Heavily inspired by Call Your Bluff by RazzAppleMagic on ao3

You didn't expect a normal night spent in your room at Val's penthouse to be the same night your lift changed forever. You're used to the routine you have going. You wake up, go to work, try to please Val so he doesn't kick your ass and do the whole 'I own your soul, listen to me' shit. Little did you know that would change tonight.

Some shitty romcom plays on the tv in your bedroom, paired with some half-finished cardboard tasting pizza on the nightstand beside where you're laid down. The peaceful relaxation you've had for tonight is interrupted by the sound of Valentino's drunk yelling and the sound of the bedroom door opening. You're already preparing for his anger to be taken out on you per usual.

"...Pack your shit." The Overlord spits out, finding his voice. "Now. You're moving out. I bet your fucking contract when I was playing poker. To the Gambling Overlord, Husker." Valentino explains, seething. You're shocked by the explanation, but more shocked that he hasn't yelled directly at you yet. "The limousine is outside. Get your shit now." He repeats again. The words go through one ear and out the other. How does what he just said even work? You can't bet contracts, at least you thought you couldn't. But... The Gambling Overlord deals in souls. Once someone's name is written and they've signed their soul away it's supposed to be non-transferable. Unless you're dealing with The Gambling Overlord, you suppose.

Stepping out of the hot pink limousine, staring up at the multi-floored casino, the bright lights shining through the windows illuminating the whole street. You're greeted by an IMP who takes your bags and escorts you to 'Master Husker's' office located on the top floor.

When you enter the office you're met with Husker, sporting a black suit, a light yellow as his bow tie, a white button up dress shirt under it along with black dress pants and shoes. "Ah, you're here. Sit. We're renegotiating the terms of your contract."