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❛ ⸻   BASICS.

name:  beren ela su deniz.

nickname:  ren. prefers beren, but will accept this only if she's in a good mood.

birthday & age: december 28th, 1994 & 30.

zodiac: capricorn sun, scorpio moon, libra rising.

height: 5'6.

positive traits:  articulate, composed, disciplined, loyal, perceptive, strategic.

negative traits:  calculating, controlling, emotionally distant, guarded, impatient, unyielding.

occupation(s): lawyer for the dallas dozers fc men's soccer team.

gender & pronouns & sexuality:  cis woman & she / her & demisexual.

❛  ⸻  AT A GLANCE.

FLOOR - TO - CEILING WINDOWS OVERLOOKING THE DALLAS SKYLINE, SUNSET BLEEDING INTO GLASS AND STEEL. TAILORED BLAZERS IN CHARCOAL AND SOFT CREAM, NEVER A WRINKLE OUT OF PLACE. LEATHER PORTFOLIOS & GOLD FOUNTAIN PENS. DARK EYES THAT HOLD LIKE DEEP WATER. COURT - SIDE SEATS WITH AN UNREADABLE EXPRESSION. A GOLD WATCH THAT NEVER TICKS LOUDLY BUT ALWAYS KEEPS PERFECT TIME. LATE - NIGHT OFFICE LIGHTS STILL ON. MANICURED HANDS RESTING ON A LEATHER CONTRACT FOLDER INSTEAD OF CLASPED IN APPLAUSE. CHAMPAGNE IN CRYSTAL AFTER A CLOSED - DOOR WIN.

❛   ⸻   THE STORY. trigger warnings: academic pressure, classism, displacement, financial hardship, microaggressions, workaholism, xenophobia.

beren deniz was born into winter. her parents left turkey with two suitcases, careful english, and the kind of hope that feels fragile in your hands. they didn’t choose toronto or vancouver. they chose the closest canadian province they could manage — newfoundland and labrador — because it was affordable, because someone’s cousin knew someone who had once found work there, because when you are starting over, you go where you can survive.

the wind off the atlantic was colder than anything they had known in izmir. it cut through coats. it rattled apartment windows. it made you question your decisions. the deniz family stayed anyway.

her father took the first job he could get, janitor at the city’s sports stadium; he cleaned locker rooms after late-night hockey games, mopped beer from concrete floors, wiped down benches where boys who would never know his name laced their skates. sometimes he’d bring beren with him on quiet afternoons when school was closed. she would sit high in the empty stands, small boots swinging, watching him move methodically through rows of seats.

her mother became a kindergarten teacher. soft-spoken but firm. the kind of woman who knelt to eye level, who believed in structure and kindness in equal measure. their small apartment always smelled like construction paper, lentil soup, and laundry drying near a radiator. they did not have much. but they had stability, and they had each other.

beren grew up between two worlds — turkish at home, english everywhere else. she translated government letters before she was old enough to vote. she corrected pronunciation for her parents gently, never making them feel small. she learned early how to listen carefully. how to choose words precisely. how to never show uncertainty in public.

at school, she was the quiet girl who finished her work first, the one teachers trusted, the one other children underestimated. as beren entered high school, she began to hate that her father wore the same stadium jacket every winter, she hated the way some people spoke slower to her mother like volume equaled comprehension. she memorized those feelings and filed them away.

power, she decided, was not loud. it was control so she she studied relentlessly. she fought for scholarships. she got on the debate team and won championships three years in a row.

after high - school graduation, it was obvious that beren earned herself a way out. scholarships took her to toronto. she enrolled in law at the university of toronto, drawn to the machinery behind institutions rather than the spotlight in front of them. corporate law, contract law, negotiation. she was never the loudest in lecture halls, but professors remembered her.

while studying, she worked on the side — internships at boutique firms, compliance research assistantships, even freelance contract drafting for small sports agencies trying to stay afloat. she built connections carefully. deliberately. and she certainly did not waste motion.

after university, she secured a position with the legal operations team at the rogers centre. it wasn't glamorous at first. stadium compliance, sponsorship agreements, vendor disputes, risk assessments. the kind of work that rarely gets applause but keeps billion-dollar ecosystems intact.

but beren understood stadiums from both sides — from the top row and from the maintenance corridor. she saw inefficiencies others ignored. she handled disputes with unsettling calm. when a mid-level endorsement conflict threatened to become a public mess, she resolved it quietly, cleanly, decisively.

on the side, she began consulting — discreetly — for emerging athletes navigating their first contracts. not as an agent. not publicly. just guidance, and clarity. she built a reputation as someone who could read a room, read a clause, read a person.

toronto refined her. it made her and brought her to bigger rooms with bigger stakes.

and that's when dallas called. the dozers needed someone disciplined. someone controlled. someone who could manage contracts.

that was eight months ago. now, when she walks through the dozers’ executive corridors, polished floors reflecting stadium lights, she remembers her father pushing a mop through melted ice. she remembers her mother practicing english late at night at the kitchen table.

now she stands in executive suites overlooking roaring crowds, not as the janitor’s daughter in the stands but as the woman deciding what the future looks like.

❛   ⸻    HEADCANONS.

always on that damn phone.

keeps her notifications silenced except for three people, two of them being her parents.

drinks her coffee black, but she never finishes it.

beren never rushes her walk, even when she’s late.

saves every important voicemail. she will also go as far as writing voicemail notes in her journal if she thinks its worth remembering somewhere down the line.

still translates legal documents for her parents; over facetime, zoom, skype, text, voice note, voicemail, ect.

stands instead of sits during difficult conversations.

watches games without reacting ( except maybe once. briefly ).

keeps her father’s old stadium keycard in her desk drawer.

hates when people assume she doesn’t understand other sports outside of soccer or outside of her practice.

prefers late-night work when the office is empty.

never posts her location in real time.

knows exactly how much everyone in the room makes.

❛   ⸻    CONNECTIONS.

family: berat deniz — father, former stadium janitor in newfoundland, now retired; still calls every sunday. ece deniz ( nee kaya ) mother, kindergarten teacher; sends her voice notes in turkish on the daily.

relationship status: single.

current partner(s): none.

past relationships / flings:

a long - distance law school relationship that ended when ambition outpaced affection. ( 0 / 1 )

a discreet situationship with a toronto - based sports agent that dissolved when beren refused to blur professional lines. ( 0 / 1 )