I've been writing drabbles and one-shots on Tumblr when people send me requests and I decided to start posting them over here, too. There are several more over there and I'll try to bring them over here as I remember.

This one is based on the prompt: "Santana runs from her strict home and inadvertently runs into a circus. Rachel Berry is their star act. Based slightly on Water for Elephants."

Santana, you'll never find a suitable husband if you keep behaving like this. What kind of mother will you be if you don't know how to sew? When your husband comes home, he will expect you to have dinner prepared. It doesn't matter if you don't love him; you will be expected to provide him with children to carry on his legacy. Your legacy? You'll be their mother. No one is going to want you if you continue to act like some ill-mannered miscreant. Do you know what you're doing to this family? The things that people say about us; about you. It's a disgrace. Verguenza.

Santana could stomach the things that her family tried to do to her, the situations they put her in and the words they said to her; the constant attempts to find her a suitable husband who would be willing to marry her despite the fact her skin wasn't white.

But it was her abuela who broke her heart and her spirit. Verguenza, she had said. How dare she! Anyone should be proud to have Santana Lopez as a part of their family. She refused to sit idly by while her mother and father continued to parade her around like livestock and her abuela continued to speak of her in such a way.

Santana could make her own way in the world. She snuck on to the first train she saw and decided that she would ride it as far as she could. And then she would step off and start a new life, one of her own choosing.

Well, perhaps it wouldn't be exactly of her choosing. Santana didn't anticipate that the train she chose would be one that happened to be carrying a circus.

Brittany Pierce and Michael Chang were the first people she encountered as she eventually came out of hiding in one of the middle cars. Her plan had been to blend in as much as possible but the fact that Santana found herself in a car occupied by half a dozen people in hammocks strung across the car at varying angles indicated that it wouldn't be quite so simple.

"Who are you?" a tall blonde asked. "Are you new? What's your talent?"

The man standing next to her nudged her with his elbow. "Easy, Brittany," he said. He had a calm and friendly face and it calmed Santana's nerves. "I didn't know we picked up any new performers back in Cincinnati," he commented knowingly.

"Performers?" Santana asked before she could stop herself. "I mean - yes, performers, of course," she added, straightening her back and raising her chin.

"I'm Mike," the man smiled. "This is Brittany," he continued. The blonde waved. "Andyou are a runaway."

"I beg your pardon," Santana scoffed. "I am not a runaway. I'm a," she paused, fishing for a word.

Mike wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Save it, kid," he said. "You're not the first person who's tried to run away and join the circus."

"I'm not a child," Santana replied. Brittany was smiling at her, her face kind and open. "I did not actually realize that this was a circus train."

"Do you think Puck will let her stay?" Brittany asked Mike. "Can we keep her, d'ya think? She's really pretty," she said, her smile widening.

"Do you have any talent?" he asked Santana. "Me and Brittany are acrobats," he said.

"I didn't really prepare for -"

"Well Puck likes a lady who's easy on the eyes," he interrupted, shrugging.

"Absolutely not."

"But Puck -"

"Brittany, I can barely afford to keep all of the people who actually work for me. I can't let you keep every stray you find hiding out in your car."

"Puck, she's not a puppy. She's Santana and she's really nice and she's really pretty and I bet there's somethin' she can do."

Mike leaned over towards Santana, who had been mostly quiet up to this point. It was late and she was very tired and the fatigue resting in her limbs left her unable to do much except glare at the man who kept leering at her inappropriately. And what kind of gentlemen was named Puck anyway?

"Can you do anything? Maybe you can dance or you can sing? You could help with the animals," Mike said.

"Honestly, I would just like a ride," Santana replied, clutching at her long skirt. "I was not aware that this was a circus train when I boarded it, so if you could please just drop me off at your next destination, that would be preferable to…this," she finished. There was absolutely no chance that Santana Lopez was going to be a member of the circus. To go from her comfortable life with her family, despite their numerous flaws, to the circus? Never.

"What's that accent?" Puck asked, eyeing her from over the top of his desk. He propped his feet up.

"If you must know, my family is Puerto Rican," she said. She rolled her eyes, ignoring the nagging voice in her head telling her how rude and improper she was being.

"Noah, what's going on?" came a new voice. A small woman walked into the room, her hair long as it curled over her shoulders. She wore a simple dress and the air of someone who deigned themselves to be the most important person in any room (it was a familiar stance for Santana, after all.)

"Got another runaway," Puck said. "Immigrant," he said, nodding towards Santana, who scoffed.

The woman turned towards her and smiled slightly. She sat down on the front of the desk carefully, her fingers brushing over one of Puck's calves. The traincar shuddered slightly and Santana shuddered with it, blaming her reaction on the movement of the train and not on the way that the woman was looking at her. "Can she do anything?" the woman asked.

Puck shrugged. "Says she just wants —"

"I can sing," Santana interrupted quickly. "I'm a singer."

Rachel was spectacular. She could sing and she was a trapeze artist. She had hesitantly agreed to let Santana stay as a singer, but made it clear that she was to remain the lead singer.

"I'm the star of the show," Rachel had said. Mike and Brittany had both nodded, the latter sending Rachel a soft smile and a wink that made her blush.

Santana found her insufferable. Rachel was loud and demanding and it very quickly wore on Santana's nerves. But she couldn't deny that Rachel was talented and she was very good at what she did — singing powerfully in a way that took Santana's breathe away and brought tears to her eyes; balancing on top of her swing while she performed, dancing across the small bar and wrapping her legs around the ropes until she was hanging upside down. Her thighs were toned as the small skirt that covered them fell down, her leg muscles flexing and shuddering as she moved. It was improper and indecent that Santana should find the sight so intoxicating but she couldn't help herself.

"Do you want to learn?" Rachel called out, sitting down carefully on her swing. Her arms slid up and held the ropes tightly.

They were the only two people left in the tent, others having retreated to their own tents and quarters to drink together. Some of them would be having sex no doubt and Santana had no interest in listening to Brittany and Mike do that again. She was in the big tent to avoid having to hear such things and Rachel was there to practice, so it seemed.

"No," she called out simply, running her hands over the top of her skirt.

Rachel smiled. "Come on, I'll teach you," she said. "Your singing is lovely, I must admit, but you would be much more valuable if you had some other skills as well."

She pumped her legs, shaking until she managed to swing over to one of the ladders. She pulled herself up on the platform there. "Please, Santana?"

"I'd like to keep the use of all of my limbs, thank you very much."

"I won't drop you, I promise."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

And then Rachel did the worst thing imaginable — she pouted. She frowned sadly and furrowed her brow, her bottom lip sticking slightly out. Her arms were still clutching the ropes of her swing and Santana watched her muscles flex again.

She licked her lips. "Fine," she sighed. Santana climbed the ladder quickly, standing on the platform uncertainly. It was small and there was barely enough room for her and Rachel to stand together; their sides were pressed together and Santana could feel Rachel's breathe across her neck.

"Alright," Rachel said, "now sit down. Hold on the ropes tightly."

"That's it?" Santana wondered, eyeing Rachel warily.

"That's it," Rachel nodded. "And don't look down."

Santana shook her head, moving back over to the ladder. "This was a bad idea."

Rachel grabbed her wrist. "Wait."

"What?"

"I won't let you fall. I promise."

Santana's hands shook and her her legs felt weak, but she let Rachel lead her back to the swing anyway. The way that Rachel looked at her sometimes — it robbed her of her free agency and drove her mad.

Rachel's arm was firm around her waist as Santana slowly sat down on the thin bar of the swing, clutching a rope with one hand and Rachel's arm with the other (if she was going down, she was taking Rachel with her). The swing moved slightly, but Rachel was stronger than she appeared and she steadied it before sitting next to Santana and pulling her legs from the platform.

The swing moved then and Santana lurched forward, grabbing the rope on her side tightly. Rachel still had an arm around her waist, holding her still.

"I've got you," Rachel whispered, lips pressing against her ear wetly.

Santana opened her eyes then. They were swinging lightly in the center of the tent. They were so very high up and everything looked tiny from their perch. She could understand why Rachel liked it — they were in the middle of everything and there was no way that anyone could possibly look at anything else besides her, high above the clowns and the animals, floating up across nothing with just two ropes to keep her there.

Rachel's side pressed against hers and their knees bumped. She moved her legs and they continued to swing. She kept an arm around Santana's waist.

"See?" she smiled. "This isn't quite as bad as you anticipated it to be."

"No," Santana replied shakily, glancing over at the woman next to her. Rachel's smile was gentle, her eyes shining and impossibly close. "I suppose that it isn't too bad."

The only lights left in the tent were the small lanterns that the circus-hands had forgotten to dim and Santana could hear the sounds of the acrobats outside celebrating. Though it wasn't quite where she envisioned herself, Santana found that it definitely wasn't as bad as she thought it would be.

When Rachel pumped her legs and the swing moved faster and further, gliding through the air, that also wasn't quite as bad as she expected it to be. And when Rachel leaned across the small bar they were sitting on, her palm resting strongly on Santana's hip, and pressed her lips against Santana's, she decided that the circus definitely wasn't bad at all. It was very wrong and very dangerous, but it certainly was not bad.

Santana would never find a suitable husband, but kissing Rachel on the trapeze seemed a much better choice anyway.