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multi-fan-dom-madness · 3 years

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Miscommunication

Pairing: Hunter x gn!reader Type: One-shot Word Count: ~4.6k Warnings: angst, some minor fluff but mostly angst, Hunter being uncommunicative and a butt, creepy club man (small SA tw), alcohol; if I missed any please let me know! A/N: I haven’t written angst in years so bear with me here. Not fully happy with this but I wanted to get it up and out of my own head. Have some angst on top of the angst of episode 14.

Summary: Hunter isn't good with relationships, feelings, any of it. Instead of just asking you how you feel, he misinterprets your relationship and nearly pushes you away completely.

Hunter had disappeared some ten, fifteen minutes ago into the crowd in this grimy, shithole club that you were supposed to be scouting for your next bounty. Myrra, the capital city of Akiva, was nice enough, but here in the city’s outskirts, morals flowed about as easily as the liquor. The jungle planet harbored many kinds of people, but there was only one person the Bad Batch was here for. Some criminal or another; you left the details to Hunter, mostly, content just to help where you could.

Your back pressed against the edge of the bar, you scanned the pulsing mass of bodies and thought, not for the first time, that you were glad Hunter had agreed to leave Omega behind on Ord Mantell for this mission. Not that Cid’s place was much better on the few occasions larger numbers of patrons gathered there⁠—but still. Your gaze lingered for a moment on the practically nude dancers up on stage. Definitely no place for a child. You’d volunteered to remain behind with Omega, but Hunter’s curt, “You’re coming with us” settled the matter, and you’d boarded the Havoc Marauder with the boys. Heat rose to your face at the memory, at the way Hunter had seemed to want you around.

Echo sat at the bar to your left; you knew, as tense as he seemed, his eyes were locked on the mirror above the shelves of alcohol along the back wall as he surreptitiously searched for the bounty. Tech hovered, concerned and uncomfortable, at your right elbow. The fizzbrew he’d ordered when you first arrived had clearly done nothing to stave off his discomfort, if the way he fidgeted with the hem of his civvie shirt was any indication. Hunter may have heightened senses, but you knew the deafening music and scent of stale sweat was just as overwhelming for the genius clone.

You nudged him, leaning over to nearly shout in his ear. “Any sign yet?”

“None,” he replied at the same volume. “I do not think they will show. It would not be the first time Cid gave us bad intel.”

You snorted. Bad intel, what a mild way to put it. But you shook your head, raised your glass of grog, and downed the last of the alcohol. Setting the glass with a clink on the bar behind you, you clapped Tech on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go find Hunter.”

Tech nodded like he’d only half heard you, his eyes back to examining the crowd.

Pushing away from the bar, you took a steadying breath before stepping onto the dancefloor. This was the second night you had staked out the club, and knew from the previous one that the easiest way to get anywhere in this dingy little place was through, not around. You shuffled and squeezed and slid your way through the fleeting gaps between dancing bodies, mumbling unheard “excuse me”s and “sorry”s.

A hulking figure blocked your path. You almost breathed in relief, thinking it was Wrecker. But when you looked up, a menacing grin spread over the face of a Besalisk. You stumbled back a step, and realized your mistake when the Besalisk’s grin split into a wide smile.

“Lookie here,” he said. His deep voice cut easily through the noise of the club. “You’re a pretty one. Saw you here last night.”

You cringed. “Don’t know what you mean. Never been here before. Now, excuse me, I’m just looking for⁠—”

“For who, hm?” The Besalisk took a step forward, looming over you.

You risked a quick glance over your shoulder⁠—but Tech and Echo were obscured from view. “Um, my⁠— my partner.” The lie sprang easily to you, a lie you’d told many times in many different bars just like this one.

The Besalisk threw his four arms out as if to say, I don’t see anyone looking for you. He took another step forward.

Heart thudding in your chest, you tried to remember what the boys had taught you about self-defense. Finding the instep, the groin, the eyes⁠—all good places to strike⁠—but to your mounting distress, the threatening Besalisk presented no easy targets. Everyone around you seemed oblivious to your situation.

“No really I⁠—” you began, eyes darting sideways, “I just saw him over there.” You tried to bolt in a random direction, away from the looming figure before you, but the Besalisk was quicker. A large, sweaty, meaty palm gripped your entire arm tight enough that you hissed in pain.

“Not so fast, little one,” the Besalisk said, chuckling. “I wasn’t done talkin’ to you yet.”

“Let me go!”

“y/n!”

Hunter’s voice cracked like thunder, and the Besalisk released you. You stumbled back, into a warm, definitely human, embrace. Hunter’s right arm secured itself around your midsection and he half pulled you away from the leering Besalisk. Peering up over your shoulder, you met Hunter’s concerned gaze, his eyes probing yours as if to make sure you were okay, before he raised his head and glared at the Besalisk. People were starting to notice your little scene now. The Besalisk looked as though he was hoping to slink away without being noticed.

“Leave.” The single command hung in the air between Hunter and the Besalisk. Your heart still hammered against your ribs, where Hunter’s palm rested.

The Besalisk sneered, then turned away. Dancers parted before him, and his hulking form disappeared out the club’s doors as he shoved them open.

You released the breath you’d been holding, slumping away from Hunter’s embrace. He let you go, but caught your hand instead. Warm fingers threading with yours, you gave a half-hearted smile when you looked up at him again.

“Come on,” he said, voice still gruff and commanding. Then it softened. “Let’s get some air.”

You followed him, hand intertwined lazily with his, heat blooming in your face again and heart rate not slowing⁠—but now out of a shy kind of nervousness instead of panicked fear. As Hunter wove between people, leading you towards the side doors that you knew led to a covered balcony, you studied his broad shoulders, the tense muscles beneath his green civvie shirt, the way the ends of his hair curled neatly along the nape of his neck. When you’d first met the Bad Batch, you were, you had to admit, in the wrong place at the wrong time. The Clone Wars were still raging, and you’d been caught between a Separatist droid unit and a wall. The Batch saved you that day. You blinked away the vivid memory of a vibroblade protruding from the nearest droid’s chestplate, Hunter’s skull helmet appearing behind it, as the Hunter here in the present pushed open the balcony doors.

Sticky, humid air greeted you as you stepped over the threshold. The bone-rattling bass of the music faded just a little as the door swung shut behind you, but it was enough that you sighed in relief. A quick glance revealed that you were the only ones out here. Hunter led you to the edge of the balcony, and finally released your hand as he leaned his forearms against the railing.

You mirrored his pose. Quietly, you said, “Thanks.”

He shrugged. “We look out for each other.”

“Still.” You huffed a laugh. “Felt pretty useless before you showed up.”

“We all have our moments,” he said. Then he turned to face you. “I’m...glad I got there in time.”

You faced him as well, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. It was no secret that you and Hunter had...something going on between you. After he’d rescued you from those droids on that little backwater planet you shouldn’t have even been on, he’d brought you back to the ship, intending to take you home to Coruscant, before the unit was redirected to Kaller. The flight through hyperspace to the cold planet was quiet, uneventful⁠—and wholly dominated by your growing fascination with the leader of Clone Force 99.

And then...the Republic fell. Your place aboard the Havoc Marauder was kept a secret upon the return to Kamino, the clones’ homeworld, until they could figure out what exactly was going on. And when their tall, broody sniper didn’t return with the rest of the Batch as they scrambled onto the ship, well, you were there to comfort Hunter while he trembled. Since then, the topic of leaving you behind somewhere had never been broached. You’d become part of the team, mostly helping with Omega, but training with the others when you could.

You realized with an embarrassed start that you’d been staring at Hunter for some moments now. Ducking your head, you resumed your position leaning against the balcony railing. A chuckle rumbled in Hunter’s chest.

“Target a no-show again, huh,” he said, smoothing over the awkward moment.

“Seems so,” you said. “How long are we gonna hang around here? Did Cid mention anywhere else we’d be able to find this guy?”

He sighed. “Unfortunately no. But a job is a job.”

You nodded. Hunter could be something of a pragmatist, and you liked that about him.

“So, uh...you got anyone waiting back home?” he asked.

You glanced at him, surprised. Your old life was not a topic either of you had brought up yet. Staring out into the depths of the jungle, you shook your head. “No. No one.”

“No family?”

You smiled, a little wistful. “My mom raised me on her own. She got sick a couple years back, and... Well. It’s just been me since then.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice was quiet, softer than you’d ever heard him before. “I can’t say I know exactly what that’s like, but...”

He meant Crosshair, you knew. You reached out and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You’ll get him back.”

He flashed you a tight-lipped smile, clearly uncomfortable, and changed the subject. “After all this⁠—” he gestured amorphously between you, meaning after the Empire stopped chasing the Batch and they were free to live their lives “⁠—where do you think you’ll go?”

“Trying to get rid of me, Sarge?” you said, bumping your hips into his playfully.

“No,” he said quickly, too quickly. Your eyes narrowed. He continued, “Just, well, you’d probably be safer not traveling with us.”

A frown pulled at your lips. “I hadn’t thought about it.” And that was the truth. You’d really only been focused on learning what you could from him and the others, bonding with them as the family you’d never had. “But, I guess, I’d like to go where you do.”

He hummed at that. “Echo will be glad to hear it. He’s fond of having you around.”

“He’s sweet,” you said, smiling again.

“‘Sweet’?” Hunter repeated.

“Yeah.” You shrugged. “You know...nice.”

Hunter gave a quiet hmph, then fell quiet. Silence sat between you two for a while, though Hunter seemed vaguely restless, uncomfortable, though you couldn’t pinpoint why. Had it been your comment about Echo? The cyborg clone was sweet, and you were probably closer to him than to Tech or Wrecker; but he wasn’t Hunter.

A warm breeze caressed your skin, and you sighed, pushing Hunter’s discontent out of your head as you focused on calming yourself. When you finally felt your heart rate slowing, you figured it was about time to return to the rest of the team and determine your next move. Not that you wanted to move from your spot, but Hunter was right. A job was a job, and it had to get done.

“We should⁠—”

“I want⁠—”

You laughed, and gestured for him to speak first. He shook his head and said, “Please, go ahead. It’s probably more important.”

You quirked an eyebrow, but said, “We should probably get back to the others.”

“Ah.” Hunter grimaced. “Good idea.”

“What were you going to say, though?” you asked, pausing before heading back to the door.

Hunter seemed to hesitate, his eyes flicking away from yours. “Oh, nothing, I was going to suggest the same.”

You wanted to press him on that, sensing the lie and his continued discomfort, but then your wrist comm beeped, and Echo was telling you that last call had just been announced.

⁠—⁠—⁠—

You’d been on Akiva for a full standard week now and still no sign of your quarry. After that night you’d spent with Hunter on the balcony, the Batch had decided to take shifts at the club, along the alleyway outside the place, and at the ship. The Empire’s presence on Akiva was negligible, but none of you wanted to risk word getting back to Rampart about your location. Guarding in shifts meant that the team would be ready for anything, whether capturing the bounty or making a getaway.

Leaning against the back wall of the cockpit next to Echo, you tried to catch Hunter’s eye from across the small room, but he seemed to be pointedly looking anywhere but at you. A sigh escaped you. Echo, curious, followed your gaze to the sergeant.

“Ah,” Echo said, under his breath. He was aware of your situation with Hunter. With Tech and Wrecker having a very heated discussion up front about the pros and cons of different kinds of explosives, Hunter’s heightened hearing may have been scrambled a little, but you knew Echo was being quiet as a precaution. “Still no luck?”

“None,” you said in the same undertone, unable to stop the way your bottom lip jutted out in a slight pout. Another sigh. You glanced up at Echo. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

He shrugged minutely. “Can’t speak for him, but why don’t you ask?”

You shook your head, returning your gaze to Hunter. Dressed again in civvie clothes, tonight a button-down and a pair of black pants, he looked damn near delectable. “If he has a problem, he can speak up.”

As if he heard you, Hunter finally shot a look your way. His expression was blank, inscrutable, but you caught a flash of something in those amber eyes as he took in your relaxed stance, the way Echo was angled toward you, the proximity between you two. Hunter turned away just as quickly as he’d faced you.

“Alright, squad, listen up,” he said, a bite to his voice. “Same approach as the past few nights. One team inside, one team outside, one person stays here.”

Tech jumped in. “I calculate that, given the amount of time we have been here and the probability of Cid giving us outdated intel, that if we do not see our quarry tonight, we may never capture him.”

“Right.” Hunter swept his gaze around the cramped cockpit. “That means I want everyone on high alert. Now, assignments.”

You straightened up from the wall, hoping to be of help this time.

Hunter said, “Wrecker, Echo, I want you two inside the club. You’re going to be our offense. You see our quarry, you take him down.”

The two glanced at each other and nodded.

“Tech,” Hunter said, “you’re with me. We’ll alert the others if anything happens outside. y/n, stay here. You’re our getaway.”

Whatever hope you’d had crumpled inside you. Another night on the Marauder, alone. Echo shot you a sympathetic smile as he filed out past you, following Tech and Wrecker. Deflated, you waited as the others tramped down the stairs, leaving you and Hunter alone for a moment.

“Hunter, I⁠—”

He brushed past you. “Comm if anything happens.”

You were left staring after him, mouth agape. He hit the button next to the Marauder’s door and, once he was off the stairs, the door slid shut. The last view you had was of Hunter’s head, bowed as he trudged along the now well-beaten path from the ship to the city outskirts, the dying light of day on his dark hair.

It was just as well, you thought glumly, shuffling to the co-pilot seat and plopping down. The team as a whole seemed wary of putting you in harm’s way after the incident with the Besalisk. And Hunter... Well, you still weren’t sure what you’d done, whether it was something you said, or something he thought happened, but if he was going to push you away, you decided, that was his business.

Still, it stung. You thought, perhaps childishly, that the something between you was blossoming into something more. On the flight to Akiva, while the others slept in the back of the ship or its data center, you and Hunter watched hyperspace streak by in silence in the cockpit. When you’d glanced over at him, you’d been surprised and flustered to find him already looking, the caring expression in his eyes nearly knocking the breath out of you. He’d leaned toward you, gaze flicking to your lips. You’d almost kissed then, and you would have if Omega hadn’t woken up, wandered into the cockpit in search of her adoptive dad. And now he was freezing you out.

“Men,” you grumbled, settling into your seat, arms crossed.

⁠—⁠—⁠—

Night had well and truly fallen, though the ship’s floodlights blazed to life once the darkness became deep enough. You jolted awake in your seat. Dozing off on duty, what would the others think? For a moment you studied the array of blinking lights on the ship’s control panel, but nothing seemed amiss, and no alarms were blaring, so you didn’t think anything had happened. The chrono along the side of the panel told you it was late, later than you’d expected.

You stood, groaning as your stiff muscles came to life, and bent to lift the blaster laid under the co-pilot seat. The gunmetal was cool against your palm, its weight helping calm you. While you were mostly sure nothing had happened during your sleep, you couldn’t shake a little worm of doubt wiggling in your stomach.

Or maybe you were just hungry, as your stomach growled. With a glance out the front windows, you turned to the back of the ship to hunt down a ration bar. You returned to the cockpit with your food, and, once you’d swallowed the last bite of the chewy, almost tasteless nutrition, you decided it was time to actually do your job as ship guard.

The Marauder door hissed open, stairs extending down, and you stood on the top step for a moment as you gazed around the small clearing. The floodlights illuminated the area, casting stark shadows into the jungle surrounding the ship. Lush green ferns and mossy tree trunks washed white in the bright lights, and farther into the jungle you saw flashes of iridescent eyes, animals prowling beyond the reach of the ship. Shifting your grip on the blaster (it was still too big for your hand, having been one of Wrecker’s spares), you took the rest of the steps down.

In the distance, between gaps in the dense trees, lightning flashed. You craned your head back to look at the clouds hanging heavy in the sky, sure it would rain tonight. You figured you should complete your circuit of the ship exterior before the weather turned nasty. Exhaling slowly, you began your walk clockwise, ducking under the nose of the Marauder, eyes constantly moving between trees, bushes, far out and close in, the way Hunter had taught you. You didn’t expect to see anyone out there, but, then again, things had a way of happening when you least expected them.

As you straightened up on the other side of the nose, your commlink beeped. You pushed a button, and Tech’s voice, tinny and distant, came through. “y/n, we have the bounty. Would you like to meet us at the club? Wrecker insists on buying everyone drinks.”

In the background you heard Wrecker’s booming, infectious laughter. “Yeah! y/n, come on! It’ll be fun!”

You smiled, but shook your head at the boys’ antics. “I think I’m gonna stay with the ship. Have a shot or two for me, yeah?”

“All right.” Tech sounded almost disappointed. “We’ll be back shortly.”

The comm channel went silent as Tech closed the line in the middle of Wrecker’s goodbye. You chuckled, glad that you at least hadn’t slept longer and relieved this would be your last night on Akiva before returning to base at Cid’s. Maybe whatever funk Hunter had gotten into would be improved upon leaving.

You shook yourself and returned your attention to the ship’s surroundings. Continuing your clockwise circuit, you strained your eyes into the darkness beyond the first few rows of trees. Nothing out of the ordinary there, just more glowing eyes, and none of them close enough to make out their owners.

By the time you’d completed one rotation around the ship, the wind had shifted, bringing a surprising and welcome coolness to dry the sweat dewed on your skin. You began another slow, methodic lap around the ship, enjoying the change in the temperature. The boys would be back soon, and you’d be able to relax on the ship.

Almost to the rear of the ship again, you halted, some wriggling sixth sense alerting you to a new sound. Hesitating, you waited for a few seconds to be sure, turning your head. There! Behind you, behind the ship, you swore you heard footsteps approaching. You ducked down into the shadows of the hull. Crouching next to the landing gear, you swallowed against the sudden dryness in your throat. Sweat made your grip on the blaster slick. Over the beating of your heart, you heard the footsteps growing louder on the soft jungle floor.

A light, feminine giggle confirmed your suspicions. Someone was heading to the ship.

You peered around the landing gear, and spotted two pairs of legs approaching the ship’s stairs. Anxiety thrummed in your veins, but you took a deep, silent breath to calm yourself before crawling under the ship as the two people climbed the steps. Thieves, came your only coherent thought. You hurried, hoping to catch the strangers in the cockpit and hold them there while you called the boys for backup.

At the bottom of the stairs now, you glanced down at the blaster to set it to stun. You rose to your full height and crept up the steps. Another giggle emanated from the ship, followed by a deeper, rumbling laugh.

You stepped into the cockpit, suspiciously empty, and glanced around. There was only one way these intruders could have gone. Moving as quietly as you could, you peeked around the corner into the data room and the storage space beyond it.

A Twi’lek woman, her ruby dress practically painted on, and⁠—and Hunter. You watched, transfixed, horror mounting, as she trailed a finger over his chest, down his stomach, and sinfully lower. Hunter cupped the woman’s face and bent down to kiss her. Her free hand snaked around his shoulder, pulling him closer.

Thud.

Your fingers numb, the blaster had slipped and landed on the hard durasteel floor. The Twi’lek jumped away from Hunter with a startled yelp. You felt frozen, rooted to the spot as if your feet were magnetized, and could not stop the burning tears from welling in your eyes. Fool. Hunter’s eyes snapped up to meet yours.

“y/n?”

The trance broken, you stumbled back, desperate to escape the small ship, shame and anger and sadness blanketing you as darkly as the clouds above.

“y/n, wait!”

You ran, almost tripping down the stairs, nearly bowling Tech over. He cursed as he grabbed you to steady you both.

“Wha⁠— y/n, are you alright?” Alarm painted his voice.

You tugged yourself out of Tech’s grasp, aware of Echo and Wrecker’s curious stares. Dimly you were aware that Wrecker carried a limp body over his shoulder. A bolt of lightning rent the sky and the clap of thunder that followed set your ears ringing.

Hunter appeared at the door of the ship.

“y/n, please,” he called, arm outstretched as if to reach you and hold onto you.

“No!” You fought back a sob. Had he really taken your comment about Echo that seriously? Did your almost-kiss mean nothing to him? All the quiet nights shared between you two, the lingering stares, the hand-holding? Did you really mean that little to him?

“Hunter?” Tech asked. “When you left us I thought it was to come prep the ship?”

You were backing up, wanting to get away from him, from here. He took a hesitant step down the stairs, and then the Twi’lek woman peeked out from behind his back. None of this was her fault, and you didn’t blame her in the least, but her presence sent you spiraling further. The tears that had welled in your eyes now spilled down your cheeks.

Through the tears, you saw Hunter looking helplessly at his brothers. “I thought⁠— I thought they would be at the club with you guys.”

A laugh bubbled up and escaped your lips. “As if that would make this any better?”

He looked at you then, confused, worried, and guilty, before turning to say something quiet to the Twi’lek woman. She hopped down from the stairs and, with a pitying glance in your direction, bounded off into the woods in the direction of town. Hunter took the stairs slowly, his steps heavy. Echo, ever the self-aware one, herded Tech and Wrecker past Hunter into the ship to give you two privacy.

“y/n, I am so s⁠—”

“Stow it,” you snapped, anger suddenly flaring. “I don’t want your excuses or your apologies right now.”

He looked as though you’d slapped him in the face. Another dazzling flash of lightning, another resounding crack of thunder. Rain began to fall. Neither of you moved. Your chest heaved with every breath, and your entire body trembled.

“I thought... I didn’t think you...” He exhaled and pushed his damp bangs out of his eyes. “I wasn’t sure what you⁠—what we were. I’m not good at this, y/n. I do okay with Omega because she’s a clone, but with you?” He shook his head.

All you could do was glare. This was somehow your fault now?

“What I’m trying to say is that, after the balcony, what you said about Echo, I didn’t know if you were as interested in me as I was in you. And I know,” he hastened to continue, cutting you off before you could even retort, hands raised in a placating gesture, “I know that that doesn’t excuse this. I should have asked.”

“Yes, you should have,” you said, voice quavering. Of course it had been your comment about his teammate. “What I said about Echo was nothing. He’s been good to me, you all have. But you? Hunter, I⁠—” You clenched your jaw, shaking your head stubbornly. “I can’t express how much you mean to me. Or how much this hurts me.”

Backlit as he was by the ship’s floodlights, you couldn’t make out his expression, but the way his shoulders slumped gave you some indication. His hands lowered to his sides. Rainwater streamed into your eyes as you stood there, silent, staring at him, unwilling to be the one to move first.

“How⁠—” his voice cracked. “How can I make this up to you?”

You sighed, feeling very deflated now. “We be honest with each other. No assumptions. No second-guessing.”

He nodded, taking a tentative step toward you. You held up a hand, though, stalling his movement.

“And you are buying me food when we get back to Ord Mantell.”

A grin slowly spread over his face. “I can do that.”

“One more thing.”

“Anything, mesh’la.”

You faltered at the unfamiliar word, sensing it meant something endearing, but unsure of its true meaning. You barely flinched at the next flash of lightning and subsequent boom, using it instead to quickly take in Hunter’s wide, hopeful gaze, the way his eyes seemed to be red-rimmed like he’d also been crying in the rain, his dark curls plastered to his skin. A smile ghosted over your features.

Finally you said, returning to full seriousness, “I make the first move after I feel I can trust you again.”

Hunter nodded once again, drawing to his full height. “I’ll do whatever I can. I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will,” you said quietly. You reached out to take his hand, gently, to lead him back to the ship. “I know you will.”

#hunter x reader #the bad batch #tbb #bad batch #rhiwrites #my original idea for this was an established relationship but #hunter doesn't seem like the cheating type #the bad batch x reader #also in case it isn't clear (which i know it isn't) hunter slipped away after the quarry was caught and picked up the twi'lek woman #he didn't hear tech's convo w y/n so he had no way of knowing they'd still be on the ship

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girlseg · 6 years

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Will Rezoning Portland’s Manufactured Home Parks Help Save Them?

On a recent weekend, community organizer Myra Torres knocked on doors at the Arbor Mobile Home Park in northeast Portland. Her kids, 5-year-old Adriel and 3-year-old Sammy, tagged along.

The Arbor, where Torres lives, has narrow streets lined with about 130 manufactured homes. Next to the homes sit tomato plants, rose bushes and neat stacks of firewood.

Torres was giving her neighbors fliers explaining a proposal to change Portland’s land use regulations and give manufactured home parks their own special zone. The proposal hit the Portland City Council this week, and made mobile home parks the latest front in the struggle over displacement and rising housing prices.

Adriel and Sammy Torres on their block in the Arbor manufactured home park.

“I care because this is my stability for my children,” Torres said. “We’ve been in this Cully neighborhood for about 13 years, so this is community. This is home.”

Torres, 25, works at a nearby church and owns her trailer. She spends about $500 a month renting the lot beneath the trailer, which has two bedrooms and two bathrooms. That’s about half what nearby apartments cost monthly.

When Torres first moved to the Arbor, she thought she and her husband would live in the park until they saved enough for a down payment and buy a conventional home.

“But the way the prices of the homes have been going crazy up, and all the apartments as well, it becomes more of a permanent thing to do, rather than for just a couple of years,” she said.

Living in a manufactured home park comes with unique opportunities — and costs. Residents often own their trailers or homes and rent the land the units sit on.

A garden in the Arbor manufactured home park.

Like other homeowners, they can invest in their properties, repaint and keep pets. At the Arbor, residents have built garages, trellises and sheds. In one backyard, a duck and a small dog keep each other company.

But manufactured homes, particularly the older models, tend to depreciate. And many of the homes in Portland’s parks are too fragile to move, making the residents’ investments risky.

Laura Perasa, one of Torres’s neighbors, estimates she’s spent $5,000 fixing up her trailer.

“If this place was closed down, there’s no way we could move this house. It’s old, we’ve added on an addition,” she said. “We would lose that investment.”

The managers of the Arbor say its owners have no plans to close the park, in fact, they’re urging residents to sign longer leases. But with new apartments going up all over Cully, the park’s residents worry their home could be the next attractive target for developers.

The city’s manufactured home parks comprise about 3,000 households. That’s a relatively small number, but it includes many low-income Latino families, such as the Torreses, and seniors and people with disabilities and on fixed incomes.

Those are the people Portland is struggling to figure out how to keep from getting pushed out of the city or into homelessness.

In June, Portland’s planning commission recommended creating a new zoning classification specifically for manufactured home parks.

The city’s manufactured home parks all lie east of the Willamette River and are clustered in East Portland. Some are on land zoned for residences, while others are non-conforming uses of land zoned for business uses.

Under the proposal, all but one of the city’s existing parks would get rezoned and included in the new Manufactured Dwelling Park Zone.

In effect, that would make it harder to redevelop parks. It would require an expensive review process, a Comprehensive Plan map amendment and a City Council vote any time a developer proposed closing a mobile home park and building something else on the land.

Park owners oppose the proposal.

“Any time you have restriction, it reduces the interest in investment,” said Cory Poole, a board member of the Manufactured Housing Coalition of Oregon.

Poole points out that many of the city’s mobile home parks were built in the 1960s. Some have crumbling roads and failing sewer systems.

“I know first hand as a park owner that one sewer problem can cost you hundreds of thousands of dollars to fix,” Poole said.

Poole said that it’s rare for parks in Portland to close and get redeveloped as something else, in part because of existing state laws that protect park residents.

Portland has lost 44 mobile home spaces to park closures in the past two years. When parks do close, Poole says it’s often because a manufactured home park, or the homes in it, just weren’t built to last 50 years.

Laura Perasa says moving her manufactured home would be impossible.

In 2017, the city’s Bureau of Planning and Sustainability commissioned a study that looked at the potential impact of an earlier version of the proposal to create special zoning for manufactured home parks.

That study, conducted by Johnson Economics, concluded that redevelopment of manufactured housing parks to rental apartments “is unlikely in the current construction cycle.”

In fact, based on that study, the greatest displacement threat the city’s mobile home park residents face might not be from redevelopment — but from rising space rents.

Johnson Economics looked at a sample of 11 parks. Rents ranged from $305 to $665 a month. The firm concluded that the rent for mobile home park spaces is likely to grow faster than apartment rents in the coming years.

The Planning Commission has urged the Portland City Council to take steps in addition to the zone change to help stabilize the rents in manufactured housing parks.

In particular, commission members proposed giving park owners a property tax cut if they agree to maintain rents that are affordable for low-income households.

Critics of the zoning proposal also question whether parks are the best long-term land use in a growing city such as Portland.

The city’s new zone for mobile home parks includes a density limit, 29 homes per acre. That’s more units than many parks are allowed under their current zoning, but Cory Poole thinks it’s still not enough.

Like many local economists, Poole believes the key to keeping housing affordable in Portland is allowing more density, more units and more big apartment complexes.

Poole thinks manufactured home parks could be perfect place to experiment with new types of more dense housing.

“What could these parks look like in 150 years if the city made it easier, say to put tiny homes in these parks? If the city made it possible to put multistory shipping container homes in these parks?” he said. “The more restrictions the city puts on it, the more it is going to squelch the really creative ideas that could solve these problems.”

Portland’s planning commission wrestled with this density question during its discussion about mobile home parks. Is it worth preserving a home park, for example, if building an apartment complex on the same land could house hundreds more people?

The zoning proposal includes a bonus, which allows for 50 percent more units on a site for parks that rent out at least half of their spaces at a price affordable for people who make 60 percent or less of the median income in Portland

In the end, the planning commission decided that parks were worth preserving, not because of the number of housing units they offer but because of the strong communities that exist in many of the developments.

Back at the Arbor, Myrra Torres says it’s that community that makes her home worth fighting for.

Her parents and in-laws live in the park, too, and she says there are always friends or family around to keep an eye on her kids.

“There’s times, if I’m not home in time to make it in time, when my son is coming home, I know I can call my mom and say, ‘Watch out for the kids, they’re coming,’” she said.

Editor’s note: This article has been updated to reflect the number of households, not people, that comprise the city’s manufactured home parks.

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