In the high-stakes world of professional darts, where precision under pressure defines champions, 18-year-old sensation Luke Littler has mastered the art of the perfect throw. But off the oche, the young world champion is facing a far uglier battle—one against the shadowy underbelly of online trolls who have set their sights on his personal life. Just days ago, Littler took to Instagram, his platform boasting 1.9 million followers, to sound the alarm about fake accounts impersonating his girlfriend, 19-year-old beautician Faith Millar. “Everyone go report this fake account of Faith Millar,” he urged in a stark story post, adding with a mix of disbelief and disgust, “Some very strange people in the world isn’t there.” The profile, which popped up on September 25, was swiftly taken down by Instagram after his call to action, but not before it highlighted the relentless harassment that has plagued the couple since they went public with their romance.
Littler’s rise to darts stardom has been nothing short of meteoric. Hailing from Warrington, England, the teenager burst onto the scene at the 2024 PDC World Darts Championship, reaching the final at just 16 and earning the nickname “The Nuke” for his explosive scoring. Fast-forward to 2025, and he’s solidified his legacy as the youngest player ever to claim the prestigious Triple Crown—winning the World Championship, Premier League, and World Matchplay in a single year. His latest triumph came at the World Matchplay in Blackpool this summer, where he dismantled opponents with surgical accuracy, clinching the title and a cool £50,000 prize. Yet, amid the cheers and flashing cameras, it was a tender moment post-quarterfinal that stole the spotlight: a passionate kiss with Millar, broadcast live to millions, confirming what rumors had long whispered. The couple, inseparable since meeting in February, had danced around their status for months—insisting they were “just friends” as recently as June. But that embrace shattered the pretense, marking their official debut as darts’ golden couple.
Faith Millar, a fun-loving eyelash technician from nearby Wigan, brings a grounded normalcy to Littler’s whirlwind existence. Just 15 miles from his Cheshire home, their proximity sparked an instant connection, evolving from casual hangouts to a deep bond forged in the chaos of tournament travel. She’s been his steadfast cheerleader, spotted in the stands at the Premier League finals in London’s O2 Arena, where Littler staged a dramatic comeback to defeat Gerwyn Price 10-7 in the semis before edging Luke Humphries in the final. Millar even jetted Down Under with him last month for the Australian Darts Masters in Wollongong—a grueling 24-hour flight that tested even Littler’s ironclad focus. There, under the bright lights of WIN Entertainment Centre, he powered through to victory, crediting her presence as a vital anchor. “She’s a lovely lady, Faith,” Littler shared warmly in a post-match interview, his voice softening amid the adrenaline rush. With his parents unable to make the trek, her support filled a crucial void: quiet encouragement during practice sessions, shared meals in hotel rooms, and a reminder that life extends beyond the board.
But fame’s double-edged arrow has pierced their bubble. Since going public in July, the couple has weathered a storm of online vitriol, from snide comments about their age similarity (both in their late teens) to outright jealousy-fueled attacks. Trolls have dissected their every public appearance— from a low-key BoohooMan Q&A in Manchester to courtside snaps at the US Darts Masters in New York—twisting innocent moments into fodder for memes and hate. It echoes the toxicity Littler endured during his brief romance with Eloise Milburn, a 22-year-old he dated until last June. That relationship crumbled under the weight of his schedule and an avalanche of age-gap backlash, leaving him wary of the spotlight. Before confirming things with Millar, he even issued her a candid “warning” about the trolls lurking in his digital shadows. “I warned her about all that,” he admitted recently on a darts podcast, his tone laced with protectiveness. The negativity peaked during the World Matchplay, where keyboard warriors flooded social media with baseless rumors, prompting Littler to fire back: “They wanna ruin us. It’s tough, but those people are just jealous.”
What makes this latest impersonation incident so insidious is its personal invasion. These fake profiles, mimicking Millar’s photos and latching onto her real account’s followers, aren’t harmless pranks—they’re calculated attempts to erode trust and sow chaos. Littler, ever the pragmatist, sees through the facade. Speaking candidly about the early days of their relationship, he revealed how the online noise nearly derailed them. “It was tough at the start with people trolling,” he confessed during a live stream after his Blackpool win. “But I feel like I’ve played this match for the last three days,” he joked, drawing a parallel to the weather delays that once frayed his nerves on the court—wait, no, the oche. Yet, through it all, Millar has proven her mettle, standing firm as the partner he “needed” in this high-octane life. “As soon as I asked if she wanted to come to Australia, she was like, ‘Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever get the chance,'” Littler recounted with a grin. Her willingness to dive into his nomadic world—trading Wigan’s quiet streets for global arenas—has been a game-changer, helping him navigate slumps like his uneven World Series run earlier this year.
As Littler eyes the upcoming New Zealand Darts Masters kicking off this Friday, the trolls’ antics serve as a stark reminder of fame’s cost. The event in Auckland promises another shot at glory, with Littler leading the pack and hungry to defend his Aussie title. But beyond the scoreboard, his plea for fans to report the fakes underscores a broader call for kindness in an era where celebrities’ loved ones become collateral damage. “Some very strange people in the world,” he mused, but his resolve is unshakeable. With Millar by his side, flashing that supportive smile from the crowd, The Nuke isn’t just aiming for bullseyes—he’s throwing darts at doubt itself. In a sport built on solitary precision, their partnership is the ultimate comeback story: two young hearts refusing to let the haters throw them off target. As the autumn tour heats up, one thing’s clear—Littler’s got the world at his feet, and with Faith in his corner, nothing’s going to dim that glow.
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