#imector

[myhusbandwouldplay]

Can we talk about this for a minute????

The way Hector motions to the family to get behind him and puts his hand out to protect them is *chef's kiss*. He's already taking the role of Patriarch of the family. 🥹

Also, how he's at the front, being the leader and ready to jump in if De La Cruz lays a finger on Imelda. 🥺💜

The twins looking out for each other is everything to me. I don't know which one is which, but one of them pulling the other back broke me. It was so sweet! 😭😭😭

This gif is everything to me. It shows how much the family loves each other and how they look out for one another. 🧡

[pencopanko]

it's them (image ref from crying_anabell on twitter!)

[alemanriq]

finally i have this commission done. Thanks for all the patience my luv @sheepwithspecs

[stardustpinkart]

"Thumbelina AU", images all compiled together, so far :) The art is done by me and @swanpit

[ilovecocomovie]

Hola :) Today it´s my photomontage of my favorite couple. Imelda and Hector went to professional to have a photo. This is before they had Coco. Let´s imagine it was taken in 1917. So that would mean that Imelda may be possibly at beginning of pregnancy with Coco, maybe she did not even know at that moment, because it was too early in her pregnancy. Anyway, I made the colored version and the “old effect” photo was done by app. Have a nice day:)

[mirrorofliterature]

new coco canon divergence idea:

rosita to imelda in the LOTD, circa 1980s: I think you may benefit from therapy, my friends says it really helps!

imelda goes to therapy because she's curious + willing to go along with rosita's suggestion to make her happy.

therapist: so a lot of your issues seem to stem from your husband. maybe talking through these things with him will help?

imelda: no, I'm good :) I don't care about him anymore :) he means nothing to me :) :) ;)

therapist: *looks at music ban* of course, imelda

imelda finally decides to try this out because hey, therapy is a controlled environment and she still has stuffTM to say to héctor because the 1920s Was Not A Good Time for single mothers

therapist, to héctor who has come because reconciling with his wife is #goals: please be civil to each other

imelda: why did you never come back???

[subtext: why did you leave me? why did you leave COCO? were we never enough? these things have haunted imelda for decades, festering hurt under her outward hatred]

héctor, confused: I was dead???

chaos ensues

[sheepwithspecs]

Echar Agua al Mar: Chapter 1

|| DP Coco (2017) || Rated T ||

Ao3 Link

For Imelda, trying to prevent Héctor from coming back into her life is like throwing water into the sea: pointless. With her family keen to accept the strange musician, and a challenge she can hardly refuse, she soon finds herself caught up in the continuation of a romance decades in the making. [Updates every Saturday]

Author's Note:

A lot of people wanted this one back, so I took the time to sit down and rewrite it properly. I plan on writing a proper ending, but it will be finished as-is (with no added chapters). I don't plan to write anything else for the DP-Coco fandom, so please accept this reworked fic as a celebration of my short, but meaningful time here. As roughly as it ended, I still would not trade those years for the world. I met some of the best people in that fandom, many of which I am still in contact with as friends and mutuals.

I want to take the time to thank each and every reader who has reached out over the years asking about this fic (as well as other DPC fics). The fact that you remember my work fondly means more to me than words can really describe. I wanted to finish this for you, so it's my fervent hope that you enjoy it just as much, if not more, as you enjoyed the original WIP. Please don't stop reaching out, either! In this day and age, it's rare to get reviews on fics anymore. If there's something you enjoyed, no matter how small, I promise that it would make my day to hear it!

The Rivera family was in distress.

Before the last Día de Los Muertos, they had been perfectly content with their lives—if a skeletal soul could indeed be called "living". They had a certain pride in being the best shoemakers in the Land of the Dead, and in death they worked much as they had in life: hard. But now production had slacked off unexpectedly; the twins fulfilled the quota of only one man, Julio made more mistakes in one hour than he had in nearly twenty years, Rosita polished at a tortoise's speed, and even Victoria made simple errors, growing frustrated as she was forced to thread and rethread her needle.

If Mamá Imelda saw them, she might have gloated that her ban on music was well and just. It was music—or the lack of it—that kept the family working at a plodding pace. They'd had a taste of the tunes, a bite of the proverbial apple, and now they were tempted for more. They heard rhythm in the steady ringing of the twins' hammers, in the swish-swish of Victoria's needle, in the scrubbing of Rosita's polishing brush. The Rivera harmony, so easy to recognize, to hum along to… if they weren't in the habit of suppressing those same urges.

But the family matriarch was nowhere to be found downstairs, and could not scold their behavior from the living quarters on the second floor. It was early afternoon, and so Imelda was in her bedroom, hiding… though no one would have dared suggest such a thing within earshot.

"Mamá Imelda can't blame us now," Julio murmured. "Not when she herself sang at the Sunrise Spectacular. In front of everyone, too." It was a conversation they'd repeated over and over again for three months.

"It's true," Oscar added. "She sang again, and so beautifully! But if she heard us…." He was irritated, more with himself than with his older sister. He hated working as though he were a greenhorn cobbler. If he could only finish the day's quota, he could spend the rest of the afternoon tinkering on inventions with his twin. But no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't stop his foot from tapping along in time with his hammer.

"Then let her hear us," Victoria huffed, squinting over the rims of her spectacles. The needle was mere inches from her eye sockets, shaking slightly as she aimed. "Maybe that will be what makes her come downstairs for a change."

"She won't." Felipe looked over his shoulder, shaking his skull at his great-niece. "Not so early in the afternoon. Not before…" he trailed off, gazing pointedly at the clock just above her elegant bun.

"And so? Why not sing?" Victoria lifted her eyes from her work, pushing the spectacles up her skull with one dainty finger. "If there's no danger of her coming down." She sighed as the twins shook their heads in unison. "Oh, if my mamá could see us now. She'd have a good laugh at us all."

"Ah, he's coming!" Rosita announced suddenly, rising from her chair at the window. She let the unfinished shoe in her hand fall to the table, the brush tossed aside as she raced for the door. Everyone paused in their work, following Felipe's eyes towards the clock.

"Right on schedule," Julio said with a smile. "By the way, what will today's excuse be? The corner store?"

"No, we used that one yesterday."

"A walk?"

"We used that one two days ago." They stared at one another with growing concern, each racking their brain for some useful idea. Finally Rosita shook her head, shrugging helplessly at Julio. He blew out a low breath, hands stuck deep into his pockets.

"You say something," Oscar muttered, elbowing his brother in the ribs.

"Why me?" Felipe gulped. "You know I can't think under pressure!"

"Neither can I!"

"I'll say something." Victoria stood as well, brushing bits of thread from her apron. The twins sighed in relief, dropping their hammers simultaneously to the workbench as everyone in the room turned towards the open door in anticipation of their daily visitor. A moment later, there was a self-conscious knock as a man stepped just past the threshold. He was dressed in ragged clothing—espantapájaros, Victoria often muttered under her breath—with his sleeve barely hanging by a thread and shoeless as the day he was born. His gold tooth glinted in the afternoon sunlight as he grinned sheepishly, his hat clutched in nervous hands.

"Hello, Héctor," the Riveras chanted in unison, the start of their new daily routine.

"Hello, everyone." The hat brim began its revolution as Héctor's anxious fingers began to twist. "I've come to… I mean: is Imelda at home today?" The twins shared a sympathetic wince. Rosita's fingers clacked against her cheekbones as she raised her hands to her face. Victoria looked around the room, adjusted her glasses, and scowled.

"This has gone on long enough!" she declared, ignoring the shocked gasps from the rest of the family. "Of course she's here! She's been here every day for as long as you've been coming."

"Ahaha… I, uh… I thought that might be the case." Héctor sighed, looking down at his bare feet. "There's only so many times someone might go to the markets, after all." He looked so pitiable, dashed hopes and guilt and shame, standing in their doorway like a beggar searching for alms. Rosita clucked and guided him to her empty chair, inviting him in properly now that Victoria had broken the routine.

Héctor had given them all of a month before showing up out of the blue, hoping to speak with his wife. Of course, they had all been under strict orders after day one to not let him inside. If he asked, they were supposed to offer some excuse as to why Imelda was not downstairs with the rest of the family. Every afternoon she avoided the workshop like the plague, waiting until he had come and gone before venturing downstairs to complete her portion of the day's work.

This left the rest of the family with no choice but to scramble and find sixty days' worth of excuses to feed him, along with their best what-can-be-done expressions. They would have much rather invited him in, treated him as one of their own, and marched him up to Imelda's room without a word of protest. But the family matriarch's orders overruled any personal attachment to Héctor. At least, it had… until today.

"So." Héctor placed his hat on the table, linking his fingers politely in his lap. "She asked you to cover for her."

"She did," Victoria answered for them, "but this is getting out of hand."

"Even though you knew we were lying, and that Imelda didn't want to see you… you still came every day?" Oscar asked curiously, running a finger over his thin mustache. Héctor managed a one-sided shrug, smiling sadly. "That's pretty stubborn of you."

"Imelda's just as stubborn as you, though," Felipe pointed out, leaning against the workbench. "She won't come downstairs. Not even if you come every day for the next century."

"Victoria?" Julio waved his hand in his daughter's face, a frown twisting his mustache. "Go upstairs and ask Mamá Imelda to come down. For your Papá Héctor's sake."

"No! No, don't bother her. If she doesn't want to see me, then…." Héctor stood quickly, scratching at his thin goatee before offering them a much happier smile. "Tell me, how much would I have to pay for a pair of genuine Rivera boots?"

"What?!" Rosita shook her head in dismay. "What on earth are you talking about? You're family, of course they'd be free—" Oscar and Felipe immediately bent, each studying one of his feet.

"Come now, I'm willing to pay something—"

"No, Héctor." Julio crossed his arms. "Rosita's right. Family doesn't pay for shoes. But, eh…." He glanced warily at Victoria. "What do you think Mamá Imelda will have to say?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. You can leave her to me-e-e—!" Héctor jerked his foot away from Oscar, the appendage flopping loosely as he hopped off-balance. "Hey, watch it! That tickles!"

"But—"

"Listen: Imelda is your mamá. Of course you will do as she says, and don't ask questions. That's the way it should be. But she's my Imelda." His eyes twinkled. "I know how to deal with her. You can leave that to me. I just thought that since I have no plans to stop visiting my family, I might as well have a proper excuse of my own." He leaned in, motioning for them to join him. They huddled around him, close enough that their heads were nearly touching.

"As far as you're concerned," he whispered, "I've given up on seeing Imelda. I've accepted that she doesn't want to see me. And if you do see us together, just… y'know." He smiled again, but this time the expression was far more playful. "She's my wife, isn't she? Act natural."

"Natural?" Oscar parroted, only to get thumped on the skull. "Oh, right! Natural!" They all chuckled, save for Victoria's modest headshake. Héctor nodded and they broke apart.

"I'm sure boots take quite a while to make, yes?" He asked in a much louder tone, directing his voice towards the stairs. "Especially custom boots for your Papá Héctor!"

"You're right!" Julio agreed just as loudly, winking at Rosita. "Custom boots take a very long time!"

"Yes! Weeks!" Rosita giggled.

"Then I'll leave you all," Héctor nearly shouted, taking his hat and waving it with a flourish, "to your work!" As he jammed the hat on his head, there was a soft sound… almost like the rustling of skirts at the head of a grand staircase.

"Come back tomorrow for a proper sizing," Victoria advised, one eye on the stairs. "That way, we won't have to second-guess ourselves once we begin."

"Understood!" He winked once more before turning, offering a little wave over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow, everyone."

"Adiós, Héctor!" The Riveras waved him out the door, looking at one another before stifling their laughter. If Héctor was volunteering to take the brunt of Imelda's anger, they were more than willing to sneak around and help them any way they could. After all, her mighty arm was often the only thing that kept them in line, and something about Héctor's goofy charm made him hard to resist. Maybe that was what she had meant, blaming him for Miguel's naughtiness on Día de Los Muertos: his mischief was catching.

"It's all right, Mamá!" Julio called at the foot of the stairs. "He's gone now." There wasn't a full thirty seconds of silence before Imelda was among them, eyeing them all suspiciously with her usual motherly intuition.

"It took longer than normal to make him leave this time…." She trailed off expectantly, waiting for someone to explain. Without batting an eye, Victoria took over.

"We ran out of excuses and had to think of something else." It was a lie by omission, but it rang enough of the truth that she felt confident staring directly into her grandmother's eyes. "He stayed because he wanted to order some boots."

"Boots?" Imelda repeated, her mouth pursing in distaste. "What sort of boots?"

"Custom boots," Rosita explained. "He's tired of walking around in his bare feet."

"And you accepted him?" For the first time, Imelda seemed unhappy about a potential sale. "Why? Now he has an excuse to come inside and—anyway, you should have turned him away," she fussed, running both hands over her immaculate hairstyle and patting it into place nervously.

"It's our fault," Oscar spoke up, hands clasped in false penitence. "Felipe and I couldn't turn him down."

"We haven't made a custom order of boots in so long. We were excited, Imelda."

"We didn't think, and he is—"

"—like a brother to us, after all."

"It's not just anyone," Rosita pointed out gently. "It's Papá Héctor. We can't refuse him."

"Papá Héctor?" Imelda groaned. "Since when is he— Never mind." She crossed her arms, staring out the open door. "I can't even blame you for it. A Rivera has never been able to turn away someone in need of shoes. Even if it's him. And it's only for a few more days."

"Maybe a week," Julio corrected her. "Or more. We have a lot of orders…."

"Ay… heaven help me."

Héctor sat at the edge of Shantytown, kicking his feet off the ledge as he thought. People passed by, shouting greetings to him from the docks, but he was far too lost in his own mind to pay much attention. As was the case lately, his thoughts were focused on one goal: Imelda.

Admittedly he was out of practice, and quite rusty when it came to the art of courtship. In the olden days, back when they were alive, it had been more a scheme of getting her to notice him at all. He had even rejected the help of his best friend, afraid that Ernesto might catch her eye before he could ever hope to. That was good: he hadn't needed him then, and certainly didn't need him now.

Most of his ideas for getting back into her good graces were the same as his former exploits: serenading by moonlight, offering her gifts, winning her over with his irresistible charm… he no longer had the dimples she so admired, by he was still quite handsome, if he said so himself.

The real question was: would she ever indulge him?

Probably not at first. He frowned, staring up at the city lights dancing above him. He'd given her a full month, slipping away after the Sunrise Spectacular and biding his time. Imelda could hold a nasty grudge—he had firsthand knowledge of that. Years of bitterness would not disappear overnight, just because they'd had one song together, one small adventure with their living progeny. Before Miguel had come, he'd given up hope of reaching her at all.

But.

That's for murdering the love of my life!

The thwap of the huarache against bone rang over and over in his head: a sound of hope. He was the love of her life! Even all these months later, he still couldn't quite believe it.

I still have a chance. I'm the love of her life.

It was that mentality that had him coming to the Rivera household day after day, standing awkwardly in the doorway and asking to see her. He could tell that the family was willing, even if the woman was not. There was pity in their expressions as they lied to his face, telling him that he'd just missed her, that she'd gone for a walk, or to get more thread, or to deliver a rush order of shoes.

Imelda was a stubborn woman, that was for sure. But he was a stubborn man. Year after year he'd gone to that dumb bridge, knowing full well that he would not be able to cross. Compared to that, romancing his own estranged wife would be a piece of cake! He planned it out in his head, days of shoemaking and nights of wooing. She'd be begging him to stay within the month. Maybe. Hopefully.

It was a foolproof plan… so long as she didn't call for Pepita.

[callonpeevesie]

Imector from a while ago

[juliedrawz]

Look of love ♥️

I don't know how long I've been wanting to do this! And I am sooo in love with this flesh overlay thing 😍 and man, those gazes they give each other *swoon*

Also, no, I will not draw alive Héctor with the gold-tooth! I am not a fan of it with the "alive"-version 😶 I've tried it out and no ... just no 😅

Guys, I wish I could draw faster! I have so much more to do still!

[cleverclove]

I’M CRYING why is this so adorable 🥺

[myhusbandwouldplay]

So I rewatched Coco, and I realized something rewatching the scene after Imelda saves Miguel and Hector from the cenote.

This scene, specifically.

While Imelda yells at him, I found out that Hector says her name. 😭😭😭😭

To make it worse, it doesn't sound like he says her full name. 😭😭😭😭

It sounds like "Mela". 😭😭😭😭

But what do you think?

[pencopanko]

Do We Have a Deal? (A Coco Backstage AU Fanfic)

In which renowned actor, Héctor Rivera trolled a paparazzo by stealing his camera. Inspired by a series of photos of Keanu Reeves running away with a paparazzo's camera.

Author's Note: This was originally written some time in 2018-2019, but I was only able to finish it earlier today (GMT+7). This fanfic is set in an AU referred to as "Backstage AU" or "Actor AU" originally created by imjuanita, in which the characters in Coco are all in-universe actors. Unfortunately, I don't know how to contact her as her tumblr account has been hacked after inactivity so if you know where she is please let me know. However, if you are imjuanita and you are reading this I want to thank you personally for creating such a fun AU. I had a lot of fun exchanging ideas with you!

AO3 link here.

Héctor Rivera is usually the type of person who is willing to talk to you no matter who you are, even though he is arguably one of the hottest Latino actors in the industry. Even after his role in "Coco" as a murdered musician who happens to share his name and so much of his mannerisms that it made him even more famous, he is still willing to send a smile to his fans.

But the paparazzi? Well, that's another thing altogether. He dislikes how pervasive they are towards him, his coworkers (especially Miguel, the kid deserves a normal childhood, after all), and most of all his wife, Imelda. Unlike Ernesto who loves the attention as long as no boundaries are trespassed and deals with paparazzi in a way that is more cooperative, Héctor.... has his own ways. 

Like that one time Héctor Rivera stole a camera.

"WHAT THEーHE TOOK MY CAMERA!!"

According to bystanders, Héctor was seen running from the chasing paparazzi with a bag of groceries in his right hand and a video camera on his left shoulder, presumably taken from a snooping cameraman. He was trying to get the groceries as requested by his now five-months pregnant wife, the ever-talented Imelda Rivera, when he spotted a cameraman trying to get a shot of him. Having no time for his shenanigans and interviews for that day, he quickly grabbed the camera from the cameraman's hands and ran with it.

The stout cameraman who owned the camera was barely keeping up. Héctor's long legs only made it harder for him to catch up to him. It wasn't until he saw the lanky actor took a right turn into what looked like a dead end. Huh, he's not very smart now is he, he thought to himself as he walked cautiously into the . He realized too late that Héctor Rivera is a man of surprises as he felt a hand grab him by his shoulders. The next thing he knew, he became face to face with Héctor in a small space between two buildings.

"You're new to this job, aren't you?" asked Héctor. "They're usually good at sneaking around and all that, you were out in broad daylight, amigo."

The cameraman noticed the camera placed right on top of a closed (thank goodness) garbage can. Looking back at the taller man in front of him, he noticed that his eyes are twinkling with mischief. His grin adorned with a single golden tooth just added to the whole mischievous but definitely threatening aura. He could feel his initial confidence shrink with every breath he exhaled.

"I-I'm very sorry, Sir, I was just doiー"

"Sí, sí, I know. You were just doing your job."

"It's just thatー", the cameraman continued, "you and your wife are so private, a-and people are hungry forー"

"Ah, ah, ah. None of that", Héctor retorted. "I understand that your job is on the line, but your company and you should have known better than to go after me. You're lucky that it wasn't my wife you ran into, or else she would had made sure your face meets her shoe!", he chuckled.

The cameraman could only let out an awkward chuckle in return, but while he might not had been raised in any South American countries he had heard of the power of La Chancla. To think that someone like Imelda Rivera would hit someone with her shoes felt off... but surprisingly in-character? He shuddered at the image of her piercing eyes with a shoe on hand, ready to aim it at anyone in her path.

He jumped out of his thoughts as he heard Héctor speak again. "Alright," he said, as he picked up the camera, took off the cover, and started to record a little video. "I'll let you off with a warning this time. I'll give you this clip, but promise me that you will not disturb me or my wife again. ¿Claro? Do we have a deal?"

The cameraman looked up and he saw that Héctor was indeed recording. He had the camera face the both of them, as if taking a selfie. He had his free hand up with a peace sign, all grinning, talking to the camera as if talking to the masses to leave him, his wife, his fellow cast members ESPECIALLY little Miguel alone. He couldn't help but notice the grocery bag hanging down from Héctor's arm that was holding the peace sign.

Héctor looked at him. The cameraman swore that Héctor was really glaring at him, as he cheerfully asked "Do we have a deal?" at him. He could only let out a quiet "yes" and a nod. The taller man hummed in satisfaction, as he turned off the camera and gave it back to its owner.

"Now, be careful out there and don't let me see you again, okay? ¡Adios!", exclaimed Héctor before walking out of the dark alley. The cameraman could only look at Héctor with his mouth ajar, wondering what just happened.

-----

Weeks later, that clip of Héctor Rivera went viral. Miguel and Ernesto found it hilarious and thought that the stupefied cameraman added a nice touch to the chaos, while Héctor was getting lectures after lectures from Imelda on taking other people's things. Though she did appreciate the praises he sang for her on that video, and for that Héctor deserved a kiss.

Oh, and the cameraman? He got paid handsomely, but quit after three months. I heard that he decided to continue his family business with that money.

[razoogm]

Rivera family ages (my HC)

Imelda: 76 (when she died)

Héctor: 21 (when he died)

Oscar and Felipe: 73 (when they died)

Julio: 85 (when he died)

Coco: 100 (when she died)

Rosita: 68 (when she died)

Victoria 51 (when she died)

Franco: 72/73

Elena: 70/71

Berto: 48/49

Carmen: 46/47

Enrique: 42/43

Gloria: 40/41

Luisa: 33/34

Abel: 19/20

Rosa: 14/15

Miguel: 12/13

Benny and Manny:4/5

Socorro: 10 months/1

[stardustpinkart]

Just an ordinary day Started out the same old way Then I looked into your eyes and knew Today would be A first for me The day I fall in love

First meeting :)

[alexasolliday1969blog]

[mirrorofliterature]

I'm looking through some older coco posts and I still don't agree with Imelda and Hector having a big fight or disagreement before he left

It just doesn't feel in character for either of them for me

That Hector wouldn't listen to his wife or that Imelda wouldn't trust Hector.

I think issues arose when the tour was extended and Imelda was like: hector raising a three year old is hard :) but hector capitulated to ernesto's demands instead, but like...

idk man them fighting makes imelda seem incredibly naive and hector incredibly callous and for me it is a disservice to both of them