Nikola × Reader
The laboratory at 46 East Houston Street never slept. Day and night blurred into one endless continuum of experimentation, hums of electricity, and clinking tools. The room was always alight with the dance of energy, a reflection of the mind behind it all—Nikola Tesla.
And {Name} stood quietly at the edge of that brilliance, notebook in hand, heart in limbo.
She had come to work with Tesla two years ago, bright-eyed and brimming with admiration. At first, it was awe—for his intellect, his otherworldly grace, the way his fingers seemed to orchestrate electricity like music. But awe had given way to something deeper, heavier. She had fallen in love with a man who would never see her.
To Nikola, she was indispensable—his assistant, his shadow. She read his scrawled notes and turned them into schematics. She kept his appointments and often reminded him to eat, a task she performed with the care of someone hoping to be seen, truly seen, one day. And yet, he never looked past the surface.
“{Name}, the capacitance is off again,” he murmured, not looking up from his latest experiment.
She moved to his side, eyes scanning the setup. “I’ll fix it.”
He nodded absently, focused entirely on the coils before him. The blue light of the Tesla coil arced with a quiet fury, illuminating the fine planes of his face. To her, he was a symphony of contradictions—so alive in thought, yet so distant in presence.
“I’ve been thinking about resonance,” he said suddenly, eyes gleaming. “Not just mechanical, but emotional. Do you suppose humans can achieve perfect resonance?”
She hesitated. “Do you mean—like harmony?”
“Precisely.” He turned to her, face alight with excitement. “A frequency where two people’s souls vibrate in tandem. The possibilities! Communication beyond words, understanding without error. Imagine if we could isolate that frequency…”
Her heart leapt. For a fleeting second, she imagined he was speaking of her and him. Resonance. A shared hum. But the glint in his eyes was purely scientific.
“Wouldn’t that be… love?” she asked, almost too softly.
He paused, brow furrowing, as if considering it. Then he smiled, but not with warmth—more like a professor acknowledging a clever question. “Perhaps. Though love is far less predictable than voltage.”
And just like that, the moment passed.
____________________
It was raining the night she first considered leaving. The lab was empty except for the two of them, the storm outside echoing Tesla’s thoughts as he worked obsessively. She watched him from the doorway, drenched in the faint blue light.
“You never rest,” she whispered.
“There is no time for rest when the future waits,” he replied.
She stepped forward, crossing the familiar threshold. Her coat was still wet from her earlier errands, her boots soaked. “Nikola… do you ever think about what you’re giving up?”
He looked at her, confused. “What do you mean?”
“You live in pursuit of a world that doesn’t yet exist. But what about the one in front of you? Do you ever long for… companionship?”
His gaze softened slightly, but not in the way she wanted. “Companionship is a luxury for those who are not haunted by vision. My work is my solace.”
She swallowed the ache in her throat. “And people? Feelings? Are they just… distractions to you?”
He turned back to his machine. “They complicate things.”
She waited, hoping he would add something more. That he’d tell her she was different. That her presence meant more than her efficiency. But silence filled the room, broken only by the rhythm of the rain and the faint whirring of a motor.
She left before dawn.
____________________
Weeks passed. She returned to work, of course—always drawn back by duty, by the trace of hope she refused to extinguish. Her love had evolved into something quieter, sadder. She no longer lingered in his presence, no longer waited for stolen glances. But she still served him with precision, heart folded neatly behind logic.
One evening, she found a letter on her desk. It was from Westinghouse. An offer—one that promised recognition, partnership, a future.
She sat with it for hours before bringing it to Tesla.
“You’ve been offered a position,” he said, eyes scanning the letter.
She nodded. “It’s a good opportunity. They want me to lead a new division.”
He placed the letter down. “You deserve it. You’ve always been competent.”
That word again. Competent.
“Is that all you have to say?” she asked.
He looked at her, finally seeing the crack in her voice. “What else should I say?”
“Anything, Nikola. Anything to make me stay.”
Silence fell again, this time heavier.
“I cannot offer what you seek,” he said gently. “My mind is consumed. My heart… it belongs to the future, not the present.”
Her hands trembled. “And I don’t belong anywhere in that future?”
“You belong to your own. You should follow it.”
Tears pricked at her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “All this time, I thought if I stayed close enough, if I worked hard enough… maybe you’d see me.”
“I do see you, {Name},” he said. “As a light of clarity in my otherwise chaotic mind. You ground me.”
“But never love me,” she whispered.
He didn’t respond.
____________________
She left the next morning.
The laboratory felt hollow without her. Tesla noticed immediately—not in the way lovers miss each other, but in the subtle dissonance of his routines. His notes were scattered, his thoughts less organized. He found himself pausing mid-sentence, as if waiting for her voice to finish the thought.
Once, he caught himself saying her name aloud, as if summoning her. But only the echo replied.
The world moved on. So did she.
Years later, he would see her name in the paper—credited in the design of a new electric propulsion system. A photograph accompanied the article. She looked older, sharper. But there was still a sadness in her smile he recognized too well.
He folded the paper and returned to his notes. The lab was still filled with light, with coils and currents. But there was a quiet now that no invention could stir.
He would never understand love. Not truly. But he would remember her always—not as the assistant she once was, but as the only person who had ever dared to love him in spite of the void.
And somewhere, in the hum of his machines, he sometimes thought he could still hear the frequency of her heartbeat, faint and fading.
Don't and DON'T ever ask me for updates, I'll update this oneshot if I want to. Keep in mind that I have a life too, just like you. Writing stories are simply a hobby of mine and I appreciate if you'll wait until I update again.
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