while to adjust to,” Cristina adds. “But you’ll be able to see them if you go to the fountain.”
Color Macarena confused. “The fountain?”
Zulema smiles softly. “I will leave you to it.” She steps forward and places her hands on either of Maca’s shoulders. “Welcome home.”
There’s that magnetic pull again.
“Where are you going?”
Zulema simply smiles again. “I’m very busy, you know. Pulling miracles out of my ass and all.”
A voice behind them clears their throat and Macarena turns to spot Sole tapping a glass jar on the counter.
SWEAR JAR is taped to the front. Zulema grins and waves a hand in the general direction. A gold brick clunks loudly as it appears inside of the jar.
“Sorry, Sole.” The brunette turns back to Macarena and puts a soft hand against her cheek. “You’ll be seeing me again very soon. I promise. Ya no estás sola, vale ?”
Macarena believes her. Feels that overwhelming sense of peace again. She nods and then Zulema is gone in a cloud of white smoke and fairy lights that fall like rain into nothingness.
“Well,” Triana says, clapping her hands together once, “lots to see, much more to do before tonight.”
“What’s tonight?” Macarena asks as the four angels, two on either side of her, lead her towards the exit. She turns around and waves at Sole, promising to come back to spend time with her soon.
“You’ll see!” Is all Cristina says, but her broad smile does little to put Macarena at ease.
The Silver City truly is something to behold. Everywhere Macarena looks, she is reminded of her time on earth. All of her favorites are in one spot and all she has to do is think about what she wants, takes two steps and one shop is replaced by the one she’s currently thinking about.
Her four angel guides hold her shopping bags with ease and even encourage her to keep going. Her linen dress becomes one of flowing satin that kisses her ankles.
Eventually Maca thinks of food and Sole’s taqueria reappears. She gets to speak to her this time, and despite smiling from ear to ear for what feels like hours, her cheeks never hurt.
Macarena is stuffed with some of the best birria tacos she's ever tasted while a flower crown, woven by Triana, is placed on her head. She asks all of her questions as she and her angel friends sit outside of Sole’s shop enjoying the sun.
“So, am I an angel, too?”
Saray and Rizos exchange a look and they smirk at one another.
“Do you feel like an angel?” Saray asks.
Maca takes an inner assessment and then looks a bit sheepish.
“Speak your mind,” Saray tells her.
“I feel like… more ?”
And then she feels that strong pull again just before she hears—.
“Because you are,” Zulema’s voice says. Maca doesn’t have to turn to know that Zulema is standing behind her, hands resting on the back of the blonde’s chair. She can hear the amusement in Zulema’s tone when the brunette asks, “Do you think everyone that arrives here gets four of my best angels as guides?”
Maca turns then and nearly gasps at her close proximity. From this close up, she can see just how beautiful Zulema truly is. With eyes like emeralds and skin as soft as porcelain, she quite literally takes Maca’s breath away.
“ Quiero tocarte la cara ,” Macarena exhales because she can’t help herself. Zulema isn’t taken aback, and she’s certainly not offended. She simply chuckles and her green eyes flicker up at the angels who are watching with growing interest.
Nosy little chismosas.
“Leave us,” she tells them, and they disappear in the same manner that Zulema had earlier.
“I suppose,” Zulema sighs, rounding the table and taking up residence where Saray had sat, “they haven’t gotten to the part about your purpose here.”
Macarena shakes her head, still gaping at Zulema.
“Do you… feel anything around me?”
“Besides awe?”
The brunette chuckles again. “Yes, apart from that.”
“Mm, I can tell when you’re near before you make your presence known, but,” Macarena shrugs, “you’re god. That’s kind of your thing, no?”
“Mostly,” she confirms. “Do you feel anything else?”
“I feel absolutely drawn to you,” admits Macarena, “like I was–.”
“Made for me?”
Macarena nods. “Was I?”
“What do you think?”
“Do you always answer questions with more questions?”
“It’s kinda my thing. Keeps the mystery and all that. The mortals don’t like it very much, but it strengthens their faith. Plus, I have to have some fun up here.” Zulema smiles and it’s contagious. Maca shakes her head and waggles her pointer finger at Zulema.
“That’s not very nice, you know.”
“I always make it up to them.” Zulema waves a hand and a glass of bourbon appears on the table before her. “Point is, I’m all-knowing. I already know the answers, but I’m like a therapist. I have to get you to the conclusions on your own.”
“Hm,” Maca hums and she watches Zulema take a sip. “If I were made for you, that would make us equals. Which means I would have the same powers as you.”
“Equals,” Zulema tastes the word on her tongue and swallows it down, expecting it to burn like the double-aged bourbon, but it doesn’t. It goes down quite smoothly and she raises a brow. “Well, let’s see then, shall we?”
An arrow of excitement shoots through Maca’s chest and she sits up in her chair and unnecessarily clears her throat. She waves her hand like Zulema had and...
Nothing.
She pouts. “Okay, that was a fluke. Nerves, and all. Not everyday one is having a drink with god.”
Zulema smirks and sips again.
Macarena wiggles her fingers as if warming them up for exercise. She concentrates on what it is she wants to appear and then points a single finger at the table, and–.
POOF.
In a swirl of golden clouds, a mojito appears on the table.
“Ha!” She says triumphantly and looks at Zulema. “ Somos iguales .”
“It appears we are.”
“So, what does that make me?”
“Well,” Zulema leans forward, conspiratorially, and murmurs, “you’re certainly not an angel, darlin’.”
Macarena feels charmed, and her heart flutters in her chest. “Then what am I,” she quickly points at Zulema, “and don’t answer with a question.”
The brunette takes Macarena’s extended hand in her own and places it on her own face. A warm light surrounds them and Macarena is pretty sure she can hear a choir singing somewhere in the distance, but she can’t focus on anything save for Zulema’s twinkling green eyes and the way her own heart has begun to beat at a pace that’s more appropriate for a gallop instead of the stationary position in which she’s currently in.
“You’re a goddess,” Zulema replies, and Maca swoons.
“So,” Macarena begins, “what happens tonight?”
She’s spent the last – for the love of Zulema, how does time work here? – however long walking around and getting to know her new home with Zulema’s company. The brunette patiently answers any questions that the angels didn’t get a chance to answer and Maca is beginning to understand her role here.
“Tonight, we create our universe,” Zulema tells her.
“That sounds sexual.”
Zulema laughs freely. “If that’s how you want to create it, I certainly won’t put up a fight.”
Maca blushes.
“Anyway, it’s just an excuse to celebrate your existence here. Truthfully, I think the girls have been getting a little antsy while waiting for you this last millennia or so.”
“You’ve been waiting for me for a millennia?”
Macarena has never been… expected . Her absence at parties have never been missed and she certainly has never been celebrated except for her birthdays and graduations.
“You being here gives them purpose as well.”
“How so?”
“They’re here to do your bidding and keep you company.”
It’s a lot for Macarena to take in. So much has changed in the matter of a day?
“Can I see the fountain? I want to—.”
“Check on your brother and niece.” Because duh . Maca is going to have to get used to having a know-it-all for a wife.
Wait.
Wife?
“I assume all of this means we’re married?”
“Technically, yes, but you’re under no obligation to marry me in the biblical sense.”
Oh .
Maca hasn’t considered that really. Though she’s certainly not opposed.
“What if… I wanted to.”
Zulema smirks. “Then I’d show you exactly why mortals call out for me when they’re climaxing.”
Maca’s jaw drops.
For a holy presence, Zulema is surely putting unholy thoughts in Maca’s head.
Chapter Text
“Holy mother of me,” Zulema breathes when Maca reappears from yet another wardrobe change. This silk dress, while off-white in color, is the least pure thing Zulema has ever seen in the Silver City. It’s much like the slip dress she’d had on previously, except this one is completely backless and holding on for dear life by the two thing straps over her shoulders, the material picking up just above Maca’s behind – and what a perfect little behind it is – before trailing down to cover it. The hem kisses her about mid-thigh and then there is nothing to see except miles and miles of long, tan, toned legs. Strappy heels criss-cross up her calves, ending in neat bows in the back. Her blonde hair is piled atop her head to give Zulema that much more to gape at.
“Oh, here, Zule, you dropped this.” Saray bends down and then stands back up, holding out her empty hand.
“What?” Zulema asks, still unable to tear her gaze away from her equal.
“Your jaw. You dropped it.”
Zulema scoffs, swatting away Saray’s hand. “You’ve been hanging around Triana and Rizos too long.”
Saray neither confirms, nor denies. Not that she has to. Zulema is all-knowing. She’s well aware of their devious little throuple. As are any innocent bystanders who happen to walk past their little cottage on any given day.
The two angels in question, with Bambi in tow, flit around Maca, poking and prodding, fluffing and primping her to perfection. Maca laughs at something one of them says, the sound only sobering when she spots Zulema staring at her.
“Ready?” Zulema asks as she approaches Maca with a hand out.
“As I’ll ever be.”
She slips her palm against Zulema’s and in a swirl of clouds and fairy lights, the pair disappear from sight, leaving the angels to gossip about how exactly they’re going to create their universe.
Somewhere, nowhere, everywhere.
That’s where Zulema brings Maca. It’s just a pure white canvas of space surrounding them, as if they’ve landed in the middle of a cloud. Maca wouldn’t be surprised if they had.
“There are many ways to create something memorable. They all start with an idea. Pure thought and desire.”
“I don’t think pure and desire belong in the same sentence.”
Zulema smiles. “What is desire but a desperate craving from the purest piece of you.” She presses her palm to Maca’s chest. “Your heart.”
“So all desires are pure? Even sex?”
“My love,” Zulema practically purrs, leaning towards her, “how else do you explain The Big Bang?”
Maca’s lips part and Zulema feels her heart begin to beat that much faster before her hand finally slips away. Maca misses the contact immediately.
“You should know I’m a jealous goddess. I don’t need to know with whom you created this universe with.”
Zulema slips her hands into her pockets, if only to stop herself from pulling Maca close. “Oh, that I did all by myself.” She steps away, looking up at the empty space as she circles Maca.
Maca’s body thrums with desire, but her thoughts are anything but pure. She can only envision Zulema doing very unholy things to herself, urging herself closer and closer to the explosion that created something so incredible.
She wants that.
Craves it.
Coming to stand just behind her, Zulema presses her front against Maca’s back. The blonde shudders, body erupting in goosebumps. Lips ghosting along the scapha of Maca’s ear, Zulema whispers, “Imagine what we could do together.”
Maca melts against Zulema, her head falling back into the crook of Zulema’s neck and shoulder. Zulema’s arms slip around Maca’s waist and her fingers scrunch the material of her dress repeatedly to lift it higher and higher on Maca’s thighs. When her bare flesh is exposed, Zulema presses a kiss on Maca’s neck that is soft in feeling, but full of rough promises. The new goddess tilts her head to the side, a small whimper of permission allows Zulema to continue.
Fingers coast across smooth skin before skimming slowly through pure honey. They play and tease and work Maca up into a frenzy of ideas of what this new universe should be. It will give way to equal parts herself and Zulema and Maca can’t imagine a more beautiful world.
Zulema’s free hand slides up and flicks one strap of her dress down to expose one of Maca’s breasts. She tugs at her nipple while sucking softly on her neck, and when she dips inside of Maca’s universe, the blonde cries out–.
“Oh, God .”
“You can call me Zule,” the brunette chuckles into her ear, delighting in the way Maca clenches around her fingers.
As pressure builds, Maca curves her hips towards Zulema’s fingers, forcing her God to reach deeper within on a quest to release the love and devotion that she’s been saving up especially for Zulema. In this moment, she can see how she was made for Zulema. Maca knows without a doubt that she will never tire of worshiping and being worshiped.
Maca reaches behind her in an attempt to slip inside Zulema’s pants. Zulema pulls hers her lower body away, nipping at Maca’s ear.
“Nuh-uh, this is your world, my love, I’m just happy to live in it with you.”
It’s true what they say, then, God really is generous with Her love.
“I’ve waited so long for you,” Zulema murmurs, eyes closed. “This existence was so boring without you. Show me a new world, Maca. Share your Light with me.” She slams her lips against Maca’s and that’s all it takes.
The stars behind Maca’s eyes collide, erupt, then explode. Her body free falls through space and time and the whole while, Zulema holds her tightly, kisses her softly and whispers divine everythings into her ear.
“‘And God saw everything She had made, and behold, it was very good’,” Zulema quotes the Scripture more to herself than anything. Still, Maca preens at the praise.
Lounging on a loveseat, feet in Zulema’s lap, Maca dips a mango slice into a cup of chamoy and tajin and takes a bite. “So, it didn’t really take you seven days to create the world?”
Zulema props her temple against her fist and chuckles at Maca. “No, but for some reason humans seem to love the concept of delayed gratification. They think that nothing good can come instantly unless it’s a miracle. Hard work and all that nonsense.” She wiggles her fingers as if to do magic.
Maca giggles. “You enjoy messing with humanity far too much.”
“I told you,” Zulema says with a shrug, “I lived a boring, lonely existence before you.”
“Speaking of lonely existences…”
“Is this your way of asking to see your brother and niece?”
“Can I?”
“You don’t need my permission, my love. Somos iguales , remember?”
“Will you come with me?”
“I’m God, Maca. I’m always with you.”
Maca rolls her eyes and Zulema laughs as she snaps her fingers. They dissipate into thin air and reappear at a fountain in the center of town. Dozens of souls stand at the circle, peering into the fountain, no doubt looking down at their loved ones still on the earthly plane. But with Zulema’s presence, they disperse quickly, bowing reverently as she and Maca make their way to the water. Zulema sits along the lip of the fountain and watches Maca as she looks inside.
For a moment, all she can see is her own reflection, but her heart fills with more of that pure desire that Zulema spoke of. The desire to see her family. And suddenly, the water ripples without ever being touched and finally, Maca is shown her brother, Roman and her niece, Macarena.
Roman is chasing Little Maca through a field. She’s screaming with laughter and Roman looks incredibly happy.
Something tugs at Maca’s heart.
“What’s wrong, my love?”
As if she doesn’t already know.
“I’ve only been here a short while,” Maca says. “They’re so happy without me.”
“Is that truly what you believe? That you’re so forgettable?”
Maca shrugs.
“Time works differently here. You’ve been gone for years already. They’re happy in their current existence because they’ve had to learn how to adjust without you. Look again.”
Maca does. This time, she looks with a different type of clarity. Little Maca isn’t so little anymore. In fact, the girl running through the field has to be almost sixteen now.
“Come on, Maca, have mercy on your old man! I can’t run as fast as I used to!”
“Don’t be such a grandpa!” Little Maca shouts back.
They make it through the field, up and over a hill until they come to a quiet sliver of space where a granite mausoleum stands proudly. Little Maca and Roman stand before it in quiet discernment before Roman kisses his fingertips and presses it against the entryway.
“Miss you, sis. Wish you were here.”
Little Maca plops down and plucks weeds from around the perimeter.
“They come here every week to keep the grounds pristine and talk to you about their lives. Little Maca has her first crush and Roman is certain his wife is cheating on him with her coworker.”
“Is she?”
Zulema shrugs. “Do you really want to know?”
Maca groans. “I guess not.”
Zulema chuckles. “Hey, I desired balance and free will when I created this universe. I knew that humans would find a way to fuck up a good thing like the perfect marriage,” she gestures towards Roman, “and yet… I wouldn’t change a thing about it.”
“You swore. You owe Sole a gold brick in the swear jar.”
It’s Zulema’s turn to roll her eyes. “I should’ve considered the consequences of a wife that holds me accountable.”
“I thought you were all-knowing and foreseeing,” Maca says, slipping into the small space between Zulema’s knees and resting her hands on her shoulders.
Zulema’s hands find her waist as she gazes up at her. “Bold of you to assume that I didn’t know exactly what I was getting into.”
“And you wanted me anyway.”
“Wanted… needed .”
“Know what I need?” Maca whispers, leaning down to kiss along Zulema’s jaw.
“I can definitely guess.”
And with a snap of Zulema’s fingers, they’re laughing and falling into the softest bed Maca has ever been in.
This goddess thing ain’t so bad.
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