You ever notice how in urban fantasy, nobody’s family ever seems to be normal ? Like, the main character’s parents are dead, missing, or too busy summoning demons in their basement to remember their kid’s birthday. And yet—by chapter five—they’ve somehow gathered a ragtag crew of witches, shifters, snarky vampires, and morally gray detectives who’d storm Hell itself to protect each other. That’s found family, baby. And it’s one of the reasons this genre owns my heart.
The City That Never Sleeps (and Neither Do the Outcasts)
Urban fantasy has always been about outsiders. It’s the genre where magic exists in the cracks of the everyday world—behind the dive bar, beneath the subway, or in the dusty backroom of a bookstore (I really want that bookstore job, by the way). The city setting itself becomes this sprawling, chaotic ecosystem where people don’t always fit in, and that’s the beauty of it.
Think about The Dresden Files . Harry Dresden’s actual blood family is practically nonexistent, but over time, he builds his own tribe—Murphy, Michael, Thomas, Molly—all wildly different people (and, well, one literal angel). Together, they form the emotional backbone of the series. You don’t keep reading just to see who Harry zaps with his next lightning spell; you keep reading because you care about his weird little found family.
The Magic of Belonging
Found family stories hit so hard because they tap into something we all secretly crave—belonging without conditions. The kind where no one cares if you’re half-demon, or if your magic sometimes misfires and sets the curtains ablaze. You’re accepted as you are .
Urban fantasy does this so well because its heroes are often deeply flawed. Maybe they’ve got a dark past or a cursed destiny or a demon whispering bad ideas in their ear. Yet somehow, they find people who stay anyway. Look at The Mortal Instruments by Cassandra Clare—Clary starts out as this confused teen who’s thrown into a secret world of demon hunters. Within a few books, she’s surrounded by a mix of warriors, warlocks, and werewolves who’ve basically turned into a very dysfunctional family dinner. They fight. They love. They save the world. Repeat.
Found Family as Survival
There’s something deliciously gritty about the way urban fantasy uses found family for survival. In these worlds, danger lurks everywhere—rogue necromancers, corrupt guilds, that one ex who’s suddenly undead—and no one makes it alone. Found families become more than just emotional comfort; they’re literal lifelines.
Take The Hollows series by Kim Harrison. Rachel Morgan wouldn’t last five minutes without Ivy the vampire and Jenks the foul-mouthed pixie. Together, they make an unlikely trio—half dysfunctional roommates, half magical crime-fighters—but their loyalty gives the story its emotional punch. Every explosion, every betrayal, every chaotic spell—they face it together.
Or consider Supernatural , which, okay, leans more into urban fantasy-adjacent TV territory. Dean and Sam Winchester’s blood family is complicated (that’s putting it mildly), but their “family don’t end with blood” mantra sums up everything we love about this trope. They pick up lost souls—Castiel, Charlie, Jack—and create a family forged through shared trauma and late-night monster hunts.
The Queer Thread Running Through It
There’s also something inherently queer about found family in urban fantasy. For a lot of LGBTQ+ readers, these stories mirror real life. Many of us have had to create our own families when the ones we were born into didn’t—or couldn’t—accept us. Urban fantasy, with its band of misfits and magical outsiders, gives that experience a spotlight.
Becky Chambers’ Wayfarers series (technically space opera, but spiritually urban fantasy) nails this feeling—the idea that home isn’t a place, it’s the people who stick around when everything else falls apart. And on the more magical side, T.J. Klune’s The House in the Cerulean Sea practically glows with that theme. The ragtag group of “dangerous” magical kids and their gentle caretaker build a home where love replaces fear. Every time I reread it, I want to hug everyone in that house.
Why It Keeps Us Coming Back
I think the reason found family never gets old in urban fantasy is because it mirrors how we survive modern life. The city can feel cold, isolating, even dangerous—just like those supernatural worlds. But when you find your people, suddenly everything changes. Coffee tastes better. Night doesn’t seem so scary. And maybe—just maybe—you start to believe that broken things can still be beautiful.
We don’t read urban fantasy just for the monsters and magic. We read it because deep down, we’re all a little bit lost, and we want to believe that somewhere out there, a band of weirdos is waiting to claim us as their own.
And honestly? That’s the kind of magic I’ll never get tired of.
Marek wanted a new life. After Randy’s betrayal, moving back to Michigan felt like a chance to heal, rebuild, and maybe even forgive. But their fixer-upper farmhouse has other plans. Strange footsteps in the night. A locked attic door. A cedar scent that clings to the air. And then Marek sees him—the ghost of a beautiful young man, eyes full of sorrow. Suddenly, Marek is caught between the pain of the present and the pull of the past. A Touch of Cedar isn’t just a ghost story; it’s a novel about love in all its messy, fragile forms—living or dead. Available HERE or from your favorite online retailer.